The Inevitable Wait Period

I haven't written a thing on here for months and months and a lot has changed. I've moved from Florida to the Carolinas and am, over all, much happier. I was getting into some pretty ridiculous "extra curricular" activities while in Florida and am relieved to announce that those endeavors are no longer a part of my daily agenda. I'm living with my mother (which helps greatly) in a two bedroom apartment and, when I stepped back and considered the situation, was suprised to find that I don't think of myself as a failure for moving back in with the parents. Yes, I miss some of my complete isolation, but, as a whole, I'm in such a better place and am very grateful for the change.

I couldn't tell you how my bills are getting paid....I've been on the job hunt for the past three months and, actually, just got hired by....wait for it.....Starbucks. I start Monday and to say that I'm nervous would be an understatement. I just made the mistake of googling "working at Starbucks" and what I've discovered there has made my nervousness turn into terror. What the heck is a venti decaf two pump vanilla soy latte? And I have how much time to make it? Oy. This could be a challenging transition from calling Bingo. I'm trying my very best to look at it as a brilliant chance to learn a new skill.

I'll keep you posted....no pun intended, of course.

And then I saw....

I had a dream. It was one of those dreams which stays with you for the rest of the day and taints every aspect of your daily routine. I remember being restless as I went to bed. I was completely botching my relationship with Jesus and I knew it- not that He'd ever let me wiggle out of it, but the restlessness and discontent gave me hope despite it's uncomfortableness: God's Spirit wasn't dead within me. I had begged for His forgiveness mere days before and had even sat in the middle of a worshipping congregation, tears pouring down my face at the faithfulness of God and marveling at the fact that He was now my personal Savior. And I slipped. Not just a quick misstep, but a crashing thud in the bog of sin. I despaired as I realized the extent of my own weakness and gave myself up for lost. This overwhelming depression just as I'd praised Him for His tenacious love for me. I fell again that night. Staring entranced at the images playing before me- morbidly engrossed by their antics. I finally laid down and promptly started tossing and turning. Do you love me? was whispered to me over and over. You cannot serve two masters. tickled against my consciousness. Come away with me and be my love taunted me with hope, freedom, and a purity that could reach me to my very core. And then I slept.

There was a massive field stretching out before me. On the far side, I could barely catch a glimpse of the tall trees lining the parimeter. There were woods behind me, though I didn't remember pushing my way through the branches and I had no scratches on my arm telling me so. I was between laughing and crying and the sensation that I was being pursued wrapped itself around me like a frightening, yet comforting cloak. I wanted him to catch me, whoever it was, and I was afraid of what would happen if he did. I was wearing a light pink gown which flowed to my feet and trailed out behind me. I had no jewelry on and my hair was long and, surprisingly enough, behaving itself. I was running barefoot and the grass was soft and wet- there were no small stones or sharp branches to inhibit my progress. I heard hoofbeats behind me and my heart skipped a beat as I realized he was getting closer. I looked over my right shoulder and I saw a man dressed in a white robe which flowed behind him, flapping in the wind. He was laughing and I knew I would never hear anything as wonderful this side of heaven. His eyes were warm, a deep brown, and they spoke of his feelings for me. He stretched his arm out to me and...

I woke up. This passage immediately came to mind:

"...and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True...His eyes were like blazing fire, and on his head were many crowns. He has a name written on him that no one knows but he himself. He is dressed in a robe dipped in blood, and his name is the Word of God...on his robe and on his thigh he has this name written: KING OF KINGS AND LORD OF LORDS." (Revelation 19:11-16). NIV

This passage quickly followed:

"'Therefore I am now going to allure her; I will lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her. There I will give her back her vineyards, and I will make the Valley of Achor a door of hope. There she will sing as in the days of her youth, as in the day she came up out of Egypt. In that day, declares the Lord, you will call me 'my husband'; you will no longer call me 'my master'. I will remove the names of the Baals from her lips; no longer will their names be invoked.'" (Hosea 2:14-17) NIV

Many of you are aware of how much I dwell on being "pursued". In the past, this obsession has been suggested to apply to God and the spiritual aspect of me, but I've always brushed it off with a shrug and the mentality that God doesn't have skin so it doesn't work that way. I have now been proven wrong. What boggles me is this: why would God choose to speak to me in such a vivid way? It's almost like I'm sitting in Jesus' lap and he's got his arms around me.

