Interrupting Joy

Sometimes all I have are little pieces, shards, of joy that pierce otherwise too full days. 

Some days, the ones filled with hurt and loneliness, days when it’s easier to burrow into the down comforter than it is to engage, these are the days when joy seems to be ever dancing around the edges.  Peeping in through the cracks.  Distant, not daring to intrude on self-imposed solitude.

See the original, by artist Julie MacMilon, on her website here

But it’s still there.  I just have to open up.  Give it some space.  Let it take just the smallest bit of my time.

Joy is always waiting to be let in.

An e-mail, from an acquaintance-turned-heart-hewn-friend, because that’s what months of daily prayers will do, of thanks.  One that reminds me my God is a God of wonders and miracles.  One that simply says, the pajamas finally fit.  And like that, awe erupts, singing; like a flock of birds set to soar on dawn’s breaking. 

Joy

Or an article, sent by hands more recently stilled by illness and too much alone-ness.  To remind me, that in spite of my propensity to wound and fail, there is a God-time that outweighs my daily paces.  I laugh; lightness enters my grave-rut of failures.  And I can climb back out again.

A journal of volleyed queries and ink whispered i-love-you’s etched on hearts too tiny to know real breaking.  Space to capture what washes on the shores of my soul.  And the gospel, tucked so neatly into it all.  A reminder that I have not yet arrived.  That the tender mercies will be new again on the morrow.

Falling snow, telling me that I am heard.  I am listened to, even when my sins overcome me, and evil has won yet again.  I am still beloved. 

I can still inhabit joy. 

Because the intimacy I ache for, that we all ache for, is waiting to be found in Jesus.  Joy is found in knowing, and the being known by, Christ.  He is the author of these moments, these eternities shrouded in temporal pursuits. 

Pause.  Breathe him in.  Soak up his presence.  And let joy surprise, interrupt the paces of your heart. 

Another original work by Julie McMillon, found at her esty shop here.

Chasing Joy

The new year is all about what we want to change, isn’t it?  It’s a time for taking stock and becoming aware of what’s lacking in our lives.

Coming off of a semester of reclaiming my Awesome (albeit a life-long endeavor to maintain), I was a little leery of looking too long for what’s missing.  Though, after rumination I came upon what I want:

Not to fill an empty space in my life with yet another program or activity or goal.  Instead, I want to strip away all of those and to run hard and fast after what’s truly meaningful.  I want Joy. 

Abounding, uncensored,

 riotous, alluring,

                unadulterated, transforming,

Joy.

Because my time, and yours dear one, is too fleeting upon this blue mot to fritter away a joyless existence.  Each moment holds such potential for it.  Even the ones so infused with pain they crush all but the glimmer of hope.  Because joy isn’t the hapless smile slapped on your face the moment the church’s threshold is breached.  It isn’t the giddy ecstasy bounding out of wedding vows.  It is the abiding, sustaining undercurrent of life, if in Christ we reside daily.  If through Christ we absorb the pure source of joy. 

So this year, I have resolved not to chase after the wind.  I will chase joy.  I will dwell in it.  I will bring it with me into the world that is in such need of it.  I will gladly share it with anyone I might.  This year, I will write about joy: how I find it, where it leads me, who it calls to me, and to whom I am called because of it.  I will write about what steals it, how to fight for it, from where it can be drawn.  And why it is so vitally important.  Granted, I will write all of this as: me.  I can give no perspective other than this, as it should be.  And I want to encourage you to consider these things as only you can.  Let me know what you learn along the way.  Join me, friend, in abiding in joy.      

This year, I purpose to seek joy.  I purpose to fight for joy.  I purpose to allow joy to embody me, especially when circumstances dictate otherwise.  In this endeavor, I purpose to be true to my emotions, because joy isn’t a fleeting feeling; it is a state of being. 

I pray this journey changes me.  That at the end of this year I can turn back and see a more joy-filled path carved from my current one.  I pray that joy abounds in and through me.

In 2012, I will Chase Joy.      

Ears to hear

It all comes down to this:

Who are you listening to?

Your Awesome is inherent.  It’s an heirloom, a birthright;  in your DNA, it is your identity.  Regardless of your religious/political/ideological standpoint, God created you.   He fashioned you to be beautiful.  He puts great stock in you.  You are delighted in, loved.  By the Architect of the universe.  The Author of time.  The Developer of joy; the Painter of beauty.  By Love itself. 

When you don’t feel awesome, when you have long forgotten what your awesome feels like, or you aren’t even certain if you ever had it, the question remains: to whom are you listening?

