Posts Tagged: God

God / personal — No Comments
8
Apr 09

The Middle. Part 1: Tenses.

“It just takes some time, little girl
You’re in the middle of the ride
Everything, everything will be just fine
Everything, everything will be alright, alright.”
- Jimmy Eat World
At the forty-minute mark of this morning’s run, I wanted to be at the sixty-minute mark.
 
There are days when the run is just that, a run. The sun is up, my earphones are snug and blasting fixed-tempo electro-dance goodness into my ears, and each step is easy and enjoyable (considering my weight, of course). The hour goes by quickly, and in no time, I’m back at my door.
 
Today, however, I was made acutely aware that my run had a finish line, one that I wanted to reach as soon as possible. Not necessarily by running, of course. Maybe a friend could pass by and pick me up and take me home, or I could hitchhike my way back. My weapon of choice would probably be a wristwatch that speeds time so those last twenty minutes would zip by, and a blink later I’d be at my doorstep.
 
No such luck.
 
Minute 41 (or so): As I crossed the street at 155 beats per minute, I thought about Paul’s words to Timothy, written as he was nearing the end of his life:
“I have fought the good fight, I have finished the race, I have kept the faith.”
Fought. Finished. Kept.
 
Past tense.
 
The people in the Bible, the people like Paul? Their stories are complete. I take comfort in their stories because I know how their stories end. When he wrote those words to Timothy, Paul had completed his missionary ministry, as well as his writings, and by life’s end, God had worked out all the kinks until Paul was exactly what God had in mind for him.
 
Fast forward to me. Present tense. Much like my run, there have been lots of times when I’ve been in the middle of something and have wanted to reach the end in a blink. Countless times I’ve wanted to wake up and already be fit, to have reached my goal weight. To be more faithful, more trusting of Him. To see these projects and pet projects of mine already completed.
 
Most importantly, to be able to sit fondly at some cafe with some friends, sit back in satisfaction and recount “the good old days”. I would preface each memory with “Remember when?” and end with: “Good times, man.”
 
(Note: I’ve already done that with friends, so I know how happy it feels to reminisce about past successes. Good times indeed. Am I THAT old?)
 
Truth is, I know. I know I can’t always look forward to the day when I can speak in past tense. It’s too early for that. I know I’m supposed to enjoy each step, be they easy as pie or laborious. I know the journey counts as much as the destination. I know God’s called me to live here and now. I know I shouldn’t feel stuck in drudgery and monotony of the day-to-day. I know “tomorrow has worries of its own.”
 
Truth is, I know. I just need reminding every, oh I dunno, every single time.
 
So as I hit minute 42 (or so), bearing in mind Paul’s earlier words to the Philippians: “I press on toward the goal to win the prize…”, I decided to paraphrase his words to Timothy into something more, er, apt: 
“I am fighting the good fight. I am finishing the race. I am keeping the faith.”
Fighting. Finishing. Keeping.
Present tense.
 
By the way, I did get to sixty minutes.
God / personal — 1 Comment
5
Jan 09

lydia

her small, thin, fragile frame was propped on the bed, a transparent breathing mask covering most of her face. she was in the hospital because her lung had collapsed. the doctor’s detached sentiment was, “it’s only a matter of time.”

surrounding her were friends she hadn’t seen in years. my group was but one pack in a steady stream of people who had visited her over the past two days. friends from her old church. friends from her current one. all to support, to show love. all chatty and upbeat. i was wondering how the person she was sharing a room with could cope with all that racket. good thing lydia would be transferred to a suite soon enough.
 
in her state, she shouldn’t be talking. she didn’t need to. while her friends encouraged her, urged her on, pointed out her steady heartbeat on the monitor, she could have just smiled and nodded.
 
but she wanted to talk. she had to. her friends were here. and though she was addressing the room, i could swear she was looking right at me. as if what she had to say were meant, nay, reserved for me.
 
there she was, labored breaths escaping through failed lungs, currency for choice words muffled by an oxygen mask, and you know what she spent those precise words on?
 
praises.
 
praises and laughter.
 
“God is good.”
 
“what I’m going through has a purpose.”
 
