I had forgotten what it sounded like.

As soon as I opened my eyes, the gentle crackle registered in my ears and I assumed there was a fire. My next thought was that if there was a fire, why wasn't I warmer? And who had started the fire? I rolled over in my bed and saw gray light streaming through the broken blinds on the window. Gray.

The crackles resolved themselves into gentler pitter-patters, and I realized that it was not the sound of a fire I was hearing, but the sound of rain. For a moment I didn't believe it. But soon I managed to pull myself out of bed and see the dark asphalt and the dripping trees. Sure enough, it had rained.

I always sleep deepest on rainy nights, and wake up the most refreshed. I had to remind myself that today was Saturday. I was allowed to sleep in. But as soon as that thought registered, I knew I was Up. And when I'm Up, game over.

Yesterday may have been the longest day I can remember, but it was wonderful. For me. For Someone Else, it may or may not have been rather lame.

I'm always afraid of being Too Much. Of overdoing it. I want to be myself. I want to be real, but I'm learning that being myself doesn't always mean saying exactly what comes to mind all the time. Then again, how do I edit myself without carving away at my sincerity?

But I'm also afraid of Not Being Enough. Not pretty enough. Not smart enough. Not charming enough. Not good enough at sports. Not fun enough. Not having it together. Not a good enough cook. Not submissive enough. Not friendly enough. Not ...something.

Walking that line of balance is hardest when you can't see the line.

Just One Good Man, Thanks.

I can't remember if this is one of those fake memories or something that actually happened, but I have a vague recollection of an older woman at my church coming up to me in the months before I went to Africa, and saying, "All you can ask for, really, is a man who is good."

I was rather offended by this, for a few reasons. First, because she didn't really know me. Second, because I was through with men and was escaping to Africa to get away from them. And third, because I was in the fairy tale stage, when I was convinced that somewhere out there was a knight in shining armor just waiting to come rescue me.

Rescue me from what? I don't know, but I sure created enough drama in my life to need rescuing.

But it didn't happen then. God worked on me. He adjusted my perspective. He told me what it is I need. I kind of understand that old woman's sentiment now. A good man. But what does this mean? Someone who doesn't beat you?

This isn't what makes a man good.

What makes him good is his commitment to God-- his conviction of the goodness of his Savior.

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If you had asked me three or four years ago what I liked about a certain friend of mine, I would have said, "He loves God, he's an intelligent free thinker, and he knows what he believes and isn't afraid to say so."

Today, God has brought this friend to a much closer level with me. I know him better now. And I can surely say that he is a good man.

When a woman at my church asked him how much he loved Jesus, he simply replied, "A lot." I'm not sure what she wanted to hear, but hearing him say it made me smile. He really does love Jesus and is committed to following Him at all costs.

That phrase "at all costs" scares me because I know what it could mean. I know that sometimes God asks us to give up people that are important to us because He has a different plan. I've struggled with this, but I've reached a point where I can truly pray Thy will be done in this relationship. Because after years of heartache from trying to figure things out on my own, I can finally say that I've reached a point where I trust God enough to let Him guide my steps.

I am excited to see what God has planned for us. I'm excited to grow closer together in our pursuit of God's will. And I count myself blessed indeed to have him, my knight in shining armor, in my life.

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This Thanksgiving, I might be more thankful than I've ever been in my life.

-I'm thankful for Godly parents who offer me wise counsel when I need it and support my decisions.

-I'm thankful for close friends who stick with me even though I screw up and hurt them sometimes.

-I'm thankful for a job that I love and a boss I deeply respect.

-I'm thankful for a warm bed to sleep in and food to eat.

And this year, I'm especially thankful to have in my life a man who, through his commitment to Jesus, leads with a meek and Godly example to the end that my greatest desire is to know Jesus better.

Friend Request: Denied.

My K.i.S.A. loves to hate those "Jesus is My Homeboy" t-shirts. He thinks they're too familiar. I think he has a problem with the idea of people thinking of God as a buddy-- a cool friend to hang out with. And he's right, of course. The God of the universe, the Creator, the Prime Mover, loves you, cares about you, and is deeply interested in you living the victorious life. But He's not your buddy.

