moments with God

Written Monday, 5/12:
I've been prompted to write about some moments I've had with God lately.

I'll start with the most recent. I had a truly LOVELY conversation with my friend Jen last night and we were able to talk about Paulo, people moving to Maine, a little about her and her husband's impending trip across the US via bicycle as they raise money for the American Lung Association and various other things girls talk about on the phone.

And I was able to verbalize this with her: I hear God's voice, I'm getting the signals, I know that above all else I'm supposed to help people through music and to provide a face for Christian missions...but I don't know what to DO about all of this. Where do I go from here? Where do you go once you hear His voice and feel His guiding hand? Where am I going to live in September? And practically speaking, how are my bills going to get paid if I do indeed make this leap into the unknown? I KNOW that God is above all of this, I am fully aware. I, however, don't want to make the wrong decision. I want to be practical. You can't really give a face to Jesus if you don't have anywhere to live, your car gets repossessed, and your bills go unpaid. Well, I guess you can. But is that really what He wants from me? I am also sole "caretaker" (that's a horrible choice for she is 200% capable of her own care) for my mom. She's just had such a crappy life, and I'm the only person ever that hasn't let her down--so I'm committed to helping her into retirement with someone by her side. I'm her only friend and I can't abandon her like everyone else has. That certainly plays into my future--how do I make such a leap while still so implanted in the world? So, if you have any insights, please, by all means, share them, for I am in the dark as to what to do. I want to make a difference. I want to help Rebuilt be all that it can be. I want to stay with TJ's. I want to get married. I want to help distribute food to those that don't have any. But I don't know HOW.

God moment from last week's church service: I go to the contemporary worship service at a very stately and established church in downtown Atlanta. The pastor I had from the age of 13 until 23 or so is the senior pastor there now. The guy who leads worship, I went to high school with him. The guy who plays drums, we're friends from the aforementioned church and he and I are connected through the 3-day retreat (Chrysalis) that I'm leading for teenage girls in September (he's leading the one for the boys the weekend prior to mine). I almost feel at home there and for that I am very grateful. For over a year I didn't go to church anywhere because of conflicting work schedules. And even now, no matter how much at home I feel at this new church, I still feel like an outsider because I can only make it down on Sunday nights. I can't make it during the week when they are feeding the homeless and downtrodden. I can't make it when they are walking the streets spreading hope. And so I feel this disconnect that I don't know how to remedy. The remedy I suppose is that I figure out how God is leading me concerning my life and career and if I get that worked out, I hopefully won't be working as much and will have more time to actually DO something that means something. For I don't believe sitting in this cube, working on ads that sell apartments is actually glorifying the name of Jesus.

An aside about corporate work: I was talking yesterday morning at TJ's to the guy that comes by and picks up all the food we can no longer sell; his name is Mike. Mike and I have become buddies over the past year and a half since our store's been open and he's been picking up our "spoils." He takes our food, he takes the food from lots of other places and he distributes it to over 53 different charitable organizations across the state to feed those who are hungry. How amazing! I want to be involved...but right now: no time. He said something that really opened my eyes a little bit wider: he has a corporate IT job. He said he knows without a doubt that he's supposed to have that job because he's supposed to bring the Gospel of Jesus into work every day. He's supposed to change the lives of those around him through that job. I, however, don't feel like I've been much of a Jesus for those around me. I lose my cool, I talk about people behind their backs, I gripe, I complain, I mutter, I'm not efficient with my time (a la blogging right now when I could be working on something useful for work) and I just don't know what my purpose of being right here right now is.

Right, back to last week. So, my pastor for so many years doesn't preach on Sunday nights. There's this younger guy who is "hip and with it" I suppose. He preaches with one of those mics that is supposed to be "flesh" colored and it is supposed to just sit upon your cheek and not be noticeable. Now, when I went to 722 all during college Louie Giglio wore one of those. And it was fine because there were 3000 of us in attendance every Tuesday night and instead of watching him on stage, I was generally watching him on the jumbotron. But this new guy, David, is all but six feet away from me and the flesh-colored mic causes me to stare at his cheek sometimes more than hear that his mouth is saying. (and David, I know I'm sending this to you too...so don't feel hurt--it's just how I tick.)

