Mirrored Images

Today, I think I’m beautiful. It won’t last for a few days, it won’t last till tomorrow, it might not even last till tonight or the end of this essay, but right now I know I have value. The purplish blue shadows under my eyes hold value. The acne scars on my forehead, nose, and chin – they have value. The tiny stretch marks on my skin, the split ends in my hair, the imperfect curve of my body – they all have value. The extra pounds I don’t want, the bitten nails I cannot fix. Today I’m finding beauty in my imperfections. The raw, the real, the honest. If you know me, I will always preach about honesty, but if you know me well, it is only because I am not very honest. What we value most is usually what we do not have and seek to gain. When I see myself, I can only see what I would fix. Thicker lashes, greener eyes, a more slender body, straighter teeth, less acne.  This is the same with what we feel on the inside. The emotional hang ups, insecurities, hateful thoughts – the demons you cant seem to shake. So many things I wish to change. When I see others, I see what they have that I wish to possess. I’ve met many people who think I’m perfect. The girls I’ve mentored, a few friends I’ve had, some of the boys who have sought my affection. I can see it when they look at me, or just when they merely state that they believe I am perfect. That there is nothing they would change. But I am imperfect, so I let people down and their false version of me shatters, and we are both cut by the shards. When this happens, some people stay and love the scarred being just as much as the seemingly perfect one. Many times they love me more. This time I know its real. But there have been the few who leave. Who are disappointed that the rock they stood upon ended up being a shard of glass. Why is it that the pain few leave often effects a person more than the love that many give? I feel every icy shard of an insult and the fiery burn of rejection. I never liked this characteristic of myself and always viewed it as a flaw. I often hope that every nick of pain would make me harder, like society has tried to tell me, but it just makes me all the more fragile. But I’ve realized, like many do during their course of life, that my biggest weakness has been my greatest strength. I find beauty in this simple truth. I hold beauty. Maybe not a fierce beauty like a super model. But many of us have beauty that is most startling when it is in its rawest form. The same way a desert or rainstorm has beauty. To us, there are attributes to these phenomenons that are undesirable. But they were made by a fiercely loving father and we are awed by them. I am thankful for these broken pieces. I am Thankful I am loved by the Lover of Scars.  

Timothy Keller says, “To be loved but not known is comforting but superficial. To be known and not loved is our greatest fear. But to be fully known and truly loved is, well, a lot like being loved by God. It is what we need more than anything. It liberates us from pretense, humbles us out of our self-righteousness, and fortifies us for any difficulty life can throw at us.” How true this is for me tonight.

Married People, Please Step It Up

Married people need to step it up. I can count on two hands, out of the hundreds of marriages I've seen growing up, that I actually think seem genuinely happy to still be together. I'm frustrated. Frustrated at all the married people who seem to just talk about the hardships in their marriages. Why am I warned constantly about marriage? Why am I always being told the things you have to be careful with in marriage, and NEVER the things to be excited about? Though it’s important to prepare young people for that commitment, when did our society go to the opposite extreme? Where's the balance of solid understanding and preparation and also excitement and tenderness? I hear people often talk about how they could never picture themselves getting married. Not after what they’ve seen. Even I, someone who tries to put great confidence in an everlasting romance and marriage, have been wondering if it's possible for something to exist between two people.

The young people of this generation are not blind. They notice the lack of sparkle in a married couple's eyes. they observe the fighting. They hear the harsh, demeaning words. They take note of the lack of beauty, tenderness, and romance. They see the divorce papers. Very few have seen a marriage that would cause them to say, "When I get married, I want my marriage to be exactly like that!" Today's generation typically feels that it's a waste of time to invest in a future love story because the idea of lasting love seems so distant and farfetched. They don't wait around for long-term relationships; they live in a world of temporary flings and one-night stands. I read about a poll the other day that was taken among the younger generation, asking what their greatest desire in life was. At the top of the list, most said it was the desire to be married to one person for a lifetime. But when asked if they really believed that kind of lasting love was possible, a huge majority of the people said no. It's no longer enough to tell young people they should wait for something better. They first need to believe that something better really exists.