The Bible does refer to Him as a friend, though:

"Thus the LORD used to speak to Moses face to face, as a man speaks to his friend." (Ex. 33:11)

"Did you not, our God, drive out the inhabitants of this land before your people Israel, and give it forever to the descendants of Abraham your friend?" (2 Ch. 20:7)

"A man of many companions may come to ruin, but there is a friend who sticks closer than a brother." (Pr. 18:24)

"But you, Israel, my servant, Jacob, whom I have chosen, the offspring of Abraham, my friend;" (Is.41:8)

"The Son of Man came eating and drinking, and they say, 'Look at him! A glutton and a drunkard, afriend of tax collectors and sinners!' Yet wisdom is justified by her deeds."" (Mt. 11:19)

"Jesus said to him, "Friend, do what you came to do." Then they came up and laid hands on Jesus and seized him." (Mt. 26:50)

"and the Scripture was fulfilled that says, "Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness"--and he was called a friend of God." (Ja. 2:23)

So where's the disconnect? Why can't we be friends of God, too?

The Scriptures use at least 5 different words which are translated as "friend" in the verses where God is referred to as such:

Rea': a an intimate companion

'amiyth: relation, neighbour, associate, fellow

'ahab: human love to and for God; a lover; God's love for man

Philos: an associate; a companion

Hetairos: a comrade, mate, partner

So God should be several things to us: an intimate companion, a close neighbor, a lover, a comrade.

Yesterday in Chapel, my principal said that God is most real to him during his quiet time in the morning. This is when he communes with God, when God speaks to him. My best friend also tells me about God talking to her, telling her things. I find myself wishing that God would speak to me that way.

To be honest, my time with God always seems to be contrived. I have to cut time out of my day, or deprive myself of much-needed sleep in order to meet with God. And then I read my Bible, I try to pray, I try to listen.

Silence.

Sometimes, once in a blue moon, I'll find something new in the Scriptures. Something that excites me. But the excitement soon wanes and again I find myself deserted.

And I know, God says He will never desert us. But that's what it feels like.

Then, of course, some genius comes along and says, "If God feels far away, guess who moved." Great. Now, on top of feeling abandoned and unloved, I also feel guilty. Perfect. Now you're telling me that I'm not trying hard enough. That I'm not doing enough to reassure myself that God loves me and wants to spend time with me. I'm sure that's exactly what God wants our relationship to be.

But here's the thing: I shouldn't have to convince myself that God wants to spend time with me. If you spend your time convincing yourself that someone loves you, do they really? If you have to keep reassuring yourself that someone does, after all, want to spend time with you, whom are you trying to convince?

I want to feel God's love for me, not just read about it. I want to experience the joy that comes from knowing that God considers me a friend. As of right now, I sing about it in the old hymns, I hear it from the pulpit. But my relationship with God is academic. It's top-down. I don't feel like I can boldly approach His throne.

Dear God,

What can I do so that You'll talk to me? Why is the Bible dry so much of the time? Where is this never-ending stream of living water you promised me? How long will you forget me? Why don't you protect me from the waves of despair that crash over me? Why can't our relationship be as intimate as I see that other people have? What am I doing wrong?

Decisions, decisions.

I'm not making it financially. People always tell you to "rely on God" and "trust Him with your finances", which is what I've been doing. So, I've been trusting God, and tithing whenever I can, and not overspending, and all that stuff that you're supposed to do.

And I am not making it.

I'm working a job that I love right now, but which hardly pays anything. I'm doing grad school, which looked at first like it was going to be cheap, but then the State took money away from the Universities. And I'm driving a dying car.

So, this said, I come to a hard decision about what I can do. I have 3 options.

1) Take out loans and go several thousand dollars further into debt.

2) Drop out of grad school and get a night job to supplement my abysmal teacher's salary.

3) Arrange for my parents to "accidentally" die and collect the life insurance money.

Okay, so #3 is not really an option I would ever consider.

But here's the thing: I hate being in debt. I'm already several thousand dollars in the hole and couldn't afford to make a home purchase anytime soon. Do I really want to double my debt and spend the next 30 years paying it off?

On the other hand, a disgustingly high percentage of people who quit school never go back.

