Wednesday, March 20, 2013

Loved


They drive four hours to the location I am at.
Picking me up, their love for me obvious through this action.
How did I deserve such precious love this last year?
Love shown through shared stories,
Though words and gifts--
Through empathy.

I sat, a weakling under accusation,
Ashamed at my state.
She stood up for me:
“If that’s what’s stressing her out, that’s what’s stressing her out!
It’s different for everybody.”
Absolutely humbled.

“I’ve been in the Hospital too,”
He confesses to me with an understanding smile.
“Except it was an overnight hospital, a little different experience.”
I stare aghast at him and his steady, calm composure.
He has been there.
I am not alone. 

The chickadee waltzes by us, tension in his shoulders.
“I love him,” I confess to her. “Look how cute he is—his little wings.”
“God loves you more than you love that little bird,” she replies softy.
I can’t understand this—tears shake from my eyes.

She comes over, in a bathing suit and jeans.
Starting a conversation with me, she sticks her hands in the mud.
She is aiding in a project that is not her own just because 
She can help--and wants to.
Her grandchildren watch from their front lawn.

They invite me to their table and buy me a cream soda.
We talk about roller coasters and jobs--truck driving.
They want to hear my story, and I theirs.
"College, wow! Congrats!" they smile at me, ecstatic.

We sat across from one another on a picnic bench.
It was a warm, fall day in the middle of October, this I remember.
Interacted only once, 
Yet she trusted me with emotions so deep and raw.

She peeked around the aisle.
“Hi. I’m sorry. I heard you and your father talking and
I just wanted to say that I love that you are talking about these deep things.
I used to be addicted to cocaine, but Jesus saved me.
I came here to get a pair of white shoes—and look!
They’re here!”

Standing near the stage, she turns to me and breaks down,
Tears collecting near my shoulder,
The shaking of her brokenness resounding with the music
That dances into our beings from the musicians.

Sitting across from one another
We connect.
Not from the same country,
Or even similar cultures,
But we connect as two human beings
Journeying through life.

She dances in the living room
Punching out her hands in absolute joy in being alive.
Giving this gift to me.
The gift of presence.

"Thank you all for being such a large part of my journey.
Every time I came here, I knew that I was accepted.
Thank you for loving me so well and encouraging me."
I wipe my eyes and walk back to my seat.
People reach out to me in the love that comes with community.

Standing on the stage, I let them all into my journey.
Seeing them in the audience, all of them.
The ones who held me during the rough patches.
Who encouraged me through the droughts.
Loved.

“Happy anniversary,” she says to me,
Handing me a plastic bag with a hand painted gift inside.
It’s not the typical anniversary,
Nor one that others might celebrate.
But it is my story,
A story filled with abundant moments of love.

*  *  *

"Sometimes in the woods I’ll see a wildflower, perhaps one that has just blossomed that morning, and I’ll think: No one has ever laid eyes on this flower before. A strange purity dwells where human eyes have never touched. In the same way, are there not millions of people in the world whom no one has ever seen, whom no eyes have ever touched with deep, pure love? Perhaps we do not need to do anything else for these people except to see them, to notice the. If only we would open our eyes, our hears too would open like flowers and the perfume of good deeds would flow." 
~Mike Mason

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

Baptism in a Tizzy


         On Sunday, March 10th, 2013, at 6:30pm, I am getting baptized. While I myself am extremely excited for this Sunday, I am also aware that “baptism” is a loaded word. Much like the words “love” and “hate,” it is tossed around, yet no one actually sits and breaks the word down. I want to do this with the word “baptism,” as I desire to share my joy, which can only be shared through the understanding of importance of the service of baptism.

         Let me tell you a little bit about how I have arrived at this moment. This past year has been extremely rough for me personally. Last winter, I began to really struggle with many things and spiraled into terrifying anxiety and smothering depression throughout the months of January and February 2012. The main trigger of the stress was that I had mentally claimed independence from my parents, and realized that I had no foundation through which all decisions were made. Before that moment, it had been them, but now I couldn't answer this question--what would stop me from doing something drastically “wrong?” “Wrong” according to whom? This was the start of my pursuit for God and His perfect law.