My favorite marriages are the ones where the two are obviously pals. What do I mean by pals? It means you just love to talk about the same stuff, do activities, and joke around - you get each other. I read about an old couple once who said they both loved gardening.  They said they could talk about tulips for hours. They will spend entire days together talking nonstop about rhododendrons and Happy Days, share a milkshake and then go to bed. they're total pals. I don’t want to hear about the endless struggle to keep sex exciting. Or the work it takes to plan a date night and find a babysitter. Or how the other said something offensive so you’ll just give them the silent treatment until they figure it out.  I want to hear that you guys watch every episode of Glee or How I Met Your Mother together, or that one got the other hooked on Game of Thrones and if either watches it without the other, they’re dead meat. I want to see you guys high-five each other like teammates when just playing a board game. I want to hear about it because I know it’s possible, and I want it for myself. What happened to being pals? I’m not complaining about romance being dead – I just talked about a marriage based on talking about gardening, a TV show, and drinking milkshakes. Not exactly rose petals and gazing into each other’s eyes on a french canal. And I’m not saying marriage is or should be easy. I'm not that naive.  But I see so many get so gloomy and worked up about it these days. Marriage might be work, but you might as well pick work you like, at least that’s what I’m always told.  Married people, it’s up to you. It’s entirely on your shoulders to keep this sinking institution afloat. It’s a stately ship, and a lot of people want to get on board, even if it’s years from now. Please be excited, and convey that excitedness to us. And always remember there are many many people who are envious of what you have. You’re the star at the end of a Shakespearian play, wearing a wreath of flowers in your hair. You’re the end of a romantic comedy where the people are just great pals who can’t wait to hang out everyday.  You are Jesus Chrsit, coming back for his bride (the church),  wooing and protecting her. The rest of us are just little side characters who, you should know, are always watching you, wondering if it will still be worth it later.

"Wives, submit yourselves to your own husbands as you do to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, of which he is the Savior. Now as the church submits to Christ, so also wives should submit to their husbands in everything. Husbands, love your wives, just as Christ loved the church and gave himself up for her to make her holy, cleansing her by the washing with water through the word, and to present her to himself as a radiant church, without stain or wrinkle or any other blemish, but holy and blameless. In this same way, husbands ought to love their wives as their own bodies. He who loves his wife loves himself. After all, no one ever hated their own body, but they feed and care for their body, just as Christ does the church— for we are members of his body.  'For this reason a man will leave his father and mother and be united to his wife, and the two will become one flesh.' This is a profound mystery—but I am talking about Christ and the church. However, each one of you also must love his wife as he loves himself, and the wife must respect her husband." - Ephesians 5:22-33

Much of this may sound juvenile and silly, but I have a genuine (and I think very accurate) concern for my generation. I also don't meen to sound offensive or ungracious. I'm merely pointing out what I think my generation is seeing. I want to hear everyone else's opinions.

This is Not "I Am"

The more I learn about Christianity, the more I realize I don't understand it. I've learned I don't understand anything about the cross, or grace, or God's divine love. Throughout the years that I've lived in a Christian environment, I've learned words, but I have not learned their meanings or their depth. However, I've learned a great deal about people in light of the gospel. I understand brokenness, depravity, and loss, but mostly? Mostly I've learned about loneliness. I'm starting to under stand why Jesus was called The Man of Sorrows (Isaiah 53). I'm learning that connecting with your own inner depravity might be the only way to ever touch even the most outer layer of truth and redemption when it comes to the cross.

But through all the things I'm learning, through all the confusion, all the religion, dogma, disagreements, persecution, and sects, somewhere  I hear my Savior's voice crying out,

"This is not who I am."

God refers to Himself as "I AM" in the Bible 719 times. 508 times in the Old Testament and 211 times in the New Testament.

Religious leaders, beggars, towns people, and prostitutes want to know who this God is, and who this man is who is said to be the song of God. Who is He? Is he a religion, a rebel, a king? Maybe. But mainly, He is "I AM." He just is. How is this not a glorious window into God's Character? I believe God is omniscient. He knew that the Bible and being a Christ follower would be perverted, and confused, and changed. He knew we would feel like we are fighting a losing battle. But he does not Lose. He does not change. He tells me to drop the religious nonsense, and follow Him. Follow Jesus, the homeless man, the man of no reputation, of no stature. I tell him I will. Then, through all the confusion and turmoil, He calmly whispers, "I AM." And I rest, because He is.

