Coming Home

After graduating from college two years ago, I moved back in to the house I grew up in. It’s only about an hour and a half away from the university that I graduated from, which made the transition fairly convenient and seamless. I didn’t have a job lined up for after I graduated, so the idea of free rent and home-cooked meals was enticing to say the least. All things considered, my parents' home has been a source of stability and familiarity in these post-college transition years; for that, I am beyond grateful.

And now, it’s time for me begin a new phase. The phase of paying rent, shopping for my own groceries, cooking my own meals and working with a landlord. For my last two years of college, I lived in a house with six other girls and I had all of these same responsibilities. I know how to do dishes, fold laundry, and make my bed. I know how to entertain guests and pay bills. Even though I’ve had all of these experiences and responsibilities in the past, I have a sneaking suspicion that it’s all going to feel a bit different this time. 

When I lived on my own in college, I felt like I was playing house. I had adult responsibilities, a home to invite friends over to and a budget to operate within, but at the end of the day, I still felt like a kid. After a long day of classes and studying, my housemates and I would come home, collapse onto our blue couch, and talk about how surreal our experience of early adulthood actually was.  Outbursts of“Man, why is toilet paper so expensive?” and “I HATE street cleaning day!” were far from uncommon. We were going through the motions of adulthood, but they were by no means natural.

While I know that these new responsibilities will not feel natural at first, I like to think that I am better equipped for them now than I was two years ago. Ironically enough, I feel that living at home these past two years has actually helped prepare me for the independence that I’ve been working towards. It has helped me achieve financial stability in the early years of my career and it has also made me more aware of how much effort goes into maintaining a living space. Simply put, living at home has given me a safe space to try new things and learn from my mistakes.

Ever since I was a little kid, my parents’ house has been my home. Barring my two years in the dorms at the beginning of college, I’ve lived in a house for my whole life, and once I move into my apartment, it will probably be a while before I live in a house again. Up to this point, my concept of home, I suppose by default, has always included a house; as I prepare to move in to my first apartment however, I am rethinking this concept and asking myself what makes a place a home. I don’t have a complete answer to that quite yet, but I do know that creating a home takes time and effort and that it’s more about the people than the place itself. 

While I know my parents' home will always be a home for me and I will always be welcome there, I'm looking forward to shaping my own little version of a home for myself. It won't be perfect and it will take time to find the right place, but eventually, it will be home.

I Am Not My Own

When I was four years old and my older brother slammed my head onto the tile of our kitchen floor, I had the right to be angry. Yes, that actually happened. And last weekend, when a stranger at the mall made a rude comment, I had the right to retaliate and talk back. In fact, on most days, according to the standards of our society, there are very few actions that are not considered common rights. 

As an American citizen, I am granted certain rights, but my identity as a follower of Christ demands that I lay down my certain rights that challenge God’s glory. So how do we reconcile these two realities? Does our calling to live in community with one another contradict our calling to lay down our rights, as all communities are made functional through a set of established rights or privileges?

The Declaration of Independence provides us “with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness [and] to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed.” By nature of being human, we are endowed with rights in America. Even so, as soon as my rights become a stumbling block to my neighbor, I need to evaluate the situation and carefully consider its gravity and implications.

For example, consider the right to the pursuit happiness. This is one that could easily conflict with the interests of others. It is a rather undefined right and is subject to each person’s personal perception of happiness. One who argues that he is justified in pursuing happiness by harming or killing his neighbor does not understand his pursuit of happiness in the context of godly love and sacrifice.  We cannot all mindlessly wander around the country pursuing our concept of happiness because the concepts may conflict and break moral codes. This is why our right to pursue happiness must be sacrificed a times. When we allow our own happiness to be the sole motivator in a decision or action, we forget that we are not our own; we have been bought at a price (1 Corinthians 6:19-20).

In some ways, government requires that we lay down rights in order to protect them. Some would argue that you lose freedom when you do not use it well. There are other laws in place that restrict the right to the pursuit of happiness and that would not allow for the killing of that neighbor. Even setting moral conviction aside, murder is not legal. We possess God given rights and we should claim those rights when they are good and healthy, but when they stand on the way of God the Father being glorified, they must be laid down.

So take a moment today to consider what rights you need to lay down. Whether it’s your right to happiness, your right to rest, or your right to be upset about something, think about how claiming those rights affects your relationship with others and with God.

