Neutral

Tonight at youth group, we had a guest speaker in town! Woot woot shout out to Stephen!

You know how when a person shares often one phrase will stick out and stay stuck on you? Yes that happened. Stephen had a word for our group; he said he got this picture of a car that was in neutral and just revving up and revving up, but because it wasn't in gear, it couldn't go anywhere. He went on to share how spiritually we can do the same and be putting all of this empty energy into God when what we need to do first is "get in gear."

And it hit my heart. Whammo. But, strangely, I didn't know why it affected me in my chest so much, because I didn't completely understand it. What does it mean to be "in gear" with God. And what defines energy as "empty" or "wasted" (i.e. revving up)? No energy or effort spent on God is wasted right? But . . . this energy can be ineffective.

So, I probed my mind a little more as the night continued, and a word landed on my brain totally unlocking the idea for me -- obedience. OBEDIENCE is the gear (to continue the metaphor). Often, I will have a period of closeness with the Lord, but then, through a series of little steps, I find myself, two weeks later, in a fog and not knowing how I got there. I then proceed to talk to God, and He tells me, "What was the last thing I asked you to obey me about?" That drifting, the subtle, sneaky drift, happens when I ignore God's often subtle (but clear) voice.

If I'm not in obedience to God, I can pour all the energy I want out, raise my hands during worship, cry on my knees in prayer, but it might not be moving things forward at all.

The thing about obedience is, it can often smack of legalism. When I hear a voice in my head saying to sacrifice some movie veggin' time for God time, I most often dismiss it as the "pharisee" within. God is a God of grace; He wants me to enjoy myself. This is so true. But but but --- there are times when God definitely asks for the sacrifice of your time. Because it is a thing as "small" as time, I don't consider it disobedience. I'm not a pothead or sex addict . . . and so I justify my disobedience.

But ignoring God's voice is ignoring God's voice, not matter what the situation. Period.

And the scary thing. The subtly, sneaky scary thing is -- these little disobediences are one of the biggest reasons why we drift out of gear. Why we pour out energy. Rev our engines. And stay in the same spot. Parked in the garage.

Okay, thanks, Stephen for this grand metaphor, which I've proceeded to juice for all its worth.

Love an stuff,
Chris

Explanations

So, this blog isn't completely abandoned. Yes. It's been almost a year since the last post. But, let me explain.

I think one of the biggest reasons why I don't blog is because of my relationship with writing. For me, it is a personal deal. I am terrible at faking emotion or writing only half of what I think. It sort of dries up the creativity in my opinion.

Honesty seems inseparably linked to imagination. Thus, writing is me -- what you see is what's really there, not a hyped up, toned down, or glossed over version.
But, the itch to write (and not just "journal" write, but form thoughts to share), has been bothering my brain. I revamped the blog a little, seriously considered taking off some of my older posts (but then decided no -- that was part of me), and here I am again -- the cyber version anyways.


And all this mulling on blogging has me thinking about imagination and creativity in general. The times of my life that I would consider the most beautiful are those moments when I have been creating. I don't consider myself an artsy person. I'd love to consider myself as such. But, remember, I have this chronic honesty problem.

But think about this, art is not a synonym of creativity. Art is a PART of creativity, but it is not the only thing. Consider, within the word "creativity" is the root "create," and creating can apply to a million different things. The important thing is that YOU are engaged in the act.

Passivity is easy. And, granted, there are times when being the spectator is necessary. You can learn from others' creations, etc. But, if it stops there, you will become glutted with what you see and hear. Just like with food, we take in creativity so we can breathe it out.

The piece of art carries parts of the artist, right? Perhaps it's debatable, but the creator leaves his touch on his work; it's part of him. In the same way, I think humans were created to resemble their artist as well. I believe God is a creating entity, and He left his touch all over us -- meaning we are also creators. Made in the image of a creating God. No, I cannot whip up galaxies -- but I can spin up poetry to describe them.

Welcome back once again, Christen, to blogging.

