What inspires us? Or specifically, what inspires you? Is it people, or music, or God, or literature, or lanscapes, or photography, or laughter, or worship, or community, or family, or writing, or singing, or texting, or sports, or beauty, or fashion, or weather, or gardens, or seasons, or Facebook, or HTML, or videos, or movies, or zombies, or vampires, or hash tags, or money, or breathing, or thinking, or reflective surfaces, or fictional people, or historical people, or science fiction, or stars, or planets, or check marks, or grades, or scholarships, or werewolves, or SAT scores, or random freak happenings, or musicals, or theaters, or architecture, or spelling, or grammar, or YouTube, or the fair, or anger, or your childhood, or sadness, or joy, or memories, or Twitter, or sprinklers, or ice cream, or baking, or reading, or sprinkles, or fictional worlds, or the future, or heaven, or hell, or angels, or demons, or clouds, or any number of the millions upon millions of things that strike that something inside of us that wants to create, to be remembered, to feel, and make others feel?
What inspires you?
Lately I've been in this sort of creative rut, because all of my energy is sucked up by relationships and school and church, and trying to still stay close to God through all of it. The first time in months that I've been able to make something remotely creative was when I sat down to write a letter to my ex-boyfriend. One of those never-will-be-sent letters, because I needed for those feelings to be out of me, for them to mean something, but I couldn't handle telling him or any of my friends because I'm smart enough to know it would just blow up in my face. And for a few hours, yes, I was sad. But after it was done I felt a little bit emptier, like there was room for me to create again. Since then I've been able to feel everything a little clearer, process my world in a better way. Last night when my whole family was gone for one reason or another I just sat in the rain with my dog next to me, and thought. Not about how badly I felt, or how much I'd ruined things with so many people, or how to make things better and fix everything. I just thought. I let my mind run free for a few minutes.
I thought about the rain. How it dripped down on my shoulders and soaked through my shirt, a shirt my dad had bought me because I loved Pirates of the Caribbean so much in junior high. I watched the rain drops hit the street and was overwhelmed by the sheer number of them, and I thought of how there were probably billions of raindrops falling from the clouds so far away from me, and how there were more raindrops falling within my eye line than there are people in the world. I thought about how big our God is and how perfectly he has orchestrated this world we live in. I thought about the rain falling softly on my head and concentrated on feeling every last molecule of it, just glad to be completely certain of something as simple as a raindrop hitting my head. I pondered the sensation of a raindrop sliding down my face, catching on my eyelash, and dropping on my knee, and precisely how different it was than feeling a tear follow a similar path; the tear would be a part of me, it represents a feeling or emotion, its hot and stinging and salty, while a raindrop is something foreign and alien, a part of a water cycle that will continue no matter what I decide, its cool, clean, calm, and refreshing.
When I came in to get cleaned up before my family returned home I was full of feelings again, the hole left by the letter filled to the brim. But it was different, because the emotion and creativity and thought that filled it was not from me. It came from outside of me, I felt inspired. I wanted to tun to my room and just start writing before it all escaped, because each of those thoughts could be a full formed story or essay by the end of the night. Instead I showered and by the time I was out my sister was home and we sat on the couch and shared a bag of candy and a movie, one more thing to add to the list of moments that inspired me that night.
And today, what inspires me?
Everything. I found my creativity again, after all these months. I've devoured ten books in the last week. My mind is swirling with the impressions from music, videos, friends and their thoughts, classes, prayer, poetry, family relationships. I can't seem to write fast enough to get it all down.
So for all of you who care enough to read my thoughts online: I'm sorry that I've been inconsistent about posting, and I'm not saying its going to get much better, but now I can promise the words won't be empty.
Sunday, September 25, 2011
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Forewarning...
...This is going to be a strange post. For two reasons!
1) I just watched a few vlogbrothers videos, which always make me talk weird (I don't know if other people notice but I do!)
2) It's on a subject I don't particularly enjoy talking about, but for some reason feel compelled to write on.
Media.