 “By this we know love, that he laid down his life for us, and we ought to lay down our lives for the brothers” (1 John 3:16).

When Jumping is Out of the Question

When I was three years old, my parents signed me up for gymnastics classes. Every Tuesday, my mom would drop me off at Tumble Kids, where my gymnastics instructor would show me how to do cartwheels, splits and the rope climb. I would show up in my turquoise shorts leotard and my high socks (because I was just that awesome) ready to conquer the world, or at least the 5-part obstacle course. But there was one part of the studio that I made sure to steer clear of: the foam pit.

Now, you have to understand, this foam pit was unlike any other that I have since seen at a gymnastics studio. Instead of the usual 2-3 foot high jump, this one had you suspended 8 feet in the air – high enough to be terrifying, but low enough to not actually be life-threatening… or so they claimed.

Unlike most of my peers, I was not fooled by the pool of squishy, cushioned cubes that was sure to catch my fall: that pit had “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here!” written all over it. There were just too many things that could go wrong. What if the pool was too shallow? What if I hit my head on something? Padding or no padding, there was no way my instructor was going to convince me that taking that leap was a good idea. Jumping was out of the question. Maybe I was being a wimp, but I like to tell myself that I was being smart.

Over time, my fears have changed… well, sort of.

When I think about the whole scope of fears that I have experienced from infancy to the present, I notice a common thread: I fear things that have the potential to hurt me or hurt the people that I love. Physical and emotional comfort are very important to me – most people would likely say the same thing about themselves. Whether you are afraid of spiders, injuries, or unhappiness, you are ultimately concerned that you or somebody close to you will experience some sort of discomfort. Pain and fear go hand-in-hand; I have no reason to fear something that will surely bring joy and pleasure, but anything that could cause harm must be handled with the utmost caution.

Thinking about this topic, I began considering the many aspects of my life that can be shaded by fear. Decisions, relationships, career, even leisure time. These are all areas that can be greatly impacted by the presence of fear. If I am afraid of letting down my friends by not showing up to an event, I might end up inconveniencing or disappointing somebody else in my effort to attend. When I fear being wrong about something, I instantly become less teachable and more prone to pride and stubbornness. In these cases, fear places me at the mercy of other people’s opinions, which – inconveniently enough – are constantly changing. There’s just no winning when the good grace of every person in your life is your measure of success.

Some times fear can serve as a motivator, but more often than not, it is more of a hindrance than anything else. The only fear that is truly good is fear of God, which leads to a genuine desire for His will to be done in your life. When Jeremiah the prophet says “I do not know how to speak; I am too young” after God proclaims His plan for him to be a prophet to the nations, the Lord responds to Jeremiah’s fear of inadequacy with “Do not be afraid of them, for I am with you and will rescue you” (Jeremiah 1:8). Fear of God is rightly placed fear; all at once, He has complete power to either destroy or deliver us. What other thing or person in your life can you say this about? In the end, even when fear of God leads us to encounter trials – which it surely will at some point – this fear is the only fear worth living in because it is of the God who has the ultimate authority to dictate and guide our lives.

Going back to my dreadful foam pit debacle – several years later, I visited the studio where I had previously taken gymnastics classes. To my surprise, I was remarkably underwhelmed when I saw the foam pit. What once looked like a death trap had suddenly become something much less daunting. It was a pit of foam cubes with a diving board hanging over it – clearly harmless.

Turns out, there wasn’t much to fear after all.

That’s Just How I Feel

In my three months of blogging, I’ve been open about my weekly thoughts, my religious convictions, my love for writing, and my views on art. In short, you know a lot about my mind, but if all that you know about me is what I’ve shared in this space, you don’t really have a good reason to care about what I think, because – well, because you still don’t know much about me. With that in mind, I think it’s about time I start sharing some details about myself with you.

Instead of sharing my name, grade, and favorite brand of toothpaste — as much as I love that game — I’m just going to share how I feel. Literally.

About a month ago, I purchased a magnifying glass to use at work. As a proofreader, I spend a great deal of my time reviewing copy decks and digging through artwork for tiny details and errors. Part of my job is to find things that nobody else has found. Considering the fact that I have had glasses since I could say the word and I once mistook a person doing crunches for a duck – no but seriously, it was concerning – I’m not surprised that my eyes need a little extra help in doing a job that demands such precision. So naturally, I bought a magnifying glass and have since been referred to as Sherlock Holmes on more than one occasion in the office.

