Lent: Broken but Chosen

I decided not to give anything up for lent this year.

In the past, I’ve picked something like sweets or shopping to ditch…something that will ultimately benefit my health or wealth. Let’s be real, I 100% missed the point.

This year I decided to reflect instead. Rather than giving something up, I realized that there was a lot of perspective that I stood to gain.

Since the last Easter season, a lot has happened. Put bluntly, I have come to know more deeply what it’s like to be broken in a broken world.

Health wise, I am intimately aware of my physical limitations. I am a person whose ability to walk normally and tolerate day to day activity depends on ridiculously expensive drugs. New symptoms are no longer novel (?) or as scary because pain and uncertainty are…normal. I’ve come to really know this reality, to accept it.

Heart wise, I know what it feels like to break, to feel fully known but not enough. I have sat with the fullness of feeling rejected, crippled by my contributions not outweighing my costs. There’s a true acknowledgement of internal helplessness and brokenness when your heart is in pieces but you are entirely incapable of putting it back together.

And now I get lent, and I am thankful for it.

I know what it’s like to lose. To lose out on the physical lottery, to hurt deeply and not know how to heal. I have felt my brokenness in a real and raw way, and experienced an inability to fix myself.

That’s why the ashes are so meaningful – they are lifeless and hopeless, what remains after a burn; fragments so marred that recovery is not comprehensible.

Spoiler alert! The beauty in the ashes part.

Christ sees our brokenness, my brokenness. He knows what I have lost – and that I am a loser. He knows that I have caused pain and that I have felt pain. He sees my pieces, disjointed and deformed – broken beyond my own repair.

Yet he chose me, and he chooses me. Not because I am worthy, but because of love.

Choosing someone entirely broken is, I think, the most beautiful concept that I can fathom. It’s the most beautiful truth I have known. Loved… through the failure that I have been and will be.

It’s an unbalanced equation. And it doesn’t make sense.

Side note: not only is Easter about Christ choosing us, it’s about him sitting in the ashes with us. He broke, felt the pain of rejection, and knows what it’s like to lose.

This Lent season has been more beautiful than I could have imagined.

With confidence I can say that I am broken – I know this. This past year has exposed weakness and rejection in a full way. But with the same breath I know that I am chosen. I know that, out of the truest love, He picked up the ashes and breathed life into my soul.

That’s a ridiculous kind of love. So, thanks, Lent! 28 years of reformed theology, and I think I *finally* get you 😉

Anxious me, and maybe you?

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I can be an anxious person. About anything and everything, really. Sometimes my heart starts beating fast and I begin to feel nauseous even before I’ve considered what it is that I am anxious about! First step, acknowledgement.

But August was a month full of peace and joy, and for that I am so thankful. I’ve tried a couple of things for the past 60 or so days that have helped more than I expected. They are not revolutionary or complex – they are simple adjustments that have brought a healthly dose of clam to my chaos.

  1. I stopped buying things. Like everything except food and gas. This goal started from a desire to be more mindful with my money – to invest with intention. But then I accidentally became more content…with everything, not just material things. When I am stressed or nervous, buying pretty things is a great distraction. But I guess the problem with all great distractions is that they fade… bringing us full circle. Since “moderate” has never been a super active word in my life’s vocabulary, I just cut “things buying” out completely. The resulting contentment has been the best purchase of the year ;). Will keep you posted on how I ease back into acquiring some new work clothes… unless hemless slacks and pilled cardigans are coming back in, anyone?
  2. I started taking care of myself. Talking breakfast EVERY MORNING (what? what?). Prioritizing working out EVERY WEEK. Beginning new medical tests and functional treatments where “fear of the unknown” previously paralyzed me. And saying “no” when I’m too tired (okay, still working on this). Point is, you matter and there’s a reason “self-care” books are so popular. If you need some scriptural encouragement, I love 1 Kings 19:7. There’s a lot of context here, but the relevant verse is simply, “The angel of the Lord came back [to Elijah when fleeing Horeb] a second time and touched him and said, ‘Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.'” To live out our day-to-day callings effectively and to have strength for our lifelong journeys, we need to take care of ourselves. The mundane should matter to us (and guess what, it matters to God too!)…N.T. Wright, Tish Harrison Warren, and many others speak so much truth to this topic.
  3. I started sitting for moments, and more moments, on end. Preferably in the sun, or with the windows open. Sometimes I read, other times I listen to music. Most times I just sit in silence. Just now I realized that I haven’t watched a show or a movie in weeks – not that those are bad, but I think there is a wealth of rest for weary hearts and minds when we are willing embrace being still. Side note on prayer: I used to think that the whole point was to talk to God and “fill Him in” on my needs/wants. To be honest, I struggled to see the point when presumedly He knows anything/everything I could ever hope to say. Recently, I’ve found a lot of peace in listening rather than talking. I know it’s not everything, but I think it’s something and something related to the whole finding peace in silence/meditating thing…?

