Beloved

Tonight, I heard one of many stories that have wounded my heart and made me desperate for my generation. It was the story of a young man who had hit a rough patch in life and decided that the best way to fix all of his problems would be to end his own life. In his car, preparing himself to drive off a cliff and let the fall do the rest, he suddenly pulled over and turned on a Christian radio station, and the song that played was enough to convince him to keep going.
This is one story of many among my generation - stories of beautiful people, filled with hope and dreams, who are dashed to pieces by circumstances and poisoned by their own minds until they are convinced that suicide is the only answer. There are many more I could share - a girl searching for love and, finding human love lacking, turns to a knife on her wrist as her way out; a young man, shattered in heart and mind, reaching for something to end it all; someone, scared to do anything permanent but hurting too much to ignore, finding a safety pin, a razor blade, and wondering just how much it would hurt to drag it across their skin. And these are just the stories I know, and only the ones that ended well. There are millions more, and most do not have happy endings.
The thing about my generation is, we've figured out the message of Ecclesiastes, many of us without ever opening a Bible. The entire point of this book is to give us a glimpse into the abyss, the eternal darkness that is life without Christ. For Christians, this is a reason to thank God for saving us out of such a life; for the rest of the world, it is their life. The byproduct, after all, of a chance-created universe with happenstance conditions and accidental life, is meaninglessness. Meaninglessness drives us to despair; and despair, to anything that we think will make it better. Many don't struggle with suicide or self-harm - they might be drawn towards work obsession, promiscuity, alcohol, substance abuse, pornography, or anything else that might, just might, take the pain of meaninglessness away. And as Solomon himself discovered, all of these fade away, and all that is left to man is death.
That's the darkness that the lost are faced with, and my generation knows it. What they don't know is that it doesn't have to be this way.
What if we attacked these skyrocketing figures at the source, instead of merely treating symptoms of the disease? What if we introduced our friends, children, coworkers, parents, to the way out of a meaningless existence? What if we showed them exactly how beloved they are, and by the God of the universe no less? What if, instead of cringing away from our supposed impending doom, we gave them hope?
Hope. Now there's a word we could use.
You see, it's not some abstract concept that we give a name and no explanation to. It's summarized in the person of God, of Jesus. It's a cross-shaped beacon of light that could shine out across the world, turning millions of hope-thirsty millennials to the only way out of the abyss. It's His tender hands pulling them out of the mire and His gentle voice whispering that they are His beloved.
His beloved.
Can we showcase what we do not accept ourselves? Can we demonstrate this love that we do not recognize? Can we declare others to be Christ's beloved when we do not believe it of ourselves?
I've been radio silent for a few months, as some of you likely noticed. This is the reason. I have been struggling to determine where I stand, floundering in sinking sand of my own misconceptions and grasping for anything to pull myself back onto the solid ground. I've been struggling and struggling with my relationship with God and with others, and realizing that it comes back to my stubborn refusal to see God's love for me.
I am His beloved. And so are you.
What steps could you take, knowing He holds your hands as a Father teaching His child to walk? What heights could you reach, flying on the wings of eagles provided by your sustaining Hope? 
What would change in your life if you could see yourself as God's beloved?

One of the best ways for me to remember that I am beloved is by listening to music designed to remind me of that fact. Here's a link to a playlist of my favorites on YouTube. Enjoy!

A Wanderer's Cry

My sincere apologies for my absence. As you'll soon see, my time and energies have been diverted elsewhere, and the effect will not soon be forgotten. I will try to get back on a more regular schedule from here on out, but please bear with me as I figure everything out. In the meantime, a gift for you:

 

 

A Wanderer's Cry

My well is dry

My cup is spilt

My soul weighed down

By shame and guilt

I try so hard

My time is gone

Sleep runs at night

I'm up at dawn

So much consumes

Many good things

But stress and darkness

Still have stings

And my hands shake

While my eyes fill

For how could God

Yet love me still?

 

I avoid Him

I don't have time

To read His words

Or sing His rhymes

 

My busyness

All of these needs

Will kill my soul

With all their greed

 

Now my heart sinks

My tears soon fall

My eyes avoid

The Lord of all

 

Where can I run?