Coastal Storms

I just got back from a stay at the Oregon Coast, the place I would rather be than anywhere else. It even tops the library. Can you believe it? I love the craggy beauty - the flat, wet beaches, the huge rugged rock masses, the violent waves . . . even storms are gorgeous at the beach.
I was actually hoping for a storm. So, when I woke up this morning and saw my window pane streaked with raindrops, I was a happy girl. The ocean completely changes color when it's stormy. It becomes this liquid gray, and the curling white foam stands out even stronger, wilder.
I was a little surprised by my attitude this spring break. Maybe it's because I'm so used to racing around, maybe it's because I'm a workaholic. Whatever the case (and I don't think it's the "workaholic" one), I had a few bumps in the road. Isn't that weird? I was at the place I love the most with the people I love the most reading one of my favorite novels, and I felt uneasy, unsettled.
I guess we all go through times like that, and mine just emerged over spring break. But, when you have time, you get confronted with your issues. The distraction I rail against can actually be my best friend. My quiet times with the Jesus man helped, but I'm still dealing with some stuff, some blue emotions you're not supposed to feel on vacation (for pete's sake!). Who knew spring break would evoke a case of the spring mopes.
Still, I shouldn't complain too much. I'll be thrust into the whirlwind on Monday. For the remaining days of vacation, maybe I can discover why I feel so strange, just not at peace. Maybe drawing near to Peace Himself . . .

The Biggest Tragedy

Distraction. Distraction. It's like a fog the is brooding over Salem. It makes people sleepy and keeps their eyes down, looking only to the next day, or to the upcoming weekend. It gives that people the feeling you get when you are warm and sleepy and have nowhere to go. Movement seems unnecessary.
Or maybe you like to move. Maybe you can't stop moving, and the fog of distraction is like a cold wind blowing on you. You can't stay in one spot too long or you'll start thinking about what life is really like.
Distraction. Is synonymous with deception. When you believe a lie, it's a hard to imagine something else besides it could be true. When you believe that it's perfectly fine to have your life lined up, with the schools you'll attend, the person you'll marry, and the career you'll have, and treat the Creator of the universe like He is optional, that is when you commit the worst tragedy of tragedies.
Distraction can be sleepy, it can be active, it can be fun, but it is all wrong. All wrong. All wrong. It makes me cry, makes me weep, when I see it. When I commit it. Because, when I see distraction, it is like seeing a blind man refusing to have his sight restored. It is like seeing a child that is starving stuff his face with mud and refuse to come inside and be filled.
I think part of the reason this distraction is so deceptive is because we think God is all cuddles and fluff. It is TRUE that we can call Him Daddy. It is TRUE that we can be intimate, that He loves us more than life. But it is ALSO TRUE that He is a big, huge God who made not us, but everything we see with our eyes. It is ALSO TRUE that He is a God of justice, a God of power, and a King. If you were in the same room with the President, or with your favorite celebrity/author/athlete (Michael Jordan, etc), you wouldn't ignore him would you?
C.S. Lewis probably would be my best friend if he was still alive. I love how in Chronicles of Narnia he has this part talking about Aslan, and how he is this wild, untamed lion. But. He's good. That's our God. He is a GOOD, WILD, UNTAMED GOD. He's not a God that we can keep in our pocket and then take out whenever we're in trouble, or at our final exams and realize we haven't studied enough. He's so HUGE, so out of our control, and I feel like our distraction from Him, our blatant ignorance of His presence, is the biggest tragedy of all.
I know this distraction is hard to avoid. Like I said earlier, it pervades our city, our society, and it is sneaky. It seems harmless. To watch as many movies as you want. Spend as much time on facebook as you want. And maybe that's totally fine. Maybe you can do that with Jesus and it can be an awesome experience. All I know is that I've been hearing His voice lately, stronger and stronger. And He says, "Make room for me." Clear out the junk. Accept the new sight He wants to give you. Accept the real meal deal He has for you.
We can only live and honor Him like He deserves IF He helps us. Isn't that funny? We're so dependent on Him to worship Him. So, I just say, Jesus, I know you're the only thing in life worthy of my love; help me stay clear, and not be swept into the cycle of routine and pleasure. Into this meaninglessness. There is MORE to this life. Get hungry, people.

