Good morning

But friends, your dead will live,
your corpses will get to their feet.
All you dead and buried,
wake up! Sing!
Your dew is morning dew
catching the first rays of sun,
The earth bursting with life,
giving birth to the dead.

Come, my people, go home
and shut yourselves in.
Go into seclusion for a while
until the punishing wrath is past,
Because God is sure to come from his place
to punish the wrong of the people on earth.
Earth itself will point out the bloodstains;
it will show where the murdered have been hidden away.
-Isaiah 26.19-21

--

Oh yes.

--

Good morning. My favorite texts in the world are "good morning" texts from Nathan. They're texts that remind me that whatever happened yesterday--whatever stress, whatever fight or struggle--is gone. Good morning. It's a new day. It's fresh. Let's wake up and sing.

I've called grace many things before. I've called it a hug. I've called it plants that grow in the wintertime. But today, today I'm going to call grace morning.

--

In Iraq, the sun rose at 4:30 a.m. The Iraqi sun is bright; it's hot; it's disturbing; it wakes you up.

I think that's grace. Okay, so I say grace is the morning and that evokes some brand of fuzzies. Aw, it's like that 1990s worship song: "Though the sorrow may last through the night, his joy comes in the morning. I'm tradin' my sorrows...." But really, it's more than that. It's hard. It's bright and blinding.

I say grace makes you do something, take action. In the very least, it makes you get out of bed. Morning is here; you can't stay in bed all day.

For me, morning is planning time. If I am not running late (as I usually am), I think about where I need to go that day, what I need to accomplish, how I am going to do it all. Morning requires something of me.

Grace, of course, is the same way. Grace says that whatever happened the night before, is over. It's done, taken care of. Any wrong I've committed against God is forgiven, and I am washed clean. But, I'm still responsible. I'm responsible for the upcoming day.

--

Isaiah is all about the coming of the Messiah. The prophet warns Israel and its neighbors of God's wrath, but he tells also of a redeemer called Immanuel, God with us.

Remembering that, I'm trying to make sense of the second stanza above, the one after the exclamation about morning! and singing! and sunshine! The one that says to lock yourselves in your house to escape God's punishment.

In context, the joyful stanza comes after Isaiah's description of his people's current condition: "Oh God, they begged you for help when they were in trouble, when your discipline was so heavy they could barely whisper a prayer."

I wonder if that final stanza is a "sobering up." Yes, God is good. God will give you a new morning, a new life, some fresh dew on the ground. But remember what you're doing right now. Remember your current situation, the sins you're immersed in, your addictions.


I think of this stanza as a mourning (yes, a nice play on words for us to enjoy). It's like: go inside your houses and shut your doors and take a while to think about what you did. Give yourself a time out. Keep yourselves from sinning. Watch out. Be careful.

--

I write this post at night, anticipating the morning, anticipating grace.

All you dead and buried, wake up! Sing!







-Ezekiel

Holy the Firm, pp. 60-62

His disciples asked Christ about a roadside beggar who had been blind from birth, "Who did sin, this man or his parents, that he was born blind?" And Christ, who spat on the ground, made a mud of his spittle and clay, plastered the mud over the man's eyes, and gave him sight, answered, "Neither hath this man sinned, nor his parents: but that the works of God should be manifest in him."


Really? If we take this answer to refer to the affliction itself--and not the subsequent cure--as "God's works made manifest," then we have, along with "Not as the world gives do I give unto you," two meager, baffling, and infuriating answer to one of the few questions worth asking, to wit, What in the Sam Hill is going on here?

The works of God made manifest? Do we really need more victims to remind us that we're victims? Is this some sort of parade for which a conquering army shines up its terrible guns and rolls them up and down the streets for people to see? Do we need blind men stumbling about, and little flamefaced children, to remind us what God can--and will--do? ...

Yes, in fact, we do. We do need reminding, not of what God can do, but what he cannot do, or will not, which is to catch time in its free fall and stick a nickel's worth of sense into our days. And we need reminding of what time can do, must only do; churn out enormity at random and beat it, with God's blessing, into our heads: that we are created, created, sojourners in a land we did not make, a land with no meaning of itself and no meaning we can make for it alone. 

Who are we do demand explanations of God? (And what monsters of perfection should we be if we did not?) ...

--

I think I finally get it, Annie.