It's been a theme in my life for a few days, simply because of the circumstances I've been in. The combined stress of family visiting for the weekend, senior year starting, my youth pastor leaving, 'ending' a relationship with someone I care deeply about, and a few more sensitive things has made me grumpy, irritable, sad, nauseous, and sleep-deprived. It really isn't a whole lot of fun.
So the other night I had just gotten off the phone after an emotional conversation and I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep immediately, and I wandered into the living room thinking: "I just need some mindless TV to get my thoughts off of it." And I sat down, turned on some sitcom like How I Met Your Mother, Friends, or 8 Simple Rules, and turned off my brain for a while.
Now I'm not usually someone who looks for ways to stop thinking. My brain is a pretty powerful processor, and with obvious exceptions, I like the conclusions it comes up with. But that night I just wanted to stop thinking about everything going on and be somewhere else mentally. A day or so later in either my Psychology or Understanding the Times class (or maybe both) the teacher talked about how everything has a worldview, whether we realize it or not. Music, movies, books, advertisements, TV shows, it all has a worldview that it was filtered through as it was created. And 99% of the time, that worldview is not the same one we hold as Christians. So what does that mean? We enforce some kind of media blackout on ourselves? Only taking in things deemed "Christian"?
No!
But we do have to be discerning. I know personally I don't often 'turn off' my brain when I'm watching TV or listening to music, but I've heard the phrase from my friends before, and the more I think about it, the more it worries me. When we turn off our minds, so to speak, we leave room for whatever we're watching/listening to/reading to plant itself on our brains. The worldview and opinions of the media become lodged in our heads, and with repition, they can get stuck there permanently.
So I guess this is just a warning, or something like that:
Keep your brains turned on.
1) I just watched a few vlogbrothers videos, which always make me talk weird (I don't know if other people notice but I do!)
2) It's on a subject I don't particularly enjoy talking about, but for some reason feel compelled to write on.
Media.
It's been a theme in my life for a few days, simply because of the circumstances I've been in. The combined stress of family visiting for the weekend, senior year starting, my youth pastor leaving, 'ending' a relationship with someone I care deeply about, and a few more sensitive things has made me grumpy, irritable, sad, nauseous, and sleep-deprived. It really isn't a whole lot of fun.
So the other night I had just gotten off the phone after an emotional conversation and I knew I wasn't going to be able to sleep immediately, and I wandered into the living room thinking: "I just need some mindless TV to get my thoughts off of it." And I sat down, turned on some sitcom like How I Met Your Mother, Friends, or 8 Simple Rules, and turned off my brain for a while.
Now I'm not usually someone who looks for ways to stop thinking. My brain is a pretty powerful processor, and with obvious exceptions, I like the conclusions it comes up with. But that night I just wanted to stop thinking about everything going on and be somewhere else mentally. A day or so later in either my Psychology or Understanding the Times class (or maybe both) the teacher talked about how everything has a worldview, whether we realize it or not. Music, movies, books, advertisements, TV shows, it all has a worldview that it was filtered through as it was created. And 99% of the time, that worldview is not the same one we hold as Christians. So what does that mean? We enforce some kind of media blackout on ourselves? Only taking in things deemed "Christian"?
No!
But we do have to be discerning. I know personally I don't often 'turn off' my brain when I'm watching TV or listening to music, but I've heard the phrase from my friends before, and the more I think about it, the more it worries me. When we turn off our minds, so to speak, we leave room for whatever we're watching/listening to/reading to plant itself on our brains. The worldview and opinions of the media become lodged in our heads, and with repition, they can get stuck there permanently.
So I guess this is just a warning, or something like that:
Keep your brains turned on.
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Ah, Summer...
Well, summer is drawing to a close. Last weekend of the season. Actually, a few of my friends have already gone back to school this last week, but for the most part everyone I know goes back in the next few days, whether its Monday, Tuesday, or Wednesday. And all over Facebook and Youtube and other networks I see teenagers complaining
"Where did summer go?!"
"This is crap..."
"Why do we start so early?"
"One week left :("
And other such whining. Even my brother groans out loud whenever some one asks if he's excited about school starting up again. On the other hand, there are those few idividuals who can't wait for the new school year. It's all countdowns and exclamations on their Facebook pages.