Then again, my Master's program is something I'm really passionate about and deeply believe in.

But then, that's what everyone says.

I'm reminded of my K.i.S.A.'s post on his blog about sitting down and having a cup of coffee with God, asking His advice.

But I'm pretty pissed off at God right now.

I mean, really! I gave two years of my life living in Africa having a horrible time, and You used it to teach me a whole lot about how faithful You are. And about myself. And about how people work. And about depression. And about how hard missionary life really is. You used that time, when I was miserable. And now I'm back home, and I just want a break! Can't you give me a break?! Is it so hard to give me a LITTLE reprieve from Your constant hounding on me? Isn't there some little rich girl that You can teach a lesson to? WHY IS IT ALWAYS ME?!

It always feels like my tears go unseen, my cries unheard. There is no rest for me, no break from the constant struggles.

My mom tells me that this is good for me-- that it builds character. But I am a morally upright, trustworthy, loyal, faithful, and honest person! How much more character can I possibly have?! I've had enough of this building character crap. What I need is money!!!

One of my favorite moments in the Bible is in Mark 9, where a man comes to ask Jesus if He can heal his son. Jesus says something like, "If I can? Everything is possible to the one who believes!" The man, chastised, cries, "Lord, I believe! Help my unbelief!"

And that's my cry, too.

Religious Tolerance? Good luck with that.

We've all seen them now. Those "Coexist" bumper stickers where every letter is a recognizable symbol for a different set of beliefs. They are variations on this:

The bumper sticker was first introduced by a website called Peacemonger.com, which I recently visited. It's pretty much your standard ultra-liberal stuff. "End the war", "Go Gay marriage", etc. And a whole bunch about different religions living together peacefully. My favorite is one with a drawing of Jesus, which says "Practice What He Preached." and has symbols of all sorts of religions. Sadly, these people don't seem to realize that it was Jesus who said, "I come bringing not peace but a sword."

But I digress.

This post was really going to be about how different religions can never coexist in a society. Now, I know what you're thinking. You're thinking, "What are you talking about? Of course they can!" But sadly, you're wrong.

Here's the thing: all religions, no matter what, claim to have some sort of corner on the Truth market. Estimates ... er... estimate that there are somewhere around 10000 religions on this here planet. And all of them claim to be "the truth".

In order to establish a functioning society, we have to have laws. And these laws have to be based on a worldview. This worldview determines how the laws are going to play out. Are you going to base your society on, "Love your neighbor" or on "Kill the infidels"? These are two radically different views, which will produce diametrically opposed societies.

You have to pick a worldview in order to establish a society. And that worldview is going to claim to have some corner on the Truth, or else it's worthless and powerless.

So, whose worldview do we choose?

No matter which one we do end up choosing in order to form our laws, someone's going to get stepped over. Someone's religion is going to be affronted by our laws. It's just the way it works.

Now, we do have the option of having a reasonably tolerant society. But this works only if everyone agrees live by a Judeo-Christian ethic. Things like "Love your neighbor", "Do unto others...", "Care for the widows and the orphans", "Respect the government", "Treat everyone with deference." Those are all from the Bible, and they are the basis for American culture today. But when people choose to start living by a different ethic, we have clashes.

This wouldn't work if we used a Muslim or Taoist ethic. A Free society couldn't function based on those ideals.

So, when someone following another set of values enlists in the military of a country whose laws are based on the Judeo-Christian ethic, we know that it's not going to work out. That relationship is doomed from the start.

While a religiously tolerant society is a nice dream to have, it's just that: a pipe dream. An opium-induced fantasy.

Which is why when John Lennon wrote his song about his ideal society, he said, "Imagine no religion."

I wonder if you can.

Melting

Being in a relationship is teaching me interesting things about my heart, my pain, my healing. I have written before about how intense emotions affect me physically. When I have a messy breakup, the whole world becomes gray. Food turns to ash in my mouth, my chest hurts, my eyes sting, and it's hard to breathe. All those things that songwriters tell us... they are true. I didn't realize that those people were being literal.

