Walking

I didn't write this, but I'm stealing it in it's entirety, and only kind of giving credit where credit is due.

"My friend Greg used to talk about how a kid learns to walk. Parents are so proud when their little one takes his first teetering steps on his own. And they'll spend hours walking around the house letting him hold onto their fingers as he learns to pick his feet up and put them down. As he learns to balance on his own. And they'll hold him up before he starts to fall down. But gradually, he learns how to do it on his own. Slowly, they start to pull their hands away. At some point he realizes he doesn't need their hands anymore. He makes his way holding onto couches and chairs, toys and coffee tables. And parents' hands become more useful for picking up when he falls down. For comforting when he needs it. But eventually, he doesn't even need that. Eventually he is running and jumping on his own. Parents' hands are no longer needed at all. And that's the mark of success.

Somewhere along the way, we've been taught to believe that's how the Lord works. That he totters around with us holding onto his fingers while we start to figure things out. That he rejoices when we start to let go, when we start to hold onto other things instead. That he's proud of us when we start running and jumping on our own. That he stands there like a proud father with his chest puffed out, saying, "Look at my kid! Look what he can do!"

And so we try. We try to become good enough to let go. To fly and soar on our own. And with each step we take, we break His heart a little more. Not in the "I can't believe I'm watching my baby grow up" kind of way; but the "I never meant for him to do this on his own" kind of way.

Because the whole point is to totter around holding onto our Father's hands forever. Our success is not measured by how far we make it on our own, but by how tightly we are gripping his fingers with our grubby little hands.

So, no, I don't know why I keep waiting for this to get easy. But when I say it's hard, it's not a measure of difficulty, but of dependence. And I stop trying to pry my hand away and wrap my fingers a little tighter."

Forgiveness

While interning at CPC I was forced into giving a sermon for our high school students. I debated for months on what to speak about, but when push came to shove I was handed the book of Philemon. It's only got one chapter, and is actually a somewhat short letter to a dude named Philemon from Paul. The main point of the letter was that Paul was trying to convince Philemon to forgive his old slave for running away. At the time, I was pretty much the worst public speaker around, and I was also pretty confident that I knew what forgiveness was and had done all the forgiving I needed to do for the time being. Apparently not.

See, I went to lunch with an amazing friend and mentor yesterday. We spent almost three and a half hours talking and thinking and discussing. One of the things I love most about having older, wiser women in my life is they can often see me growing in ways that I cannot. The also tend to be able to see my flaws more easily than I can, which is rather scary. This friend in particular called me on the fact that I have yet to forgive myself. She was discussing it in regards to certain events in my life within the last year, but once she spoke truth I realized that it's been years since I truly have forgiven myself for mistakes I've made. I like to think I have a gift of waking up with forgiveness. Some people wake up happy, some people wake up pretty, and I wake up with forgiveness in my heart. As much as I try to not let the sun set on my anger, I've found that nothing can calm my temper and readjust my perspective like sleep. Because of this, I seem to be decently ok at forgiving other people. I often do it without realizing I have, and rarely do I have to make a conscious effort to forgive. Until now.

I have to forgive myself. I'm a screw up, and I can't keep thinking of myself that way. I've made mistakes and I know that God and everyone involved has forgiven me already, that is, everyone except myself. I haven't forgiven myself for not noticing things I should have, or for intentionally doing things I knew I should run far away from, or for letting opportunities pass me by. Instead, I chalk them up as mistakes that I don't want to repeat and I avoid them like the plague. I never let go of my mistakes and I most certainly never give myself a chance to move on.

Well, here goes nothing. I would love your prayers as I try something new: giving myself the forgiveness I've given to everyone around me. It's time for me to seize the forgiveness that Christ has given me and it's time to walk in freedom.

Camp, Part Deux

If you remember, I said in February that I never wanted to go to a camp again. (If you don't, no big deal, you can read why here.) I think I figured out my issues.

One of the things we as Christians do is judge. Especially me, and especially when I'm cranky. I want things to be my way all the time because as we all know my way is the best way to do everything. Even as I type this I'm waiting for the lightening to strike me. (I think I made it out ok...) I think I was so incredibly frustrated at camp because I felt judged. I felt like if I spent time with one student rather than another I was judged. I felt like if I was with a group of students I was judged. I felt like if I took a picture of my students I was judged. I felt like if I walked around with a camera but didn't take pictures I was judged. I felt judged for my t-shirt size and judged for my hugs and judged for my excitement and judged for my thoughts. I felt judged when I talked and judged when I didn't. I felt judged for having quiet time away with the Lord. Get the picture? Doesn't seem very fun. It wasn't.

What kind of group of people are we that we are so busy judging? I felt so judged and attacked that I was afraid to do anything, especially things that were a little daring and therefore had the potential to be amazing.

In October I went to NYWC, and one of my favorite speakers has started an organization reaching out to the gay and lesbian community in Chicago. He said a few things that have stuck with me to this day and have changed how I think about Christ. He said that one of the things that is wonderful about the gay and lesbian community is how accepting they are. They accept everyone. Isn't acceptance what we as human beings crave? We want someone to love us, to respect us, and to care for us. The sad news is that we as Christians are being out-loved by non-Christians. The Red Cross did a better job post-twin towers than the church did. Oh yeah. Huh. So how does this relate?

We, as lovers of God and followers of Christ, are called to live for the glory of God and the good of others (see Matthew 22:36-40). How is us judging included in us living for the glory of God or the good of others? Because I felt so constantly judged, I started to think through every single action I made to think about what it would say to those judging me. I became so caught up in what others were thinking and doing that I stoped focusing on what God was doing. In the process I'm pretty sure I became more of a hindrance than a help to his kingdom. I think it's about time we all step up and start living for our King rather than focusing on others mistakes and mis-actions so much.

Footnote: I did a little bit of judging at camp, too. At first my judging was somewhat pure -- more of an evaluation if you will -- since we were attending the camp they always put on. After about 3 days of feeling constantly judged, I became frustrated and wanted to feel better about myself so I started judging back. Did it solve anything? No. Did it make me feel better? No. Did it distract me from what God was doing? Yes. Moral of the footnote is this: love, don't judge. Seems like the same moral from the whole post, really.