This is the final push.

Dear Beloved,

By grace you have been saved through faith.
By grace you have been saved through faith.
By grace you have been saved through faith.


This is the final push.
He has taken me out of the dark pit, and now this is the final push.

I press onward, for I know what is ahead.

See here, My Beloved...
For where is my brother? And where is my sister?
Where is my son? And my daughter?
For where is my mother? And my father?
And where is my husband?

Are they not in Heaven?

And where is my home, My Beloved? My home to which I belong?
Is it not in Heaven?


This is the final push. And It is but a "twinkle" He wrote.

But hush now, My Beloved...
For is there a desire which I desire more than a family...a large one, to which I belong?
And is there a desire which I have desired longer than to have siblings?
And which desire is more precious than my desire for daughters and sons?
Now tell me, Beloved... which desire have I not prayed for more, than for a husband?

Alas, Beloved, He waits... for this is the final push.


Dear Beloved,

who am I, but His daughter?

You see, My Love...
On this stage I am no one, but perhaps a player already forgotten. This world has no end that I long for.
"To be or not to be" concerned one man's own fate.
Did he not choose "life"?

But alas, what a woeful question; for even when unasked, it has already been answered.

Who am I My Beloved, but His daughter?
Yea, who am I but His daughter...



This is the final push.


For who am I but His daughter...for I am His daughter.
My fullness, my essence, my life...it is by means of grace that He saved me and made me His daughter.


Therefore My Love,
I push...
This is the final push...
that His daughter for all eternity I may be.


-One with the Weeds

How far do we have to travel just to be home again?

Note the weeds.

NOTE the weeds.

They grow in the hostile cemented sand we call our "back yards" here in San Diego. The soil is rugged...dry like the desert. Hardly soil, the ground is hard as though kitted together by pressure. This rocky land seems to be fit for nothing but preserving fossils.

How do the weeds grow?

How do the weeds grow...months on end without rain? It had been San Diego's longest record of days without rain. This year's Santa Ana season seemed hotter and dryer than the years before. This year, I saw the weeds die.


In a mini forest, sitting knee-high, the yellow daisies flirted with the birds all spring. In the summer the flowers fainted while their stems weakened. By September all that was once thick and green had hallowed to a dry brown. I watched the weeds wither.

By October they were dead.

Months passed by, and then it rained.... And BEHOLD, after a couple of downpours, like lightening they sprouted up.

From the seat of my desk through my living room window... this morning I have noticed the weeds.

It had only been a couple weeks of rain, yet in those few weeks...in the marginal amount of rain that fell upon my backyard, the weeds regained their strength. Not only did they come back to life, they grew bigger and they multiplied. What had been only an occurrence in a small corner of my yard last Spring had unlawfully turned into an invasion in a year.


The weeds are making their presence known to me; with a snicker they wave to me from the cracks of my pavement and from the trunk of my hill they bid me 'good morning'...even the soil of my potted plants have become their refuge. They, like scoundrels, have suffocated the flowers that blossomed among the iceberg grass. Indiscriminately, they have stolen sun, nutrients and water from my backyard: my Giant Wild Rye shrubs-dead; my Ficus tree-without leaves; my tomatoes plants-without fruit; my rose bush-without even one petal...the weeds have left my backyard desolate.

But why, why the weeds? Why note the weeds?


Are we not yards of clay?

 Our hearts are a land no less rocky than the soil of a desert...
And our sin... no less evil and no less aggressive than the weeds whose roots latch onto the rocks of our backyards.
After months of drought the weeds suffocate, but at the clouds' discretion... just a few inches of rain brings about revival.

Letting the weeds die is not enough. The land needs tilling and the rocks on which the roots clutch to need removal. Deeply connected, the roots of one spout are anchored to another; they feed each other.

To purify a garden of such a pest would seem impossible.

But for the Believer, our Hope exists in Christ. His blood not only covers us, it cleanses us. Because of The Son’s death and resurrection, legally declared before The Lord, our hearts are without rocks and our backyards without weeds… all the while, under permission of The Father, The Holy Spirit plows away.

"I don't have to be, have or do anything, but rightly respond to The Lord."

Authentic Chinese Accent

It is much better to offend friends by my simplicity than to offend God by my pride.

the post below sounds kind of loopy... when im on less drugs ill edit it. I just got my wisdom teeth pulled-->vicodin, steroids, penacillin, ibuprophen.

sorry peoples. if you're down for a challenge read it now.