I'm now in what I call the "sickeningly happy" stage of my relationship (seriously, how are the people around me not vomiting every time I talk?!). This is the infatuation phase. It makes me want to stand on a roof and scream "EVERYTHING IS WONDERFUL!!!" And for me, this stage also has its physical effects. Whereas I would normally look in the mirror and say something to the effect of "yech," now I smile and am surprised at how clear my skin is. How bright my eyes are. I have tons of energy. I want to jump around and dance and spin and run into things, not even caring that I look like an idiot.

And my lungs feel like they're going to explode. My heart is going to jump out of my chest. My hands are shaking. Whenever we're together, I am just one skipped heartbeat away from passing out. Sometimes I forget to breathe. My knees start to buckle when he kisses my cheek, and I have to concentrate on standing.

I know this is all normal, but it's exhausting! This being happy all the time takes a lot of energy. I've started taking naps in the afternoon, which I have never done before. And it's only been a month. I know that all this infatuation is going to wane, that we will reach a comfortable stage, but I don't want it to! For all the exhaustion, I LOVE feeling this way!

And it's made me think about the condition of my heart.

I think it's called a "heartbreak" for a good reason. When you give your heart away and it's rejected, thrown back at you, it breaks into pieces. It takes time to heal, and healing produces scar tissue. The thing about scar tissue is that it's harder than the natural tissue, less likely to break, but doesn't function as well as the natural tissue.

When you're freshly infatuated (or whatever word you want to use), the poets describe the heart "melting". Which works. Because before, I felt like all I had to give was crumbs-- pieces of a formerly broken heart. But with new affection comes a melting-- the crumbs liquefy and become one. So that as the heart at first is held over the flame of infatuation, it becomes whole again. And as the infatuation wanes, the heart cools, reforms, and becomes capable of loving again.

So this infatuation stage is necessary! It's part of healing! It makes us capable of loving more thoroughly, more deeply.

And when that happens, I will have a new heart, a whole heart, to give, instead of broken crumbs.

A pretty bad poem

I wrote this yesterday during Chapel at the school where I work. I've been trying to fight off the beginnings of depression which seems to want to build a nest in my heart.

Actually, I'm not sure what to do with it. Do I let it come, deal with it, like a wave passing over me? or do I try to fight it off, finally going down screaming, thrashing, exhausted? So here it goes...

Unwelcome Companion

The darkness arrives

clandestinely.

It creeps.

It crawls;

sneaks silently.

The heaviness steps in

unwelcomed.

Wipes its feet

Hangs its hat

Too accustomed.

The ink spot makes

its home in my chest.

Just above the heart-

a hole

an emptiness

eating me from within.

I want to scream

but cold fingers

close

tightly

around my throat.

Hope seems so far away.

A place I'll never see,

An unattainable goal.

I stare into the abyss

That hole

in my soul.

I want to see something

some flicker

some spark

But the abyss

(cursed darkness)

refuses to stare back.

It is nirvana--

the emptiness I hate--

the heavy weight

holding me down

Handcuffing me to my fears

Binding me to the clandestine darkness.

Despair.

But then... then I did go to chapel. And though it took a while for the principal to get around to the message, when it finally came it was exactly what I needed to hear.
"There is a race set before you, and it is unique. We don't know what the obstacles will be, but we do know that they are tough. But God puts them there for a reason, and He will provide the strength for us to get around or through. Our race, be it with diabetes or cancer or a dead brother or depression, is designed so that our lives bring maximum glory to God."

So, God knows me. God knows what I can handle and what I can't. And he's given me recurrent depression as a thorn in my flesh, so that I am reminded that I can't do anything on my own. All we do is for His glory, for His praise. And HE is the one on whom we depend to make it through those times.

"You may learn more about something by picking it apart, but you usually have to kill it in the process"

My friend Segina and I were talking the other day. He is as much of a scientist as I am-- actually more so. And he's a lot smarter than I, which is part of the reason we're friends.

There's a section in the Sherlock Holmes tale "A Study in Scarlet" which I think perfectly describes us both. In it, a friend of Watson's is describing Holmes prior to introducing the two. He says in the manner of warning to Watson,

"Holmes is a little too scientific for my tastes-- it approaches cold-bloodedness. I could imagine his giving a friend a little pinch of the latest vegetable alkaloid, not out of malevolence, you understand, but simply out of a spirit of inquiry in order to have an accurate idea of the effects. To do him justice, I think that he would take it himself with the same readiness. He appears to have a passion for definite and exact knowledge."

