Slow and Steady.

I chuckled when I opened my bible this morning and found my familiar, folded sheets laying out the reading plan I’ve been working through.

And by working through, I really mean barely moving through.
It’s supposed to take a year.
I’m likely going to at least double that time line.
It was not my snail’s pace however, that caused me amusement.

It was that I started this literary journey per a recommendation from a friend.
Who happened to be a boy.
Said boy is still a boy/friend, just not mine.
In fact, there have been...er....several boys in and out since this read through began.

And yet, I read on, ever so slowly.

Thinking of my confounded romantic escapades over the last year and a half in relation to my reading gave light to truth.
Despite the instability in the relationship department, there is stability.
In the Word.
His word.
All of that truth is there.  Just waiting for me to read it.
The words on the page don’t change.
My life will change, but the book won’t.
He won’t.
God. Won’t. Change.
He’s the same yesterday, today and tomorrow.
“Slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love” [Psalm 86:15]

Some times when I look at how long I have to go before I finish this dad-gum reading plan, I get a bit discouraged.
But now, I’m glad it has taken me this long.
By stretching over several places and seasons and heartbreaks, God could remind me [yet again] of His steadfastness.  His sameness.  His with-me-through-it-all-ness.

Maybe if I start taking a few more things slow and steady, I might just win this race.
Or at least not trip over my own two feet.

The Sustaining Question

It seems that when the going gets tough, I get writing.
After, of course, I eat half a chocolate cake.  By myself.  In less than 24 hours.
And so it begins. With a bit of chocolate lingering on the corners of my mouth.

I’m not sure why I seem to write more when I’m doing a bit of wrestling.
It irritates me a bit that my writing is so situational...emotional? Honestly, it feels silly.  Keeping this blog feels silly.
But I think, it really does help.  It settles me down. Makes me hone in. Organizes the chaos.
It helps to trim the fat.
Unlike the cake eating.  That does the exact opposite.

So, I’m encouraging myself to write again.
About what I’m learning, to that I make sure I’m learning. About what I’m seeing, to make sure that I’m really seeing.  About where God is, to make sure I’m looking for Him.



Tonight a dear friend and I went to a presentation of sorts where a couple talked about their backyard “farm".  Where they ignore the city rules about keeping livestock on the premises and “un-school” their children-whatever that means.

We agreed that while this kind of information is inspiring, it is also overwhelming.
I begin running rampant with new crazy ideas about giant compost piles and brewing batches of fermented bacteria.  I have a million and one ideas and what feels like one millionth the amount of time [/follow through?] required to bring these ideas to fruition.

The question is, what do you want your life to be about?

And this my friends, is a very good question.
A very good question I am on a continual, daunting, harried and current quest to answer.

I want to be responsible. Sustainable. Thoughtful.  Intentional. Healthy.  Holistic.  Whole.
There are a lot of ways to accomplish those things.
I often get lost in a sea of bees, home grown tomatoes, re-usable bags and natural beauty products.
These are all great things. Honey. Homemade salsa. Not adding to the HUGE piles of trash we produce.  As well as keeping toxins from seeping into the biggest organ you posses.
But it is so easy to follow the god of “green”.
I could always be more sustainable.  Make less of an impact.  And I want to work toward that.
At the end of my day, will all the more and less be enough?

Okay. Wait, this wasn’t supposed to end up as a philosophical rant about sustainability.  I think the real fruit of this evening, what I really wanted to pull out, was the prompt to bring me to this question yet again...

What do I want my life to be about?
What do you want your life to be about?

I know one thing, I don’t want it to be about eating copious of chocolate cake.
At least not on a regular basis.

Because You Did It!

I have a lot of ideas.
More than you can shake a stick at.
Which is great.
Mostly.
Except I often feel like a hyper dog in a squirrel filled forest.

And so I’ve taken to making lists.
To-do lists.
"Carpe Some Diem" lists.
And most recently a “better-ment” list.

Wanna join?

When I moved back to Grand Rapids, my roommate and I sat out on our porch and made lists of things we wanted to do in the coming months.  ----->
It feels really good when I cross things off.
Even if it’s just making a snow man.
Because the check mark means I accomplished something.

Along with this head full of dreams comes the constant desire to be wiser, kinder, smarter, more balanced, learn-ed, and well-traveled.
You know...bigger, faster, stronger. [just wait for it. weird but awesome]
The problem is that despite this constant desire to grow, it’s hard to do.
Especially with all these squirrels running around.
So, I’ve made a list.

For the next week, I’ve established some things that will challenge me, encourage me, and help to set me up to actually accomplish those first two goals.

Example:

Step 2:Wake up early so that I have enough time to read [instead of snooze-ing] before starting my day.
Step 1: Go to bed early so that I can wake up early.
By including Step 1, achieving Step 2 will be more realistic. And I’ll get to cross another thing off which will enhance my placebo effect of feeling success through box checking.

Things like taking walks, drinking enough water and a keeping thankful record are on my list for the week.

Do I wish I was just so disciplined and awesome that I became a better person without having to check little boxes? Yes.
Am I still going to love checking the little boxes? Yes.
Am I greatly anticipating the fruit which this ritual will bear? Yes.