Where shall I go?

Could Holy God

Still love me so?

 

Through woods I run

Till my feet fail

Against my will

A plaintive wail

 

Falls from my lips

A desperate cry

From on the ground

I face the sky

 

For though my hope

Is all but gone

I cry out now,

Searching for dawn

 

"Almighty God,

Because I'm weak,

I need you, Lord,

Won't you please speak?"

 

A gentle voice

A still, small, sound

Then sweet embrace

At last, I'm found

 

He lifts me up

And dries my tears

And He and I

Then face my fears

 

And now we run

My heart is free

For somehow, my God

Still loves me.

Called to Die

Note: This is a very difficult thing for me to share, as I've only discussed my struggles in this area with a few close friends and family members. These are not Bible verses, but I believe they are Scripture-based ideas, and they helped me through a dark time in my life. If you notice an error in my thinking, please correct it in compassion. I post it only because I hope that through my own struggles, I may comfort others with the comfort I have received. Thank you.

It’s a hard thing to admit, because my life seems so perfect. Amazing family, strong Christian background, wonderful parents, fantastic friends, incredible school, a life of travel and adventure in which God proved His faithfulness time and again. So why would such a person spend a good portion of her freshman year of college depressed beyond belief and battling self-harmful and suicidal thoughts? And, beyond the why: how is she supposed to deal with it?

It seems unfair at first, really. One can never assume Jesus struggled with suicide, as He is claimed to have struggled with all of our struggles (Hebrews 4:15). Any other struggle, perhaps, but one can never say that Jesus had a suicidal thought, because His entire life revolved around His death. It was the God-ordained purpose of His coming to Earth in the first place. So can we call it suicidal, and say that our Great High Priest struggled with this as with all sins?

No, we cannot, for suicide is encased in selfishness, and Jesus’ death was anything but. Suicide is about ‘fixing’ a problem for one person who decides they can’t live with themselves any longer. Jesus’ death solved all problems for all people, and had to do with Jesus’ thoughts of Himself only because He knew this was His mission – it was for this very purpose He came into the world (John 12:27).

Suicide is taking one’s own life. Jesus laid His down for the sake of all.

As followers of Christ, then, we are not called to live and die in selfishness and self-focus. We are not called to take our own lives, for in the end that still places the power in our own hands, but we are called to die.

Yes, to die, but not by taking our own lives. When Jesus spoke of His death to His disciples, He did not say that He was taking His own life by deliberately going to His death. Rather, He said that no one, including Himself, took it from Him, but He laid it down freely for the sake of all (John 10:17-18). That is the death we are called to as Christians; not deliberately and selfishly taking our lives, but openly and sacrificially giving them for the sake of others. This, too, is death, an offering of our bodies as living sacrifices, holy and pleasing to God (Romans 12:1); a fire consuming every trace of self and burning our grime off to polish our silver until we can reflect God’s glory to the world around us.

This death is not necessarily, indeed not usually, a dramatic moment of sacrificing our own lives by jumping in front of a bullet or sheltering others from a bomb. This death is harder because it lacks the drama, the sense of visible nobility, the acclaims we could posthumously receive in giving our lives in one powerful moment. It’s a day by day, piece by piece, moment by moment death to self and death to our own desires. In every situation, we can choose to put others before ourselves and God before all, and we can choose to let our old selves die and fully put on the new selves God is making us into.

Never will God require us to take our own lives. Always will He require us to give them, for no other repayment can even come close to the sacrifice He made on the cross.

Brokenness

Let me apologize for missing last week's post. There was a lot going on that I had to take care of, but that's no excuse. If there's any way you can forgive me, any way I can make it up to you, please let me know in the comments. For now, please enjoy this week's discussion.

 

It’s one of the hardest things in the world, to admit I am broken. It’s hard because broken means weak. It means I no longer fulfill my intended purpose. It means I am beyond repairing myself, that the little cracks running through my jar have expanded and forced me to give up whatever hold I had on wholeness. A broken jar of clay – what is that worth, in our world where replacement is cheaper than repair and so few material things are worth fixing? In a world where so many brilliant minds go untouched by the cracks in our own – or so we think?