When diagnosis leads to perspective....the blessing.

So I suppose this is an update. I have no idea how I wrote so religiously a year ago... blogging doesn't feel natural anymore. But for the sake of one reader being blessed, here is what's on my heart.



Last week I was diagnosed with endometriosis. It’s a disease that about 3% of women are born with. It is progressive, incurable and not well understood. Although the cause is unknown, the basics of it is this: cells that develop every month to form the lining of my uterus grow where they are not supposed to-literally outside "endo" of the uterus. They spread throughout the pelvic area-the fallopian tubes, the bladder, the rectum, the intestine...and form growths. For most women it is painless. For me, it has been quite excruciating.

Although I had noticed the pain over the last few years, it wasn't until this Christmas/New Year’s season when I was eating dinner with my family at my aunt's house that I realized this mysterious pain had gotten worse.

I ended up finding all these comments on yahoo answers in which women described the exact same pain. But one comment in particular struck me. This lady explained how she was diagnosed with endometriosis. When she talked about the pain-I knew exactly what she was talking about. Then she mentioned affiliated symptoms-I realized I had them too! She described everything so perfectly that I got kind of excited-"yes, there is a name for this condition I have, and other people have it, which means doctors know about it."

I was super excited until she started throwing around the words "miscarriage" and "infertility."

Frantically I started doing more research on endometriosis. After reading through it on WebMD a few times, I realized I had every single symptom with the exception of one. Infertility. There is no "test" for infertility. The diagnosis is made after years of attempt to conceive without success.

My past came back to haunt me. Never had I attempted to conceive...but it dawned on me that I've been unreasonably lucky for such a vast history of reckless mistakes and bondage to sin.

"Ohh No.. Lord could it be? Has it been all along?"

I had to get my heart right. At that point I knew the only thing that mattered was being in a state where I could genuinely praise God; Job chapters 1-2 quickly came to mind. Before I could leave, my Aunt Ardy walked in the room and asked what was wrong. I showed her the site and before I knew it I was in her arms...both crying as she prayed.

On my drive home I cried out to Him.

"I'll miss out on everything. Everything! No children God? No children!... Who would want me-I'm a broken woman. What does it even mean to be a woman if I can't bear children. I'll be alone, Father. All these prayers I had been praying for years...this prayer journal for my husband- it has been to no one this whole time hasn't it? What a waste. And my dreams God.. The dreams I thought you gave me... a family run coffee shop...nonetheless a family!. And how would I ever become a woman's pastor? I won't ever know what it means to be a woman. I'm broken God...I'm broken. I'll miss everything."


With nudges in my heart He answered me ''Yes. You will miss everything-you will miss everything if you keep looking around you. But if you look at Me, you will miss nothing."


Supernaturally I felt comforted as I realized...there is no mother and daughter in heaven. No husband and wife. Simply, we are all sons and daughters of Him Our Father and little brothers and little sisters of Jesus, the Firstborn over all creation. Glory beyond glory...surpassing joy beyond all joy. For all Eternity.

I realized that this is where I need to exist: God's dwelling place.

There are two realities; the one in which our physical bodies decay and the one in which angels are gathered around a throne, singing to Our Messiah....

I realized that as long as The Lord has me live in the physical, I must live as if looking from the transcendent. I must look at Earth as if looking into the past from Heaven.


The next day I went to the Doctors. (That morning I called to make an appointment-what a blessing that I got one later that afternoon. God is Good.) My general physician and the doctor in charge of that department agreed that I most likely have endometriosis. They referred me to the OBGYN/Gynecology department and told me I should expect a call from them in about a week to schedule an appointment.

Only a few hours after I got home, I received the gyno. department's call. The receptionist informed me that my appointment was set for Jan 20th. I told her I would be out of town from Jan 8th until Jan 23rd. She bumped me back to the 27th. But right before hanging up, I abruptly asked if she had any openings before the 8th. Amazingly, they had one available time slot-the day before my flight. (God is good!)

At my appointment, my gynecologist explained to my Aunt and me how the only way to confidently rule out all other possibilities is via biopsy. Unfortunately the diagnostic procedure generally leads to scaring and the scarring increases chances of infertility. To avoid unnecessary scarring and unnecessary surgery, I was clinically diagnosed (as with most cases of endometriosis.) The diagnosis is considered official depending on how I respond to treatment. (I have 6 months of treatment-so hopefully we will know for sure by July).