Anyway, he's been preaching on Romans 8. You know, life in the Spirit. The "if God is for me, who can be against me?" piece of the Bible. v.30: "...those whom he called he also justified; and those whom he justified he also glorified." Pretty powerful stuff. And as David said last night, Romans 8 pretty much sums up our lives as Christians. v. 32 "He who did not withhold his own Son, but gave him up for all of us, will he not with him also give us everything else?...who indeed intercedes for us." He intercedes on our behalf. That's powerful. Someone is stepping in on our behalves--our broken, sinful, selfish, dirty behalves just because he loves us. That'll preach.

Finished Tuesday, 5/13:

I went on my Chrysalis weekend in January 1997. Chrysalis is a three-day spiritual journey for teenagers--it's a 72-hour reflection on the soul. There are talks given by clergy, youth and just regular lay people (adults). My Chrysalis weekend is the single turning point in my faith. I was 15 and I already had some serious burdens. A couple of years previous (yes, at the age of 12 and 13) I had entered into a sexual relationship with a guy that was 23. I think about it now and my heart breaks for that little girl I was and would never be again. He told me I was pretty, that I was desirable and I had never heard that from anyone outside of my family (or so I believed. I'm sure I had, but it just means more to get male validation at that point in life. Maybe sometimes even now.) So for about a year he and I were "dating" (and yes, I laugh about this now...how naive!)--but the point of my entire story: my dad knew about it. He was letting this guy live in his attic for a while (there were crazy amounts of drugs involved, it's a long story--thankfully I always said "no") and he was the kind of dad that is a hippie at heart: as long as you're doing it under my roof, under my supervision, it's ok--at least you're not out on the streets! I thought he was the coolest dad ever. He was letting me follow my heart. I LOVED this guy! Anyway, a year passes. I am no longer involved in any of this stuff. I was 13, I had faced a pregnancy scare, I had seen more about the drug culture than most adults can say now, and I knew there was no going back to being a little girl. I was so ANGRY at God. I was angry that my dad had led me into all of this mess. I was angry that they guy really didn't think I was delightful--he had gone back to his ex (thankfully an actual adult). My Chrysalis weekend opened up my heart: my life is more than botched attempts to find love (from my dad, from this guy). My life has meaning and I can find redemption. So I first heard the message of Let Go and Let God in January of 1997. I love the idea of Let Go and Let God. It just sounds so EASY. Let it all go and things will work out.

I've always had an issue with it though. It just doesn't feel practical. I've learned the hard way: you've got to learn things the hard way. You can't just lay things down and not wrestle with them and expect to come out of the experience victoriously.

Fast forward to 5.04.08. David speaks on Let Go and Let God being bad theology. If I were a little less shy about speaking up in church during quiet moments, I would have yelled AMEN.

Romans 8.26: Likewise the Spirit helps us in our weakness; for we do not know how to pray as we ought, but that very Spirit intercedes with sighs too deep for words.

The Spirit HELPS us in our weakness. We're to carry on and the Spirit shall come alongside of us and share the load. Probably even take most if not all of the load. But we're still expected to walk. To tread along. To be side-by-side with our God and realize that on our journey we aren't alone. Our load isn't all on us. We still have to journey, and we still have things to carry with us--but they aren't to be burdens, they are to be loads we carry with joy--for I gladly carry my baggage (for lack of a better term) because I wouldn't have such a rich relationship with God without it. If I hadn't hit rock bottom at age 13, I wouldn't have cried out to God for help. I would have continued to live my charmed lifestyle in a ritzy suburb of Atlanta without a qualm. But I found a church, I found a movement, and it is with both of these institutions I found a Family. There are people I have known since then that I know, without one doubt, I could call right this moment saying I need help and they would act. The senior pastor at this church in Atlanta is one of those people.

But I digress: Let Go and Let God. I left for Ireland in the fall of 2002. I saw my dad once before I left. We had a spotty relationship throughout high school and college. I no longer thought he was cool. I thought he was a horrible person and I couldn't forgive him for standing idly by while my childhood went down the drain. I was still very angry at him. While I was in Ireland my one and only grandmother passed away. She was my dad's mom. I couldn't come home for the funeral and I came home at Christmas instead. I found out from my
aunt, my dad's sister, that my dad was missing. She never liked him much (oh, did I mention my dad's gay? No? Well, he is. My parents got married for whatever reason they each had and made it work for 13 years. I'm, obviously, very thankful for that.) My aunt has always hated him for that. She sat me down with my grandmother's inheritance check and handed over my dad's will saying that he was probably dead or in jail (because of the drugs). And she didn't seem to care. So from that winter day in 2002 until June 2006 I thought my dad was dead. I searched the jails and nothing. I searched phone books and nothing. And then I got a call in late June of 2006. From my dad. And he just wanted to chat like nothing had happened. For four years. He had disappeared and he now just wanted to chit chat. I was a basket case--my dad had come back from the dead and all the feelings that I had let die with him were now alive and well, and I was also starting to deal with the disintegration of the closest friendship I had ever known (unrelated to my dad's reappearance).

