Jesus died....Wait, wasn't he supposed to rise again?

It's Easter Sunday. The eggs have been found, the kids are all dressed up, casual churches are putting on their Sunday bests and putting their best foot forward provide their church with a top notch service. But for how many was this week an "if I have time to go to church, I will," or a "I didn't even know it was Easter until on Palm Sunday they announced the Easter services?" I know for me, this was pretty much the case. I didn't even know we had entered into the preparation of the Easter time until about two weeks ago when I realized Easter was in a couple of weeks. But even then it was in the back of my mind for the most part.

It's sad to think that a day that marked the most important day in the history of mankind (and especially Christianity?) can be put to the side so easily. To know that this was the day Jesus overcame death so we could have life. So we could have salvation through the blood He spilled. I can't say how many times I've decided it was easier to just not go to church because I was tired, or because I didn't have a church to go to...but to forget about it altogether, on such a miraculous, beautiful day? That kind of breaks my heart a little bit. Maybe today is a day to give our hearts totally and and completely back to Jesus, in a way we never have before. Maybe today is the day to turn from all the spiritual unrest and burdens we've been carrying around for days, months, years, and remember what Jesus put himself on that cross for; you and me.

This song has been on my heart the last few days. It's kind of interesting because for the last few weeks, I seem to wake up with a different worship song in my head for that day. I love this song because of the metaphor of the ashes turning to beauty. The metaphor and symbolism of that is breathtaking. Maybe today, we can forget the ugliness of the world, and embrace the beauty of what Jesus did. Maybe today, we can remember how to be thankful for the ultimate sacrifice Jesus gave for the world, even people who were (are?) opposed to him, and who judged him for being blameless. Maybe today, we can choose to turn our ashes into beauty.

At the foot of the cross
Where grace and suffering meet
You have shown me Your love
Through the judgment You received
And You've won my heart
And You've won my heart
Now I can

Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross

At the foot of the cross
Where I am made complete
You have given me life
Through the death you bore for me
And You've won my heart
And You've won my heart
Now I can

Trade these ashes in for beauty
And wear forgiveness like a crown
Coming to kiss the feet of mercy
I lay every burden down
At the foot of the cross

Life after New Hope

This past month or so has been a challenge of making conscious decisions to hold myself accountable to spiritual discipline. I've gone down this path before, but never with the intentions and vigor I have now. When I was sick in bed at the beginning of March with mono, I had all the time in the world to read. I was reading sappy romance novels like "Dear John," "The Time Traveler's Wife," and "The Last Song," all of which were wonderful books (except Dear John...I'll never ever ever recommend that one to anyone who has ever been broken hearted before.) But I found myself wanting all the more to read the Bible. How many times in the last eight or nine years have I said to myself "I want to read the Bible all the way through" but have never done that? So I did. Along with making a prayer plan, and having all the people I care about on that list to pray for every day. It's been a neat adventure so far.

But this last Sunday, one of many Sunday's I've spent at home sleeping, or at work making lattes....I found myself sad. Not because of anything that happened that day or anything else, but because I'm in need of a church home. Let me tell you a little about why this is disheartening.

I used to go to a church, that was less of a "religious" atmosphere and more of a family. They were my family. Through the nearly eight years I spent with this family, I saw many people come and go. Nearly everyone I knew when I first started going there has gone their separate ways, and I hardly know where anyone is anymore. The people that mattered most to me, the people I shared life with...well, I hardly know any of them anymore. It's almost as if we all got scattered in the wind. These were people I grew with, people I worshiped with, the people who saw me baptized. In the last two years especially that I went there, I grew so much in my faith. When our church had a crisis over communication, in which over half the church walked out, there were many of us who fought for the name of that church, who strove to make things right. Half of our family walked out, and I don't even know how many I've seen since. How many we've made things right with. I only know that part of my family went missing that day.

When I left the church a year and a half ago, I did so in hope of being honorable. I had already been planning on leaving the church when possible because of some differences, and I was in need of a change. What made me leave wasn't what I would have chosen, but I guess that's part of life.

But as I sat last Sunday, I realized there really is no life after New Hope. Not for me, anyway. Right after I left, I started going to one of the more popular churches in town, and liked it for about five months, but it was just never "home" for me. It didn't have that community feel to it, that sanctuary of people who knew my story and let me into theirs. Five months in, and I think I met maybe six new people. I checked out another church that was one of the most down to earth churches I've ever been to, and had an amazing sense of love and community. But the community was withdrawn. It felt as though you had to have been a part of this community for years and years to ever belong there. Everyone already knew each other, and there were no new faces, except mine of course. After that, I started going to a different church that I knew a couple of people at, but still felt very wary about. This church worked for me, because it felt like New Hope, but in a different way.