One night in March, I contemplated seriously hurting myself, and it was after that moment that I knew I needed help. I saw no point in life, as all achievements, successes, and relationships would end someday. On March 19th, 2012, I self-admitted myself into the psychiatric hospital in Toledo, Ohio. There I was broken of my pride, as I found myself in the company of people I had judged in the past because of their actions. In the psych ward, I was encouraged by drug addicts, people in poverty, alcoholics. I found myself in a position where I was raw and in need of love and care, and my fellow ward-mates showed me love without judgment, helping me to recognize our common humanity. I was humbled and learned that I was nothing special, and that I could just as easily fall into traps that I had so easily judged people for doing before (especially addictions—of all kinds—and violence).

Because I had considered my life worthless to myself, as all pursuits and achievements are fleeting, I gave my life to God so that He could use it. It was as simple (and slightly cynical at the time) as that. I wasn’t expecting to ever get out of a place where I wasn’t despairing constantly and for many months I struggled with suicidal thoughts and depression. I feel as if I eloped with God last March because I saw no other way, but the last year has been spent in such immense growth as I have finally begun to understand GRACE (Jesus). The realization of the gift of grace has knocked me off of my feet as I finally recognize that perfection was something I only expected of myself. God knows I can’t be perfect like He is—that is why the cross is necessary, to reconcile me to His PERFECT and HOLY love. As this truth has slowly molded into my life, I have been able to let go of control and accept the gift of grace. It has been such a beautiful change, as many of my suicidal thoughts came from a place where I recognized that I couldn’t be perfect (ever) and not knowing what to do with that reality.

During this past year, I have examined the major religions of the world, and my journey keeps leading me to the person of Jesus Christ. Sometimes it takes awhile to get there, but every time I challenge the red letters (Jesus’ words) in the Bible, I come back empty-handed and kneeling at the cross. I desire to have my life transformed to reflect the character of Jesus—humble, forgiving, with a strong love. I desire to delve more into the Bible and learn what it is to fully trust the Creator of the Milky Way and tiny ladybugs. I desire to live day by day radically defying the social norms of America’s culture in favor of the Kingdom of God’s culture of love.   

So. Back to the service of baptism. Author Bob Franquiz talks about the baptism of Jesus Christ 2,000 years ago by John the Baptist. “This baptism had nothing to do with religion or a ritual that marked my place in heaven because I got soaked inside of a church building. Instead, it shows us what baptism really is: that baptism is the mark of a life committed to God…Jesus commanded us as His disciples [followers] to be baptized so it would serve as an outward symbol of an inward commitment…it would serve as a memorial to us of the day we fully committed ourselves to God.” This is what baptism is. This is what I am celebrating this Sunday…the day I am committing my life to God. Where last March I felt as if I eloped with God because I had no choice, the past year I have actually gotten to KNOW God and His character. I’ve fallen in love with Him—baptism is like getting married, if I may continue the analogy further.

            There are so many other ways that the Gospel (the good news of Jesus Christ and the embracing of this) has changed not only the way I view the world, but also has changed me in the last radical, depression-filled year of my life. Bob Franquiz says, “There is something that happens when a person makes a decision to be baptized. They aren’t just deciding to get wet; they are dying to the old way of life and craving to live the abundant life that Jesus offers.” This Sunday marks my decision and commitment to keep forgiving those who hurt me, creating Sociology Experiments to question the way I interact with others, aiding with those who struggle with depression, keeping up with current events and getting involved in organizations that fight against injustices, being transparent in interactions, smiling more, keeping a thankful journal, and so so so many more. I’m inviting you all to the celebration of my baptism; here’s to sharing life with one another!   








 “I decided to live a life that wasn’t comfortable, but instead was revolutionary. It’s what God calls every person who calls Jesus “Lord” to do. He calls them to get watermarked and start a revolution in their world by starting one in their own lives first.” 
--Bob Franquiz


http://marshill.com/the-gospel