Both sides are wrong.
At least that's how I feel about it. The last two weeks of summer are always like this, the opposing sides of those dreading school and those anticipating it. I won't lie, previous years I was on one side or the other. This year however, I'm just frustrated by both.
Why not just enjoy it?
It sounds simplistic, but honestly, why worry about it either way? School is going to start whether we want it to or not. Time doesn't slow down or speed up for us. Spend the last few days of summer enjoying it! Not thinking about the new year. You don't have to necessarily cram the last days with activity, because isn't that what we hate about the school year? Just relax everyone. The world isn't ending, it's just school starting.
"Where did summer go?!"
"This is crap..."
"Why do we start so early?"
"One week left :("
And other such whining. Even my brother groans out loud whenever some one asks if he's excited about school starting up again. On the other hand, there are those few idividuals who can't wait for the new school year. It's all countdowns and exclamations on their Facebook pages.
Both sides are wrong.
At least that's how I feel about it. The last two weeks of summer are always like this, the opposing sides of those dreading school and those anticipating it. I won't lie, previous years I was on one side or the other. This year however, I'm just frustrated by both.
Why not just enjoy it?
It sounds simplistic, but honestly, why worry about it either way? School is going to start whether we want it to or not. Time doesn't slow down or speed up for us. Spend the last few days of summer enjoying it! Not thinking about the new year. You don't have to necessarily cram the last days with activity, because isn't that what we hate about the school year? Just relax everyone. The world isn't ending, it's just school starting.
Saturday, July 30, 2011
We Are A New Creation
Home.
I guess.
No disrespect to all the wonderful people here at home, but I know I'm not the only one who feels oddly displaced. Walking back up to your house, digging through cupboards for dinner, checking your Facebook, and then actually sleeping in your own bed... All of it feels wrong. Just a little bit off. A few weeks ago I came home from spending a week with my cousins in another state, and coming home felt like a big sigh of relief. Now it just feels... Empty.
Where are my brothers and sisters?
I keep thinking I'll turn around and see Cabe or Brandon doing some strange dance, or Colton on top of a roof somewhere, or Taylor hit some guy with a frisbee, or Austin comforting someone, or Tyler pondering where his life is heading, or any number of encouraging and/or entertaining things that were always just behind me during the whole week. I feel like I'm missing a limb, knowing I won't see them all again until tomorrow. And that feels like forever away.
But at the same time...
I am full of encouragement because of what I saw this week. God did some INCREDIBLE things through the people at CIY. Last year's tagline was "no matter what" and that really hit home for me. All year it was my mission to be there for my brothers and sisters no matter what they were dealing with. This year the tag was "something bigger". And that's exactly what we're doing. 13 people in our group of 23 were baptized Thursday night. 13. Including my actual biological brother, three of my absolute BEST friends in the world, and my boyfriend, who had made an important decision to completely surrender his life and his actions to God's will. It was amazing and completely perfect. I was entirely overwhelmed by the whole things. Also 6 of us dedicated our lives to full time ministry, whether for the first time or just solidifying that choice. (Correct me if I'm wrong but I think-) John, Carter, and I are going into worship and music ministry, Taylor has a wild and crazy dream about traveling the country in a bus to reach people for God, Austin is considering a mixture of youth ministry and mission work, and I'm guessing here but I think Marcus is doing something pastoral. It was so cool just to see the number of people who stood up in the last evening session to say "I am going to be a Kingdom worker." and then those who said they would be going into full-time ministry. They asked us to go into the lobby so we could sign up for some information and the whole room was packed with teenagers who will be serving God in their communities.
I know for those of you who weren't there this post sounds rambly, but don't worry, here's my point:
Our group changed this week. We went into it knowing that when we came home our leader Chad would be leaving the church. For me, the whole week had a bittersweet taste because Chad has been such a HUGE part of my life the last six years or so. Before camp I was sincerely struggling with how to deal with youth group without him. He was the one who first told me I had leadership qualities. He has shaped me in ways I don't think I even totally understand right now. God has used him in my life and in the lives of every kid who walked through the doors of our youth room. And I didn't know how we could go on without him.