That’s it. Three super simple things. Of course, there’s no formula – and what I struggle with is different from many. But at the core, I think there’s some truth in simplifying, taking care, and quieting for everyone.

What do you do to make still your restlessness?

Known

I find myself getting frustrated by people’s assumptions about me sometimes – what they think I believe or want, who I am and who I want to be.

Sometimes they get me “right,” a lot of times wrong.

It’s annoying when someone thinks they’ve “pegged you,” right? Before you feel they even understand your perspective?

But we all assume – and as rational humans we need to in order to draw conclusions and, well, function. We can make good guesses and we can fail.

Sometimes even when we guess correctly, we don’t align with the other’s perception of him/herself.

Meaning…I can be wrong about myself? What?

So I’m trying to chill out. Give grace where people assume incorrectly (because I’m right there too), and be open to reflections that I don’t yet see.

But at the end of the day… there’s still a deep desire to be known. To be known fully without misperception. To be known through all the nuance. To be known for all the good and the bad, tallied to a result of “still loved.”

Pascal describes a divine longing in our hearts – a God-shaped vacuum. There’s this deep desire to be known that seeks supernatural satisfaction.

It gives me freedom to not seek complete fulfillment in human understanding. I can share my dreams, my fears, my insecurities, and, oh, I will! Some will understand, others will think I’m nuts. But that aside, I’m already known. I’m known better than I know myself.

Audrey Assad writes my favorite songs, and “Known” gives me chills each time I listen (even if it’s seriously the 1,000,000,000th time). She puts into words what I can only feel.

So i’m just gunna leave this here. 🙂

As the dew falls on the blade
You have touched all this fragile frame
And as a mother knows her baby’s face
You know me, You know me

As the summer air within my chest
I have breathed You deep down into my breast
And as You know the hairs upon my head
Every thought and every word I’ve said
Every thought and every word I’ve said

Savior, You have known me as I am
Healer, You have known me as I was
As I will be in the morning, in the evening
You have known me, yeah, You know me

Oh, and as the exhilaration of autumn’s bite
Oh, You have brought these tired bones to brilliant life
And as the swallow knows, she knows the sky
This is how it is with You and I
Oh, this is how it is with You and I

Savior, You have known me as I am
Healer, You have known me as I was
As I will be in the morning, in the evening
You have known me, yeah, You know me

From the fall of my heart to the resurrection of my soul
You know me, God, and You know my ways
In my rising and my sitting down
You see me as I am, oh, see me as I am

And as a lover knows his beloved’s heart
All the shapes and curves of her even in the dark
Oh, You have formed me in my inward parts
And You know me, You know me, yes

Savior, You, You have known me as I am
Oh, healer, You have known me as I was
As I will be in the morning, in the evening
You have known

You have known me, in the morning, in the evening
You’ve known me, God
In the morning, in the evening You have known me
Yeah, You’ve know me

You have always known me
You know me, God, You have known me
You have always known my heart

Oh, to be disciplined…

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Discipline – possibly the easiest practice to value but simultaneously the most difficult to master [for me, of course].

When I look back at times that I have been most fulfilled, I’ve possessed a lot of discipline – talking about a laser-focus on achieving a goal or set of goals.

Until my early 20s, I seemed to always have clear goals – make good grades, get into college with scholarships, graduate college, get a job. Anddddd I thrived.

I thought that taking a section of an SAT practice test every day for a year was normal – expected. That an “A” wasn’t enough – I needed the highest score in the classroom to feel proud. And, of course, becoming “president” of everything was crucial for my future [unknown] career.

I was a bundle of fun to hang with for sure.

Here’s the thing, I really thought that I was disciplined. I achieved goals through hard work. I made myself and others proud. I did everything to exceed the “bar” that I saw above me.

But what I didn’t realize was that the goals I was intent on achieving weren’t really my own. In many ways, they felt externally set. “My” bar was at the height that my sister, friends, family, etc. had placed it.

It’s a lot easier to practice discipline when you have clear goals and don’t have to develop them for yourself. Adopting a framework allows you to operate in a system with known rules, directions, and expectations.

Looking back, I did well achieving goals that I didn’t create and I failed miserably to meet objectives that I developed. Why? Because I failed to develop them in the first place.

It’s embarrassing to admit that, and frankly it’s taken awhile for me to realize that I am not the goal-setting, disciplined person that I thought I was for 20+ years.

In all fairness, there are real mental/emotional blocks that get in the way. I’m afraid I’ll set a goal for myself that I don’t know how to achieve. I’m paralyzed at the thought of venturing into the unknown without a map/guide – and no one’s path looks exactly like mine!

