After class today, I headed back across campus to my dorm and ended up walking behind two girls. They couldn't have been more than 14 or so, and they were probaby from a local high school. The girls were deep in conversation:
One of them said "You HAVE to be able to succeed academically if you're not able to succeed athletically." And the other girl nodded sadly before she said "I wish I were artistic or maybe really musical...then I'd at least have a chance at being good at something."
They both seemed so burdened by an obvious longing to demonstrate their worth. And in the brief moments of their conversation that I overheard, I realized that these high school girls with matching pink laces on their tennis shoes and brightly colored backpacks slung over their shoulders had articulated a profound truth about our society.
We live in a competitive world. We are constantly bombarded with the message that we must prove ourselves to demonstrate our worth. All you've got to do is look around you--you'll see it played out in just about every aspect of our culture. Magazines tell girls that they need to be pretty, fix their hair, do their make-up, wear expensive clothes, and fit into about a size zero to be loved and to be valued. While ESPN and other "masculine" parts of our culture send the constant message to guys that they need to be muscular, athletic, wealthy, and drive nice cars to be "real men" who will be respected by society. And from things as seemingly insignificant as middle schoool dance team tryouts to increasingly cut-throat college admissions process to the pressures of the job market, we are told that we must be pretty, smart, healthy, athletic, popular, successful, and better than the next guy to win a place in society so that we will be considered worthy and significant.
We all participate in this frenzy for acceptance and recognition because we are hardwired with a desire for love and approval. And yet, the attention that we win and accolades we receive will never satisfy us completely because there will always be someone smarter, stronger, faster, or wealthier than we are. In a sense, we're all playing hard and fast at a game that we can't win.
But even though I'm not able to win the praise and affection I so crave from our society, I am loved unconditionally. I am loved with an intensity that surpasses what I have or haven't done. Instead, I am loved purely and passionately for who I am. Even when I feel that I don't quite measure-up, the awesome and all-powerful God of the universe loves me, simply for me. I'm reminded of Isaiah 43 in which God says to his people "I have called you by name, you are Mine." Just thinking of that assurance makes me smile. So much. My God knows my name, and calls me. And even when I'm feeling insignificant, I can rest in knowing that I am valuable to Him, for I am His.
Later in Isaiah 43, verse 4 pours forth yet more assurance of God's love for His children: "You are precious in my eyes, and honored, and I love you." To be precious in the eyes of my God, to be honored, and to be loved by my Creator, my King, and my Redeemer is of immeasurable worth. In this love that is so deep and given so freely, I am free. I am free to find my worth in Jesus rather than in my abilities and acomplishments...and that leaves me free to rejoice in the wonder of each day: to enjoy the beauty of creation, to rest in the love of my Creator, and to proclaim to the world that Jesus is King. For in this love, I am free.
Monday, January 31, 2011
Wednesday, January 26, 2011
Transience
Tonight I just feel tired. Not really physically tired, more mentally worn-out. I'm two and a half weeks into my second semester of college and although it's been great, tonight I just feel overwhelmed.
For those of you who know me well, you know that I'm a planner. I like to know what's going to happen today, tomorrow, and next week. Don't get me wrong, sometimes spontaneity can be fun...but for the most part I crave a sense of normalcy in my life.
So far this semester, that sense of normalcy has been hard to come by. I feel like the word that best describes these past couple weeks for me is BUSY. My schedule is different every day, and I can't seem to establish any semblence of a routine. In short, I feel like I've been in a perpetual state of transience.
But my perspective on all of this changed while I was talking with a friend about an hour ago. He asked me "Wanna know what made me super happy?" I was expecting a simple answer: something good for dinner, not much homework for the night, or maybe having seen a good friend at Wednesday night church. Instead he told me about the really awesome worship of our great God that he'd gotten to experience earlier at youth group. They'd sung the song Amazing Grace. He then forwarded me the text of my very favorite verse of that 18th century hymn:
As I read those sweet, familiar words my face broke out into the biggest smile. I haven't stopped smiling yet, for in a simple text message from a friend from back home and in the words of a hymn that's been around for more than two centuries, my God spoke clearly and decisively to me--bringing me peace in my situation.
When I stopped to think for a moment about the joyous eternal worship that I'll someday partake in, my feelings of transience began to seem perfectly natural rather than unsettling. Truthfully, this is exactly the way I should be feeling--not just about this semester of college though. I should be feeling this same inability to settle in when it comes to the whole of my existence on this earth.