Grace grows in winter

Grace doesn't grow in the springtime. Grace grows in the winter, when everything's dead, when life is the brown sludge beneath your rubber boots.

It comes as a surprise.

We talk about life as having seasons. In the spring, life is born. In summer, it's sustained. In fall, it starts dying and by winter, it's dead.

But what if that's not how it works at all? Maybe life is always about dying. Maybe it's about repeatedly dying to our worldviews, our theories, our ways of doing things, our attitudes, our agendas, our impatience, our sins.

I think the seasons of life take place between October and December. In October, we start dying, but not to the right stuff. We die to the good we've always known. In October, we sin.

Then by November, we've killed God. We have sinned enough to shut him out, to no longer care. We've let sin creep in, settle on our sofas and stay awhile.

In November we think we're screwed.

So we started messing around in October, now we're deep into this new way of living. It's easy to be short-tempered; it's easy to walk past you. We've become different people. We used to be, by the grace of God, patient people. Now look who we are.

Hope: it's gone. The trees stay green forever.

But in December, Grace grows unexpectedly. Up from the ground, under your feet, through the snow, through the dirt, through the frozen ground, Grace grows.

Thank God.

You don't need Grace in the summer when all is well. You need Grace when things couldn't possibly get any worse.

--

I wrote Late October first, while reflecting on sin -- my own sin -- and how it seemed unconquerable. A week or so after, I wrote Late November and Late December while plotting a way out of sin. I want a way out. I'm close.

It's been fall for a long time; now it's winter, and I've seen sprouts of Grace.

In the past week or so I've posted two of the three poems in this series. Here's the complete collection including Late December, my poem on Grace.

--

Late October

Late October

and the Norway maple hasn’t turned

red or orange or whatever color

Norway maples turn.

Today

and tomorrow:

an endless cycle of green

and green and green

and green and green.

Through the window

the masochists

slit their wrists,

crying but with bliss.

Late November

Late November

and God is dead

like the maple trees and the leaves

falling out of them.

I did it

with a handful of the

foliage of God, yanking leaves

one by one by one by one

—just so I know he’s gone:

he’s dead.

God haunts still,

like apparitions, and

he howls through crooked

branches, waving:

Hi, I miss you.

Do you miss me?

Late December

Late December

and grace grows

like heaths. It is the

dead of winter,

yet grace grows in the dead

leaves crushed to the ground

and stomped upon,

with booted feet,

crushed into snow

and slush: grey, black,

brown.

"Sinai," from George MacDonald: an Anthology, p. 4

"[God] is against sin: insofar as, and while, they and sin are one, He is against them--against their desires, their aims, their fears, and their hopes; and thus He is altogether and always for them. That thunder and lightening and tempest, that blackness torn with the sound of a trumpet, that visible horror billowed with the voice of words, was all but a faint image ... of what God thinks and feels against vileness and selfishness, of the unrest of unassuageable repulsion with which He regards such conditions."

--

Lauren's thoughts: It's odd thinking that God is both for and against us. He's against the sins we're tangled up in; he's against our innate drive for self-gratification, for hunger over restraint. But because he is against that, he's for us. He wants a Lauren - he wants a you - purged from sin.

Jeremy Courtney is legit.

I've had this blog in my head for a while. I didn't want to write it until I was home in the States. I didn't want anyone to think Jeremy coerced me into writing it. I promise: no coercing took place.

--

My friends and those of you who follow my blog know that I am very critical of "Christian organizations." Can an organization possess faith? Is that even possible? Preemptive Love Coalition, though founded by a couple Christians, does not call itself a ministry or a "Christian organization" - it call itself a coalition of people, an NGO. PLC is devoted to eradicating the backlog of Kurdish and Arabic children waiting in line for lifesaving heart surgery and creating cooperation among communities at odds.* No secret agenda. It is what it says it is.

If you go on the PLC website, you'll see pages and pages of company and financial information. PLC has no secrets. They have a very in-depth core values page, written by CEO Jeremy Courtney himself.

PLC is devoted to local solutions to local problems. The staff isn't only using foreign money to fund heart surgeries, but takes donations as well. And Aram, our Klash maker, is a local business owner. All the shoes and all the scarves we make are made or bought in-country.

Jeremy, who was not only my boss for the summer but my mentor and Iraqi dad, is an incredibly intelligent, well-read, thoughtful friend, father and husband. He is legit.