Now I know.
We are new. We are changed. It's our job now to take what we've learned and use it to change others. God has given us a gift and a unity so that we can make a difference in the lives of our friends.
It's time to do Something Bigger.
*Yes, for those of you who were at CIY, the line is actually "I am a new creation", but in the spirit of unity, I refocused it for my blog title*
I guess.
No disrespect to all the wonderful people here at home, but I know I'm not the only one who feels oddly displaced. Walking back up to your house, digging through cupboards for dinner, checking your Facebook, and then actually sleeping in your own bed... All of it feels wrong. Just a little bit off. A few weeks ago I came home from spending a week with my cousins in another state, and coming home felt like a big sigh of relief. Now it just feels... Empty.
Where are my brothers and sisters?
I keep thinking I'll turn around and see Cabe or Brandon doing some strange dance, or Colton on top of a roof somewhere, or Taylor hit some guy with a frisbee, or Austin comforting someone, or Tyler pondering where his life is heading, or any number of encouraging and/or entertaining things that were always just behind me during the whole week. I feel like I'm missing a limb, knowing I won't see them all again until tomorrow. And that feels like forever away.
But at the same time...
I am full of encouragement because of what I saw this week. God did some INCREDIBLE things through the people at CIY. Last year's tagline was "no matter what" and that really hit home for me. All year it was my mission to be there for my brothers and sisters no matter what they were dealing with. This year the tag was "something bigger". And that's exactly what we're doing. 13 people in our group of 23 were baptized Thursday night. 13. Including my actual biological brother, three of my absolute BEST friends in the world, and my boyfriend, who had made an important decision to completely surrender his life and his actions to God's will. It was amazing and completely perfect. I was entirely overwhelmed by the whole things. Also 6 of us dedicated our lives to full time ministry, whether for the first time or just solidifying that choice. (Correct me if I'm wrong but I think-) John, Carter, and I are going into worship and music ministry, Taylor has a wild and crazy dream about traveling the country in a bus to reach people for God, Austin is considering a mixture of youth ministry and mission work, and I'm guessing here but I think Marcus is doing something pastoral. It was so cool just to see the number of people who stood up in the last evening session to say "I am going to be a Kingdom worker." and then those who said they would be going into full-time ministry. They asked us to go into the lobby so we could sign up for some information and the whole room was packed with teenagers who will be serving God in their communities.
I know for those of you who weren't there this post sounds rambly, but don't worry, here's my point:
Our group changed this week. We went into it knowing that when we came home our leader Chad would be leaving the church. For me, the whole week had a bittersweet taste because Chad has been such a HUGE part of my life the last six years or so. Before camp I was sincerely struggling with how to deal with youth group without him. He was the one who first told me I had leadership qualities. He has shaped me in ways I don't think I even totally understand right now. God has used him in my life and in the lives of every kid who walked through the doors of our youth room. And I didn't know how we could go on without him.
Now I know.
We are new. We are changed. It's our job now to take what we've learned and use it to change others. God has given us a gift and a unity so that we can make a difference in the lives of our friends.
It's time to do Something Bigger.
*Yes, for those of you who were at CIY, the line is actually "I am a new creation", but in the spirit of unity, I refocused it for my blog title*
Sunday, July 17, 2011
move
move.
Simple enough right? Just a verb. A preschool word even. But to me, it's about the most life-changing concept in the world.
The idea of move came to me when I started highschool, at a summer camp by the same name. (Of course most if not all of you who read this know about move, if you haven't been there yourself) At camp we talked about letting God move in our lives. Not because the Almighty needs our permission to do anything, but because he lets us have free will, we have to choose to work with him. Honestly, that first summer, move was just camp. It was just a shared experience. One that changed my life, but because of people, not because of God that summer. When I came back the next year, I saw how God had moved. I had been living in fear, sadness, and pain all of my freshman year, and when I opened my eyes and saw what God had been trying to teach me, it was... Beyond words. I gave up all the petty issues that were holding me down and said "Ok God. Move."