While real and reasonable, these feelings tend to excuse action… and, truly, there’s no one else to set goals for us.

We have to raise the bar for ourselves.

Otherwise? The bar will sit comfortably where it was when we graduated college, or law school, or high school, or med school, or trade school, or wherever the clear cut path dropped us off.

So here I am. Fumbling to understand how to become disciplined and set goals…in my late 20s. Not even talking about achieving them yet…

I’ve started small and set actionable goals in four categories of my life outside of work. Long-term and short-term. Sharing some short-term examples below:

  1. Physical (i.e. work out min. of 3 times a week)
  2. Financial (i.e. establish a monthly budget by spending category & commit – this month I’m spending money on food and gas, regardless of how great the N sale is…)
  3. Relational (i.e. respond to text/phone calls within 24 hours – this sounds dumb but if you know me, you know how bad I am at responding to…everything. I’m sorry. There is no excuse.)
  4. Spiritual (i.e. reserve time for prayer and reflection each day – no missed days)

I made a promise to myself to achieve these goals and that matters… mainly because becoming disciplined in every area of life starts small and intentional – all in an effort to build sustainable habits. My hope in making these goals bite-sized is that I’ll manage to keep 100% of them and momentum will build.

More importantly, these goals are mine – no one else’s. The bar is something that I need to work to raise each day, month, year, by the grace of God.

What are your goals, friend?

If you’re on this discipline journey too, here’s some encouragement from Brother Lawrence,

That we should not wonder if, in the beginning, we often failed in our endeavors, but that at last we should gain a habit, which will naturally produce its acts in us, without our care, and to our exceeding great delight.

Peace in Quiet

IMG_5951The quiet makes me uncomfortable, and sometimes blank space seems scary.

I think from the time I was little I felt a need, or responsibility, to fill space. When the conversation died, I would talk. About nothing mostly, but words definitely came out.

When my coat pockets were empty, I would stuff them with scribbled on paper – nonsense affectionately referred to as “projects.” I even remember a situation when mom’s old purse [that I used to tote around] wasn’t full so I packed it with plums from the neighbor’s tree. Everyone loved that idea months later when the plums were still around.

Old habits die hard (though no plums at present, promise!). It’s hard to sit still without music, without TV, without friends or family, without work, without social media, without distractions. I feel like I should be saying something, doing something. Always something.

The practice of not filling every square inch of space in the calendar, or looking forward to “the next thing” in each moment is not easy. Allowing room in the margins of life is hard.

Hard because we might end up alone with ourselves. No distractions, no excuses. Just who we are and who we want to be. Reflections on what we’ve done and what we ought to do. How’s that for dramatic?

But seriously, the floodgates open and the deep thoughts and unanswered questions rush in.

I’m not able to fully find peace in everyday stillness yet. It’s easier when you’re on top of a mountain, or laying in the sand. Those seem like appropriate places to be “all in” or to “ponder purpose.”  But not when you’re in the middle of the ordinary, where everything is the same except you’re not moving. Or talking. Or filling. It’s hard to show up for the scary stillness in mid-week chaos.

Tonight was quiet. Tomorrow night probably won’t be. But right now I have tea and a candle close by. There are fireflies dancing around my window and there’s total silence. There’s no pressure to produce anything or be anyone other than myself. And all I need to consider is who I was made to be.

Everything that seems so all-consuming fades away.

I’m writing this down mainly so I don’t forget – there is relief in the quiet, unfilled, and totally blank moments. They are still scary, but only until the peace shows up. Then they are worth it. So leave some space!

P.S. Sometimes when I reread myself, I’m like…what a jumbled mess of a million half-baked ramblings! Phew. SO I think the real takeaway is chill out sometimes and drink tea – it’s good for the soul!

Audible, Eternity, and Jewelry

I’m not sure what ties these topics together apart from my brain… so therein lies your fair warning.

First, audible – if you’re not obsessed, allow me to persuade you. I think it’s the best app that’s ever been created. For someone who never makes time to sit still (yes, probably something to address…), I can keep moving around making dinner, doing laundry, getting ready for work, cleaning my closet, etc. AND productively occupy my mind. Perfect for commuting. Perfect for road tripping. Perfect for the pool.

There is literally no excuse not to read every book worth your time. I’ve read more books in the past month than I have in the past year. My only caution to you is not to fall asleep listening. It’s really hard to find your spot the next morning…

That brings us to eternity, lol. I’ve been listening to N.T Wright’s book Surprised by Hope. If you’re not into theology, eschatology, and all that, then this is probably not going to be top of the list. BUT! It’s so good. Please pardon my preachy…

The main message of the book is that eternity starts now. We should live as “wide awake people” or as “resurrection people.” If we are in Christ, then we have been raised from the dead; this is not just a future state but a reality in our present (harkening back to Paul). Why does this matter? Because it means we matter. Our lives matter. The decisions we make now matter for eternity. Because eternity is now.