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you'll recover your life. I'll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won't lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you'll learn to live freely and lightly." (Matthew 11:29-30) The Message

Darkness and Light

It's my Saturday. It's really Tuesday, but in my mind it's Saturday. I usually despise waking up to sunlight streaming through my window, so I have the blinds closed and two dark scarves thrown haphazardly over the top guard in a vain attempt to make my hovel as dim as possible. I actually would prefer an overcast day to a sunny one. Friends gawk at me when I say this and I can't really explain it. There's nothing depressing fueling my preference: it's not because "the atmosphere matches my desire to off myself" and it's got nothing to do with having an insatiable desire to join the undead. I would just rather spend my time strolling outside during a fierce thunderstorm than basking on the beach, soaking myself in sunlight. There is something utterly breath-catching about seeing fluffy charcoal clouds rolling over top of each other, vying for the best position above your head. There is something so inexplicable about that scent right before the heavens open up. I can't think of a better sound than the patter of heavy rain drops on a tin roof. I can't imagine a better feeling than squishing across a field, drenched with steady rainfall, barefoot, enjoying the puddles swelling and oozing over my cold feet. And the rain. The sweet rain. The more of it, the better, in my book. I crave a good thunderstorm that rattles the windows and wipes every trace of grime off Toby (my car).

But, it's Saturday. And it's sunny. I use to think there was something wrong with me for not caring too much for the sun. After all, light is good...dark is bad, childishly put, of course. So, because I enjoy steel skies over blue skies, that must mean I'm a bad person...right? Obviously not, but it does give one pause.

I have a point to make, but I'm not entirely sure of what it is myself, so I think I shall sign off for now and collect my thoughts. Perhaps I'll make more sense later....

A Precarious Peace

Everyone sit down and breathe deeply in and out. I know I haven't posted anything for a long time. For those few but faithful who were eagerly anticipating a new missive, I apologize from the bottom of my heart. The inclination to write hasn't been very strong of late and when it has, I'm nowhere near a computer or a notebook. So! Here I sit.

I was sitting in church last Wednesday night, awkwardly getting accustomed to my "cautious peace", as I've begun to call it. You all know that I went on vacation a couple of weeks ago to North Carolina. You also know that I have certain fears and trepidations when I leave Florida, knowing I have to return. I would like to ease into denial and say it's not negative thinking or unnecessary worrying, but that's what it amounts to in reality. It's a fact. When I board a plane to leave the Sunny State, I'm already obsessing over and dreading getting on a place on the other side and coming back. Ridiculous, I know. Why can't I just sit back and enjoy the reprieve from work? Why do I have to already be worrying about the end of my break? I do that with a lot of things, I realized. I focus more on the future than I do on the present; okay in moderation, but not so hot when taken to the extreme. I think I do this, especially about where I'm at now, because I'm so confounded by my inability to make it home. I was slightly alarmed and more than a bit suspicious when I boarded the plane to return and not only didn't bawl buckets (for once), but found myself cautiously looking forward to a new beginning here in Florida. My mom said, "Beka, I think you've turned a corner." I think she's right. Now, whether or not I'm going to keep walking in the new direction or turning tail and bolting the other way remains to be seen, but I do believe I have a choice and I do believe that for my own benefit, I should keep walking this new path. The reason I call this my cautious peace is, as usual, I'm already contemplating it shattering and throwing me deep into the emptiness I had before. I'm hesitantly extending my life out to Jesus in the hopes that he won't break me. The trust is coming back. You all also know that I wasn't walking with Jesus before I left. I'd made some pretty bad choices and an even worse one by chosing not to correct myself. I'd heard that voice...soft, but insistent asking me to give up the world, but I'd managed to ignore it. He then got loud. This is where church comes in. The sensation that I was being called out by God had been getting progressively stronger, but I was waiting for one more big blow before I allowed Him to mend my ways. It came in the form of Sy Roger. He'd been a Christian for about 30 years, but before he came to know Jesus, he was deep in the homosexual lifestyle. Through his testimony, God spoke directly to me...told me how He saw me, what He expected from my life, and more suprisingly, the benefits of turning to Him. I've never considered God actively "selling Himself" to one of His children, but that's exactly what He did with me. I won't tell you details (if you want them, my number is...just kidding). This sense of contentment has continued and with it has come the long awaited excitment for the things of the Lord. This is a feeling I never thought to experience again. But, (quite literally), praise the Lord, He's given my the 2 x 4 upside the head that I so desperately needed!

Wishing Upon A Star....

Admittedly, most of my blog post ideas (or is it just blog ideas?) are thought of at work. Like today. I was sitting at the reception desk, innocently manning the phone while the lady of the hour took her break when I was struck right between the eyeballs with a plethora of wishes. Some would label this "The Bucket List" or "25 Things I Want To Do Before I Die". I have no name for it, but if I did, it wouldn' t be any of those. But I did want to share some dreams I have.