--

The week or so before I left for Iraq, I got coffee with Dr. Perry, my professor and mentor. He told me I have unrealistic expectations for companies like RELEVANT that calls themselves Christian. But he told me to stay idealistic, and not succumb to cynicism.

PLC has renewed my hope.

Jeremy and the other PLC staff would not admit perfection. They're broken people too. But they're honest and transparent about it. They don't put up a front. There's nothing I respect more.

Working with Jeremy this summer reminded me that though not all ministry and "Christian organization" heads have integrity, some do.

--

I'm not done blogging about Iraq. I have a hard time processing anything when I'm in the middle of it. Now that I'm home, I'm starting to comprehend what this summer meant for me as a student, as a comm. major, as a writer, as a Christ follower and as a woman.

So get ready.

--

* Funny side note: the actual mission statement says "between communities at odds," but PLC does not just create cooperation between only two groups, but many. Grammatically speaking, the word should be "among." Thus, in the year-end review, I changed the mission statement to say "among." Ha, sorry Jeremy.



Lauren

She's Always Smiling

A few weeks ago I had the opportunity to meet Honya Mahdi, a 15 month-old who had surgery last November.

I remember reading about her on the PLC blog months ago, when I was first learning about Preemptive Love Coalition. I fell in love with this baby's Dumbo ears and big brown eyes.

Seeing her seven months later, healthy and laughing - it reminded me why I'm here. I'm in Iraq for my professional career, yes. I'm here for my IWU internship, yes. But I'm here because babies are dying in northern Iraq - and I want to help save them.

"She's Always Smiling" The Story of Honya Mahdi from Preemptive Love on Vimeo.

on Redemption

I love this city, but I've set and numbered its days

I love this city, enough that I'll set it ablaze

--

Lots of things have died this year. I mean this figuratively, of course, but the pain is no less real.

I've lost good friends. I've attended the funeral of my RELEVANT dreams. I've mourned the loss of crushes. My ambitions were murdered; my pride suffocated.

I was the one who pulled the plug on most of those. I made the decision to take them off life-support, to say my final goodbyes, and lay them in the earth. It was me. It was my decision.

And I say I've seen a lot die this year, but I've seen more die in previous years. Ever since I read that passage in Ezekiel - Son of man, I'm about to take from you the delight of your life—a real blow, I know. But, please, no tears. - I've routinely killed my dreams.

I am the knife-wielding Abraham on Mt. Moriah, but with no angel to stop me.

I am the farmer on the seventh year, letting my fields dry up.

It feels like I spend so much of my life giving things up. Is there anything I can keep?

--

I pray for redemption.

I sat in the Williams' prayer chapel a month ago, asking God to redeem something in my life. And oh, He redeemed it - by setting it on fire.

That is redemption after all, is it not? It's the refinement of gold in fire. It's transforming what's unholy into something holy.

Therefore all that is not beautiful in the beloved, all that comes between and is not of love's kind, must be destroyed. And our God is a consuming fire.

I keep asking for redemption: "Oh Lord, that I may live according to your will." Or, "Make this job/relationship/hobby yours."

And so God does what is asked of Him. He redeems. He puts my love (my ambitions, my crushes, my relationships) into the fire and sees what happens.

Whatever is not in His will - burns up. It falls apart.

I don't mean this is a BEHOLD THE WRATH OF GOD! sense, really. I don't think God sets things on fire for fun. But when I ask him to redeem something, he does it, and it hurts.

I suppose we let God redeem things because we expect something new or polished in return. We "give God our relationships," assuming he'll point us to the love our life. We "give God our finances," assuming big bucks will come our way.

It doesn't always work like that. Sometimes the fire kills. Sometimes our dreams don't play possum, but stay dead on the side of the road.

--

The worship band played "The Old Rugged Cross" in church this morning. I think I sang along sarcastically:

I will cling to the old rugged cross

Till my trophies at last I lay down

Like I've said, I've seen a lot die this year. I've had to give up a lot. It's not about laying my trophies down "at last." (My bitterness is speaking, mind you.) It's more like: God, I've laid down every last one of them. I cling to the cross in fear that you'll take that away too! That's what I picture, anyway. I'm clinging to something for dear life, not because I believe my sacrifices will make my life any better, but because if I don't have anything else to cling to.

Is this the Christian life? Sacrifice after sacrifice, death after death?

God promised me a resurrected life. He promised me that every seed will die before it grows. Where is this growth?