When life gets hard and when injustice triumphs (because it does), it’s easy to “escape” with an excuse that this world will always see suffering. It’s convenient to give up on the now because it’s fallen and will remain broken until the “new heaven and new earth.”

We take this approach with the best of intentions sometimes – we encourage ourselves and others with the hope that physical and emotional pain will be gone one day. That one day relationships will be restored and peace will prevail. My problem is that we can’t pretend away the now – we’ve likely all tried at some point. This world is our reality and we have to be concerned with it even when it’s not okay. Even when we are not okay.

“In the Bible, heaven and earth were made for each other.” We are citizens of both at the same time. N.T. Wright has coined a beautiful phrase that we live in a “post Easter world.” We get to let this truth change our life. “At certain points, they [heaven and earth] intersect and interlock. Jesus is the ultimate such point. We as Christians are meant to be such points derived from Him…the double life of Jesus, both heavenly and earthly, can become ours as well already in the present.”

This compels us to action. The post-Easter world changes our “attitudes, thinking, behavior.” We are here with a purpose – we have hope and redemption in Christ now, and we must not be apathetic to injustice.

So jewelry…y’all that was so smooth I was worried you’d miss it. Sharing about two organizations that I can’t get out of my head. They exist solely to wrestle with injustice in the world and offer hope. They embrace the dark corners, marred with trauma and heartbreak. They offer hope now, not just later. They are living the heavenly and the earthly together, and they invite us to join. I love that.

The Sanctuary Project is a community of human trafficking survivors who make beautiful products to spread hope. Each woman is restoring and rebuilding her “now.” They are beautiful and brave, and they are redeeming this world.

Recently, The Darling Detail teamed up with them to produce beautiful necklaces – crosses and stars. My star chocker is on its way, but here is the cross necklace.

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I love wearing this reminder of redemption and hope in our present – no matter the state of my “now.”

Another inspiring organization is Fashion & Compassion – they help women regain economic mobility. The organization “creates empowerment communities where vulnerable women connect with God, one another and resources as their lives are transformed.”

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Wrap (similar) / Cuff (similar)

Buying and wearing this jewelry is just one small way we can contribute to redeeming the now.

It’s really all about living awake to opportunities to not give up on the needs around us. It’s about inviting others along to live with us as “resurrection people.”

“It’s time to wake up! …the message of Easter…is not that there is a blissful life after death to look forward to. The message of Easter is that God’s new world has been unveiled in Jesus Christ and that you’re now invited to belong to it.”

Let’s show up. Let’s encourage redemption’s work in the big and in the small. Let’s welcome eternity in the now.

Grateful

I’m rarely reflective. In fact, sometimes I’m oblivious to truth in my life.

I tend to focus on perfecting the blemishes and purging the weaknesses; stashing the trash and masking the clutter. The natural result? Self-obsession and disconnection from reality.

If I’m not conscientious and intentional about regaining perspective, my problems quickly grow out of proportion and my heart becomes anxious and bitter.

I’ve been pushing myself to take stock of my reality. To be honest with myself – to examine my day-to-day beliefs and consider their validity. The result has been a feeling of overwhelming gratitude.

I’m grateful for friends who hold me accountable to dreams that I’m afraid to vocalize.

I’m grateful to live in a city full of opportunity.

I’m grateful for thunderstorms that I can watch through large windows – from the comfort of a couch and warmth of a tea cup.

I’m grateful for parents who are proud of me when I don’t know why.

I’m grateful for the hope of tomorrow even without a promise of today.

I’m grateful for the days when I wake up without pain.

I’m grateful for sisters who love me [and tell their friends that I’m cool].

I’m grateful for education and empathy and their limitless potential.

I’m grateful for friendships that never change, despite distance and life stage.

I’m grateful to jump in my car and shortly end up lost in the Shenandoah.

I’m grateful for opportunities to see the world and capture memories with people dear to my heart.

I’m grateful for fresh flowers on my table and Otis Redding on the record player.

I’m grateful that I am never alone despite day-to-day ups and downs.

I’m grateful to have known and loved my grandparents – to know they are part of who I am.

I’m grateful for antique furniture and family heirlooms that make my home feel like home.

I’m grateful for a faith that has evolved while continuing to be my compass.

I’m grateful to my God who knows me fully even when I don’t know myself.

I’m grateful for Audrey Assad and for Rachel Held Evens.

I’m grateful for hope in a world where words lack assurance and trust may be broken.

I’m grateful for resurrection and the hope for life eternal.

For these truths and so much more, I am grateful. This reality is the one I want to claim despite day-to-day fears and failures. A heart of gratitude.