God in Troubled Times

     The following story is long and dull, but it leads to a pretty grand finale. Please bare with me.
     For this past week, I have been at a Christian camp. It ended midday Friday. On Wednesday night, the worship music was especially loud. My right ear was directly in the line of one of the speakers. It was merely two or three seats in front of me. Probably in the middle of the second song, my right ear began to throb. I assumed the music was just a tad too loud for me. No one else seemed distracted. Suddenly, my entire right ear, inside and out, felt bruised and swollen as it throbbed and I even thought it might be bleeding. I turned so that it didn't face the speakers anymore, but it didn't matter. The damage was done. I cupped my ear, and kept my fingers tightly over it for the remainder of the worship. In the talk that followed, my ear kept paining me, but less than it had during the music. I just prayed for relief from the sharp stabs of pain so that I could focus on the message.
     The next morning came. My ear still hurt quite a bit. I found out that the water all over camp was out. We had to use porto-potties. I'm a very paranoid person. I have many fears and phobias. Many of them are rational; others are not. Porto-potties are more terrifying to me than, oh, I don't know, getting killed in a freak accident. (Okay, that may be a stretch, but not by much.) So, that morning, I bravely walked up to it, took a deep breath, and walked in. I came out gasping for air. I was almost in tears. I'm not an emotional person. I hardly even cry when I'm alone. Basically, I hate those makeshift toilets like I hate the most horrifying nightmare I've ever had.
     My mornings are always rough. My stomach was nauseous every single morning, so I always ate between half an hour or an hour later, meaning that I never got a full meal as the food was only whatever snacks I had brought to camp. In addition to that, I have horrible reactions to pollen, especially this year. My medicine hardly helped me. It can make it hard for me to breath, it can make me nauseous, give me a runny nose and watery eyes, among other things. So, between my allergies, stomach, ear, and the water, I was having a pretty heinous morning.
     Somehow, I made it through breakfast, worship, and the morning talk. After that, I went to play games with my wonderful team. I didn't know anyone particularly well on my team, but they always lifted my spirits. I found it easier to ignore my ear with them. By the time we were walking to our last game of the day, and of camp, their cheerful, friendly personalities were no match for the nails being hammered into my ear. I've never had any real pain in my ears, so I wasn't sure if it was serious. So I asked my team leader, who sent me to a woman who sent me to another woman who sent me to the nurse. I guess ear problems are rarer so she didn't have anything for me but an ice pack, which seemed to slow down the stabbing.
     During lunch, my ear hurt to much for me to have an appetite. To have something to do, I said two verses, and memorized seven more, five of which I said as well (The camp gives out five verses to memorize, and I said them all on the first full day. Maybe it's the overachiever in me, but I got bored and asked for more. Not only do they get your team points, but, well, it's fun and fulfilling to memorize the Bible!).
     A couple hours later, I got another icepack, and another woman looked at my ear and told me I had symptoms of an ear infection. What?!? An ear infection?!? I'd never had one before! In retrospect, the earplugs I wore at night to block out the chatter of my friends (This human needs sleep. Who knew?) always and only hurt my right ear all week long. The music probably just accelerated things.
     In my free time, I sat on my bed and tried to eat. I couldn't. I was tired and getting a wee bit dizzy. I've never cried before at camp, which I guess is a pretty big, unemotional achievement. It was not a typical year, but the pain in my ear took me over the edge. I broke down and bawled in short intervals. I knew I needed to leave an entire day early, but I didn't want to. The last night always has the best talk, the guys sing to the girls, and the girls usually sing back, and baptisms happen the following morning. Plus, you know, they give out prizes to all of the teams and stuff... But I was mostly sad about missing the talk. Someone said that they wait a whole year just for a Thursday night. So do I.
By 4pm, I had left the camp. I only got to say a proper goodbye to one person. By dinner that night, I had medicine for my ear. I was able to eat. I still felt horrible. I have hardly ever been so sad as I was then.
     My cat greeted me warmly, and hardly left my side all night, making me feel better. I got to see how much our little duck, Gaston, towered over our older duck, Belle. I saw Belle fly! Ducks sure do fly funny. But my mind stayed on what I was missing.
     When I went to bed, I grabbed my Bible. I desperately needed it. Throughout the week, many of the verses I had memorized came from Psalm. I was going to flip to that book, and red a few chapters. You know how in Doctor Who with the Weeping Angels if you blink, you're either dead or sent back into the past? I blinked. The word, "Deuteronomy," flashed across my eyelids. I kind of shrugged to myself, and instead of going to Psalm, I opened my Bible to what I thought would be midway between it and Deuteronomy. I always forget how large the first few books are! My pages slid open to Deuteronomy 8. My Bible has it titled, "Do Not Forget the Lord." I cried and prayed as I read:
     1 Be careful to follow every command I am giving you today, so that you may live and increase and may enter and possess the land the LORD promised on oath to your ancestors. 2 Remember how the LORD your God led you all the way in the wilderness these forty years, to humble and test you in order to know what was in your heart, whether or not you would keep his commands. 3 He humbled you, causing you to hunger and then feeding you with manna, which neither you nor your ancestors had known, to teach you that man does not live on bread alone but on every word that comes from the mouth of the LORD. 4 Your clothes did not wear out and your feet did not swell during these forty years. 5 Know then in your heart that as a man disciplines his son, so the LORD your God disciplines you.
     6 Observe the commands of the LORD your God, walking in obedience to him and revering him. 7 For the LORD your God is bringing you into a good land—a land with brooks, streams, and deep springs gushing out into the valleys and hills; 8 a land with wheat and barley, vines and fig trees, pomegranates, olive oil and honey; 9 a land where bread will not be scarce and you will lack nothing; a land where the rocks are iron and you can dig copper out of the hills.
     10 When you have eaten and are satisfied, praise the LORD your God for the good land he has given you. 11 Be careful that you do not forget the LORD your God, failing to observe his commands, his laws and his decrees that I am giving you this day. 12 Otherwise, when you eat and are satisfied, when you build fine houses and settle down, 13 and when your herds and flocks grow large and your silver and gold increase and all you have is multiplied, 14 then your heart will become proud and you will forget the LORD your God, who brought you out of Egypt, out of the land of slavery. 15 He led you through the vast and dreadful wilderness, that thirsty and waterless land, with its venomous snakes and scorpions. He brought you water out of hard rock. 16 He gave you manna to eat in the wilderness, something your ancestors had never known, to humble and test you so that in the end it might go well with you. 17 You may say to yourself, "My power and the strength of my hands have produced this wealth for me." 18 But remember the LORD your God, for it is he who gives you the ability to produce wealth, and so confirms his covenant, which he swore to your ancestors, as it is today.
     19 If you ever forget the LORD your God and follow other gods and worship and bow down to them, I testify against you today that you will surely be destroyed. 20 Like the nations the LORD destroyed before you, so you will be destroyed for not obeying the LORD your God.
     I needed so badly to read this. I realized that I needed to be more dependant on God. When I struggle, I pray, but sometimes I think I forget just how powerful God is. He is so powerful, and this is really nothing in comparison to His true power, that on Tuesday morning, when I was so exhausted that I could barely keep my eyes open, when I prayed for focus so that I could actually understand the talk that morning, I felt something swish through me, and when I opened my eyes, I was wide awake, and remained so until later that night. It was probably just a ton of adrenaline, but it still was an amazing moment. I also remembered that Christians can't be strong without being tested. For most of the people at that camp, they said that they can feel their lives getting harder because they're being spiritually attacked. For me, though, I struggle at camp. Sure, it's easier not to sin, but I think that because of that, I forget to lean on God like I should. Mostly, though, I feel attacked in a different way. I get distracted. It's a really easy thing for me to do. When my health is attacked, it's harder for me to face than sin! I get miserable and forget that I represent my God. I act rudely. I'm not a terribly nice person by nature, which is something that I'm working on, and this just makes it worse. I have to be stronger, through the Holy Spirit.
     When I feel closest to God and can feel Him speaking to me, I am always certain of the message. For probably a year now, the same message keeps getting to me. I usually end up crying. God's sculpting me to be strong and dependant on Him. He's helping me to learn and grow in Him because one day, I'll need everything I can get because the worst battle (and I am confident that it will be a bad one) is yet to come. Once, what I was reading, the music I was listening to, the book I was reading, and the thought I unwillingly thought all told me the same thing. Of course, it wasn't vague like it seems, but some things are too personal to share, even in writing. The point of this is that when I read this, and felt connected to God, the promise wasn't a struggle. It was a promise of something good. If we deal with testing well, we'll end up stronger in the end. I know that I still have a pretty big battle to fight yet, but this promise of something good? It drives me as well, and gives me something to look forward to. I love God and the mysterious ways he communicates with us. Just think: if I didn't come home when I did, I would never have read that chapter. I'm still sad, but I'm finding it hard to regret when God communicated to me more in that chapter than He did all week!