We're in the dead of winter. (Read that again for its irony.)

Bradley Hathaway wrote, "Grace grows in winter, I'm told."

Grace grows in winter when everything else dies. Ugh.

I yearn for Grace. I want God to show His face in these crummy circumstances.

I'm sick of making sacrifices.

I'm sick of seeing my friends make sacrifices.

I'm sick of hope with no follow-through.

More questions than answers - I know. This may be the nature of blogging. Or at least the nature of my blogging.

With love and squalor,

Ezek.

An Introduction

I don't know how to start this blog - I don't have a witty anecdote. I guess I could say this: the other day Molly and I were having "WTF, Jesus?" moments around the same time. I went to the Williams' prayer chapel and scrawled broken arguments to God. (I'm not sure what Molly did.)

I'm fine, really, I am. I am.

I started taking control of my life instead of letting God, and whenever I do that trouble follows. This isn't to say God is punishing me; I just don't know how to run my life as well as God. Amen, amen.

--

I want this to be a series, a four-parter: Grace, Faith, Redemption and Forgiveness. I can't do blog series because I get so bored and distracted. I write what I wanna write when I wanna write it. But this I need to do for myself, and for God. This blog series is my spiritual act of worship.

--

Why these four topics? Well. That's a good question.

In World Civ. we're learning about the 7 Deadly Sins. After discussing Greed, I began thinking about which of these sins would be friends, had they the ability to form relationships. I came to the conclusion that Greed, Lust and Gluttony would be BFF.

I figured it like this: Gluttony has to do with hungry, about getting your fill. Greed is about desiring money and possessions and stuff. Lust is about hungering for another person, for them making you feel a certain way. They're all about hunger - eros and what not.

If four virtues (are they virtues?) could be friends, it would obviously be Faith, Redemption, Forgiveness and Grace. And Love. Love would be in there somewhere. Maybe Hope too.

Anyway, Faith is about belief and loyalty - no matter what. And it takes Forgiveness to keep faith in someone or something that isn't faithful back. And Redemption is like that never-ending process that underlies it all: you the faithful are redeemed while the unfaithful is redeemed, becoming the faithful, etc.

And Grace is the hug that brings us all together.

That doesn't make much sense, I'm sure. I'm just finding correlations - it must be the economics student in me.

--

I'm processing life right now. Piece by piece by piece by piece. I know who I am. I am Lauren Deidra Sawyer. I am classy. A little quirky (no, Linds, not awkward). A writer. An avid reader. A music snob. A little sister.

But what do I do about you? I know who I am, but what do I do with you, Life? What do I do with you, Religion?

Thus: this series.

with love and squalor,

ezek.

;hope

Our God is a God who saves; from the Sovereign LORD comes escape from death. Psalm 68:20

--

I present this blog as a comfort to my friends who are discouraged. May God grant you hope and peace during this time of transition. Hang in there, chicas.

--

Hope, next to Redemption, is my favorite theme in the Bible. I love that though things seem impossible, when people cry to God, He hears them. He saves. He rescues.

I love that in the midst of God's judgment in the Hebrew Scriptures there's still a promise of hope. Hosea's adulterous wife is forgiven. Ezekiel sees dead bones come alive. The weeping prophet promises us a hope and a future.

Zechariah calls us prisoners of hope -- no escaping.

And then Jesus Christ promises full life in him. He offers a "new way to be human," as the band Switchfoot sings. He gives us a new purpose: to be fishers of men, instead of fish. He flips culture upside down, telling us to give Caesar what is Caesar's, to turn the other cheek and give all our money to the poor. He invites us in on an adventure with Him and His Father; he lets us in on a perfect, triune relationship -- He gives us His Spirit.

Christ heals us; he forgives us. When the woman poured the perfume over Jesus' feet and wept, cleaning His feet with her tears and hair, He told her that her sins are forgiven.

Your faith has saved you; go in peace. Luke 7:50b

I remember Pastor Paul's sermon on this verse. He said that as Christians we tend to get "caught up in the semicolon" -- we forget the verse continues after our pardon.

We tend to dwell on the bad we've done, or the bad we're witnessing or the bad we think is around the corner.

But Jesus says, "Go in peace."

There's hope there.

He's saying that though things were rough,

though we needed saving,

everything's going to be okay.

No really, I hear Jesus pleading, IT'S GOING TO BE OKAY.