This is just my temporary home. I was created for so much more than this. With this in mind, it really would be a tragedy to be satisfied with anything less than Christ. It would be a tragedy to settle for earth. I am not fully happy here because I am not home here. I am not fully happy here because I am not suppposed to be fully happy here. Greater and glorious things that will fulfill my heart's desires await me.
Of course on earth, I'll get to experience some joy: I feel a portion of God's goodness in the warmth of His sunshine. I see a sliver of his glory in the majesty of his creation. I catch a glimpse of His love in time I spend with sweet friends. And I taste a bit of His grace each time I sinfully stumble and He patiently draws me close again.
But while I'm here, the joy I experience can never measure up to the glory of what awaits me as a redeemed child of Christ. It is only right for me to feel this sense of transience that has overwhelmed these past two weeks for me, because as 1 Peter 2:11 explains, we are "like foreigners and strangers in this world." I'm only passing through this life on my way to something greater: unbroken communion with and worship of my savior and king.
Tonight I've come to realize that I'm homesick. Not homesick for Birmingham where I was born and raised, but homesick for my real home--where I'll be there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, and I'll have no less days to sing God's praise, than when I first begun. It's going to be wonderful, and tonight I'm so excited that I can't stop smiling.
For those of you who know me well, you know that I'm a planner. I like to know what's going to happen today, tomorrow, and next week. Don't get me wrong, sometimes spontaneity can be fun...but for the most part I crave a sense of normalcy in my life.
So far this semester, that sense of normalcy has been hard to come by. I feel like the word that best describes these past couple weeks for me is BUSY. My schedule is different every day, and I can't seem to establish any semblence of a routine. In short, I feel like I've been in a perpetual state of transience.
But my perspective on all of this changed while I was talking with a friend about an hour ago. He asked me "Wanna know what made me super happy?" I was expecting a simple answer: something good for dinner, not much homework for the night, or maybe having seen a good friend at Wednesday night church. Instead he told me about the really awesome worship of our great God that he'd gotten to experience earlier at youth group. They'd sung the song Amazing Grace. He then forwarded me the text of my very favorite verse of that 18th century hymn:
"When we've been there ten thousand years,
Bright shining as the sun,
We've no less days to sing God's praise,
Than when we first begun"
As I read those sweet, familiar words my face broke out into the biggest smile. I haven't stopped smiling yet, for in a simple text message from a friend from back home and in the words of a hymn that's been around for more than two centuries, my God spoke clearly and decisively to me--bringing me peace in my situation.
When I stopped to think for a moment about the joyous eternal worship that I'll someday partake in, my feelings of transience began to seem perfectly natural rather than unsettling. Truthfully, this is exactly the way I should be feeling--not just about this semester of college though. I should be feeling this same inability to settle in when it comes to the whole of my existence on this earth.
This is just my temporary home. I was created for so much more than this. With this in mind, it really would be a tragedy to be satisfied with anything less than Christ. It would be a tragedy to settle for earth. I am not fully happy here because I am not home here. I am not fully happy here because I am not suppposed to be fully happy here. Greater and glorious things that will fulfill my heart's desires await me.
Of course on earth, I'll get to experience some joy: I feel a portion of God's goodness in the warmth of His sunshine. I see a sliver of his glory in the majesty of his creation. I catch a glimpse of His love in time I spend with sweet friends. And I taste a bit of His grace each time I sinfully stumble and He patiently draws me close again.
But while I'm here, the joy I experience can never measure up to the glory of what awaits me as a redeemed child of Christ. It is only right for me to feel this sense of transience that has overwhelmed these past two weeks for me, because as 1 Peter 2:11 explains, we are "like foreigners and strangers in this world." I'm only passing through this life on my way to something greater: unbroken communion with and worship of my savior and king.
Tonight I've come to realize that I'm homesick. Not homesick for Birmingham where I was born and raised, but homesick for my real home--where I'll be there ten thousand years, bright shining as the sun, and I'll have no less days to sing God's praise, than when I first begun. It's going to be wonderful, and tonight I'm so excited that I can't stop smiling.
Monday, January 24, 2011
To Brave the Storm
Water:
I swim in it.
I drink it.
I splash through puddles in it.
I shower with it.
I kayak on it.
I play in it.
I dive under it.
I wash my hair with it.
I was baptized with it.
I dance in the rain in it.