When I get back to San Diego I have a scheduled ultrasound to check for any irregularities. Depending on the severity of endometriosis, large growths have the potential to rupture and cause serious health problems. Also, endometriosis has similar symptoms as ovarian cancer. "They are linked but their connection is not well understood. In rare cases, endometriosis of the ovaries can become cancerous." We are going to pay close attention to how my treatment goes, as ovarian cancer runs in my mother's side of the family (my great-aunt died from it at 23).


In summary...

this year has started with some health issues. But my endometriosis is a blessing and an answer to prayer.

The other day I was reading through my prayers for 2010 I realized what I desire most:

"More than my future husband, more than my future kids, more than the coffee shop, more than sharing The Gospel even... I desire rest Lord. Rest like a baby. Like a newborn, wrapped tightly in her mother's arms-she is unaware of her surroundings. She is unaware of the issues of society, she is not even slightly curious of the world around her... she simply exists. She is completely dependent on this person...completely vulnerable. She knows nothing about her mother but at the same time she knows, 'this is my mother, my provision, my nurturer'...she has perfect trust. Lord this is what I desire."

In reading through my prayers from the past, some as old as from 2006... I noticed that I had asked The Lord for a heart to adopt. I even prayed about a dream I had in which I adopted a boy from a Romanian prison. As I read through these prayers, I reasoned with God:

"It won't be the same Lord. I know I prayed for it then, but I still want my own kids"

"Are you not my own?" He rebuked me.

I realized that The Lord has adopted me...but I'm not any less His.



I do not pretend to know the future, but If I ever do get married and do adopt, I know God will show me how the love parents have for their adopted children is real. I know adoption will be a blessing for my faith....something God will use to show me His faithfulness and to remove any of my fears and doubts of His love for me.



In the meantime... He is training me to live as if from Heaven. Eternity with The Lord is not merely our future hope, it is the reality which our mind, heart and soul live in.

Dear Mom

You reek of death.
Even your mere sight brings a stench of pain...it seeps into my hair and reminds me of your sorrow.
My throat collapses; even your shadows suffocate.
My heart pounds to breathe and my lungs loose rhythm.

What is this you have done to yourself?
What is this you have drowned in?

Even your house swims.

Come.
Let me anoint you with a fragrance that is sweet.
Come.
Let me braid your locks and adorn your crown with flowers.
Come.
Let me show you hope which won't sink.

So this was Death.

The approaching night took its time as it left the sky awkwardly diffusing remnants of the sun. In the middle of a San Diego December around 4 pm, this was what I would have expected. It couldn’t have been the weather that made coming through the gate and walking amidst dying weeds on a cemented path to my front door any different than the countless late-afternoons before.

As I approached my front door and fumbled for my green, plastic-covered-key, I ignored a small can of cherry-red finishing stain (topped of course, with a ruined paint brush.) This was my dad’s accomplice in an unprofessional attempt to revamp the tone of the door’s original wood; it had been sitting there for half of a year.

With an unlocking “click,” the slightest push of my front door seemed to open a floodgate of volume. Before my first foot had fully entered the familiarity of the foyer, I identified the song that was blaring; it was “Layla” by Derek and the Dominos. I had walked in on the solo-not the guitar solo, but the piano solo: the longest, most beautiful, four minutes of British rock.
The stench of cigarettes and aroma of wine intermixed with the smell that only a full day’s worth of laundry could produce. Something was wrong. My parents’ favorite song or not, it shouldn’t have been playing so loudly and my stepmom never smoked inside.

Forgetting to let go of my backpack, I jolted for the staircase.

I was running but my eyes noticed each stair and on each stair, each stain; the hideous pink carpet was original from the 80s. As if forgetting the queue of the frog-shaped coffee stain, my brain finally registered “I have reached the top.”

At this point I started crying; perhaps it was because I thought I knew what I would see just around the door of my parents’ bedroom, or perhaps it was because I had no idea.

There he was.

My vision completely blurred as I managed to ask my stepmom, “How long?”
Putting away laundry and crying herself, she responded, “He fell into coma right after you left for school.”

Again, I asked-or tried to ask, “How long, until...”

Thankfully she interrupted, “It could be a few minutes or it could be a few weeks. Some doctors believe they can hear us. Honey, you should talk to him.” She went downstairs. I didn’t realize the blaring music had stopped until I heard the beginnings of a song. “Layla.” She was playing it again, but this time so soft that I could barely hear it.

I made my way towards the left side of the bed and grabbed his hand. I didn’t want to grab it. I knew it wouldn’t grab mine back.