Because anything or anyone that tells you otherwise, is lying.  Pants-on-fire lying.  To believe that you are anything other than completely and fully Awesome, is to be deceived.   And you, my dear, are entirely too smart to be deceived.   

Which means that to end the deception, you must bathe yourself in Truth.  Compare the lies, from the media, from loved ones, from your own head, to God’s Word.  Hold a Christ-mirror up to your face and see if you can find ugly, or stupid, or fat, or nagging, or bossy, or mousy, or too emotional, too needy, too much/not enough therein.  Viewing yourself through the lens of Christ’s atonement, you won’t find anything but your Awesome there.  You.  The way you were designed.  The you, you were meant to be.    

Remember who you are.  Resolve to abandon the grave of lies, to flee the desolation of deception.  Purpose to walk in Truth, in the light of God’s love. 

And when you do this, you become a champion to the depraved, hope to the lost, warrior for the oppressed, and hero to the captive.  And your Awesome will shine with the radiance of a million stars.

And that, dear one, is purely Awesome.    

     

The Opposite of Awesome

The Opposite of awesome isn’t insecurity.  It’s not, “oh, gee, do these jeans make me look fat?”  Nor is it, “I really hope I can think of something to contribute to this conversation.”  Insecurity is pride’s step-cousin.  Insecurity is self-reliant, self-focused, and is a pithy rationalization for not fighting for your awesome.  

No, the opposite of awesome isn’t insecurity.  It’s deception.  It is the constant lie that tells you, for whatever reason, you’re not enough.  Not good enough, not smart enough, not pretty enough, not thoughtful enough, not busy enough, not still enough.  Not enough and yet entirely too much at the same time.  Too emotional, too loud, too shy, too brassy, too opinionated, too quiet, too focused, too ridiculous, too much effort.  It’s a daily fight, waged against the truth of scripture regarding who you are, and who you were meant to be. 

And its objective is to incapacitate you.  To render you completely ineffective for the kingdom of God, for the reason for which you were designed, the purpose which only you can fill.  Because if you agree with the deception of “not enough/too much,” you will disengage.  You will eventually become someone else entirely.  It may be as innocuous as thinking, “I’m not as well educated as the people in this conversation, what can I add?”  And so you say nothing, allowing the smarter-thans to converse, without your input.  Alright, but what if your input what exactly what the smart-thans needed to hear?  What if your perspective was one they hadn’t yet considered?  What if, by holding back, you extinguished a little piece of why you’re here?   

Don’t hide anymore.  Fight the deception that you are not enough.  Wage war against the lie that you are too much.  You, imperfectly so in the very moment, you are neither too much nor not enough.  You are exactly who you were made to be.  Don’t let the lies overtake you.  Don’t listen to the deception anymore.  Don’t call it insecurity, for that is yet another facet of the untruth; another way to hide your awesome away.  Call it war.  Ready yourself with truth, clothe yourself with armor.  And fearlessly, though it never be flawless, live you ~ out loud.    

Awesome Isn't Afraid

Remedios Varo Personaje

There are days when I am afraid.  Afraid of the noises in the dark, the ones that only occur when my husband isn’t home.  Afraid of something happening at the school (I’ve had my fair share of calls from the nurse’s office), particularly when I’m over 45 minutes away.  Fear of time slipping by too quickly.  Fear of not accomplishing what I want to in my short time in this place. 

But when I gaze long and hard into the crux of those fears, what stands so plainly in sight is: I am afraid of failing.  Scared of not being a good enough mom, wife, friend, student, minister, daughter; a not good enough version of me.

In the quiet moments when these fears sidle up to me, curling glacial tendrils around my restless hands, in the times when I’m weary and doubting, I default to what’s easiest; I do what’s safest.  I purpose to NOT TRY.  I am a spectacular quitter.  I can avoid the hard things with the finesse of an ostrich.  I am very good at walking away from challenges.

But, I don’t see that in the life that Jesus calls me to.  I know that my quitting is my own hand, suffocating my Awesome.  Yes, I am going to fail.  Epically.  BUT GOD, whose strength is manifested in my weakness, who uses the foolish to shame the wise, who knowing my propensity for imperfection sent his only son to die on my behalf; but God loves me yet.  Delights in me still.  And in the trying, in staying in the fight, I become stronger.  I am forged into a closer likeness of Christ.  I am more fully me, the me he created me to be, than when I stick my head in the sand and let life, opportunity, pass me by. 

Today, I resolve to abandon my fears and live my life thusly:       

I will not die an unlived life.

I will not live in fear of falling or catching fire.

I choose to inhabit my days, to allow my living to open me, to make me less afraid, more accessible, to loosen my heart until it becomes a wing, a torch, a promise.