But Jesus walked on it.
In all the ways that I'll experience water, I'll never experience it the way that Jesus did in Matthew 14. I'll never walk on it. And I'd wager that you'll never walk on it either. Only God incarnate holds such authority over the physical force of the substance of water that He can command it to hold solid beneath His holy feet and bear his weight as He walks across its surface.
For as long as I can remember, I've been absolutely captivated by the story of Jesus walking on water. In my mind there is something undeniably glorious about the utter control that Jesus exhibits over such a familiar force in that story.
Jesus's ability to walk on water is an undeniable demonstration of his divinity, but what He does with this ability is, to me, the most enchanting part of the story. Christ walks on water to go to His disciples who are in a boat that has been swept away from Jesus, "beaten by the waves" and losing a battle to strong "winds [that were] against them." He walks on water to His disciples who are unable to come to Him. I personally find great comfort in knowing that Christ went to his disciples while they were still at the mercy of the powers of the storm.
Too often in my own life, I feel the inexplicable need to pull my life together before I invite Jesus into the details. As a perfectionist I feel compelled to clean house and get everything in order before I feel justified in approaching the throne of grace. In the midst of life's storms, I feel the need to prove my worth, to take control and weather the storm, to make it back to shore before I can seek Jesus's hand. I know this is non-sensical, that my works will never earn me grace, but this perfectionist-bent is hardwired into my personality. And so, I find great comfort and encouragement in stories like this one, where Jesus, in his glorious godliness walks on water to meet his disciples who are caught at sea in the midst of the storm. He meets them where they are, not because of the immense skill they have demonstrated in dealing with the situation, or in proving themselves worthy. No, Christ goes to His disciples when they are in need of him simply because he loves them.
When he arrives at their boat, Jesus calms the fears of the disciples saying, "Take heart; It is I. Do not be afraid." The simple fact of his presence is enough to make everything okay. For there is no need to fear the storm when you have the king of the universe by your side. With Christ, not only is it safe to weather the crashing waves and howling winds from inside the boat, with Christ, we are equipped to fearlessly brave the storm (whatever it may be) face on.
I swim in it.
I drink it.
I splash through puddles in it.
I shower with it.
I kayak on it.
I play in it.
I dive under it.
I wash my hair with it.
I was baptized with it.
I dance in the rain in it.
But Jesus walked on it.
In all the ways that I'll experience water, I'll never experience it the way that Jesus did in Matthew 14. I'll never walk on it. And I'd wager that you'll never walk on it either. Only God incarnate holds such authority over the physical force of the substance of water that He can command it to hold solid beneath His holy feet and bear his weight as He walks across its surface.
For as long as I can remember, I've been absolutely captivated by the story of Jesus walking on water. In my mind there is something undeniably glorious about the utter control that Jesus exhibits over such a familiar force in that story.
Jesus's ability to walk on water is an undeniable demonstration of his divinity, but what He does with this ability is, to me, the most enchanting part of the story. Christ walks on water to go to His disciples who are in a boat that has been swept away from Jesus, "beaten by the waves" and losing a battle to strong "winds [that were] against them." He walks on water to His disciples who are unable to come to Him. I personally find great comfort in knowing that Christ went to his disciples while they were still at the mercy of the powers of the storm.
Too often in my own life, I feel the inexplicable need to pull my life together before I invite Jesus into the details. As a perfectionist I feel compelled to clean house and get everything in order before I feel justified in approaching the throne of grace. In the midst of life's storms, I feel the need to prove my worth, to take control and weather the storm, to make it back to shore before I can seek Jesus's hand. I know this is non-sensical, that my works will never earn me grace, but this perfectionist-bent is hardwired into my personality. And so, I find great comfort and encouragement in stories like this one, where Jesus, in his glorious godliness walks on water to meet his disciples who are caught at sea in the midst of the storm. He meets them where they are, not because of the immense skill they have demonstrated in dealing with the situation, or in proving themselves worthy. No, Christ goes to His disciples when they are in need of him simply because he loves them.
When he arrives at their boat, Jesus calms the fears of the disciples saying, "Take heart; It is I. Do not be afraid." The simple fact of his presence is enough to make everything okay. For there is no need to fear the storm when you have the king of the universe by your side. With Christ, not only is it safe to weather the crashing waves and howling winds from inside the boat, with Christ, we are equipped to fearlessly brave the storm (whatever it may be) face on.
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