Here’s the thing about those cracks, the first lie we believe about them: we think we're the only ones who have them. We think the rest of the world isn't cracked, broken, shattered, flawed - and it's just not true. Those cracks,they’re present in everyone. Some are on the outside, where everyone can see and those who care can help, while those who don’t or who take a dislike to the jar can ignore or exploit them. Others have cracks on the inside, and they watch carefully to see what it looks like when they are admitted. If those around them care about the cracks on the outside, maybe they can reveal their own; but if others are apathetic or destructive, only the greatest of stress will make them reveal their flaws. Some pretend they have none, and hide them well, while others show them off, proud of the damage done.

I’m rereading a trilogy called Angel Eyes, by Shannon Dittemore – outside of my normal genres, but nonetheless I’m drawn to it because of the ideas it discusses. Besides dealing with the supernatural realm of angels and demons through a Christian lens, it also addresses how to be broken as this fallen world demands, how to struggle with the grief of life, and how to turn to God and trust Him despite the hardships we face. Brielle, the main character, begins the first book as a very broken girl. Her mother died of cancer before she could remember her, a hurt she’s dealt with and moved on, but now her best friend has been killed and she believes she could have stopped it. She tries to convince a trusted teacher and mentor of hers that she’s fine, she’s doing okay, she’s not as broken as he thinks. And he responds with one of the most grace-filled and powerful statements I’ve heard outside of Scripture.

“It’s okay to be broken. You know that, right?”

It's okay to be broken. And it's okay to acknowledge that you're broken. Those who admit their cracks, their scars, their mangled mindsets and broken beliefs – they’re the ones who can get help. Once they’re out in the open, they are seen by those who care.

Only when we are broken can we be fixed. Only when we are sick can we be healed. Only when we are sinful can we be forgiven. Only when we are torn can we be restored.

But it’s not safe to admit it, you may think. It’s not safe for you because you’re vulnerable; it’s not safe for them because it may hurt them. To some extent, you’re right. The whole world can’t handle our brokenness. There are too many fools who stoop to run their fingers through the broken shards and open old wounds of their own. Many would take a ragged-edged shard in their hands and clench it until they opened their own skin, and then blame you for the breaking. Some would even take that same shard and grind it into another, smashing the pieces into dust and wounding beyond repair.

But there are some you can trust – and as soon as I said that, someone surely came to mind. Some see your brokenness already, better than you do, and are merely waiting for you to open your mouth so they know you're ready for their help. Some care deeply, but haven’t seen that side of you, and they’d be at your side in a moment comforting you if you only asked. Some will have advice, small bottles of glue and plaster, that they can help you apply to bring the pieces back together. Others will only have listening ears, a sympathy beyond expressing, acknowledgement of the pain you’re feeling. Hopefully, all will point you to the Master Potter, the One who can take your shards of broken earthenware and reform them into a more precious, more durable, and even more valuable vessel than before.

There’s a subcategory of pottery created by the Japanese and known as kintsugi. Kintsugi takes shards of broken jars, some of which look to be beyond repair, and painstakingly fit the pieces back together, filling the cracks with molten gold. This makes a jar that was once useless useful again, a container that once leaked hold fast, a vessel once shattered now whole. And the shards of pottery which were worthless to others come together and are worth more than ever – the more cracks it had, the more gold is used, and the more it is worth.

We are all kintsugi. We have fallen to the ground, shattered into a thousand pieces. But our Father, the Master Potter, has gathered us back together. Once we allow Him to work in us, He takes the gold, the blood of His Son, and mends every crack in our skin, our hearts, our minds. He restores us in ways we could never have dreamed, making us more beautiful and valuable than we ever could have been as whole, untouched jars of clay. 

No matter how broken we are, He can use us.The more cracks, the more gold, the more blood of Christ covering us, the more story we have to tell. Yes, He can use us.

He can remake us.

And we can be whole again.

Are You Fighting Right?

The dragons that scare us sometimes aren't the ones we should be fighting.