1. I would love to ride in a stretched limousine: Hummer version preferably. I want to wind my way through the streets of a huge city, like Chicago or New York; at night with the city lights surrounding me, standing on the leather seats and poking my head out of the sunroof, waving to the people passing by.

2. As many of you know, I'm in love with llamas. I really want to pet one. I'll take this dream a step further and say I want to spend a day at a "llama farm". I want to hug them and fill my camera with pictures. :-) I'd say more, but it'd be redundant.

3. Parasailing, she says with a victorious giggle. Before I croak, I want to experience the thrill and positive horror of being hoisted off the back of a speed boat and lifted sky high. I want my parachute to be a splatter of rainbow colors and I want the entire coast to hear me squealing.

4. After watching movies such as Secondhand Lions, I have the urge to go cantering down the beach on horseback. Of course, in my dreams, I'm graceful and move with the horse, whereas in reality, I'm jerky and almost guaranteed to get an up close view of the sand when I topple off the horse mid-stride. Be that as it may, I'd still like to try.

5. I'd like to spend three or four days visiting Disney World, Epcot, and Universal Studios in Orlando. Considering my current location, this wish may not be as difficult to satisfy, but this is where the tricky part comes in. I want to go with a bunch of my closest friends. I want to stay in a five star hotel with a hot tub in the room. I want to be able to order strawberries and champagne (eh, forget the champagne) at 2 am. I want to sleep in a king-size bed with at least four fluffy pillows. The only thing I can think to compare this to is the bed I slept in while in Frankfurt, Germany. Dad, you'll recall that one. :-)

6. I want to go to Jerusalem and kneel at the place where Jesus died. I want to stir the dirt with my hands and be able to cry without a thought of who's watching.

7. Oh, to be able to pack my bags and head to Italy for 8 months. I'd want to get a small apartment in a building which overlooks a courtyard. I want to sit in a street cafe at dusk, sipping espresso and watching the people go by. I want to stand in the middle of the Coliseum arena and spin in circles, taking in the rows and rows of seats. I want to ride on a scooter through the streets of Rome. I want sit in a balcony and paint in Tuscany. I want to go to an Italian opera and relish in the fact that I can't understand a word they're saying, but still understand the beauty of the emotion being expressed. I want to sit across from an old man with a beard, drinking wine and eating cheese while he graciously hands out advice. I want to lay on my back in the middle of the vineyard and stare at the stars. I want to go to the museums and spend hours upon hours gazing at the paintings. I want to go to the Sistine Chapel and witness first hand Michelangelo's masterpiece.

8. I want to go to a Blue October concert and stand in the front row. I want to be able to cry at some of the songs and jump up and down at others. I want to get a guitar signed by them.

So, 8's an odd number to stop at. No one said I was conventional. :-) I'll be adding to this in the future, I can promise you that. May this inspire to chase your own dreams!

Peculiar Curiosity

How in the world do they get the peanut butter inside the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup? Why does hair grow back thicker after you shave? Why is it that two people can eat the exact same thing and one likes it and the other detests it? Seriously, where does your fat go when you lose weight? What makes water so...unique? What really happens when you crack your knuckles? Why do deaths seem to happen in threes? What is the secret to joy? Why do we always wish for something better? Why are the colors richer in a sunset than they are in a sunrise? How come things seem more real in dreams at times than they do in waking hours? Why do we, as humans, need companionship? What is it that makes the smell of an upcoming rain storm so utterly irresistible? How does the Internet really work? Are we naturally bad and work at being good or are we naturally good and the world makes us bad? Why does God take such an interest in us? Why do we keep ignoring Him? Why don't we treat others the way we want to be treated? So, the answer to most of these question is "Well, Beka, we live in a bad, bad world. It won't be better until Jesus comes again." That could be true. In fact, it probably is, but I did want to send these questions out into cyberspace.

The Wake Up Call

It was Thursday. Monday for me, but Thursday for those who adhere to a "normal" work schedule. I was once again desperately trying to ward off a horrific case of sleepiness with a strong dose of coffee. While some of you may scrunch up your nose in disgust and hug your cup of tea tighter to your chest, I will stand by my morning beverage come hell or high water. I unlocked the office door and flopped down at the communal desk. After staring at nothing for a couple of minutes, trying to process the fact that I was indeed meant to be productive, I noticed a copy of Newsweek laying on the keyboard. On the cover, in the shape of a cross, were the words, "The Decline and Fall of Christian America." Coffee forgotten and suddenly very awake, I was immediately up in arms. How dare they! I shrieked in self-appointed righteous anger to no one in particular. Christianity is not dead in America! Get your facts straight! Harumphing with a vengeance, I snatched up the magazine and began tearing through the pages, daring the right article to pop into view. It did. My brow was furrowed and my mouth curled in a snarl as I skimmed the printed words. In all fairness to the write of that particular article, I don't think I read it very well...and certainly not with an open mind. But it made me think long and hard about where our nation is at today and what I've done personally to help or hinder that downhill progression.