“His name will be glorified.”
 
and so it has been for her. for all the years i’ve known her. through her first debilitating disease and surgery thirteen years ago, when her doctor said she would never walk again. as she experienced a miracle recovery. as she walked for the rest of her days with a cane. through her two daughters’ weddings. through facing the worst kind of heartache from those who were closest to her. when she found out she had cancer. when it spread to the rest of her body. while she had to take care of her ailing mother in spite of her own ailments. when her lung collapsed. when the first opinion was, “it’s only a matter of time.”
 
praises and laughter.
 
that was her. a life of praises and thanksgiving. of trusting in a God who will come through, even if the evidence points otherwise. a life devoid of feeling sorry for oneself and always looking to Him, especially during the afflictions.
 
i’ve been a worship leader for eight years. i stood in front of the congregation and i sang the songs and played the music till the strings popped on my guitar and my fingers were calloused and green and my throat was sore for days on end. but i’ve spent more time doing those things with a cynical heart. i think about how much breath and spit i’ve wasted complaining, grumbling, shouting at this God that i say i praise, bad-mouthing and blaming the people and circumstances He has brought to me. i think about all those times i’ve fallen repeatedly into self-pity and depression, for the same pathetic reasons, instead of looking up to the sky and adoring Him.
 
it’s disgusting.
 
if i don’t have the right attitude, the thankfulness, the love, then everything i have, everything i do is garbage. if i can’t find it in me to praise and thank God for each moment of every day that i have, then i will not survive even the trivial, mundane, repetitive, boring moments. how do i expect to survive the crises?
 
i don’t know how many breaths lydia’s got left to spend. i don’t know how many i’ve got. but i know what she’ll be using those remaining breaths for.
i’m asking God for the heart do the same.
God / personal — No Comments
2
Jan 09

tithing and trust

if there’s one thing in my life that i truly believe that God is in control of, one thing where I know He will come through for me, the one aspect I do not (and probably have never) worry about, it’s money.
 
which is funny, considering the other things i’m having trouble leaning on Him for.
 
how i wish i was as trusting of Him in the other aspects of my life. i mean, if He’s already taken care of my food and clothing, what more the other stuff, ya know? and yet i fuss and agonize, analyze and over-analyze, as to why i’m failing, why i’m frustrated over a certain aspect of my life. i wonder aloud as to why He hasn’t come through. i talk to my friends about it, to the point of exasperation, and they say differing versions of the same thing (TRUST!), but i’m loath to heed their advice.
 
i’ve made this excuse to myself: “i want to trust Him, but i don’t know how to. i don’t know what it looks like.”
 
when i look at how relaxed (or detached?) i am with money, i feel weird. almost as if i NEED to be worrying about it in order to feel normal. but i can’t. i just can’t. i’m just naturally at ease with it. no mantras or big declarations. just quiet assurance that: “He’ll come through. He’ll be there. He’s been there before.”
 
that’s when it hit me: i already know what trust looks like. it always just felt like a passive trust, but it’s trust!
 
see, i really really suck at making my own money, but that’s the beauty of it. because i know the impossibility of this feat, God demonstrates His faithfulness. i’ve always tithed, and He’s always come through. sure, it seems like an irregular cashflow (life of a freelancer!), but i’ve never lacked. i receive income in the most peculiar of ways (no, i don’t really sell my body to the night, as i may have led some of you to believe), but it’s income. and always at the right time. i’ve learned a couple of Biblical truths (most especially the Sermon on the Mount) about money and worry, and they’ve always been proven true.
 
and i look at those other aspects, and i see it: my attempts to take control. to take charge. to get the credit. i fall back on what i know, what i’ve observed in humanity, my common sense, and i’ve thought that it’s enough to get me by. then i feel like, since i’ve got this great worldview, i deserve what’s coming for me.
 
and when the disappointments come, i fall on my established worldview and start pointing fingers at the most reasonable targets: society, the government, blondes, the devil, God.
 
wow. no wonder, right?
 
i’m thankful for His grace that gives me breathing room to discover these things about myself, and time to correct it and come back to Him. i guess He’s been waiting all along for my surrender, my daily trust. passive and detached and naive and ridiculous, but still trust.
Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything, by prayer and petition, with thanksgiving, present your requests to God. And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus” Philippians 4:6-7