Segina and I both tend toward being what I call too "clinical". Our bedside manner, if you will, is lacking. In our pursuit of pure unadulterated knowledge, we all too often slaughter beauty and art. Eventually, though, we hit a brick wall.

Because even though Science has the potential to answer every "how" question we can come up with, it can never answer the question "why?"

Why is our world so full of seemingly useless beauty?

Why are we attracted to things that are beautiful?

Why do we feel pain when we lose someone?

Why does heartbreak hurt so much?

Why why why?

And these "why" questions are really the most important; they are the ones that lead us to God.

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Over the years, I've come to know myself as someone who doesn't sympathize very well. It makes me unable to tolerate other people's pain. "Get over it," "You're better off now," and the (n)ever-popular "Just don't let it get to you," were my mantras.

I've been very hard over the last few years. My encrusted soul locked itself behind steel walls to protect from being hurt.

But in the process I have lost some dear friends. Even the ones who have stuck around have been severely hurt by my surgical attitude toward emotions. I had convinced myself that they were cancers, to be excised without damaging the surrounding tissue. But as I tried to remove them, I realized that the cancers had metastasized into all my organs, and whenever I tried to cut out my emotions, make them go away, I would get physically sick.

So over the last year or so I have been learning to allow myself to emote. It really began with my last breakup, which was at the end of August, 2008. I was nearly engaged to a guy who didn't emote. At all. Didn't even get upset. Didn't even care when I got upset. Just ignored me.

Why were you dating this loser? you undoubtedly ask. Ah, that's a long story. Suffice it to say, I was sure that it was God's will. And sometimes God asks us to do things we don't want to. However, I now believe that God usually won't ask you to date and/or marry someone you don't want to.

Anyway, after I ended that relationship, I decided to let myself mourn. I wasn't mourning the loss of a love, but rather of a friend. Caleb had been the only stability in my life for the year that I had been in Kenya. Everything else had changed, except him. We had become close, good friends. And when I realized that I just could not convince myself to marry him, I knew that I was losing my closest friend also. So I let myself grieve.

I didn't miss work. I didn't let my roommates down. I didn't lapse in any of my duties. But I did cry myself to sleep several nights in a row. And as I allowed myself to feel, to express my pain, I also allowed others to minister to me. Some girls knew that I really missed the beach, so a week after my breakup they called me in to one of the bedrooms and showed me a "beach" party that they had assembled-- a chair, towel, umbrella, and pineapple juice in a big glass... the scene was completed by the girls wearing coconut bras.

It was the happiest I'd been in a very, very long time. I felt loved, respected, and nourished.

It was then that God pressed upon me the need to be more compassionate. I realized for the first time how much of a difference it makes to someone, just to feel their pain with them. To commiserate (this is one of my favorite words). As I felt God pushing me toward empathy, I realized that there was a room inside my soul that I had never visited. A room where I could feel what others feel. A warm, comfortable room well-stocked with Kleenex.

Eight months later, I had forgotten about this. I spent the last several months of my time in Kenya emotionally preparing to leave. I was worried about my own health, my own problems, my own life. I didn't have much time to practice my newfound compassion, ironically enough.

When I arrived home, I started attending my Tuesday-night Bible study again, to find that there was no one there with the gift of encouragement. Now, I don't have the gift of encouragement, but I do believe that we should try to cultivate all the gifts within ourselves as much as we can (some are just easier than others). So, I saw the need and decided that this was my chance to step in and help. So, I started small. Little encouraging things to the leader. And to the girls. And as I began to do this, I revisited that warm, comfortable room in my soul.

All of this was a preparation time. Because God knew that Deanne would need me come October. God knew that she would go through this hard time, and He knew that she would lean on me. And so I needed to be a strong but soft support.

I have a long way to go. But as I grow softer, I see the work God is doing in my life and in others' lives. It's a glorious renewal of my heart. It's a joyous reawakening.