Five Worlds

          I live in about five different worlds. I have, of course, summed them all up into five, as it would be too difficult to explain all of the overlapping worlds, sub-worlds, and etcetera. I dearly hope that they are clearly understood.

          World 1. AKA: The World of Reality. It involves, but is not limited to: school, family, friends, world events, and my interactions with them.

          World 2. AKA: The World of Sin. We all have some sort of moral code we try to uphold. However, when we somehow end up there, you feel almost like a new person! It is quite frightening when you rise back up to the World of Reality. You realize how easy it is to descend so low, that you can barely remember where you came from. For a short while, every now and then, this dastardly world comes and invades my being. It is a terrible place to be.

          World 3. AKA: The World of my God. I am a very devoted Christian. I believe this world applies to everyone. In a way, we all practice some form of religion. Have you ever been suddenly hit with some sort of life-changing thought? Is there a temple in your head you can retreat to in the darkest of times? It is the opposite of the World of Sin. Wherever your moral code comes from, that is your World 3. When this world hits me, it is like awakening from a dream. Suddenly, I will be startled by a new idea, understand a Bible verse, or realize why I am friends with someone.  Call this world what you may, it is the core of all of us.

          World 4. AKA: The World of Fiction. It can involve many different mediums, but I am particularly speaking of the written word. It seems silly to explain the obvious, so I will sum this up quickly. There is usually a connection between the words and the reader that puts the reader straight into the story. I have been told that when I read, the expression of the characters appear on my face. In addition to reading, I am a dedicated writer. When I write, I tend to forget where I am and that these people are not real. Occasionally, I will get sad over my characters’ misfortunes, and sometimes I even get upset (usually at the author) before I realize that I put them there in the first place and that I control the entire story. Funnily enough, I have never believed that I have full control. I am so involved in this world, that I have decided that if Jane does not want to be kind to the just-shot Greg, her only ally, that I cannot make her. When writing, I think, “What would Jane do?” and never, “What will Jane do?”

          World 5. AKA: The World of Me. Your most inner secrets are revealed to all civilians in this world! Luckily, you can be a recluse, a hermit here. I do not like myself and I have plenty of reasons. I live in this world from time to time. Who can argue against that?  Me is a reason I never wish to reproduce. It is why I stopped wishing for a twin. Me is fed by the other four worlds. This particularly odd planet in turn fuels the others. It is a horrible, amazing, insane place. The World of Me is a place I never want to visit as someone else. Each individuals’ Me would probably drive all tourists mad.

          “If you will practice being fictional for a while, you will understand that fictional characters are sometimes more real than people with bodies and heartbeats.” -Richard Bach

          “I’ll be a story in your head. That’s okay. We’re all stories in the end.” –The Doctor (From the television series, Doctor Who)

These Are a Few of My Favorite Things!

          Favorites. In reality, favorites actually do tell a lot about a person, but only if you ask the right questions. What’s your favorite color? Like that actually matters! (Okay, so it does sometimes, but only if you ask why, and I’m not talking about the why, just the answer.) I was just thinking about favorite Bible verses and books. My mom was talking to me about having a go-to Bible verse for when my anxiety kicks in. I have one. It’s helped me out for years, and with a large variety of problems. Psalm 48:14 “For this God is our God for ever and ever; He will be our guide even to the end.” Ever since I found it I’ve been on the lookout for anything I like better. I don’t think anything will ever beat that.

