The 26th Of February.

02.26.10

Sometimes it feels like my life is a poorly filmed movie...with bad actors, and a director strung out from 20 years of sporadic acid trips and heavy cocaine usage.

I think that when I was in high school I had this idea that life was like a movie. And I was the main character. And God was the director.

Since then, I've learned that if life really is anything like a movie, I play such a minuscule role, a viewer would have to watch and rewind the scenes I'm in like 3 times just to be sure it actually was me. And I don't really know what part God plays any more.

Its the "True" part, I'm sure. But I'm all out of metaphorical references on this one, because I don't know how much "directing" he does. Maybe He's the guy who calls the cast. Maybe he's the audience. Maybe he's the script writer.

Whatever, its a bad analogy anyways.

Point is, my life feels like a really low budget...local...painfully eclectic art fuck kind of movie.

Only less interesting.



Tonight was great.

Today was hell.

But tonight was its own secret little miracle.

See, I worked my way over stressful minimum wage coffee shop job from 9-5. With one break. Its Saturday. Dealt with the usual dysfunction. Got all huffy and puffy about the schedule for next week. Felt under-appreciated. Underpaid. Overqualified and inadequate all at the same time.

I would elaborate further on my frustration, but the last time I checked this is public domain, and I'm not trying to talk shit.

Every one knows how it is.

The thing is, though. I have a job.

I should be content. Beyond that, I should be happy. Further, I should be fucking STOKED because the unemployment rate is REALLY high right now.

Because I am one of the richest people alive right now in the world.

I have it real good.

And yet the negativity just radiates from my angsty little latte making hands.

SO. I went to the Turf Club after work. Had a little bitch-vent-fest with my good friend Erin. She was talking about the social drama at her work. She says its a real drag. She works at an uppity sort of hair salon in the suburbs, so I can only imagine the scene.

Had a drink. Something about a screwdriver. Went home, changed - because I'd gotten a nice splurt of thousand island dressing on near every item of clothes I was wearing at work. Then I looked up this church I read about in the Star Tribune on Monday? called Urban Jerusalem.

If you're wondering whether or not it was front page in the local section, the answer is "yes". If you're wondering whether or not it is a break-dance enthused hip hop church in North Minneapolis, the answer is "no diggity doubt".

Obviously, God had me in mind when he came up with it, so.

I decided to go.

To make a short, vague and rather dull story quicker then it already is-

I walked into the wrong church.

I thought at first, the reason I was the only white person in the building was just by chance or location or something - and maybe it was. But. It also turns out that it was their annual black history month celebration ceremony.

I might have lighter skin, but I want to celebrate black history just as much as the next person. If not even, maybe, a smidgen more.

So I did what any white girl from the suburbs under 5 feet would do alone.

I stayed.
I cheered.
I laughed.
I sang.
I payed attention, stood and sat on cue, bowed my head, clapped my hands and quieted myself to listen.

What baffled me the most, beyond the beauty of it all, was that I heard the same message preached tonight that I will hear tomorrow morning. Where people talk different, dress different and do life different. I will hear the same message at church on Tuesday night. Where the train hoppers, musicians, artists, freaks, weirdos and normal folk in their own right will meet over in the phillips neighborhood.

That message is this: That Jesus saves.

And THIS is what gives ME hope.

That no matter how BIG we will fail (and I do. more than most). That no matter how MANY wrongs we've got under our belts, how many wounds we've got from the wrongs of others, that no matter what language we speak, what color of skin we wear over our bones, whatever social circumstance we've been born into or have ended up in, no matter how lost or how found we think we are...

We are united by human condition.

By lack. By fault. By longing. By Suffering. By pain.

And we are united by the same hope.
And we are united by a God called Love.

And whether or not we stand united in FAITH, I believe that we all stand united by GRACE.

Because He died for us all.

and hallelujah, I have faith.
and hallelujah, I know grace.