I mumbled what had typically been the instigator of our great conversations, “Hi, Dad.” But at that moment, I realized we had already had our last. Talking to him was uncomfortable and awkward with him like this; I preferred listening to him: his great ideas, his vast epiphanies, his lessons.

After my babbling about my grades and all the make-up tests I earned A’s on, a thickening silence built a pressure to keep forming these pointless sentences (as if the more I talked, the less I would anticipate a response.) Quietly, as if knocking, the piano solo from “Layla” exposed itself from downstairs.

Suddenly, I simultaneously watched my Dad’s eyes open and heard his lungs grasp for air. Rising and leaning over so he could see me, I looked at him intently, as if speaking into his fading eyes. Overwhelmed by the rattling noise of his breadth, I blurted out, “Dad, I love you. Thank you. Thank you for everything you have taught me and everything you have done. I couldn’t have asked for a better father; thank you. Thank you. Thank you.” My voice trailed into weeps, there was nothing else I could say.

Franticly, my stepmom came running in and grabbed our hands. She placed one over my dad’s and one in mine and cried out, “Oh Honey, we know. We know. We know you want to say you love us, but we know. And we love you too. And we know you’ll love us for all eternity.”

For all eternity. These words struck me.

Dislodging her hand from mine, she closed his eyes.

So, this was death.

The Ants Go Marching One by One, Hoorah! Hoorah!

They attacked my drity dishes. I wiped away their trail, but they came back.
When enough was enough, I washed the dishes. Finally, gone.

The next morning...

They attacked my trash. So I took out the trash. But over the course of the day, new trash filled the new bag. They came back.

So today...I'm forced to take out the trash the momment I accumilate it. Can't keep it too long in my house, they'll find it and tell all their buddies. It will become something they all feed off of.


Hmmmm. Yes, Father... I see.

The Imitation of Christ

It is better to avoid sin than to fear death.

-Thomas a Kempis

"I hate you, pen."

Context: Last night, about 12:30 AM, sitting atop my loft bed, writing to God.

Wedged in between delicate prayers, with clash-like interruptions, my written thoughts violently yet truthfully reveal the current condition of my heart...

My journal entry for April 27th is something similar to as follows:

(Prayers...blah..blah...prayers..) "This pen sucks." (Prayers..blah..blah blah...) "I want to throw it off my bed." (prayers...blah..blah..blah... delicate prayers...) "But if I throw it down, I won't be able to write anymore." (prayers...blah..blah..blah...delicate prayers...) Amen.

I couldn't go to bed-No, not after such blunt and shamefully unembarrassed interruptions in my conversation with The King. I took the time to write it down; why couldn't I be distracted and just think it? In this entry I left behind clear evidence which proves me guilty of having a divided attention; and indeed-today, as I reflect, I confess...es la verdad: my attention is hardly undivided, nor is it directed towards The King.

I find it interesting, and perhaps if it weren't my journal entry, even amusing that the immediate thought process was "...if I throw it down, I won't be able to write anymore." At the time, I had an unreasonable amount of anger towards the pen for running out of ink. Yet all the while accrediting it with being valuable: I thought of this pen as my only means of writing.

...As if I couldn't get off my bed and get another pen. As if I don't have a surplus of blue papermate medium ball-point pens sitting untouched in the right hand drawer of my desk.

Immediately I thought, "ughh...this devo time with God blows... and its the pen's fault." "If it weren't for this pen..." "I hate this pen." This pen, this pen, this pen...

I blamed the pen rather than my laziness. It is so easy for me to be mad at circumstances. So easy. ...And likewise it is so gratifying to be unaware that the solution is-being prevented by-me.

I really did blame a mediocre night of prayer on that pen.


In reflecting, I wonder on what else I'm blaming my boring walk:

"well, I can't be radical-I'm in a contract with Charley where I have to stay
in school & pursue a degree, I'm forced to be here until I graduate in Spring 2011;"

"I do have money, I'm not dead broke, I'm not a missionary serving in India;"

"These are my circumstances. Therefore I'm off the hook, I mean, its harder being radical in southern California;"

"God put me here knowing it would be like this...God's standard of my living must be different than his standard for your living/for Miles McPherson's/for Francis Chan's/for my friends'...;"

"If God really wants me to be a more radical follower and have a more radical life, then he will relocate me. Yah, that sounds good."