Lord, let me rest in Your simple truths. Amen. 

Awake My Soul

Lord, when I asked that You would take this heart and strip it of idols, I knew of the pain to come, but underestimated it completely. You are remaking this broken vessel. Please help me to learn to fully rest in You. My heart can’t be found in the things of this world. God, like the puritans prayed, “bind my wandering heart to Thee,” please capture mine. The lies that the enemy feeds me are powerful, and I cannot hear You. Please help me to hear the whisper above the storms. In a world where I feel alone and tired, You are present. In a world that I run to instead of You, You are faithful. Help me to find the Gospel. Awake my soul.

Thankful for Scars

The bruises on my knees, the tears in my eyes, and the hurt in my heart remind me that I was not to leave this world unscarred. Even Jesus kept his scares after the resurrection. Our scars are what make who we are, and they are beautiful to Him. As I become dirtier and more beat up, I am becoming beautiful and transformed into the image of the One who has made me. I am thankful.

The Love of a Mother

"When you care more about if someone else lives that you do yourself . . . is that what love's like?" - Kate Fitsgerald, My Sister's Keeper

 There are just some things in this life that you cannot understand unless you experience them yourself. I have accepted this, but you see, I have this thing I like to do. I like to try to feel others pain. No, I'm not a masochist. for as long as I can remember, I've had a desperate need to understand, to feel, to learn. It frustrates me when I cannot feel or understand a situation or idea. I know I can never understand most emotions completely, but I try my best to understand, or feel even at least an ounce of anothers pain. Only understanding can bring progress.

However, as I've grown older, I've realized there is one feeling that is stronger than any other emotion I've ever seen in action, or have ever tried to understand. A feeling that is stronger than the love for money, or for a friend, or for even a lover. No, it's so much deeper, so much heavier and unbreakable.  It's the the love a parent has for their child.

This is a love I cannot fully understand till I am actually a parent, I'm sure. But, when I try to touch even the most outer layer of that love and understanding, I am blown away. The deep, aching, vulnerable, and life changing love a parent, especially that a mother has for their child, is completely unexplainable.

When my mother tells me the story about how one of her sons, Joshua, had died soon after birth, it hits a very tender feminine spot in my heart. How you can leave your home, scared, nervous, but also so filled with love, and excited to hold that child in your arms, only to come home heart broken, empty handed, and your arms aching to hold the child that you never even got to see. My mother has retold stories from the numerous times she's almost lost my brothers to Cystic Fibrosis. When they have stopped breathing, when they need to be in the hospital for weeks, when she watches them cry as they are being wheeled away for surgery or when they need to have blood taken for the nth time.  It kills me to listen, to even try to touch and understand even a speck of that love and broken heartedness, never mind actually experience it myself. In all honestly, its making me cry right now. I know women who have gone through not only one miscarriage, but many many more. The hurt, the discouragement, the unfathomable pain... I can barely grasp it.

I have siblings, so I know - that in those relationships, it's all about fairness: you want your siblings to have exactly what you have. The same amount of toys, the same number of fruit snacks you do, the same share of love. But being a mother, from what I see, is completely different. You want your child to have more than you did. You want to build a fire underneath him and watch him soar. It's bigger than words.

When you first become a parent, as far as I can imagine,  you can lie in bed at night and imagine the most horrible happenings: the attack of a cat your child tries to pet, the taste of a poison berry, the smile of a dangerous stranger, the dive into a shallow pool. There are so many ways a child can be harmed that is seems nearly impossible one person alone could succeed at keeping him safe. As  children get older, the hazards only change: Inhaling toxic fumes, playing with matches, small pink pills sold behind the bleachers of the middle school. You can stay up all night and still not count all the ways to lose the people you love.

Mothers, correct me if I am wrong, but from what I can see and understand, I don't think there is a more vulnerable experience than having a child. In all honesty, it sounds terrifying. To be that vulnerable. To experience a love that can make or break a person. To those who say being a mother is not a job, not a respectable role, I say you are utterly and completely wrong. Because from I can see, there is no stronger lover, fiercer fighter, and braver endurer than a mother.