And I decided the week after I met up with him for the first time since I left for Ireland that I didn't want to be angry anymore. I had finally come to terms that I didn't actually initiate a sexual relationship when I was 13--I was taken advantage of, I was a victim of sexual abuse and I could be a whole person in spite of it. I didn't want to hate my own father anymore. He was just doing what he thought was the best for me and I was 24, I had a job, an apartment, a car and a life of my own. It was time to find some healing. So I truly Let Go of that anger and I Let God. And it worked. I had been tightly holding onto this anger and hurt and cloak of victimization because it was what I had grown so used to, so comfortable with.

So, I still believe that we are charged with carrying on, with not just giving up, but trudging on, through the muck and the rain because there are better days ahead. We are to carry our burdens for God knows that's how we'll grown. But sometimes He can just take those burdens completely away. And that's what happened to me that day. My anger was gone. In its place was sympathy, empathy, and just a twinge of sadness for all those years I wasted.

And I just realized something. I like to write in my Bible. I generally date my notes and the sermon title because I like seeing them later on. And I had heard a sermon on Romans 8 on March 26, 2006 entitled "Retro." By my friend Louie Giglio at 722. And he said something that I wrote in the margin in reference to verse 30: "He'll weave the ugly past to glorify Himself for better days." If only I could have seen how true that was going to be for me. Three months after I heard that message, I was faced with my ugly past. And He showed me how he could weave it to glorify Himself for better days. For I am now a living testament of those better days. I can now tell others what God has done in my life. I can see His hand molding His glory out of my abuse, my self-hatred, my anger, my best friendship that is now no longer.

I now talk to my dad once a week and try to see him every Sunday before church. He goes with me sometimes, but he's a pretty busy retiree. He doesn't do drugs anymore. He has a roof over his head and food in his stomach--and just a few short months ago he had neither. And through it all, if he can glorify God with tears in his eyes, then I surely can.

So, maybe Let Go and Let God needs a little tweaking. Yes, we are to carry on. We are to walk alongside and not give up. But maybe sometimes on our walk, the bag gets lighter and eventually evaporates. Not by our own doing, but because God blesses us and deems it so.

There are better days, friends. I sit here saying that with conviction. I have no idea what tomorrow brings. I don't even know what the rest of today brings (well, except for work. With Paulo ;). I have no idea where I'm going to live when my lease is up, I have no idea if I can even qualify for a loan to buy a house, I don't know how my bills are going to get paid if indeed I'm supposed to make Rebuilt my job. I don't know.

But I do know that my God has brought me this far and He won't drop me now.



in my prayers today:

my boss here at work had to leave early because her mother-in-law was rushed to the hospital this afternoon

Jen, Jonathan, Carrie and Autumn as they are a couple of weeks away from driving to Oregon from Boston just to ride their bikes all the way back to raise money for the American Lung Association in honor and memory of Jonathan's dad who died of emphysema

the Chrysalis weekend that I'm leading in the fall, yet have yet to hear back from anyone about it--so no plans have been made

and my dear friend Jason as he's headed to Australia--he's probably in the air right now. He flew out of Atlanta yesterday morning, flew to LA, had an eight-hour lay over and then was flying from there to Auckland, NZ and then heading to Melbourne. A 36-hour trip. Essentially he won't know today existed. And he's terrified to fly--so my prayers are certainly his!

and in fun news: I'm running the front office of TJ's all this week (we had a full-timer get transfered to another store and the guy that's coming in his place is on vacation this week so I have to fill in. hooray!) and so it's just me and Paulo running the ship tonight. I made sure to ask all of the questions I had last night to another full timer so I could appear to be perfect tonight when Paulo has to double-check my counting and work and whatnot. Hey, I want to look the best I can (not just physically--you know, like I want to impress him with being good at my job). And as LR pointed out this morning, I have yet to figure out if Paulo loves Jesus. I realized I'm putting a lot of my eggs in one basket. But that's how I roll. I'm passionate. I'm impulsive. And I have undying optimism and that's something I love about myself.


(ps: my mom doesn't know about the sex/drugs/rock and roll/baby making incidences. and it's been 13, almost 14, years now. no need to bring it up, k thnx!)