How ridiculous, to blame my lazy, divided, complacent heart on the blessings God gave me. This isn't even an issue of a having a boring, unweighted, insignificant life (which I understand some people indeed posess, as a direct consequence of not obeying God) but the issue here is that my heart fails to respond to God's glory. Being a steward of his money and a steward of an education...these are things The King wove into my life; my eyes rather than my understanding, testify how from the beginning he has been faithful; from the beginning he has set me up; before I knew to love Him, He was already loving me....

Me:the precedent of a failed marriage. No, me: the precedent of a failed attempt to marry. Somewhere, someone-maybe even many people-prayed that God would use the consequence of two peoples' sin for His Glory. And like a "knight in shinning armor" coming to the rescue on a Pegasus...God-The-Rescuer answered that prayer with "Gladly."
"I will gladly take this baby girl, and she will be my daughter...and she will be apart of something great!"

My heart fails to respond to God's glory...
I am already apart of something great, and this whole time I've been apart of something great.

Conclusion: its not the pens fault.

I could go without....

complaining.
doubt.
everyone else?
my pride.
no....wanting everyone else.
a worry, I could go without a worry.


I could go without.

It started with a bluejay and ended with a handshake

After weeks of desolate brokenness... and sneaking in and out of spiritual rehab a few times, God sent me a blue-jay (the most intracet phone call ever) and He called me out.


He called me out... on my heart and my prayers-how hardened I've been, "I'm not so sure how bad I want you" was the secret mentality that plagued communication with Him. Ouch.

He called me out... of jail: bondage. This time around in the jail of my flesh, it wasn't my one phone call to God, rather, it was Him calling me. Ring, Ring, Ring-his very own spirit in me dialing the numbers for help, waiting, and answering: "Oh Jen, I'm glad you picked up... Can you get me out of here-this place is awful, I want to go home."


He called me out... of rehab-the "fixing" of my spirit. Enough is Enough-stop dwelling and stop believing restoration with God is a process...as one wise woman pointed out-"it's done." He has already forgiven me! "Jen, let's not waste time being akward or too careful-I know you, we're okay again. I have things I want you to do, can you let it go?"
Only days later, the same reminder would come from a different mentor-like-figure in my life, his encouragement being "once you've gotton here (to the point of realizing you want to turn back) you've already gotton to where you need to be-you're there."

[How can I be sure He wants to bless me? Yes I know he loves me, I know he wants me...but how can I be sure he wants me to be happy? These were my selfish doubts that sat in my mind for the last month. Isn't happiness only through God, dare I say...limiting? What about boys? What about clubs? What about fun? His way might not be any fun...

As these ideas sat, and stirred, and invaded my will to obey...I dilly-dallied off the road that so many before me have worked hard to pave straight so that I, and people like me, would know that truely this is the road to be taken, this is the road worthwhile. I ignored the gold asphalt and decided I would look for some dirt, "just in case its better."]



Tuesday, about 4pm

Upon arriving at The Rock to put in some volunteer time and seeing if the Facilities team needs an extra set of hands, I was given a ticket to see Chris Tomlin. I wasn't even aware he was in town, none-the-less playing at The Rock that night...what a pleasent suprise.

It was fantastic. Liberating. God picked me up from jail and drove me home. Ironic how the songs I caught (juggling working the merch table and enjoying the show) came from his album "Arriving."

Down at the front someone kept saying, Galations 5:1! Galations 5:1! Some how I knew it was for me... this morning I looked it up:

"For freedom Christ has set us free. Stand firm, therefore, and do not submit again to a yoke of slavery."

Yes, I am free! Thats me! Like Matthew 5:45 "..and God sends down the rain on the righteous and the unrighteous.." The unrighteous, thats me! The rain is for me too, His GRACE is for me too!


The show, liberating.
Breaking down, cleaning up & talking with a new-found beloved "older brother:" healing.
I thought it ended there, but God planned otherwise. Not desiring, not guessing, not expecting...some how the 4 of us left got to meet Chris Tomlin and Israel!

That hand shake wasn't excitting because it was Chris Tomlin, it was excitting because God showed me "Look, I can plan the last 8 hours of your life better than your imagination...won't you trust me with the youthgroup? The coffee shop? Your husband? Your life..."

My handshake was with God: Yes, God. I trust you & I'm back, let's shake on it."