When you're a parent, lines blur and black and white mixes and becomes gray. When you're a parent, you fumble through and make decisions that allow you to sleep at night. When you become a parent, morals become more important than ethics, and love becomes more important than law. A couple years ago there were firefighters who were killed in a fire started by a homeless women in Worcester, Massachusetts. She knew the fire had started and she left the building, but she never called 911 because she thought she might get into trouble. Six men died that night, and yet the State couldn't hold this women responsible, because in America, even if the consequences are tragic, you are not responsible for someone else's safety. You aren't obligated to help anyone in distress, not even if you were the one to start the fire. There are a lot of hard jobs out there. Firefighter, defense attorney, doctor. All tiring jobs that take a toll on you. What I've realized though, is that being a mother is harder than anything you would ever have to do in a burning building, courtroom, or operating table. I've realized that the law changes when you become a parent and  that person in that burning building is your child. If that's the case, not only would everyone understand if you ran in to get your child, they'd practically expect it of you. You don't fear for yourself. You only fear for this little person you allowed to fill the spaces in your heart. Things change when you're a parent. You change.

 In the book My Sister's Keeper, Sara Fitsgerald's daughter, Kate, is diagnosed with a rare form of leukemia. Right before Kate is diagnosed, Sara sits in the hospital waiting room with her husband and four year-old Kate who has been repeatedly poked with needles for hours. Kate is miserably and her arms are as sore as her mother's heart from watching this happen to her child. When a nurse comes over and says they need to take more tests, Sara asks if they could only do a finger stick this time. The nurse replies by saying,"No, this is really the easiest way." Sara then replies, "Do you think that's really what I want to hear? When you go down to the cafeteria and ask for coffee, would you like it if someone gave you coke, because it's easier to reach? When you go to pay by credit card, would you like it if you were told that's too much hassle, so you'd better break out your cash? Do you think it's easy for me to be sitting here with my child and not have any idea what's going on or why you're doing all these tests? You think it's easy for her? Since when does anyone get the option of what's easiest?"

Now, Sarah Fitzgerald is a controlled and considerably reasonable women. She is kind and well mannered. But its when you mess with her child, part of her heart, the person she lives for, when you see this side of her.

Motherhood is a love only Jesus Christ can help a person tame. When you're aching with the loving fear for losing a child - whether that be emotionally or physically - and you feel like no one can understand and you're overwhelmed with a killing hurt, I imagine that's when Jesus comes, tears in his eyes, and wraps his arms around you and says, "I understand. I lost mine too." Is there a more beautiful example of love in the Bible than God giving His son? Every time I see a parents and child, I see the gospel. God giving up His son to die for us is something that I imagine can only mean even more when you're a parent.

Now, do I only see the terrifying  venerability of having a child? No, of course not. I also see the joy, the smiles, the hugs the kisses, the pure love. It's enough to make your heart burst. I see the love. I see that it's worth it. As I grow older and try to understand more and more of this world I live in, I am continuously knocked over with the love of Jesus Christ - especially when I see the love a parent has for their child.

  

My Mom

Sometimes my mother drives me crazy. I drive her crazy all the time. There are days when our personalities collide so fiercly it brings both of us to tears. Inspite of  this, there is no women on this planet I have ever respected more. She has gone against hardships I cannot even fathom. She has faced death and sickness with a triumphant victory. She has devoted her life to her children and their education and is daily picking up her cross to follow Jesus and serving him in everything she does. I wish I could say I was a wonderful daughter who makes life easy for this women who deserves my utmost respect, but in realty, I know I've 'caused her to get on her knees more than once with my hot head and rebellion. I have not made her life easy, yet she has loved me perfectly with endless devotion. There is nothing I could ever do to make her love me less. And believe me, I've done many things that could make a person love me less. One of my biggest faults is when I forget these things about my mother. My biggest prayer in life is that I could have even an ounce of her bravery, determination,  perseverance,  wisdom, and everlasting love. 

"Her children arise and call her blessed; her husband also, and he praises her" - Proverbs 31:28 

Personally, I don't know another women who deserves this praise more than the one who raised me. Mom, I love you. You are blessed. Happy birthday.