I get that things are hard. I get that change, even positive or mediocre change, can be hard. I get it. But Jesus asks us to go in peace. He wants us to have hope that He has things under control.

Because he does.

--

Try not to feel good when thou art not good, but cry to Him who is good.




Prisoner of Hope, it won’t be long now
Prisoner of Hope, you can be strong now

--

The Armstrongs -- I thank you so much for all that you've done for me and for Northeast. If I tried to name specifically all the lessons you've taught me, this blog would go on for thousands upon thousands of words. (So I'll keep this generic!) But I really do thank you; my faith has grown on account of you.

Please stay in touch, and enjoy California.

Oh, and Paul, good luck with the Marines.

In Him with Love,

Lauren Deidra

Ezekiel

... but look on the bright side.

a poem. by Lauren.



I had to give my speech this morning instead of Thursday ... but some kid is buying me coffee to make up for it!

The sound clips in my Thrice speech didn't work ... but some guy played Image of the Invisible on his laptop after my speech!

I forgot to make a cover page for my COM outline ... but I ran to the Mac lab and printed off a copy in time for class!

The speeches in COM were deathly boring ... but I got a candy cane!

I waited in line for an hour to register for classes ... but all of the classes I wanted to take were still open!

I had to get signatures for two of my classes ... but I got new ear buds in the mail!

I got my new ear buds stuck inside my printer (ugh, long story) ... but Haley and I got to go to all the boys' dorms to find a gentleman with a screw driver!

I went to the front desk five times trying to find the right screw driver ... but there was a guy down there that liked my Thrice t-shirt!

I spent two hours before dinner attempting to retrieve my ear buds ... but I learned that I still have over 30 meals and 100 points on my card!

They ran out of ranch dressing in the salad bar line ... but they had stuffed ice cream in the demo line! (like Coldstone!)

I have a lot of homework still to do ... but the adrenaline of the day has helped me chug through it!

The top half of my SD card went missing (um, don't ask) ... but I found it!

The Lord takes away ... but the Lord also gives and gives and gives!



the end.

Not a Feel-Good Faith

This Sunday I got the prestigious opportunity to do PowerPoint for the morning service at church. Now, when I say prestigious, I mean it because there is great responsibility behind that job: if I clicked too fast or too slow the entire church would notice. I was scared. But, I did okay despite Tom forgetting a verse to a song... and whatever happened to the Communion slide?

Oh well.

That's not really my point at all. My point is that I was doing PowerPoint during my pastor Paul's sermon which, in my opinion, was one of his best. Even though it was about hell.

I think I liked it because it tied in nicely to our discussion on Letter to a Christian Nation in English class. We were discussing the purpose of religion: is it just a mode of comfort? Is Christianity just about making it to heaven?

I began to think about this and considered that maybe this is how religions started. Maybe cavemen 20,000 years ago wanted to believe that there was Someone who inspired their wheel invention or caused the lightening in the sky. Maybe ancient Egyptians didn't want to have to explain every wondrous sign and gave credit to other beings--gods.

But honestly, if I think about my faith and its basic principles... it isn't very comforting at all. I mean, Christianity was birthed from the Jewish faith based on strict laws and statutes. To go back before Christ I would be obligated to sacrifice animals for every sin I committed (intentional or not), to only eat certain animals, to marry young and bare lots of children, and if I were a man... get circumcised.

No, I don't think my faith is based around comfort.

Of course, one could argue Grace. Maybe Grace is what makes Christianity a feel-good religion. But again, does it? Does God say we can do whatever we want with no eternal or earthly consequences? Of course not.

My religion--my faith--is not built upon comfort and fluffy God-moments. But yet, let's look at the other side of the coin (so to speak).

Christianity does offer hope. It offers freedom from sin and restoration both on earth and eternally in heaven. This is my impetus for trusting Christ with my life, sure, but that's not all of Christianity. I have hope, I have transcendent peace, but I still have my earthly sin-sickness.

In other words, I still have to deal with heartache here on earth.

So then, is Christianity a feel-good faith because it offers eternal happiness in heaven? I don't think it's that either. How many people sit around planning for the future--I mean REALLY planning for the future--and take no time worrying about themselves right here and now? Not many. It's hard saving up money for a future that is five years away, let alone for ten or twenty years down the road. Just knowing that when I die (in a good 60 years at least... hopefully) I will go to an everlasting (and rather vague) Paradise is not satisfying. Is it satisfying for you? Is that what you wake up for every morning?