Let us not be frazzled by our past or the stir the deciever creates by it. For the sins we have committed yesterday, having repented and turned away, are nothing more than that-yesterday's sins.
If we are to assign old sin with worth, as in consider it worthy enough to talk about, then its value lies only in finding it as an opportunity to glorify God:to express it as an example of His divine love, mercy, and compassion.
We have been transformed-for we are transformed, indeed already redeemed and made new: made stronger, wiser, and more in the like of His beautiful image. So let us not be weary in who we are today, because who we are today is not who we were yesterday.

*Challenge: give God the credit, and be reminded of His desire and capability to forgive us of our sins and to transform "what was" into "what ought to be," so that "what ought to be" is "what is."

**Give God the credit, and be reminded that these things, in Jesus' name, have already been done-both for you and your brother.

Looking out into the sea from sunset cliffs during a sunrise with a dear friend...

Not only does God declare himself through the beauty of creation, He teaches us through it.

Often times I find myself wanting to know the plan or make a plan for almost everything I do. Even cleaning my house on a Saturday morning has a schedual: written-out tasks, directions, and a timeline by which these things ought to follow. For me, control is comfort; knowing that I'm governing the little things in my life brings me great satisfaction.
Sometimes when my day doesn't carry-out according to the schedual I create, I'm thrown off by dissapointment. Sometimes when my life doesn't carry-out as anticipated, I'm thrown off by fear.

When death happens, when addiction sneaks in, when depression consumes...when all the things that I never dreamed of happening in my life end up happening in my life, but not necessarily to me, I'm startled. When the reality of my un-control in a situation hits me...I feel helpless: not sorry, but confused and helpless.


In being so dissastisfied by "the uncontrolable" in my life, how is it that the ocean can mesmorize me?
Waves, although constant, are unpredictable. Watch a wave like you watch a child; notice how free spirited and unruly it is as it seems to decide its own power and direction.
How is this soothing? It is. But how can it be; for it is completely out of control, out of my control.

My conclusion: the things in which we are in no way capable of controling, or fully understanding for that matter, we have subconciously already submitted to. Before thinking about them, we have accepted its existence and its awe. We dare not attempt in being the governor of them because they are bigger than us and far beyond us: black holes, the expansion of the universe, the mystery of how everything was "bang-ed" as in the big bang theory and where everything that was "bang-ed" came from...
The ocean, although basic, has waves which fall in this category of awe.

God governs the world. He governs the ocean and every wave which arrives from it. In this way we can see God teach us that acceptance of our uncontrol, and submission by awe produces not comfort, but something much bettter: a stable joy. A stability that doesnt adjust according to the inflation of the dollar and a high that doesn't depend on our supply of money or drugs.

Seeing this, isn't it time we submit already? Submit by awe and accept our place in this world-in God...

....like a tree

We are established in God.

A tree, deep in its roots, is nearly as deep as it is high. The other day I was thinking, what if I lost everything..If everything I held onto suddenly dissipated before my eyes: my family, my friends, my house, my possessions, my sight, my hearing, my health...
I wondered how I would recieve such a shift in familiarity. My biggest fear was my "lack-of-usefulness" in His kingdom; that I would no longer be capable of bearing fruit, none-the-less good fruit.
I remember my favorite tree when I was little. It stood in the front yard until my mom decided to have it cut down. For a long time it was a sad looking stump-but now, if I were to go outside to look for it I wouldn't be able to find it. Over the years it must have melt into the ground-being consumed by grass, fertilzier and dirt.
Although the entire tree and everything that came from it-the birds, the shade, the flowers-is out of sight, I realized the other day that the roots are still in the ground.
When the gardners removed the tree, they removed it from the trunk; they by-no-means dug into the ground to displace every root, they only removed what was visible.

Like a tree and its roots, how glorious is Jesus Christ as our foundation. We could have nothing in our hands, or even no hands at all, and we would still recieve God's love. Life could strip us of everything, leaving us vulnerable, incapable, and immobile, but our souls are rooted in Truth-unattainable and safe in God's hands.


But isn't this analogy also applicable to sin? And the impression sin leaves on our hearts?

Perhaps just recently you've committed, yet one more time, to discontinue your habitual sin. Perhaps its sexual immorality, drugs, or drunkenness...whatever it is, realize that you've cut the trunk, but the roots are still there.

Maybe today, just like a few months ago, you've decided to wait until marriage or to drink only in moderation...that is good, but its not enough. With any habitual sin we must dig for understanding-why are we still caught up in this? We have spent enough time in this sin, have we not?