And whether or not we know each others stories or names, we can look at each other and say

"Hello! Hallelujah. You are loved."
"Hello! Hallelujah. We are the Children of God."








I've been meaning to put this up for almost a month now. I'm what professors call a bit of a "PROCRASTINATOR". more to come soon.

love.

The Greener Side

I might be the only person who sees it, but...

I am especially beautiful today.

The story goes as follows:

Jesus looks for girl.
Girl finds Jesus, and in such becomes found.
Jesus loves girl.
Girl loves Jesus back.

Everything in-between gets fuzzy pretty fast.

And I mean that both metaphorically and literally.

Put bluntly - last night my friend had to wash my pants because a drunken rap-sing song-ey version of myself threw up on them a little bit. This morning, the contents of my jacket pocket was a couple of crumpled singles, a guitar pick, some change, and half a pack of American Spirits. I've got a voice that hurts to speak or swallow, and admittedly feel all mucus-y and gross.

I quit smoking a month ago. I think.

The good news is that Jesus doesn't tell me to get fixed before he looks for me. And then when I find him; answer to that little voice inside that says "MORE", He doesn't expect me to get fixed before He takes me on a date to the movies.

And as of right now, I know there IS more.

What I know-

And I've learned to know that I know, (really know) just a few things.

What I know is that I can rejoice.

I can rejoice in the love of a savior who said "I love you, anyway."
I can rejoice in the death and resurrection of a God who has defeated everything of any remote evil. I can rejoice in the simple gospel message. I can rejoice in all the little things between the big, shitty things.

I rejoice.

I will say this, though, its a struggle figuring out what to do on a daily basis. Where to go - how to get there. If I had one prayer today, it would be this.

God.

Show me what love looks like in the real world. This world. With the hang-ups and failures, and injustices, and brokenness that we all have and are. I ask that I would be consumed first with love that knows no condition. And next, joy. And Peace, and patience, and self control. So that in and because of Your grace, I can be those things to others. I keep becoming more centered on myself. Bad habits included. But I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, because Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, this body, imperfect, hung over, and adorned with scars and tattoos, I live by faith in the Son of God. Who loved me. Who died for me. Teach me to press on with my head held high - to walk by faith and not by sight. To keep my eyes on Zion.


See, I am especially beautiful today. I haven't a drop of makeup on my face, the same exact outfit that I wore yesterday and threw up on last night, messy hair, unbrushed teeth and the same extra however many pounds I could stand to lose pushing my shirt too tight. BUT. I smile from the inside out today, because I am found.

I have a light that starts in my chest, bubbles up my throat, spreads to my face and escapes through my eyes because I am not CONCERNED today. I'm not concerned about how wrong the church has been. About how wrong I've been. About how I have been wronged by this that and the other person. I am not CONCERNED today about whether or not the Christians think I'm too potty mouthed and abstract, and I am not concerned that the Atheists think that I'm a fool (even the attractive ones). I am not concerned today, because I woke up basking in the same beautiful clear sky sun that I've learned to call Mercy. Grace. Forgiveness. Hope.

I am especially beautiful today, because this beauty is not. my. own.

It feels great to FINALLY be on the greener side. The grass smells really good here.

<3

"Emergency Stop"

About 2 years ago, give or take, I swore to myself that I would NEVER quit smoking AGAIN, because quitting was damn near one of the hardest things I ever did do. But, of course, that would mean that if I ever started up again, I would just have to keep smoking until my lungs swelled up till they bent my spine and at the ripe old age of 50 or something tragic, I'd cough up both of them, and I'd be pronounced both "dead" and "dumber than they though I was". Lo and behold, though, last year around this time, I thought it'd be a good idea if I made a little visit to my old bad habit. After all, it DID help me relax, and I was going through a tough time. So one cigarette a week, which, was seemingly harmless, turned into one a day, which was not notable still, turned into 26 or however many come prepackaged and the next thing I know I'm a fiend, and a fiend who forgot what I swore.