          I know it’s probably not good to prefer one part of the Bible to the other because it’s all important. I do know, however, that John 3:16 should not be my focus anymore because I am a Christian. I should know it well, but it does me no good to meditate upon it. I will not grow. Okay, I’m going off topic by trying to define something. I must truly have a gift for irrelevancy.

          Back to the topic! My favorite book of the Bible at this point in time is Revelation. I love reading prophesies, mostly the ones that have yet to come. Revelation is packed with that. Other books include a lot of prophesy as well, but they aren’t the ones taught in Sunday school to little children, nor are they the ones I have read in full, yet. So, does that tell you even a bit about me? Oh, yeah. It should.

          Let’s do my favorite quote. “"It is weak and silly to say you cannot bear what it is your fate to be required to bear." That is from Jane Eyre. Of course, this just reminds me that God won’t give me anything that’s more than I can take. There’s a Bible verse about that. But this quote sums of my life philosophy: If God hands it to me, I’ll finish the job. How’s that for insight from a favorite?

          Okay, I really have no idea where I plan on going with this, and I have a six more pages of a paper to write tonight, and I have at most two hours. So, I guess that I’m just saying not to laugh when someone asks for your favorite something-or-other, or when they give that information to you. It could be more insightful than it seems at the time. Then again, it could be as meaningless as a favorite ice cream flavor. Of course, if you give me something that’s not green and green was an option, you had better cower in fear. J

          “Buddy the Elf, what’s your favorite color?” -Elf

Age and Maturity

          I simply abhor change. Actually, that is not exactly true. I do not at all like the stages in life that are inherently filled with change. Teenage years are notorious for this. It is a time where the pre-adult is supposed to be looking for themself. I understand that you mature and realize who you are isn’t as great as you used to think, but that doesn’t mean you have to try on a large amount of selves before deciding on the best fit! So, I may have fallen prey to this. However, I never compromised my values. I never created a self my parents would disapprove of. I only created one or two, and all I did was make my outfits a bit more eccentric. Yes. My versions of self only changed my clothing style. I never changed who I already was. I guess most people don’t tend to know who they are, mostly in their youth. I knew who I was, though. I may have not always appreciated it. Hey, I even resented it a little! But never did I change what truly made me me. As it is, I am still in those horrid “teenage” years. People expect so little of me. People expect me to morph into an adult, but I really don’t understand. I’ve never understood. Being an “adult” (I’m still in the mindset of my last post, sorry…) entails things that I believe I have been qualified to do since I was fourteen, and other things I doubt I could ever handle in a true adult manner.

          My friend, Bebo (the Hobo, yes) is a wonderful example of terrible change. Bebo doesn’t believe he is qualified to vote, no matter what it age is given on his license. I, in a great contrast, have felt ready since I was fourteen. Authority, no matter what the law says, does not come at an age, but at a proper mindset. I do know, however, that I would never trust the country in the hands of fourteen-year-olds! I just think that the season of change is too sudden, and too dependent on age. In this day and age, what is expected of “teenagers” is far too low, and the change that must take place in far too little an amount of time in those who could practically be deemed young children is a great fault of society. Mustn’t it be stopped? Will it be stopped?

          I was once advised when I took a survey of classmates on campus that I should avoid asking the younger people, like myself. I was told that they don’t know what they want. Of course, I ignored this and asked random selections, as to do otherwise would be a highly biased act. What I found backed the opinion. My questions seemed simple enough. I could answer in a heartbeat. Yet, the younger the person, the less readily words came from their mouths!

          How much I am saddened by how little my opinion is valued! I know what I believe and I know who I am. I am smart enough to not be wishy-washy in what I say is true or right. Is that not enough? The stereotype of who I am is not who I am, even if it is a general truth.

          I guess this leaves me at a loss.

          “Don’t let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith and in purity.” -1 Timothy 4:12

Meaningless?