And he did. In bigger ways than I could understand at the time and even bigger than I can grasp now.
As I grew up a little bit, I learned more about move. Move is the way God speaks to me. Not that I hear him audibly very often, but it's those little moments when I'm struggling with a decision and I feel that little nudge in the right direction. Move.
It grew beyond just a week every summer. It is my life. Letting God move means that I live dangerously. It's awful and wonderful. Move is taking the risk and speaking my mind. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a people person. I'm afraid of people, afraid of getting hurt. I hate confrontation and arguments. I hate taking charge. I'm horribly uncomfortable when it comes to making choices. And God, being the all-knowing perfect Father that he is, has put me in a position where not only do I have opportunities to take a chance in these areas, but I am forced to. I've somehow become a "leader" in my youth group. Which means we as a leadership team are supposed to make newcomers feel welcome. I'd like to say that I'm getting better at it, and that people now find me warm and welcoming instead of awkward and abrupt. No. Two months ago I welcomed a girl to our youth group by saying "Hi, I heard you're a junior? Me too. Want a cheeseball?"
Not my proudest moment. Thankfully, the new girl stuck around to learn we aren't all socially awkward freaks at our church. It's just me.
Move has become the theme of my life, strangely enough. I hear the word all the time. On TV, in chapel, in class, in my friends' conversations, even this morning when my youth pastor told the church he would be leaving at the end of the month. And every time I do it's like God is whispering in my ear.
"Move. Move. Move."
I'm going back to move camp next week, and I think it may be my last summer there. Maybe not, but it looks that way at the moment. I can't express how much that simple statement that the people at CIY ministries decided to use has changed my life, the way I look at the world, the way I relate to people, the way I hear God. Move is my life. And I hope that doesn't change as my life moves forward.
Grace and peace, thanks for listening.
Simple enough right? Just a verb. A preschool word even. But to me, it's about the most life-changing concept in the world.
The idea of move came to me when I started highschool, at a summer camp by the same name. (Of course most if not all of you who read this know about move, if you haven't been there yourself) At camp we talked about letting God move in our lives. Not because the Almighty needs our permission to do anything, but because he lets us have free will, we have to choose to work with him. Honestly, that first summer, move was just camp. It was just a shared experience. One that changed my life, but because of people, not because of God that summer. When I came back the next year, I saw how God had moved. I had been living in fear, sadness, and pain all of my freshman year, and when I opened my eyes and saw what God had been trying to teach me, it was... Beyond words. I gave up all the petty issues that were holding me down and said "Ok God. Move."
And he did. In bigger ways than I could understand at the time and even bigger than I can grasp now.
As I grew up a little bit, I learned more about move. Move is the way God speaks to me. Not that I hear him audibly very often, but it's those little moments when I'm struggling with a decision and I feel that little nudge in the right direction. Move.
It grew beyond just a week every summer. It is my life. Letting God move means that I live dangerously. It's awful and wonderful. Move is taking the risk and speaking my mind. Contrary to popular belief, I am not a people person. I'm afraid of people, afraid of getting hurt. I hate confrontation and arguments. I hate taking charge. I'm horribly uncomfortable when it comes to making choices. And God, being the all-knowing perfect Father that he is, has put me in a position where not only do I have opportunities to take a chance in these areas, but I am forced to. I've somehow become a "leader" in my youth group. Which means we as a leadership team are supposed to make newcomers feel welcome. I'd like to say that I'm getting better at it, and that people now find me warm and welcoming instead of awkward and abrupt. No. Two months ago I welcomed a girl to our youth group by saying "Hi, I heard you're a junior? Me too. Want a cheeseball?"
Not my proudest moment. Thankfully, the new girl stuck around to learn we aren't all socially awkward freaks at our church. It's just me.
Move has become the theme of my life, strangely enough. I hear the word all the time. On TV, in chapel, in class, in my friends' conversations, even this morning when my youth pastor told the church he would be leaving at the end of the month. And every time I do it's like God is whispering in my ear.
"Move. Move. Move."