The World of Wrestling - aka How Christen is Spending Her Saturdays

Micah has another wrestling tournament tomorrow. You know you really love someone when you spend five hours in a gym that smells like it 100 armpits and is full of teenage guys maxed out on testosterone. Last year (when the baby bro started wrestling), I was really reluctant to go to these matches, or meets, or whatever the appropriate term is. Once, he had to wrestle a g-i-r-l , and I felt like my stomach was going to fall out of my body.
This year, I think I've improved in my wrestling fan skills. I've gone to two tournaments, and I've learned how a wrestler earns points in his match. So, now, when I'm cheering at Micah, or yelling at the refs, I can at least sound half-educated.
Last Saturday he wrestled these burly farm boys, and one of them (a little stinker) started choking Micah. Micah's face was turning blue and me and my mom were screaming at the top of our lungs at the ref. Thankfully, Micah couldn't really hear us, so he wasn't embarrassed. Apparently the ref couldn't hear either.
I'm actually kind of excited for tomorrow. Excited and nervous. Geez, I feel almost as nervous as though I'm wrestling. Ha - but if it were me wrestling, the match would last 20 seconds. I would be on my back, pinned, or running away from my opponent. Not my sport.
Ah, highschool sports. I'm glad to be out of those four years and its abundance of drama and self-absorption, but I do miss certain things. And sports is one of those. For non-athletes, this won't really make sense, but going back to my old highschool's gym to watch Micah wrestle or Abby play volleyball is a nostalgic time.
Just the smell in South's gym (before it smells so bad like armpits) takes me back immediately to when I was wearing my white jersey with the red number #15. The squirmy, anxious feeling I got right before tip-off, the sweaty palms, the jittery legs, the thrill of hearing the crowd. It all comes back.
Unfortunately, Micah won't be at South's gym but McMinnville's tomorrow. Must brace self. Must learn wrestler lingo. Must avoid embarrassing brother.

Dedicated to Three Hikers on Hood

My heart is pretty heavy as I write this. We just finished a Christmas movie: "How the Grinch Stole Christmas." We laughed and I felt cozy and drowsy in my afghan. But, then , my dad turned on the news and my heart started to fall a little bit. It feels like it's dropped, too heavy to stay high in my chest.
It was a news story about hikers on Mt. Hood. They got caught in a storm; one's body's been found, the other two are still missing. I can't, I just can't watch that and go back to working on my fun, fictional story. I'm struck with sadness. They are young. Mid to late twenties, around my age. They love Jesus, just like me. The young woman worked as a an advocate against trafficking. The two guys met at a Christian camp. Their pictures are those of people glowing with health. So full of life they seem to overflow with it. Such normal, lovely people. My stomach feels a little sick. Sometimes I can ignore the death around me, but every now and then, it s through my armor and makes me sick.
I think what makes me sick the most is how good they sound. They are active, beautiful, normal people. The kind of people I work with. The kind of people I go to school with. The kind of person my best friend is, or my sister, or my brothers. And my stomach feels sick.
Death is a surprise sometimes. A horrible surprise, and it shocks me when I see it. It can turn everything upside down. I just pray and pray that the other two hikers are still up there in the storm, alive. I pray that God's love would be like a warm blanket and wrap around them, and wrap around their families.
It's easy to close your heart, sometimes. I can make excuses for not feeling, like "If they would've been more prepared," or "That sort of thing is common for extreme hikers." But, I can't, I just can't forget it right now.
As I was praying for them, I was struck, though, with a thought. I'm going to see those hikers some day. Those hikers who love Jesus. I'll get to meet them, and we'll all get to spend forever together. Forever in happiness. I can see how the thought of eternity is so comforting. I love a man who conquered death. That's what Jesus was all about. Death may seem like this dark, scary surprise to us. But, Jesus just looked it right in the face and said, "Enough, you've had your time." There is no fear. Yeah, in this broken world we feel that grief. But our grief is not like the world's grief. We know death's power here is just a farce. O Father. Come quick.

A Meaningful Conversation

He said - All of you
I said - Really?
He said - I mean it
I said - Impossible

He said - Why not?
I said - I've got too much to lose
He said - Really?
I said - Impossible

He said - Let me show you something
I said - Ohh kay
He said - Hold my hand
I said - I'll try

He said - How's that?
I said - That's nice
He said - Still have too much to lose?
I said - I don't think so

He said - My love is too big too deep for you to get
I said - I think I'm starting to see that
He said - I'd like to show you how deep
I said - Please!

He said - Still want to hold onto that junk?
I said - Take it
He said - It won't always be pretty
I said - I know

He said - Follow me