So, I encourage you to make a list.
It could be one or a handful of things.
Maybe it will be writing a letter to a friend once a week like my friend Rori is doing.
Perhaps it’s praying when you start and finish your work day.
You could memorize the Word, pack your lunch every day, brush your teeth for a whole two minutes, complete a craft project once a month, do 10 push-ups every morning, eat more carrots or chocolate candy bars.

Just make sure you set yourself up to get yourself somewhere.
Somewhere that takes a little effort to get there.
And to win. Definitely set yourself up to win.
Throw in some easy tasks and some doozies.
And enjoy that feeling of satisfaction when you cross it off.
Because you did it.
And that feels good.

I Need A Subaru.

It is not good for Jen to be alone.

And yet I keep doing it.
Only to find myself in some precarious situations.

This time it happened to be wedged in deep, heavy snow. Alone. With no cell phone service.  In the middle of the woods.

Last spring, I attempted to paddle my way up the coast of lake michigan on a kayak that was a few lengths short of being long enough.  Again, alone. Bouncing precariously between huge icy waves, every muscle tense, chanting a mix of, “omanomanomandon’ttipdon’ttipdon’ttip.”

It always happens with that first stupid decision.

I hesitated at the end of the long, snow drift of a drive way and thought, “You know, maybe this isn’t a good idea.” And of course I answered myself, “Naahhh. It’ll be fine.”
I barreled through the snow.  Hands at ten and two chanting, “okayokayokay”
And all was well...
Until I paused to survey where I should park and began to turn the corner at the top of the turn around.
Then, things were not so well.

I pulled out all the stops.  I kept my wheels straight.  I tromped through the fluff to find a stick.  [Because obviously I didn’t have a shovel in the back of my car.]  So I sticked the snow out from under the wheels.  Did the old rock back and fourth.  I even tried the neutral plus brute strength method.  After some time, I managed to work myself loose.
Only to get stuck again.
This was going to be a long afternoon.

The owners of the only sign of life, a stout Subaru, came tromping back with their snow shoes. At about the same time two ladies in a car, even less stout than my Jetta wagon, wedged themselves into my original place of peril.  [Remind me to buy a car with better clearance if I’m going to keep this up.] With a little help, we freed all cars and I finally enjoyed a nice quite walk in the woods.

Last spring, after turning around on the lake, I made it back and ended up enjoying my final destination in one of the best weekends I’ve had in a long time.

I seem to find happy endings despite things being a little touch and go.

I shake my head after times like these and think, “Typical.”
And although Jen being alone might lead to some ridiculous and potential life threatening situations, I have to admit, I really like it.

I like trying to get myself out of something.
Trying to right that first dumb decision.
To think and reason and figure and come out alive and mostly in one piece.

It’s not good for Jen to be alone.
But it makes for a good story.

Despite Discontent

I have some advice.
It’s short and sweet:

Sometimes, your present stinks.
Just keep going.

Someone, somewhere probably expressed this same sentiment much more eloquently than I, but who needs eloquence when you’ve got honesty?

I’ve been wrestling with something for the last long while. And it goes a little something like this:
"God, WHAT do you want me to DO?!"
And the wrestling has more to do with the answer than the question I suppose.
Because the answer is most often this:




?

I trust God.
I know He has a plan.
I know that He will be faithful to carry it onto completion.
I know that He will withhold no good thing.
I [kind of] understand that I need to wait. Patiently.
I understand that the most important thing is my heart.
I understand that I can glorify Him in many different ways.
But.
I.
Would.
Just.
Like.
An.
ANSWER.

And I’ve been frustrated, to put it mildly, that I’m not hearing anything specific.
"I’m doing something wrong" is my obvious explanation.
Maybe I don’t really want to know?
But I DO. I honest to goodness want, not my will but yours be done.
Do I need to read more? Sit for hours more and just listen? Confess some unknown sin?
[and that could very well be the case]
I discovered however, despite my discontent, I just need to keep going.
Just keep listening.
Even when I feel like it’s a lost cause and I want to throw in the towel on this whole listening business.

Because,
God.
Shows.
Up.
I read and journaled recently despite all my whinny baby resistance.  And you know what?
I heard something.
I heard something that actually had nothing to do with what I was currently reading.
And that’s when you know it’s good.
Now, it wasn’t a laminated five year life plan, mind you.
BUT.
It was something.
Something that was good and I would have missed it, had I given up.

So, sometimes, you are frustrated.
You want to throw in the towel.
Your tired. And spent.
And your present stinks.

JUST
KEEP
GOING

Trust me on this one.

Balmy Reality.

It hit me.
More oppressively than this sticky September heat.
I felt my lungs tighten and my heart seize.
And this wasn’t just because I crested the top of a minimal incline whilst running.
It started building as I drove through the south side of town.
Another world altogether from the hipster-dom where I currently reside.
It came to a head as I jogged past two twenty-somethings on a walk.
I started my usual game: who were they? how do they know one another? where are they going? what do they do?
And that’s when it hit me.
Building slowly, subconsciously, under stoplights on hot pavement.
Coming to a head wondering the life story of a red head and a blonde walking down the street.