I'm going back to move camp next week, and I think it may be my last summer there. Maybe not, but it looks that way at the moment. I can't express how much that simple statement that the people at CIY ministries decided to use has changed my life, the way I look at the world, the way I relate to people, the way I hear God. Move is my life. And I hope that doesn't change as my life moves forward.
Grace and peace, thanks for listening.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
Scars
Scars always have stories, don't they? They're tales told through marred tissue. I don't have many myself; one on my elbow from teaching myself to ride a bike when I was 10, a number of small ovals on my legs from not paying attention while shaving, a new one I got this past week learning how to kneeboard when I faceplanted and somehow cut my stomach on the edge of the board, a prick from a needle when I was in preschool, a half moon on my wrist when my friend tripped me and I landed in an ant hill. None of these are interesting stories, I know, but most people have fun or scary stories behind their scars, don't you?
Think about the moments before you got those physical scars. When your bike hit the rock and you lost control. When the branch swayed beneath you and you knew it wouldn't hold anymore. When the ball is speeding towards your face and you don't have time to duck. Did you think about what could happen next? Did you think about the scar it was going to leave?
Maybe that's why internal scars are so much more fascinating and important to me. Because the things that wound us emtionally scar our personalities. Me? I put so much stock in what other people saw in me that I could no longer find value in myself. Now I don't have close relationships with people until they prove that they like me for me. I wanted a guy that didn't even really know that I was there. It convinced me for a long time that no guy was ever going to like me more than just 'one of the guys'. I ran away from meaningful relationships for so long that now I cling to the ones I have. A little less dramatic, I misunderstood the directions when I went tubing for the first time in middle school, got dragged under water for several minutes, and now I'm scared to death of water recreation
Can you identify those before moments when it comes to emotional scars? Can you see the destruction before it happens? I think I'm learning that... I know my connections with select friends are going to hurt like none other when I go off to college and have to leave them behind. Not because I'm severing the ties, but because they mean so much to me that I'll be afraid to make new real friendships in college. I know my dependence on other people to make me feel better when I'm sad, scared, or lost will hurt me someday. And a hundred other little things that I know I do that are going to hurt me sometime.
But that's life, isn't it? Sometimes we jump in headfirst, because we can, because we're human. We know it's not safe, not right, not healthy for heaven's sake! But we do it anyway. We live our lifes with people, even though people hurt us. We take chances in life. We risk being shot down and just say what's in our hearts because sometimes it's worth it. Most of the time we get hurt. Most of the time we end up with a scar that means we learned our lesson. But sometimes... There's someone who loves our scars. Someone who accepts them and loves you more for them.
That's why we do it. Because out of every hundred times you jump off the edge, there's that one time that someone catches you, that makes it worth the ninety nine scars you earned from taking the risks.
Think about the moments before you got those physical scars. When your bike hit the rock and you lost control. When the branch swayed beneath you and you knew it wouldn't hold anymore. When the ball is speeding towards your face and you don't have time to duck. Did you think about what could happen next? Did you think about the scar it was going to leave?
Maybe that's why internal scars are so much more fascinating and important to me. Because the things that wound us emtionally scar our personalities. Me? I put so much stock in what other people saw in me that I could no longer find value in myself. Now I don't have close relationships with people until they prove that they like me for me. I wanted a guy that didn't even really know that I was there. It convinced me for a long time that no guy was ever going to like me more than just 'one of the guys'. I ran away from meaningful relationships for so long that now I cling to the ones I have. A little less dramatic, I misunderstood the directions when I went tubing for the first time in middle school, got dragged under water for several minutes, and now I'm scared to death of water recreation
Can you identify those before moments when it comes to emotional scars? Can you see the destruction before it happens? I think I'm learning that... I know my connections with select friends are going to hurt like none other when I go off to college and have to leave them behind. Not because I'm severing the ties, but because they mean so much to me that I'll be afraid to make new real friendships in college. I know my dependence on other people to make me feel better when I'm sad, scared, or lost will hurt me someday. And a hundred other little things that I know I do that are going to hurt me sometime.