About twice a year, in order to add a little perspective to my life, I'll pick up a book by Randy Alcorn called "Safely Home". This book was introduced to me while I was a missionary kid in Nigeria. Being completely consummed with myself and whether or not I was following the latest fashion trends, I paid it little mind. I heard fellow missionaries say over and over. "Wow, what a fantastic book!." or "I cried so hard at the end, I choked." or "How I wish I could have the view of Quan." If you've never read this work of Alcorn's, I highly recommend, but in difference to you, I shall not spoil the story by yakking about it incessently. The theme of this book is the persecuted church. I have always been interested in the persecuted church, but have never gone so far as to do anything tangible to help those in distress and I've always quaked in fear at the thought of actually having to endear what some of my brothers and sisters in Jesus go through. Even after I'd read Safely Home a couple of times, the idea of the persecuted church was, for me, something to pray for, but never something that hit close to home. It happened in far away countries, not America. It happened under foreign dicatators, not our President. It was physical and mental agony experience by people who's names I couldn't pronounce, not Betty down the street. It was unfamiliar. And I laid awake thinking, Thank you, God.

"The blood of the martyrs is the seed of the church." It is stated in Safely Home and illustrated in the form of a man who threw a glass to the ground and, in frustration, stomped on all the pieces, until the shard became like powder- strewn in a wide circle. The man was, at the time, unable to preach the Gospel of Jesus Christ, but used this demonstration as his sermon. The believers in the crowd understood the actions while the unbelievers were mystified: the glass was the church; the man represented those persecuting the bride of Christ. Even though "stomping on the church" seemed to produce an awful result, the pieces were spread. The Gospel of Jesus was brought to places perhaps it wouldn't have been brought before had not those who claim Him as their Savior been persecuted. Those of you who know me at all know that I can not abide the idea of torture. I can't wait it on TV, I can't read about it, and I certainly don't want to listen to it. Yet, I am fascinated by the dedication of those who undergo it. I abhorr the idea of physical pain- whatever the cause. But the things I've read and see on TV done to those who believe in Jesus make my stomach turn. And those suffering don't capitulate. They stand firm. It makes me wonder if there isn't something to be said for undergoing such testing. I firmly believe that those who are allowed to pass through such rough waters have a much more deep and meaningful relationship with God than any of us who live the "cushier" lifestyle. I hold to the theory that because of their earthly pain (be it mental, physical, or emotional), Jesus meets them in a very special, very real-almost tangible-way.

America boasts of freedom: freedom of speech, freedom of religion, free thinking, etc. But with all this freedom comes the danger of unusually high levels of apathy and ingratitude. We take advantage of the various churches, sometimes two or more on a street. We take for granted the Wellspring of Life, because we've never been seriously dry. We are just so unaffected. Our bubble spreads from New York to California. And heaven help the person who pops it. Sure, small doses of reality creep in now and then in the form of convicting sermons or atrocities in the News, but our lives as a whole are untouched by thing, events, or people that make us lay face down in the dirt and choke out Jesus' name in pure desperation. We don't rely on Him because we don't have to. We have computers, televisions, cars, freedom of worship, right, a democracy, and a roof over our head. Now, before I get scathing replies, let me say that I am not saying all those things are bad. There aren't. Not by themselves. But the complacency, laziness, and general apathy they foster is. I'm not suggesting that we form house churches, sit on the cement floor, and pray for 6 hours (although serious prayer is a MUST). I am suggesting that we shake the dust off our heads and focus on why we're really here. Our persepctive is shotty. And I think its due to the fact that we don't face much persecution here in the United States. Is it easy to pray for harder times? No! Do we want to be uncomfortable, unsettled, and suffere? Of course not! But, I do think that price would be well worth paying if it brought us to a right relationship with God. What is a right relationship with God? Sounds boring, if you ask me. Great Caesar's Ghost, no. What could be more exciting than seeing the face of Jesus? What could thrill you more than being able to walk towards His throne and have Him wrap His arms around you? What could tingle more than walking hand in hand with your Maker and having Him say "Well done!"?

Is Christianity in America dead? By no means! Is it well on its way to becoming dormat? I think we've reached that point. We, as believers in Jesus, need to stand up, stretch, and joyfully do the work He has for us which is bringing in the Harvest. By adhering to the true Gospel and clinging to His teachings, we are allowing Him to flourish in this desert. It is my prayer that America will shake off her drowsiness and rise up to take her place as a nation chosen by God.