I suppose it sounds like I am cutting down my faith right now. I make it sound like a strict "do-this, do-that" kind of religion and it's not... but it is at the same time. We have these rules because we have free-will... which seems rather contradicting, so I won't get into it. [I'll save that for another blog.]

I know my faith (my personal one). I know that without believing that God is a thought, breath, sigh, or blink away I'd be one depressed little girl. But I also know it goes deeper than that. I know God calls me to a righteous life--an unattainable life on my own, but with His help it's achievable. I truly believe that.

And so, I am eager to conclude this blog with the same two points my pastor did last Sunday....

1. How I live (right now) matters. Christianity is not just about planning for some distant judgment day, but it is about the present. What am I doing with my life now? Am I living for myself or for others?

2. There are consequences for my actions on earth. Meaning, although I am covered with Grace by giving Christ my life, I am still obligated to leave my sinful ways behind, so to speak, and be obedient to God's rules.

And, if I dare, I would like to make one more point....

3. Go in peace. Yes, our actions do matter right now. We are told to be "blameless and pure children of God" and to establish God's kingdom on earth (not just wait till we get to heaven) BUT we cannot sit and fret about it either. Seek first His kingdom. Do not worry. It'll be okay.

This argument seems a little cyclical, so let me make a sweet summary for you all:

Christianity offers forgiveness for our iniquities but does not offer a freebie to sin. It's not just about planning for some distant vacation to heaven, but focuses on the here and now. We can relish in the fact that we have hope in Christ but it shouldn't blind us to the sin in our lives. We need to repent; we need to be free from sin.

and character, hope.

So in contrast to my last two blogs, I'd say this one is a lot more chipper. (You'll soon understand why.)

I think I'm nearing the end of a "trough" and entering what I, or Uncle Screwtape, calls a "peak" or at least a landing of some sort.

It's all about this one--to me, ambiguous--word HOPE.

It all started a long time ago. I have always been hopeful--I guess that's my nature. Not that I'm always optimistic, but by the end of the day I know that things will be okay. Why? Because I'd dream of something better.

And that's where my questions are aroused.

Is it okay to just yearn for something better? What about the here and now? C.S. Lewis said in his book The Screwtape Letters this: "[God] does not want men to give the future their hearts, to place their treasure in it." But what if the current state of affairs sucks?

And so I've been grappling with that concept, putting it to test against the Bible verses I know:

"And hope does not disappoint us for God has poured out His love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit who He has given us." Romans 5:5

"Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable--if anything is excellent or praiseworthy--think about such things." Philippians 4

Not to mention the several times the Bible says things like "put your hope in the Lord," "renew your hope," or "I will hope in your name."

What does it mean exactly to "hope in the Lord"? Is it the same thing as hoping for something the Lord will bless you with?

Like I said, my mind was grappling with all of this. And on Monday night I read something that further added to my skepticism of it all. It was in the form of a quote by my most respected clergyman who ever lived, George MacDonald.

"Lest it should be possible that any unchildlike soul might, in arrogance and ignorance, think to stand upon his rights against God, and demand of Him this or that after the will of the flesh, I will lay before such a possible one some of the things to which he has a right.... He has a claim to be compelled to repent; to be hedged in on every side: to have one after another of the strong, sharp-toothed sheep dogs of the Great Shepherd sent after him, to thwart him in any desire, foil him in any plan, frustrated him of any hope, until he come to see at length that nothing will ease his pain, nothing make life a thing worth having, but the presence of the living God within him."

And I don't believe I understand that fully. But I do get the last line (which is why I'm so distressed).

Last night I was going back and forth about this. Is hoping for something good to happen bad or good? Or is it like desiring to be loved, as MacDonald says, which is neither noble nor wrong. So I did what I thought any good Christian should do... I prayed. This is what I discovered, rather, what God dis-covered for me:

I was never upset because I thought that my dreams (my hopes, ambitions, etc.) would never become reality. Instead, I was upset because they weren't reality right now.

"Hope isn't about right now."

Hope doesn't have a timeframe. Hope needs to rely on the element of "maybe." Not when. Not now. Not soon.

It's not a matter of giving up on hope itself, it's just the attachment and the demands of it. Like all things, if you aren't willing to give it up, you aren't fit to have it. But what I had never learned before was that if I assumed hope would be in my control, I was wrong.