          Life, in general, is quite meaningless. Have you ever noticed that? That thought plagued me all through junior high, and into a year of high school. I spent those years planning my present and future. I would amount to something, anything. I just wanted to have a meaning. I just couldn’t accept a future where I had a pointless job, or stayed home, taking care of children. I had to be something bigger, more important than most.

          The word teenager originated in 1941. Did you know that? That was the first time it was used. Before that there were children and adults. While still children, they could also be called youths. The youth were children striving to be adults. Teenagers have taken the place of youths. Have you noticed? Teenagers tend to not do much, nor are they expected to do much. When one looks at the words, I was never a teenager; I was a youth. Sadly, I was stuck in the body of a teenager, therefore limiting my options to that of a teenager. My life was much more meaningless than life should have been. Oh, how miserable I became! I would lay down a plan, and then start with the end result. (Have you ever, especially when stuck on a maze, started with the end point? It’s easier much of the time.) I would work my way back to the start, and the go from the start to the end. However, when it came to actually doing anything, step one usually included my being an adult. It made no matter whether I had the initiative, education, or anything! Step one always required I be an adult. It’s an infuriating world the few youths of today live in! While I was taking a rather awkward survey about marriage, I was told the older the person I ask, the more answers I would get. How silly I was to think that an eighteen-year-old would have any input on marriage. (I knew the answers when I was twelve, and probably younger. They have never changed.) How presumptuous I was!

          Teenagers and kidults (adults who act like children or teenagers) have made my world quite meaningless. The truth is that when you want meaning, you can make meaning. I was just heading in the wrong direction. My reasoning and incentive was all correct, but what I thought would really give my life meaning was a bit askew. I still have problems finding a way to make my life meaningful, even when I live for God! I always am living for God. Still, I feel that I am doing nothing. I am moving forward, slower than a snail. My parents never seemed to understand that, and they still don’t. They grew up as teenagers. My sister is a teenager. But I was never a teenager, nor do I ever plan on tapping into that area of thinking. My mom still asks me if I am sad that I missed out on high school, as I was homeschooled. “No,” I always say. Now that I’m in college, I know more than ever that I did not miss out on anything. I’m not into the social drama, the sporting events (even if I do love soccer), the dances, or the heaping piles of homework (I hear college is easier). It’s not meaningful to me.

          Probably about the time I completely read through Do Hard Things by Brett and Alex Harris I decided that life is pretty much meaningless, but I could make myself meaningful. Alas, it takes hard work, but it is attainable! Hopefully, college is helping me on the journey because it’s taking up so much of my time. But wherever I’m headed, I’m going to make it meaningful. After all, a person’s a person no matter how small, and ordinary people are what shape society. Although, ordinary isn’t quite what I am…

          “So many people walk around with a meaningless life. They seem half-asleep, even when they're busy doing things they think are important. This is because they're chasing the wrong things. The way you get meaning into your life is to devote yourself to loving others, devote yourself to your community around you, and devote yourself to creating something that gives you purpose and meaning.” - Morrie Schwartz

Preparing for the Unknown Battle

(01-19-11) I’m sickly and miserable. If I wasn’t trying to force myself to get better, I might pity myself. Yet, I’m not. (Okay, I totally do, but I’m only moping. Things could be a lot worse.) And I know why.

          My life would be so much simpler if I would just put myself first. No, I’m not being prideful. I’ve been sick, but I’ve forced myself to go to school (Both times, I ended up making Bebo pull over the car so I could jump out and try not to hurl. We hadn’t even made it to the highway). Tomorrow, I am going to do the same thing. Hopefully, I will make it through the day (Hopefully, I’ll make the drive to the school). Any normal time in my life, I wouldn’t have made it that far. Now I have a reason, and it’s not for me.

          I don’t have a clue about what I’m going to do with my life (Okay, I have some hints, but nothing absolute). I push through everything these days because I don’t think I’ve exactly filled God’s purpose for me yet. I guess I could have without knowing, which would be amazing. To know you’ve made some sort of impact… Still, I’m striving for an unknown. (01-20-11) It terrifies me to know that I may or may not be equipping myself for the future. The best I can do is to prepare for a battle and hope that whatever else I’m doing will be enough.