But even as I attend this church now on days I'm not working, there is still something missing; my family. I miss the people I worshiped with, that I grew up with, that I watched grow up. There were kids I taught in Sunday School that I felt like I had helped raise, simply because I could remember when they were infants, and now they were telling me they had accepted Jesus into their lives. I miss that family so much. I have watched that church go through so much change, and although change is so good and so necessary, change also leaves a sting that is hard to get rid of. Of most of the people I know that have left, I know where most of them go. I know that they still have that family because they all left and created their own. But I don't think that family will ever be mine again. And how that hurts.

I see this in my parents too. They left not long after I did, and it has been just as hard a journey for them. They have tried countless churches in Visalia, and have found one that feels like it could fit with them. But even in talking to my stepmom the other day, she doesn't have her family. She went to the church for 15 years, and grew with those people too. And she doesn't have that anymore.

New Hope was home. It was a family. And to be quite honest, I don't think there is life after New Hope. It was a breeding ground for imperfect people, people who were seeking and not afraid to knock. It ranged from staunch Calvinists to artisans to people with Catholic or Pentecostal backgrounds.... but we all had something unique that brought us together, something that made us a family and made us love one another in a way I've never seen a church love.

We were able to love God by loving each other.

When Life thows in Black Jelly Beans

One of my favorite stories growing up was about how my dad came to hate raisins. According to my mom, at some point in time way back when, my dad was eating some raisins. Since raisins are just a simple snack, he wasn't exactly looking at them, and popped one in his mouth, and it turned out not to be a raisin. It was in fact a fly. Yes, one of those wonderful flying critters who land on cows and poo and food and...well, you get the idea. So my dad didn't like raisins.

Now, whether or not that story is accurate in it's entirety, I'm not exactly sure. But I do know my dad hates raisins.

I'm the same way with black licorice Jelly Belly's. Before I was born, my grandparents opened and ran a candy store in Tulare. If you're old enough, you might remember it. It was called "The Candy Store" and was in the shopping center on Prosperity where Lucky's used to be, where Vons is now, right across from Pizza Hut. They shut it down in about 1987ish, so I missed out. But I do remember my Grandma's love for Jelly Belly's, thus creating my love for them as well. Hello, you can get the Willy Wonka effect of a whole three course meal by eating three of them. Seriously. They're kind of amazing. But then there are the black licorice ones. Those can destroy the love for them pretty fast. They dull your taste buds, numb your mouth, and above all, taste terrible.

So the other night, it struck me that life is like a bag of Jelly Belly's. Not to copy Forrest Gump, but you never know what your going to get. You can be sailing through life, totally comfortable with not a care in the world. When all of a sudden, you come across one of those terrible events that leave you hurt, exhausted, and not knowing which way is up. But on the other side of that comes the happiness again. The good stuff. The stuff you look forward to. It is possible to get past the black jelly beans or the flies, and get back to enjoying the real stuff, the good stuff.

I think that God throws in those unfortunate unpleasant events because we need to be reminded that he is in control. He allows these things to occur so we can be reminded that we have an awesome and powerful Creator, who loves and cares for us, and also has a sense of humor. Knowing my dad, I can only imagine his face. I know the way I react when I taste the nastiness. And I can just see God looking down and laughing because we forget all these things. Not that the tragedies of life are comical, the the simple things that we make big deals. We take these small things that happen to us, and make it big because we're human, and we are constantly reminded that we are human, and we don't like it.

I'm not quite sure what the method to my madness is, or if I even had a point, but I like finding random metaphors or symbols in simple every day life and applying it. So there you go.

A God moment worth sharing

As most of you know, I have for about the last five months, taken a break from God. I felt as though God didn't really have my best interests in mind anymore. I was filled with anger. I was filled with frustration. And I honestly had no desire to go anywhere near a church or be around God. About a month ago, I came down with the worst flu I've ever had. I honestly felt as though I was either on my deathbed, and a couple of days I hoped I was. I was sick out of my mind. But it got me thinking, and it got me scared. I knew God was the only way out of anything. Lying in bed for a few days on end, all I could think about was getting back on my feet and getting back to God.