They – the often-quoted knowers of all things certain, that is– say that when one of your five senses is particularly dim, you likely have another particularly sharp sense that offsets the dim one. If you have notoriously bad hearing, you might have an exceptional sense of smell, or visa-versa. My close friends – and lets’ be honest, probably most of my acquaintances – can tell you stories that attest to just how horrible my eye-sight is; many inanimate objects have been mistaken for people, many random strangers have been mistaken for friends, and yes, even family members have gone unidentified at times.

My eyesight is certainly not my greatest asset, but what I lack in vision I make up for in hearing. As a pastor’s kid, I had a lot of early opportunities to practice listening. Sermons, weddings and Bible studies always meant prolonged periods of hearing other people talk. Once I got past my antsy years of “do I have to come?” and “dad, my butt hurts,” I started to love attending church events. The boredom faded, but the skill of listening stuck with me. Some people feel a very strong need to be heard, but I would rather listen.

My mouth probably moves more from eating, yawning, and sleeping than it does from talking. As a general rule, I don’t open my mouth until I know what I’m going to say, why I’m going to say it, and who it’s going to impact. I often have a hard time expressing myself on a moments’ notice because I worry that what I say will not actually be true to how I feel or what I think. Some times, I need to say something untrue in order to call it what it is. Until a thought has passed through my internal processor, I don’t trust it.  I realize how powerful words are and I try to use them very carefully. For many people, talking is a main form of expression; in moments when I feel the need to express myself, I usually reach for my journal before I reach for my cell phone.

And that’s just how I feel.

These few physical attributes don’t paint the whole picture, but I like to think that they create an outline. Now that we’ve got an outline, it’s time to start splashing some color on the canvas.

To Tell the Old, Old Story

Originally, this post was going to be about me and my nifty new magnifying glass, but I decided to share the Gospel instead.

Growing up in the church, our congregation would often sing a hymn called "I Love to Tell the Story." As the song conveys, Christ's story is one that brings great joy. Because of His story, I am invited into a relationship with the God who knows the depths of my heart. In this deep knowledge, He knows my areas of weakness, and He challenges me to grow in patience, peace, and boldness, each day inviting me to experience His love in different ways. These challenges play a role in the process of sanctification that He is constantly refining me through. In this process, I’m reminded that “[I am] not [my] own; [I was] bought at a price” (1 Corinthians 6:20). 

In 1 Corinthians, Paul reminds the church of Corinth that, “because of him you are in Christ Jesus, who became to us wisdom from God, righteousness and sanctification and redemption, so that, as it is written, ‘Let the one who boasts, boast in the Lord.’” (1 Corinthians 1:30). By making such a statement, Paul suggests that by becoming wisdom, righteousness, sanctification, and redemption, Christ allows us to dwell with in Him and enjoy communion with the Father. We are not capable of beginning or carrying out these processes on our own. God brings about our salvation by beginning a refining work within us and “bringing it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ” (Philippians 1:6).

The actual deeds that brought about salvation were Christ’s descent into humanity, His perfectly sinless life, His death on Calvary and His resurrection. The author of Hebrews tells us that Christ has made “salvation perfect through suffering” (Hebrews 2:10). Despite its excruciating severity, the suffering of Christ has become all too easy for us to forget. By evading the reality of His agony, we prevent ourselves from deeply appreciating His sacrifice. For we know that “In him we have redemption through his blood, the forgiveness of our trespasses, according to the riches of his grace, which he lavished upon us, in all wisdom and insight” (Ephesians 1:7-8). We find peace and assurance in His affliction. 

Christ’s agony was able to overcome our sin because “he who sanctifies and those who are sanctified all have one source” (Hebrews 2:11). In His human form, we are united to Christ in the origin of our creation. We have been created by God the Father; Christ redeems our incredibly flawed relationship with the Father by setting forth Himself as the perfect sacrifice. In Him, we are forgiven, born again, dead to sin, blessed, called, saved, and he list continues. Christ's sacrifice establishes the connection between us and the Father.  We now possess freedom in Christ, who offers salvation through faith. Christ endured suffering on our behalf and He longs for us to be sanctified. His extension of salvation to sinners allows us to arrive at God’s end of perfect and complete sanctification.    

This is the story of Jesus Christ and Him crucified. His desire is for us to know Him and to proclaim His name boldly. My initial plan for this post was much different than what I've written, but this message is one that is close to my heart and I felt prompted to share it.