          “In preparing for battle I have always found that plans are useless, but planning is indispensable.” -Dwight D. Eisenhower

A New Way of Caring

I love church. I heard the message today, but I missed a lot of it. I would in any normal circumstance be disappointed with myself, but why I missed it makes up for my inattention.

At first it was a poem. As I watched the pastor give a few announcements, I was inspired. Have you ever listened to a pastor, and I mean really listened? Most of the ones I’ve ever heard have this thing in their voice, almost like they’re in an over exaggerated play. But there’s something in it where you just know that the enthusiasm, the way they speak as though God was really talking to them through the Scriptures… It’s usually real. Of course, I’ve heard from one or more that they’ve actually, in teaching their audience, been convincing themselves as well. They believe, but something’s missing that week, month, or year. That was the first bit of the poem, and there are four. It’s all about those amazing pastors whose faith is terribly strong, but they’re lacking their edge.

Part two was about the critics. It was about the skeptic who saw only the lacking edge in the pastor. The one person that there will always be who does not and will not ever connect, or at least in this poem of mine. Because they don’t understand, they create falsifications, and so on about the pastor and congregation.

Part three is about the one who can see it all. They see that the pastor, while great in faith, is missing a bit of luster. And that is just that.

Part four is still about the person who understands what’s really going on. They know the skeptic is bitter and etc…

I was thinking about adding a part five, from God’s point of view of His children. I think I will, but I’m not positive.

Now, don’t think this is what really stole up the time I should have been listening to the sermon. No.  It’s a hard thing to describe…

Before church started, I realized I should be praying each and every day for insight from God, such as a Bible verse’s meaning, or how I was to apply myself for him. This is when I realized that who I love being may not be what I need to be. I mean, I roll my eyes when those who are sinning horribly and only hurting themselves would rather to that than have a higher authority. But while I’ve always been open for God to change my life, I’ve never wanted to change major parts of me.

I’m quite proud with the fact that I’m near unreadable. I like that I’m not one of those people everyone flocks around. I know some of those people, and I happen to know they don’t really like it because they’re so likable, even when they’re obviously annoyed by a person, that person will never realize it. I might be cold, but it’s just how I function.

But what if God needs me to like people? What if I need to be friendly? I’m not sure that I could, but what if it’s a necessity?

After church, I saw someone looking at me. I’m pretty sure they were looking around, but it made me think. I know that person was either searching the room, or less likely, searching my face, but it made me wonder; am I as unreadable as I used to be, or am I like that person? I had to be before. I didn’t have any close friends, so not only did I need to have an unreadable expression to hide any sour emotions, but there was no reason for me to be expressive as it would be without people I really knew. But now, I have friends. I have real friends. They tell me I smile more. It’s their fault and I know it. They make me smile. They’re that amazing. But since I’m using non-faked emotions, does that make me more vulnerable to being read at a glance? Am I transparent to those who I am not close with? I certainly hope it’s not what God wants of me.

Just as a bitty bit of a side note, I know I’m not transparent to everyone, at the very least. My extended family is always asking if I feel alright or something like that. I’m usually happy… Kind of.

As I thought of that person who met my glance, I realized that while I don’t know them, and I’ve never cared to, even though they’re not annoying or anything, I cared. Of course, I’d care for people like them. I wouldn’t want them to come into harm. But this is different. I’d care because they’re a friend of sight. I don’t mean that I’d ever become friends with them in a normal world, because I wouldn’t. I just mean that they’re something around acquaintance. They’re the people I wouldn’t normally speak to, but I’m around enough for them to be a friend of sight. There’s something comforting about being in a room of people you know, if only by sight. Something’s changed in me already. I’m not sure I like it, because now I care more for more people. Before I could just shut anyone I pleased out…

Their short-lived gaze is still staring at me in my mind, reminding me that I care. My ice is melting. I almost cried when I realized. Now I’m vulnerable. Now I care not just for a community. I care for persons (as in individually).

          “The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.” - Marcel Proust