A couple of days later, a friend of mine met with me for coffee, and to discuss a community project I had headed up last year. Being a church event, I felt as though I knew I had to get back to God in order to do this thing with the right heart.

But I had one problem. I still do. What church do I go to? Ever since my wonderful life interruption almost exactly a year ago, I haven't felt comfortable at any church without some sort of emotional response. Out of the five I have tried, I really only felt very comfortable at one, and yet there was still a part of it that was uncomfortable.

So in trying to figure out what to do on Sundays, I've also been working on my plan for my life. I stayed in Visalia two years ago because there were promises being made that I was foolish enough to believe. And as soon as those promises became broken dreams, I realized there was no plan. No hope. No future that I knew of. I couldn't figure out what to do. I tried a few different ideas out, but knew they were futile before I even began them.

Now, lets back up a few years. My senior year of high school, on top of growing up and becoming an adult, I went through some major spiritual transformations. I was part of a small group whose sole purpose was for us to learn how to become the man or woman that God intended for us to be. I began doing some real soul searching, and realized whatever I did, I wanted to do it in a service matter. In other words, I've always loved missions work, and desired to do what I could to do this for a lifetime. I began looking into colleges down south, and realized I really wanted to move to LA. At the beginning of the year though, I had wanted to go to Humboldt, something else I was positive I wanted to do. It was hard to decide on LA, but they did have more choices, more schools, and being a small town girl, the last thing I wanted to do was move to another small town. So LA was where I would be more comfortable, and it was a "safe" choice.

Let's get back to now. In the last year, I've changed my major three times. I've been completely in limbo. I've had no clue what I want to do, no clue what I could do, and no clue what I should do. A lot of this, I'm sure, has had to do with my separation from God. But about two weeks ago or so, I once again started doing some serious soul searching, and the thought occurred to me. When I was in high school, I was so sure of myself, and so positive that what I wanted to do was what God wanted me to do. So, I made the decision to change my major back to business administration, and to go to Humboldt. If anything, regardless of it being small, I can be a light to those around me and maybe be some good to someone up there.

Now, Tuesday night. Elevate. I'm not even sure where it came from, but I felt very very close to God, and very aware that my plans as of now are the right ones. I went home and immediately began to reread one of my favorite books: The Barbarian Way. The next day, I was reading it in class and my friend asked me what it was. I instantly started telling her about Mosaic church, the experience I had there, and how much I wanted to go back at least once to see it again. Since I have an hour between that class and my next, I went into the library to do some homework. I started thinking about what had just happened. Here in Visalia, I haven't been able to really find a church I fit in with since I left the one I've been attending for seven years. Nothing feels right, but I can't go back. When I was planning on moving to LA, I knew where I was going to go. But Humboldt....now that's a place where finding a church worth going to might be a little difficult. So I said a little prayer that God would let me find one, and I randomly googled "churces in Arcata". One of the first ones that popped up immediately caught my eye: Catalyst church. I used to know some one once upon a time who was passionate about the idea of being a catalyst for God. This sparked my attention. This church, a small church in the middle of Arcata California, was just what I was looking for. If I hadn't been in a library, I would have screamed. I was so excited! And it was such a God moment!

I think the point I'm trying to make is that faith is by far the center of everything. We must have faith to have success, and we must have faith that God truly does have our best interests at heart.

New days, new perspective.

It's amazing that some things that are so simple can bring so much new perspective to your life.

Desperate Abandonment

This last week has been a huge wake up call for me. I've had the flu for the last four days, and for some reason, when I'm so sick I can hardly move is usually when I realize the most, along with a conversation with my Dad that seemed to help.

My entire life, I've tried to please everyone. To be "good enough" for those around me. To be a good enough daughter, sister, girlfriend, best friend, grand daughter, cousin, niece, employee, etc. It seems like all I ever do is strive to be what other people want me to be. But even that isn't good enough, because no one is ever happy with what they have. Once, I tried to be happy for me for once, and ended up getting a letter from a family member telling me that I didn't care about them anymore and that I was a terrible person. So much for being happy for once.

As a woman, we want to be fought for, to be captivating, to be lovely. For some of us, there never will be someone to stand by our side to fight for us. For some of us, abandonment is all we'll ever know. I know that sounds like a pity train, but I know too many women that have gone down this same path. Granted, there is one person who will never leave us. However, we do a pretty good job of leaving Him every chance we get.