It was the first of many decisions I made at the beginning of last year, that lasted and progressed into my own digression of sorts. First it was smoking cigarettes, then smoking other things, again, then drinking, alone, usually, which ironically, turned me into a social bar butterfly that fluttered and flirted itself from place to place every day of the week, running into about a billion ecstatic acquaintances. I saw a lot of good shows, met a good deal of interesting people, and woke up looking at a face that couldn't really see who was in front of them, once or twice or three times. Towards the end of 2009, I realized that I was living this sort of lonely-sulk-self-loathing kind of lifestyle (during the day) that was largely due to my abandonment of self. Who I am, really, is much cooler, I hope. ;)

God took my heart little by little, in poems and song and art and in longing. By the end of the year I was had by Him. I just wanted Him. The One who would not leave or forsake me; the One who does not fade; the One who truly, wholly, unconditionally, and unimaginably loves me.

I made this decision to throw all the other stuff out. The "need" for it, at least. The "need" for a drink. The "need" for a cigarette. The "need" for a man to tell me I'm worth more than first glance. I looked to that God who had me, and he said that His grace was sufficient, and I said "so YOU are all that I need."

Its been a hell of a month.


There is this disproportionately big red button on each of the treadmills at the YMCA. In bold white letters it reads, simply:

"EMERGENCY STOP"

Normally, when I'm on the machine, it doesn't phase me, even for second, because I'm too busy air-drum-running with the strokes or kanye west.

But today, that big red button stared me straight in the face - even as I had only gone 1 of my daily 3 miles. It begged me to quit; beckoned my hands as the sweat from my head found my cheek and the awkward tug of a calf muscle stretched and pressed and pulled too tight, it said "this is all it'd take to be done."

And I could've at that moment abruptly changed my view, from the numbers of the distance, speed and time to the floor, where instead, I could stand - and breathe - and walk back to the locker room where I'd shower and move along with my night, but I pressed on as far as I would to the 2 mile mark.

The thing is, I've done practically nothing for the past 3 weeks but work. run. read. and go to church. Its been surprisingly wonderful, and surprisingly terrible.

I now officially call myself a "non smoker".
I've had a few drinks since the First (when the wheels of resolution hit the pavement), but not like I used to.
Also, I haven't been laid in like 2 months.

To your average "Christian" this might be unimpressive. But to me, its like pulling the biggest 180 in human history.

After I showered and got dressed after my semi-half-assed and yet some how still terribly difficult, work out, I thought about that button.

How its Saturday night and I'm all dolled up with no where to go. How the only people who have initiated any sort of phone conversation via text or otherwise in the past week have either seen me naked or want to get me drunk, as all my close friends have seemingly faded into the past. How I know 20 different venues in the surrounding cities that I could arrive at, be welcomed by and feeling giddy and in a matter of moments; where the music would be played and the beer would be drank and that I would be flirting and smoking and laughing that silly drunk southern accent laugh like do and I would feel okay...

But I know from a year or two or three, off and on at least, that I wouldn't be smiling in the morning. And that all too easily, if I press that big red "emergency stop" button, I'll need the quick fix tomorrow too, and it won't just be THIS night.

The book of Romans has been helping me along greatly, in this new life.

In Chapter 5 verses 3-5 Paul writes

"We can rejoice too, when we run into problems and trials, for we know that they help us develop endurance. And endurance develops character, and character strengthens our confident hope of salvation. And this hope will not lead to disappointment, for we know how dearly God loves us, because He has given us the holy spirit to fill our hearts with Love."

I guess sometimes, when you are filling a void, getting rid of what you're filling it with doesn't necessarily make the void go away. So it is with prayer for consumption by a God who gives unmerited grace to us that I "just keep swimming" day by day by day.

"yet I still dare to hope
when I remember this:

The Faithful love of the Lord never ends.
His mercies never cease.
Great is His Faithfulness; His mercies begin afresh each morning.
I say to myself "the Lord is my inheritance,
therefore I hope in Him."

-Lamentations 3 :24