The Final Wedding

All my friends and family were there. The whole area shimmered in gold, deep orange, and crimson with a hint of royal blue. There was not a church structure. The body of Christ made up our church. The clapping was thunderous and deafening and I know my mother cried. I wore a white dress because He said I could. It was perfect, in the words of my mother. It covered my feet when I walked, winked in the Son with diamonds, and trailed a bit behind me. There was gold etching along the split skirt and the fabric was so light it looked as if it would float away. The silk rubbed soothingly on my legs…not corsets or underskirts were needed. My song played. And it made me cry. Thousands upon thousands upon thousands lined the aisle. My hair hung free in its natural curl down my back and I could feel it tickling my shoulder blades. It was too bright up front to see Him clearly. The One I’d been waiting for since I drew breath. I had a intricate crown on my head and there were small pearls, diamonds, and white gold vines curling in and around each other. It somehow matched my hair and became a part of my head. My shoes were white satin, with a little heel and jewels I could not name wound their way between my toe and up around my ankle. The aisle I walked down was made of glass, pearls, diamonds, and was trimmed in gold curling vines imbedded with sapphires. I didn’t dare walk down it until my Father took my elbow and smiled encouragingly into my face, urging me forward. I began to feel dirty and unworthy and that same Father took a hold of my head with His two hands, looked me right in my uncertain eyes, and said in a soft, commanding voice that I knew could be heard in the very back of the Church. “You are not welcome here. Depart from my daughter. She is mine and a part of my Family” And I felt loved, cherished, beautiful, and worthy. A fountain of calla lilies, small cream colored and white roses, along with deep green vines fell from my hands to trail down the front of my dress. Their scent was like the first rain along with the comforting smell of the forest and it sent my head to spinning. He had chosen these for me. I noticed my mom and my dad. Their hands were clasped together and my dad had tears streaming down his face. I heard him say that he was proud of me and that he was moved beyond words to share this moment with me. My mom was relieved, I think. I’d made it. This day I had dreamed of was finally here. My loneliness and despair fell like a cloak and I saw it behind me. It lay in a small dull grey heap and crumbled between those precious stones I was walking on. The horrid stench was swept away by the courageous odor of anticipation and joy. My Family trampled the remaining fragments to dust. He was getting closer and closer. The One who had saved me over and over and over and over again. Even when I didn’t want to be saved. Father squeezed that hand that was loped through Him arm and I cried the harder for it. He also knew what it had taken to get to this moment. How I’d failed. How I’d succeeded through Him alone and how much I truly loved His Son, even when I didn’t show it. I heard each whisper, shout, and silent acclamation: “BK, you’re awesome!”, “I love you, Boo”, “You are so loved, Booskies.”, “I knew you’d get here, Blue Skies.”, “Rebeka, you make me smile”, and last, but loudest of all, “I have always loved you with the greatest of love, Rebeka Evelyn.” He had spoken. His voice shook me to my core and I couldn’t believe I was His. There was not a priest or alter. I was being brought to my High Priest who had willingly laid Himself down on the final alter. I saw the gaping holes in His hands, saw the same thing in His feet, but what stopped me in my tracks were His deep brown eyes and His smile. Oh, His smile. It was wide and getting wider. And it was all for me. He couldn’t stop smiling. My Father halted just a few feet in front of Him and He stretched out His left hand towards me. To my utter delight, I did not hesitate. I took it and it was firm, warm, and safe. I felt safe. So safe. He held my face just like my Father had and tenderly wiped at the tears trailing down my cheeks. I could feel His calloused thumb making gentle swipes on both sides. Satisfied, He took both my hands in His and said simply. “I did well on you. You are exquisite, beautiful beyond words. I gave my life for you and I would do it again. I can’t wait to spend eternity with you. You are so worthy of my time and attention. I love you.” I thanked Him for not giving up on me. And so it began and ended.

But I'm Already Dead....

I'm not even sure I want to post this on the internet where anybody can take a peek into my struggles, but for some reason, hand-writing isn't cutting it tonight. It almost eight o'clock on the day before I go to work. It's not work that's upsetting me. I wish I knew what was so I could fix it. I'm having a hard time trusting God and I hate it that my relationship with Him is not as natural as breathing. I hate it that I feel estranged from Him. I know it's my fault. It can't be His, so it has to be mine. I'm so lonely and I despise myself for not letting Jesus be enough. He's suppose to be. He's suppose to fill all the holes. Why the mistrust? Has He done everything to meet my needs and even my wants? Did He not get me out of Florida and back home? Has He not given me a job in my field as the head of a department? I've gotten on my knees and thanked Him for this and yet the hole remain- gaping and threatening to expand. At this moment, I feel consumed with it. I am coming to the conclusion that my expectations from this life are too high, but I feel like I'm cheating myself and those I interact with if I lower my standards. I find satisfaction in my work. I enjoy being near my family. I have a car that works. I am able to pay the majority of my bills. I have a cat who seems to enjoy my company as much as I enjoy hers. And yet the restlessness continues. Maybe I just don't love Jesus enough. Can one expect too much of God? And if I can't, perhaps it's looking at Him as a genie who will grant my wishes with a wave of His hand. I certainly don't mean to view Him in this light. I want to have the reverence and holy fear I should have when approaching His throne. But I don't. In fact, I think I stride up with a hint of accusation and cloaked in apprehension. It's times like these that thoughts of swiftly ending it creep up to haunt me. It always scares me how easily my mind turns down that road and how long my brain actively entertains those thoughts which I know are from satan himself. Oh, Jesus, why is it so much easier to believe the lies than the truth? Why can I not find satisfaction in you? Why the constant breaking, twisting, and bending of my soul? Are you truly the Prince of Peace? And if so, why can't I partake of that peace which passes all human understanding. I'm pleading with your Spirit to intervene for me. I don't understand my own prayers these days, much less what He would say, but I'm trusting He's praying in Your will. I know I was brought here for a reason. I do believe that you have a purpose for me. Should I just cling to that and forget the rest? To my readers who are traumatized by this or feel as if I'm finally at the end of my sanity, do try to relax. I am grasping at the coattails of Jesus and I'm praying He won't walk too fast and leave me in the dust.

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!