God gives us hope to keep us going, to not give up, and to finish the race. BUT if we say "Okay God, my dream is to be married by age 23 and have a career and a nice apartment" we are foolish. It's no longer a matter of hope that God has things under control and those things might happen, but it has become a matter of me. Yes, even hope should be about God and not us. Hope has a lot to do with trust, I've realized. To what extend, I do not yet know.

So don't give up on hope. Hope=good. But don't turn hope into something ungodly--a desire for something God doesn't want you to waste your time with. Trust Him. He has your interests in mind.

ezek.

I have not been abandoned, no I have not been.

Carroll High School has its ups and downs, but I have to say I appreciate block day Wednesday [this semester anyway].

I had ER, Homeroom, Activity Period, and Study Hall to read. I had some homework to do, but I got to read an entire book today. Yes, and it was by John Eldredge: Dare to Desire.

We'll just throw some quotes out and I'll respond AP English style.

"Don't be fooled by the apparent innocence of the object you've chosen to fill your heart's desire. We'll make an idol out of any good thing." [page 58]

And so I have.

I was concerned when I first picked up this book [at 10:00 this morning lol]. I thought it'd be about following your heart, pursuing your dreams to the point of utter devotion. As if following your heart was always equivelant to following Christ. Not always. There are still things called idols.

To follow up, "Addiction may seem like too strong a term to some of you. The woman who is serving so faithfully at church....your hobbies can be a nuisance sometimes, but to call any of this an addiction seems to stretch the word a bit too far. I have one simple response: give it up." [pages 62-63]

And for that quote I am convinced God wanted me to read this book. I needed to let go. Not because all my desires are bad, but because they were in control. Now I'm dream-free [like I said] or at least not tied down to anything. Right now anyway, I don't know where God's leading me... but I'll trust Him!

"God must take the heaven we create or it will become our hell." [page 62]

And this is why I'm giving it to God. I don't know what's best for me. I pray amiss. It's up to God.

And so here I am. Again, sounds awfully weird to say I'm hope-less and dream-less. Because I am full of HOPE [godly hope!] and though I have nothing to think about before I drift into sweet sweet sleep, I get by. Somewhere in my heart I know God's planning something for me.... I just have to wait to see what that is.

And so we do no lose heart. Though outwardly we are wasting away, inwardly we are being renewed day by day. For our light and momentary troubles are achieving for us a glory that far outweighs them all! [paraphrase, II Corinthians 3:?]

oh no You never let go,

Lauren

my heart or the hatchet.

I hate growing up.

Ashley said that to me today and I think I have to agree. I want to be a 12 year old again. Remember 12-year-old crushes? Remember how happy we were when they just smiled our way. Or when it didnt matter if the guy was actually a good guy or not--it wasn't like it was going anywhere.

I so desire to be that kid again. But I'm not. I have to face the complexities of being a young adult. Bleh.

I have decided to throw in the towel on my longest crush ever (one year, 9 months to this very day). It's not getting me anywhere. I don't know how much its hindering me, we'll find that out soon enough, but it's not drawing me any closer to the Father. And for that, I've gotta just let go.

And now I don't really know where to go. I have obeyed God's calling thus far. I've made the prayer group like He insisted. I'm doing my best to set the example (okay, maybe not my BEST). I'm writing (the one thing God tells me to do whenever I feel like I'm not doing anything...).

So I guess I need a new plan. A new vision, if you will. [A new dream]

I wish there was stability here, but there isn't. I guess that's God's little plan for me itself. I love order, He deprives me of it [all for the good of the cause!]. No but really, it's good training for me.

I guess I'm just saying that I want to trust God. I want Him to decide what to do with my life, my time, my heart. But it's hard because right now I have nothing to feed off of. It's like an clean slate--I have no idea where God is taking me in this part of my life. I guess it's time to find a new triangle [if only you knew...]

I'll end with a closing verse(s).

Now hope does not disappoint, because the love of God has been poured out in our hearts by the Holy Spirit who was given to us. [romans 5:5, NKJV]

And hope will never let us down.... [romans 5:5a, NIrV]

...we can't round up enough containers to hold everything God generously pours into our lives through the Holy Spirit! [romans 5:5b, The Message]

Such hope never disappoints or deludes or shames us, for God's love has been poured out in our hearts through the Holy Spirit Who has been given to us. [romans 5:5, the amplified bible]

with hope. or such like it,

Lauren