Ladies-my sisters, please trust that God's way is beautiful. That you no longer need the admiration of the world because you have the admiration of The Creator of the universe. You captivate Him. In His eyes, you are indeed enough, and not too much. Who are you looking to to be desired by? Understand that all the worth in the world doesn't compare to you. Your body, your heart... God finds it sacred and beautiful.
You are worth more than the number of boys... you are worth more than the number on your jeans... than the number of karats on your finger...The world cannot put a price on you thats even within reach of the price that God gives you. Turn away from your sin, knowing that your value comes from God not men: that your beauty comes from your righetousness not your waist size.

Rather than cutting down a bad tree, like trimming a weed, I urge you to uproot it. Don't just turn from your sin in a way that is tangible, cleanse your heart and heal. In the way that you wouldn't leave the roots of a weed in the same soil you want to plant a garden in, rid your heart of splinters from the past so your soil will be fertile for righetousness.

philoxenia-the love of a stranger

John 3:16- "For God so loved the world, that He gave His only begotten Son, that whoever believes in Him shall not perish, but have eternal life."

Basic right? You know this verse, maybe you have it memorized? Maybe you've seen it on the bottom of your fries at In-N-Out or on the back of your Forever 21 bag-regardless, this verse is familiar. So unpack it; what does it mean?
"He gave His Son" as in He gave away His Son. He had something and by choice decided not to have it anymore. And why? For the sake of relationship with us of course.
Back in the day, even "the most righteous" of God's followers, the rabbis, were too wicked to be in the holy presence of The Lord. There was literally a curtain that separated the holy from the unholy-the righteous from the wicked, the sinless from the sinful: the spirit of The Lord from His people.
By sending His Son, God was making a statement: "forget your wickedness; I don't care that I am holy and that you are not...I want a relationship with you. Yeah, so what that you fall short or reject my ways, I want to be intimate with you." Literally, this "Holy of Holies" veil tore from top to bottom at the moment of Jesus' death. (Mark 15:38)
Now, as God gave away His Son to have a relationship with the unrighteous, we too have a sacrifice to make. This sacrifice is our comfort-as in our comfort zones with people-so that we may have a relationship with "the unrighteous," "the lost," "the sinner"...etc.

John 3:16 is valid, but keep reading into verse 17 and you'll see that we are reminded "For God did not send the Son into the world to judge the world, but that the world might be saved through Him."
"If anyone hears My saying and does not keep them, I do not judge them; for I did not come to judge the world, but to save the world." -John 12:47 (P.S. this is JESUS speaking.)
If the Lord himself came not to judge His children, who am I to do so? Who are we to hold bitterness to the friend who wronged us, to the partner who cheated, to the community who gossiped, to the parent who betrayed and left? Who are we to fear the homosexual, the one who is defiant, the people who are different? Who are we to love only those we want to when we want to?
God's love is free and for all-therefore our love ought to be free and for all. Not only are we called to love, we are commanded to love. "You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the sons of your people but you shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord." Leviticus 19:18. If you're not so into Leviticus, look in Matthew 22:39: "The second [greatest and foremost commandment] is You shall love your neighbor as yourself."

What do commandments have in common? They are actions we are to do or actions we are not to do. One of my tendencies is to say that it is impossible to love everyone. Perhaps it is nearly impossible to feel love towards everyone, but in relating love to the way it is referred to in the Bible, loving is in action-something tangible and something doable. In 1 Corinthians 13:4 "Love is patient, love is kind and is not jealous..." note how the characteristics of love are characteristics that can be acted out. Think of Biblical examples of love. Most if not all do not consist of one person merely saying "I love you" or acknowledging a feeling of love, rather, Biblical examples consist of an action that was taken towards another.

God's commandment is not focused on having love (as in a noun) but on loving (as a in a verb.) Luckily, The Lord knows us. When it is hard for us to forgive someone or to look past a sin, with diligent prayer and intended time in scripture/with God, He can transform our hearts. But regardless of the genuineness of our hearts, in giving our lives to Him we have lost our rights to dismiss His commandments, including his commandment to love-to express love, to show love, to love on.

Just as God sacrificed His Son so that He could be intimate with the sinful, we are called to sacrifice our comfort zones so that we too may look at one another who have sinned and not hold prejudice. This we can do by carrying-out love; for we don't need to feel love to do love.

Again I reminisce as I revist Jenny9036. *Note that the post I quote has no relevance to anything current in my life; likewise, the thoughts discussed within the post I quote have no place in my current mentality. I blog simply because I am fascinated by my old mind.



