The Mask

Note: I wrote the following last spring during my backpacking trip in Europe. Read more HERE. Funny how the same anxieties follow me to Fort Worth. 

I will tell you more about Prague, 

But yesterday I was sitting in a YWAM prayer time with Laken and Treg. We were all praying for the ministry of Pick-A-Pocket. As I was praying I began to think about my time in Prague vs. Taize.

Such contrasting experiences 

I saw the reverent, prayerful side of Krisi. And the cowering, cautious version of myself.

I was hit with a Derek Zoolander-esk state of "who am I?"

I have donned so many masks that I cannot even tell you what lies beneath them all. 

To my Christian brothers and sisters I will appear authentic and outgoing. 

To the world of young travelers I am a fellow pursuer of pleasure, constantly reserved. 

In my home I will skirt around my interests to protect the convictions of others.

In the business world I will pursue networking and self-advancement.

In NGO's I will be a pioneer against injustice.

Where ever you are, who ever you are, I will find a way to belong; to connect; to be well liked.

At the end of it all:

I am a little girl who cries in train stations when there are no seats.

I am a passionate lover of french cheese.

I am an often naive, seeker of male affection.

I am afraid of rejection and cower at displeasing others.

I have not yet learned to love my sister as I should.

I enjoy beauty, conversation and connection.

I become frustrated when I cannot break down the walls others hide behind.

I am a Christian who is distastefully crippled and struggling to create agenda-less friendships

with those who do not share my faith.

And I am tired. 

Ready to tear off the mask.

 

What do Lindsay Lohan and Mother Theresa have in common?

Romania seems so very far away when I am sitting in an office in Euless, TX. Picking plums from worm invested trees and filling dozens of grocery sacks is imprinted on my mind; "How can they possibly do this everyday?" was the predominate thought streaming in my head as I plucked ripe purple fruit.

Hard work is funny, almost romantic when it is simply an idea. Anytime I have painted houses, pruned gardens or picked plums, I reach a point when romance washes away and all that's left is sweat and well...hard work.

There is a volunteering phenomenon when individuals begin to slink away after a few strokes of paint, taking bathroom breaks or attending to prior engagements which cannot be postponed. Here is where the 'Lindsay Lohan's' begin to separate from the 'Mother Theresa's'-- you lose the community-service-required persons and see who is really serving with a determined and compassionate heart.

 More often than not, I am a Lohan. Coerced or guilt-ed into charity work, I can handle it as long someone is around to be impressed. But when the crowd dies down, will I stay around to finish the job?

The funny thing is, most of the Theresa's will never be known because the Good Samaritan Times got their event highlights at the service project kick-off and then headed off to watch New Girl.

I want to learn how to work like the old women in Romania who spend every breath picking plums. I want to climb mountains like my father. I want to hold the sick and the dying in my arms and be the hands of Jesus and not walk away because of prior engagements.

I want to live like Mother Theresa, who said "If I am ever to become a saint, I shall be a saint of darkness. For I shall not be found in heaven, but I shall be found outside as a light guiding the way."

Ordinary.

I read Shauna's blog today. 

Slipping into self-pity is much easier than embracing daily beauties.  The ordinaries. 

Hummus. I moved out of my parents house this week and have eaten this simple dip for at least two meals every day since. Smooth, thick and good as a main dish, spread, snackie-snack, etc. 

Andrew Belle. Andrew Bird. Sleeping at Last. Alabama Shakes. First Aid Kit. Simple, methodical and introspective. Soul quenching lyrics and sounds.

A roommate. I forgot how much fun living with a friend can be...late night talks are so good.  

A Nest Egg. Somehow my savings account has exploded with funds, preparing me for some big faithful step. 

Choices.

Choices continually swarm me--paralyzing each step forward. I am living in the marrow of life daily and somehow convince myself I am missing out on a grander adventure. 

I am heavily weighted down with decisions. Decisions about jobs, roommates, faith, adventure etc. 

My worth should never be defined by what people think of me, or by what grand adventures I take. But often, I let those two ideas swindle me of obedience to God. 

I am making myself sick with the cost of going and the weight of staying.   

The Ladder. By Andrew Belle 

Woe is meFaithless you and selfish meI will leave a key for you outside my doorway
Woe is meOne if by the land or two by seaSo won't you leave for me a light outside your doorway
On a ladder from there to here I'll climbAll this clatter between my ears I findDoes it matter if I can't clear my mindThere's a right and a wrong time
....
On a ladder from there to here I'll climbAll this clatter between my ears I findDoes it matter if I can't clear my mindThere's a right and a wrong time

Click here to Hear. 