In my life, I've known three things to be true: death, abandonment, and failure. It's true. Before the age of fourteen, almost all of the important female figures in my life had died and I was left "alone" without them. I've also known abandonment by those who claim to love beyond measure, yet, I wasn't worth the fight. I wasn't good enough. I was worthless. Thankfully, some healing has taken place with one of those people, but I will forever feel that I'm not worth the fight. I've also known failure. It has seemed for my entire life that all I have ever set out to do has failed. All except one, but I left that dream for another, which ultimately failed in the end. I would have been able to go off to college and been done at the end of this year, if I hadn't dreamed so big. But, I guess I thought I could handle failure at the time. I realize now it was the stupidest mistake I ever could have made.

I've also been taught my entire life that everything that has ever happened to me has been my fault. No, it wasn't my parents or a pastor or anyone actually verbally saying this to me, but it's been pretty obvious my entire life that since crap always seems to find me, it's quite clearly my fault, regardless of it being out of my control or not. And then last week, someone very clearly told me that my decisions are what have screwed up my life, and I understood. I do have control over it. I don't pray enough. I don't have enough trust in God. I'm not good enough.

The last couple of months, I've been headed down a pretty bad road. I've been at the bottom of my rope, with no where else to go except groveling around the bottom of a cave with no way out. But being sick has opened up my eyes that my trust needs to be back in God. I've been trying to rely on myself, and not on God, who won't ever leave me. It's been a long journey for twenty years, and prayerfully, there will be some happiness soon. Twenty years of nothing but pain is too long of a life already. It seems to be longer also when the things that brought the only joy into your life are what ended up causing the most pain in the end. It's funny to think that we can take happiness for granted and pretend to forget the pain. It's called getting comfortable. When we get comfortable, God decides we aren't focusing on HIm, so we get a curveball sent our way. But ultimately, it's up to us what we do with it: we can decide to trust Him more, or we can try to take matters into our own hands. I would encourage everyone to trust Him more, and believe that He will ultimately come through on His promises when those on earth can't.

Extraordinarily Ordinary

A few years ago, I began to see what I thought I needed to do. I had plans to go to a good school, move to some elaborate place, and become who I wanted to be. I was perfectly happy going to a normal school and taking all the required classes with nothing else, having a degree that was nothing more than simply common, and living a life that was my own that wasn't too hard for someone like me to obtain.

But then something happened. I met someone who believed in the impossible. Who believed that ordinary people can be extraordinary. I began believing I could do things that I had once believed to be impossible to obtain. I believed in the impossible. I believed I could do what some would call dreaming. I believed I could do extraordinary things and be an extraordinary person. I began developing new dreams and goals, and I allowed my imagination to take over my life. I allowed myself to believe I could do things that my entire life I had known were impossible for me. And by finding new dreams, I gave up all the dreams I had once had in order to obtain the most impossible of them all.

But they call the impossible "impossible" for a reason; because it is unobtainable. If something is deemed impossible, it means that by no standards of the human mind can one get to it. There's a reason why they say you can be what you want to be, and then put limits on it. Impossible things are not obtainable, no matter how much we try to believe it. Ordinary people are meant to do ordinary things. That's why we're ordinary. And people who actually obtain the "impossible," or whatever the hell you really want to label it as, are just pretending. They don't know what they want, that's why they go for things that are impossible, because they might by some form of magic find what they were actually supposed to do.

Truly extraordinary people who are actually put on earth to do something more than just ordinary life are placed here to do the life saving, the extraordinary lifestyle, and to help us ordinary people along the way. We aren't all put here to do extraordinary things. In fact, none of us are. If anyone were put here to do an extraordinary thing, it wouldn't exactly be extraordinary anymore, now would it? We were put here to serve our time, serve God to the best of our abilities and then when the time comes, and to fulfill any purposes we were actually put here to do.

For the last three years I've allowed my imagination and my dreams to rule my life. I gave up every single thing that was actually obtainable to me for one futile thing. I knew the whole time this dream would never come true, yet I was still more than willing to give up every single facet of my life. I can't change my decisions, but I can sure as hell try to get back to my life I started a few years ago. I'm perfectly more than happy to return to my simple, ordinary life. I haven't felt anything extraordinary in over nine horrible months, and I can't help but fully understand that ordinary is meant for me. Extraordinary was yet another dream that was unobtainable. The rest of my life as another ordinary member of the world is obtainable. And I can definitely accept that.

Ordinary is just another part of life. Deal with it.