Let it never be said that this blog encouraged anyone to give up and give in. Let it never be said that I told you it was okay to let a struggle consume you, to allow your characters to fall into a pit and decide to remain there, to throw your hands in the air and say, “I go no further.” We are fighters, all of us, fighters against injustice, disability, irrationality, fear, doubt, sin, our own minds, the devil’s schemes. These fights are noble and worthy and should never be abandoned, and those who fight them should not rest until they gain victory.

But surely I don’t have to explain to you that any fight can be taken too far, can become a vicious duel instead of a righteous battle, can make any hero into a villain and portray a villain as a hero. How do you tell when it is time to keep fighting and when it is time to drop your weapons? How do you discern whether to push through with prayer or change strategies, perhaps allowing your attention to be drawn to another area? How do you determine that your battle has already been won, and God is calling you to another one?

The truth is, I have no idea. I don’t know all of you or all of your battles. But there’s one major question you should ask yourself constantly about your battle, and it’s about the only black-and-white rule I can give you about it (and authors, stay tuned – your characters have battles too; how does this rule apply to them?):

Is your fight hurting someone else?

This is hard to think about, especially if you feel like the victim in your battle. It’s hard if you’re in a bad situation, if you’re fighting for basic rights on your own behalf or another’s, if you’re fighting your own mind. It’s much easier to label someone else as the problem, to put a face or name or color on the struggle so that you can, in a sense, see what you’re fighting. But the fact remains: no matter how noble your fight, if others are suffering it’s time to stop, or at least change tactics.

Internal battles can often appear in strange ways in your relationships with other people, and you need to make sure you’re not taking out your frustration with yourself on those who love you most. It’s easy to isolate, to focus on yourself, to assume you’re the only one affected because it’s all in your own head, but the fact is there are always others who care – and others who can become collateral damage in your struggle with yourself.

Authors – are your characters fighting against themselves? Are there relationships being damaged in the process? It’s a great way to build tension, but you’ll have to be sure the tension is resolved, for better or for worse.

The same goes for fighting against injustice in our world: yes, those treated unjustly deserve better, and taking up a cause that is not your own, being a voice for those who have none, is a beautiful and courageous thing. But if it involves villainizing another group of people, it’s time to put on the brakes. No country, no government, no organization, no race is solely responsible for any injustice in the world. The root problem is sin, and not only is it universal, but it’s not going anywhere. All we can do is fight the symptoms and wait for Christ’s return – but that’s another topic altogether. My point is, forcing anyone to play the villain’s role only increases injustice and hatred. So assess your cause, address your issues, and make sure you aren’t hurting anyone, physically or mentally, deliberately or accidentally.

Authors – are your characters careless of their effects on everyone else? Do they have a hard time with stereotyping or demonizing other people groups? Do they accidentally, or even deliberately, harm others – including those who side with them – to accomplish their goals?

This gets tricky when it seems that there is a villain in your story, a face on your problem, a person on whom you can blame much of your hardship. It’s easy to fight against someone who has mistreated you or those you love, to hold one person responsible for everything that you struggle with. It’s even harder to deal with if it’s true on some level. If this is the case for you, let me first say how sorry I am. I’m sorry you’ve had to face such a battle, and I’m sorry you have a name with every scar, a face in every hard memory, a figure in your life who has betrayed you in such a way. All I can say is that God has never left you and never will, and He empowers you to change even that fight to one that rebuilds instead of destroys, heals instead of leaving more scars, and brings you closer to Him instead of further away. I can’t say what His plan is in such a situation, but I can say that if you fight a human enemy, you both lose in the end. If you release the battle to God, He can bring good from any evil and victory from any loss.

Authors – is your hero fighting the right villain? Or have they blamed their problems on another? How will this affect the story?

Realize that I never said you should stop fighting altogether. To be human is to struggle, to battle sin and doubt and wrong. You can never stop fighting until you die, or you become only a shell of your true self. You continue living only in the physical sense, and the fire that burned within you dwindles to ashes.

So keep fighting, keep struggling, keep battling, but also keep watching. Make sure you’re fighting from the right place, or your footing will eventually slip – and it hurts a lot more if you chose not to see it coming.