Friday, March 09, 2007
Currently Listening Electric Warrior By T. Rex Life is a Gas
"life with people"
it seems like as we are flung into a new environment we make and drop friends left and right..some we keep and love forever but then there are those who we think will be at our wedding when really two weeks later the entire friendship has long-past terminated. I suppose as we get older we learn not to trust everyone nor always give people the benefit of the doubt; with each terminated friendship like notches on a belt, we gradually build a wall stronger and taller than the one before. This seems silly-as children and young teenagers we are much more vulnerable yet it is only during that era of our lives do we play with all the kids on the playground and try to make nice with all tables in the cafeteria. Only until our belts get tighter do we decide that being liked by all is hardly a priority and that strangers have to earn our time and earn a chance to be one who we choose to know. However and unfortunately the separtion between the individuals who still lie to be liked and those who just want to end their lives having made one or two sincere and honest friends occasionally intersects by the overlap of fate and forced situation. In this overlap, more lies are told and notches are tightened and both the liars and the ones on gaurd remain within their category of behavior. Without enlightenment of your own behaviors and which category you fall in, you will always feel trapped in the comfortless state of overlap. Realize that those who lie to be liked are liked only in lies and liked only by liars. From the begining, the relationship between two people of opposing mentalities is frail and only sustains by the feeding of untruth and the irresponsible allowing of or ignorance of being fed. Ultimately this relationship is doomed, and one way or another both egos are bruised. Pointing fingers is pointless, as there is no one at fault. It is simply a matter of mentality. You can indeed choose who your friends are before they have a chance, there is nothing wrong in having a watchful eye of others' behaviors and keeping toll of which crowd they follow. Some may say this is being quick to judge, and yes, they are right. However only those still car-salesmaning in the cafeteria are the ones who believe this is a bad thing. If right off the bat your radar is not in tune enough to determine who is worthy enough to enjoy your presence, you are nothing more than a sheep. Given it happens, when you choose wrong, it is with this detection of an erroneous decision and the action which follows that determines the stability of one's center....an unstable center will cause the character to crumble.
7:07 PM - add BLING BLING - add RIBS - email it


I was so untrusting. I had no faith in people...no love. Too selfish for free love. But as I swim through the past, I realize that these posts are the footprints of God's transformation in me. A visual reminder, that God was at work even before I started praying...before I even knew I was walking...perhaps in response and faithfullness to prayers of the warrior(s) around me and most definately because He had faith that one day I would love Him back.

Obviously God didn't tell me to think those things in my old post...yet I know now that He let me think them. He let me have that mentality so that I could break out of my identity on frat row. At that time I felt sufficated by people who party, and even more so by my own self. I felt as though this rancid happiness was vaccuuming me into being just another product of too many mixed drinks, a push-up bra, and wasted time on a scale. In the same way that a clown seems to force happiness but creates anxiety, everything was too comfortable... and to me this meant endless.
In complete desperation and not knowing where to turn, the only thing I understood was who I needed to turn from. I had to ditch my friends-I forced myself into "unidentity"; it was the only way I could ensure no association with my past. I moved into a different dorm and claimed sobriety.
Your friends are who you are-agree or disagree...but its inevitable, you can become the spinning image of them, for better or for worse. I decided that having no friends was better than having bad ones.
Harsh. Judgemental. Yes, absolutely. But I knew that the way I was living wasn't the way that I was meant to live; but I knew too that if I were put in a room with a lighter and a packed bowl, with the flick of a light (litterally) I would revert to habit.
Like a shark smelling blood and fighting its instincts to feed, I realized I was too weak to even know people accepting of this false happiness, none-the-less bathe in it. The only way I felt I could get out and not look back was by living in bitterness and holding people to rediculous standards and expectations-measured by me, of course.

As I look back, I yearn for forgiveness for all the things I said and did in trying to break away. It was never about the individuals as much as it was about their lifestyle and how much it influenced my weak flesh. Although thankful for my lesson, I'm sorry I hurt so many people on my way to understanding.

In analyzing and comparing truth for me then on March 9, 2007 and truth for me now...some of March remains. There are indeed some people whom I should probably never know again, and there are indeed some places where I should never again step foot in...yet my revision comes by understanding that its not because of others' weaknesses that make them whom I ought to avoid, rather its because of my own. Grasping the weakness of my flesh is what converts posts like these "life-with-people-revelations" into humble convictions from God.

"God feeds the sparrows."

God feeds the sparrows...and then some. What has God done for you? Feedback = necessary. ;)