I choose to risk my significance; to live so that which comes to me as seed goes to the next as blossom and that which comes to me as blossom, goes on as fruit.

~Dawna Markova

Join me.  Step out into the adventure of a life fully lived, completely abandoned to love, and fully embodying your own, unique Awesome.  Pluck your Awesome from out of the sand; be you, to the fullest.  And allow it to break forth, and sing.

Awesome, intimately

There are days when I’ve trade real relationships for social networking sites.  When others’ chirps and updated conditions have masqueraded as knowing what’s going on in their lives.  When IM-ing or serial commenting has been the seat-filler for the lost art of conversation.  But these phantoms are as real as the H&M catalogue models: contrived manifestations of what we think we want.  An ideal that is warped, one-sided, and self-focused. 

Because, relationships, the genuine ones, are messy.  People require effort.  And there’s always the possibility that we won’t be Awesome enough.  That we’ll be eclipsed, our lacking found out.  And we’ll be replaceable.        

So it’s easy to retreat behind our categorical ramparts.  There are people we see on Sunday, work people, people we call every other week, those with whom we only interact online.  That’s safe.  Besides, we tell ourselves, “I’m much too busy to engage people on that level.  It’s the season I’m in.” 

And yet, Jesus, who had only 3 years of ministry on earth in a time without podcasts, webinars, or tweets to further his message, Jesus found time to be absolutely present with the people near and dear to him.  Not just the heads of his impending church, but people, like Lazarus, Mary, and Martha, whom he called friends.  He ate with tax collectors, prostitutes, fishermen, and Pharisees.  Jesus, who frankly embodied Awesome, called it out of those with whom he interacted.  The presence of his Awesome called forth theirs.    

But, shuttered away, isolated and pale in the cold winter of loneliness, our Awesome shrinks; skulks into a corner and turns its face to the wall.  Forgotten and diminishing. 

However, in the company of others it shakes off the fetters of self.  Because it’s here, in community, that the Awesome thrives.  Only here, can it begin to be known.  Only here, however haltingly, can it press towards what it was intended to be: you, utterly and solely you, being the Who you were created to be. 

Turn off the tv, pause the ipod, stop tweeting and updating long enough to really listen to your Awesome.  Is it crying out for companionship?  Where and with whom are you airing it out?  Because in our day of virtual reality, all the ambient noise is the courtesan that distracts us from the very state of our souls. 

When is the last time you actually listened to another person’s spirit, not just the words they were saying.  But the words, in the context of their life, their dreams, their fears, their failures.  And in doing so, saw them for who they are.  And called them forward to who they were designed to be. 

When was the last time you let someone do that for you?         

You were made to be known.  You were made to share your Awesome with fellow sojourners on this planet.  Seek them out, engage people on a relational level.  Get involved.  Be messy.  Your awesome will shine through you; and theirs through them.  You’ll each come away better for it.    

Wordsmithing my Awesome

I  have devoted a great deal of time, of late, to the study of words.  Their force, intentionality, function, and forms in other, some dead, languages.  Words restore me.  For, as John tells us, Jesus is the Word, the Logos.  The Word come to heal, to redeem, to set free, to save.  Words are a salve to my spirit, weary and wounded from its sojourn in this world.  Words that lift my countenance, words that refocus my wanderings, words that coax me further toward truth.  And sometimes, even with all those that fill my days, I need words to steal into my tired and lonely spirit; to nestle into the scrapped out places, and emanate truth.  Sometimes, I need words to remind me of my awesome. 

Scripture, cool and refreshing, is the endless fount of truth.  Words splashing over, with the living water that is the only remedy for this world.  Jesus, the logos, restoring the ruined places within me.  Yet, there are times when truth startles me from behind other mundane exteriors.  Because God is a poet, a writer, the creator of words.  God can and does use the words of others to remind us of his truth: that each one of us is his beautifully awesome creation.  And, whether we return it or not, he loves us; passionately, completely, and intimately.         

So for today, I want to share with you one of my favorite wordsmiths: Joshua Bennett.  A young man whose poem below creeps in, when I am feeling particularly awesome-less, and reminds me who I was created to be.*

If words aren’t you thing, don’t let my delight in them discourage you.  One of my favorite heroines became rather sick of words.  For all the ‘Liza Doolittles out there, show the world how awesome you are.  You’ll make us better because of it.      

*Granted, this poem, as it is titled, is intended for black women.  Acknowledging that, I humbly submit that each woman, regardless of her race, has a deep need for words such as these to remind her of who she is; thus, it resonates with me.  Truth will do that. 

**If you can’t get enough of this young wordsmith, enjoy another powerfully vulnerable performance by Mr. Bennett: watch his White House performance.