Fear.
Overwhelming, balmy fear.
The wholy-crap-how-am-I-ever-going-to-do-this-? fear.
The “this” that feels so heavy, isn’t even related to the new job I will start tomorrow.
The this is all of it.  Life.
What started building on my drive back from an airport drop-off was the realization of the state of things.
Reality in the city.  This city.
Families. And lack thereof. Heartbreak. Brokenness. Abandonment. Abuse. Neglect. Pennilessness. Hardship. Strife. Turmoil.
The how-can-I-see-and-hear-and-experience-and-process-all-of-this-and-try-to-do-something-about-it-while-the-weight-of-the-reality-that-I-can’t-even-scratch-the-surface-sinks-in-and-not-go-completely-crazy panic.

Then this refrain plays in my head and hangs on my wall:

So we do not lose heart.

The darkness in the world is heavy. Heavier still is that which is amiss in my own back yard.

Therefore, having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.

So we do not lose heart.

[2 Corinthians 4:1,16]

It would be easier to not engage. 

Easier  to drive seventy on the highway and miss the humanity.

Easier to not ask questions about the lives of others. Their state of being.

Keeping your eyes closed reduces fear. 

But we are not of those who shrink back. 

We have this ministry by the mercy of God.

So we do not lose heart.

[Hebrews  10:39]

I quickened my pace and set my jaw while this song coursed through my veins. 

Not because it’s full of truth or uplifting.

But because it’s aggressive.  Because it drives.

Because it makes me grit my teeth, batten down the hatches, and get after it.

It’s an amping-up-for-white-water kind of jam.

But I think I’m going to need to listen to it to keep my edge here too.  

On the sidewalks. In a concrete jungle. Facing the beauty and the chaos that a city engulfs you with.

So we do not lose heart...

Following the Cloud.

So it was always: the cloud covered it by day and the appearance of fire by night.  And whenever the cloud lifted from over the tent, after that the people of Israel set out, and in the place where the cloud settled down, there the people of Israel camped.  At the command of the LORD the people of Israel set out, and at the command of the LORD they camped.  As long as the cloud rested over the tabernacle, they remained in camp.  Even when the cloud continued over the tabernacle many days, that people of Israel kept the charge of the LORD and did not set out.  Sometimes the cloud was a few days over the tabernacle and according to the command of the LORD they remained in camp; then to the command of the LORD they set out. And sometimes the cloud remained from evening until morning.  And when the cloud lifted in the morning, they set out, or if it continued for a day and a night, when the cloud lifted they set out.  Whether it was two days, or a month, or a longer time, that the cloud continued over the tabernacle, abiding there, the people of Israel remained in camp and did not set out but when it lifted they set out.  At the command of the LORD they camped, and at the command of the LORD they set out.   [Number 9:16-23]

Where is my cloud?
That’s all I want to know.  I read this repetitive passage, finished, and sat there yearning for something this concrete to tell me when to go and when to stay.  When to remain in camp and when to set out.  It sounds so cut and dry for the Israelites.  They just had to obediently follow the cloud.
So where is my cloud?
I’d love for a cloud to hover around and direct my next decisions.

I was relaying all of this to my dear friend E. She looked over at me mid-stride and said, “You are the temple now.”

Well.
That changes things, eh?

So tabernacle means “residence” or “dwelling place”.  It’s where God lived.  Among the Israelites the tabernacle was the center.  The Holy of Holies.  And in the center of the center, only the High priest was allowed past the curtain into the inner tent where the Arc of the Covenant was held.

But this is what I forgot: we have a new covenant.

Now the point in what we are saying is this: we have such a high priest, one who is seated at the right hand of the throne of the Majesty in heaven, a minister in the holy places, in the true tent that the Lord set up, not man. [Heb. 8:1-2] 

Since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new a living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God...[Heb. 10:19-22]

The new temple is Jesus.  I’ve heard people say that Jesus is God “tabernacling” with us.  Dwelling with us.  I’ve also heard it said that God "moved into the neighborhood" when Jesus resided here on earth. He is our High Priest who enters into the Holy of Holies and opens the curtain.
Are you ready for the crazy part? Not only is Jesus now our High Priest and our tabernacle, He lives in us.  So essentially we too take on His identity!

          Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you?

For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple. 

For we are the temple of the living God; as God said,
          I will make my dwelling among them and walk among them, I will be their God, and they shall be my people.

God abides in us and his love is perfected in us.  By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Sprit.  And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world.  Whoever confesses that Jesus ins the Son of God, God abides in him and he in God.            

[1 Cor. 3:16, 2 Cor. 6:16, 1 John 4:13-15]

The tabernacle is inside of me.  God dwells in me.  Resides with me.

Those statements hold so much weight.  I am nearly giddy with even scratching the surface of what this means and how this changes my life. How it changes me.
Part of what it means is that, the cloud I’ve been looking for isn’t hovering over God’s presence in a tent somewhere.  Because God’s presence is in me.
I am that temple.
The cloud is over me.  Maybe that realization is all I needed to find and follow.