Big Secret.

Most people are bothered by those passages of Scripture they do not understand, but the passages that bother me are those I do understand. --Mark Twain

Big secret time...I don't read the bible much. Are you shocked? Outraged? Not that surprised?

Chunks of high school, college, Sunday school, and summer camps were carved out to study and understand the 'words of God'. But graduation, Europe and transitional life have brought on a new weariness and skepticism; not for the words of scripture exactly, but the heavy bent interpretations of the Church.

The way I read the bible will always by influenced by my upbringing, political beliefs, friends, mentors, pastors, western world religion, etc.  

Each time the pages fall open in my lap, I am afraid of what i'll read. Afraid to get it wrong, afraid my issues with God will be gouged further and not healed.


Truth: "It is Christ Himself, not the Bible, who is the true Word of God. The Bible, read in the right spirit and with the guidance of good teachers will bring us to Him. When it becomes really necessary (i.e. for our spiritual life, not for controversy or curiosity) to know whether a particular passage is rightly translated or is Myth (but of course Myth specially chosen by God from among countless Myths to carry a spiritual truth) or history, we shall no doubt be guided to the right answer. But we must not use the Bible (our ancestors too often did) as a sort of Encyclopedia out of which texts (isolated from their context and read without attention to the whole nature and purport of the books in which they occur) can be taken for use as weapons." -C.S. Lewis 

Read more: http://theconnexion.net/wp/?p=6064#ixzz1p17Oq2V3 
Under Creative Commons License: Attribution Share Alike

Moving day.

This weekend I moved into a new house, with a roommate and an empty fridge. I have been so whiny and ashamed of living off of my parents charity--with this new found independence I am feeling the weight self-sufficiency. 

Truth: I am afraid moving will make me lose life and staying will make me miss it. 

Quarter Life Crisis.

Have you heard of Prodigal Magazine?

I wrote an article for them today, you should read it, comment, tweet it.

Twenty Three and Counting.

I am driving up 85 in the kind of morning

That lasts all afternoon, I'm just stuck inside the gloom

Four more exits to my apartment

But I am tempted to keep the car in drive and leave it all behind

'Cause I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdict less life

Am I living it right, am I living it right?

Am I living it right

Why, why Georgia, why?

I rent a room and I fill the spaces with wood in places

To make it feel like home but all I feel's alone

It might be a quarter life crisis, just a stirrin' in my soul

Either way I wonder sometimes about the outcome of a still verdict less life

[ From: http://www.elyrics.net/read/j/john-mayer-lyrics/why-georgia-lyrics.html ]

Am I living it right, am I living it right?

Am I living it right?

Why, why Georgia, why?

So what, so I've got a smile on

But it's hiding the quiet superstitions in my head

Don't believe me, don't believe me when I say I've got it down

Everybody's just a stranger but that's the danger in going my own way

I guess it's a price I have to pay, still everything happens for a reason

Is no reason not to ask myself if I'm living it right

Am I living it right, am I living it right?

Why tell me, why

Why, why Georgia, why?

Let it Shine

When I was in eighth grade, my Biology teacher began a lecture on the "Big Bang" which I had been taught by my bible believing parents was a great fabrication. I wanted everyone else in the class to be aware of this fact as well, so I unceremoniously thrust my arm in the air and screeched out "Liiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiie!"

I still blush crimson when I think about the incident.

It was uncalled for and childish--yet part of me wishes all of my decisions and beliefs could be so indubitable.

The artists All Sons & Daughters write "There are a million truths to every lie, so speak it out loud and let it lift high..." -- I am confronted daily with life's little beauties, but choose instead to grasp to one grimy anxiety.

It's high time I thrust my arm in the air and bellowed out truth.




"Let is Shine" by Sons and Daughters.

There are a million truths for every lie 
So speak it out loud and let it lift high 
There are a million reasons to cover your eyes 
But the light is shining through the darkness we hide 
But the light is shining through the darkness we hide 

So come let it 
Come let it 
Come let it 
Come let it shine x2

There's only one way to wash yourself clean 
So let the dirt fall and get on your knees 
There are a million scars for every mistake 
Oh but we are not chained to the secrets that we've made 
Oh but we are not chained to the secrets that we've mad