But that's life, isn't it? Sometimes we jump in headfirst, because we can, because we're human. We know it's not safe, not right, not healthy for heaven's sake! But we do it anyway. We live our lifes with people, even though people hurt us. We take chances in life. We risk being shot down and just say what's in our hearts because sometimes it's worth it. Most of the time we get hurt. Most of the time we end up with a scar that means we learned our lesson. But sometimes... There's someone who loves our scars. Someone who accepts them and loves you more for them.
That's why we do it. Because out of every hundred times you jump off the edge, there's that one time that someone catches you, that makes it worth the ninety nine scars you earned from taking the risks.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Love...
Love is when they spit on you, turn you away, laugh in your face, ignore you, insult you, and you still look at them and say "You still mean the world to me."
I wondered once at an unfortunate conversation with a friend from school. She was going through an incredibly tough thing, one of those things that forever affects your life and the way you look at the world. I remember spouting a few cliche comments about things getting better, God has control, His plan is the best one, and all of that, but at least in my mind it all sounded hollow. I really felt no sympathy for her or her situation. I desperately wanted to! I wanted to feel for her, but all I felt was guilty as I walked away from her. Upon reflection, I recalled how another friend came to me with a problem. That time, however, it was a boy from church instead of a girl from school. His problem was difficult, but not so much as my girl friend. He I cried for, spent hours talking to and praying for. I still ache inside thinking about the pain and frustration in his voice when he spilled his heart out to me..
Why?
Why did I feel for him and not for her? I talked through the confusion with my mother, and she just said:
"Because you love him."
No, not romantically, not in the slightest. But yes, I realized, it was because I love him. He's my brother, we have a strong bond in shared experience in Christ. Not to say that my girl friend and I don't share the bond of Christ, because we do, but up to this point it's all just knowledge on that front. Figuratively speaking, there's no blood bonding us yet. But this friend, this brother, even when he makes a bad decision, or does something stupid, or blows me off, he's my brother and I love him. And that's why when my girl friend came to me I didn't have anything to offer, there was nothing invested there. Because as much as I wanted to care about her hurt, those feelings don't come naturally like they do when one of my brothers comes to me.
Because as much as I CARE, I did not LOVE.
*And here's the disclaimer. This point has nothing to do with the way people should treat each other. I know that the love I feel for my close brothers and sisters should not outweigh the love I should feel for everyone God has created. This is just something I'm working through, and I thought I would share it, on the off chance that someone else might learn from me and my mistakes*
I wondered once at an unfortunate conversation with a friend from school. She was going through an incredibly tough thing, one of those things that forever affects your life and the way you look at the world. I remember spouting a few cliche comments about things getting better, God has control, His plan is the best one, and all of that, but at least in my mind it all sounded hollow. I really felt no sympathy for her or her situation. I desperately wanted to! I wanted to feel for her, but all I felt was guilty as I walked away from her. Upon reflection, I recalled how another friend came to me with a problem. That time, however, it was a boy from church instead of a girl from school. His problem was difficult, but not so much as my girl friend. He I cried for, spent hours talking to and praying for. I still ache inside thinking about the pain and frustration in his voice when he spilled his heart out to me..
Why?
Why did I feel for him and not for her? I talked through the confusion with my mother, and she just said:
"Because you love him."
No, not romantically, not in the slightest. But yes, I realized, it was because I love him. He's my brother, we have a strong bond in shared experience in Christ. Not to say that my girl friend and I don't share the bond of Christ, because we do, but up to this point it's all just knowledge on that front. Figuratively speaking, there's no blood bonding us yet. But this friend, this brother, even when he makes a bad decision, or does something stupid, or blows me off, he's my brother and I love him. And that's why when my girl friend came to me I didn't have anything to offer, there was nothing invested there. Because as much as I wanted to care about her hurt, those feelings don't come naturally like they do when one of my brothers comes to me.
Because as much as I CARE, I did not LOVE.
*And here's the disclaimer. This point has nothing to do with the way people should treat each other. I know that the love I feel for my close brothers and sisters should not outweigh the love I should feel for everyone God has created. This is just something I'm working through, and I thought I would share it, on the off chance that someone else might learn from me and my mistakes*
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