to Abide: an Exploration

What does it mean to abide in You?

abide (v)- to continue in a place : sojourn

To sojourn with You,

To sojourn, to travel with Love.

Daily.

To travel with Love as I am at the grocery store.

To travel with Love as I brush my teeth.

To travel with Love as I confront a friend,

To travel with Love as I discover more clearly who You are.

Jesus said:
 

"I am the true vine, and my Father is the vinedresser. 

Every branch of mine that bears no fruit, he takes away, and every branch that does bear fruit he prunes, that it may bear more fruit. 

You are already made clean by the word which I have spoken to you.

Abide in me, and I in you. 

As the branch cannot bear fruit by itself, unless it abides in the vine, neither can you, unless you abide in me.

I am the vine, you are the branches. He who abides in me, and I in him, he it is that bears much fruit, for apart from me you can do nothing. 

If a man does not abide in me, he is cast forth as a branch and withers; and the branches are gathered, thrown into the fire and burned. 

If you abide in me, and my words abide in you, ask whatever you will, and it shall be done for you."


John 15:1-7

Through all of this change, keep me close to Peace.

Changes of worldview.

Realizations of insignificance, and privileges based on outer shells.

To sojourn with You as these realities are revealed and I am increasingly filled with sorrow at the state of myself and the world.

Sorrow that leads me to change.

Hold me near, when I am restless


Hold me near, when I am bitter


Hold me near, when I'm rebellious


Hold me near until the end



Hold me near, when my heart is broken


Hold me near, when I'm ignorant 


Hold me near, when I am jealous


Hold me near until the end

Abiding.

Hold me near, as I am now weak.

Hold me near, when I feel “strong.”

Hold me near when I push You away and choose my own power over You.

Hold me near through doubts and fears.

Hold me.

I trust You.

I trust in You.

I trust that the Hands that crafted the cosmos,

The fish with the big gills and eyes—the redwood forest

I trust that these hands also crafted me.

And that although it is way beyond my understanding,

I trust that these Hands care about ME.

Deeply.

And that I am cared for, I, a little speck of dust

Loved by the Creator.

Job 33:4

"The Spirit of God has made me; the breath of the Almighty gives me life."

Psalm 139:14

"I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well."

It doesn’t make any sense to me.

Why I’m not expected to be strong in this relationship.

Why I’m not expected to “have my stuff together” all the time

And have everything figured out.

Yet isn’t that the beauty of the Gospel?

That we are Loved even in our insignificance and ignorance?

Grace.

Romans 5:8

"But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: 

While we were still sinners, Christ died for us."

What is it to abide in grace?

To Abide in Christ as living grace?

Help me to learn.

Help me to surrender.

Help me to abide.

I want to know You.

March-ing to May

Part I 

       I sat outside of the building on a lone bench, tears overflowing like a flooded river, 

shivering with the cold and shaking with exhaustion. A car pulled up beside me and a man 

got out of the passenger side with a cigarette in one hand and his life in the other. The door 

slammed and the car pulled away, leaving the man to smoke his cigarette in solitude by the 

sniffling me.

       “You’re pretty cute, you know,” the bald, musky man croaked after a sliver of silence.

       A puff of cigarette smoke escaped his lips as he assured me that he “wasn’t trying to hit 

on me or nothin’.”

       I was a shell, as I sat on a bench next to a man I didn’t know, tears streaming down my

 face, gazing blankly at the geese gawking at one another in the pond ahead of me. All was 

quiet except for the occasional exhale of smoke and the sniffles that escaped my weary soul.

       I felt his eyes land upon my red, puffy cheeks, yet I was too raw to allow myself to look 

back. I felt an instant connection to my eccentric bench companion, even in my broken state.

       I heard him take a deep, resolute breath.

       “I’m…I’m just tired.” His hoarse voice penetrated the silence. “I let my son down. He’s the

 one that drove me here, ya know?”

      I snuck a look at him as he took another inhale, exhale on the cigarette.

      “Drink because I’m depressed. Can’t get out of it. Feel stuck. I don’t know what—I just…

for my son. I have to get help. Again. Alcohol, it does things to you. It started off with one, and

 then it was two and then only hard liquor worked. I haven’t had a beer in a half hour —look. 

Look at my hand.”

       His strong arm extended towards me, hand shaking as if in an earthquake.

       My eyes finally met his. I knew now—he understood.

       I spoke, tentatively.  

       “I’m here because I don’t know who I am…why I’m here—what…I think I’m depressed…I

 guess…and school. I just—.”

       I broke down again and had to look away, my brain a treadmill going too fast.

*  *  *

She came bounding into the room.

     Grabbing a towel and washcloth, she left, her matted red-dyed hair trailing behind.

     Later she sat in the corner of the large room, walls surrounding not only her body, but also

 her very being—her heart.

Unwelcoming, menacing.

     She had teeth that were cracked and yellowed, yet had brilliant, beautiful green eyes that

 penetrated deep.

“This is my third time in here, okay?” she said to no one in particular.

An eerie, haunted laugh escaped her.

“Can’t stay off the drugs.”

She licked her lips, running her nails through her hair.

     “I’m 31,” she said through her childish sky blue Aeropostle hoodie and regret at lost years.

*  *  *

The anxiety-ridden wife who desired a divorce out of an emotionally abusive marriage yet

    wanted to do “what the Bible said to do—stay married no matter what.”

The track star who had to take a year off school after running her dreams into the ground.

The unprepared pregnant woman, talking to herself to keep the loneliness at bay.

The elderly woman who made her own business and was hiring others with the 

    enthusiasm of one who dared to aspire for greatness.

The emptiness of his gaze, a teddy bear.

       -All raw, stumbling for solid ground.

Part II 

     The grass grows between the sidewalks in little clumps.

     I like these best.

     The grass, vying for attention, peeking its head beneath the slabs.

     “Don’t forget me. Beneath this façade of concrete, I am here.”

     The rawness of one’s existence.

Part III

     I kick a rock down the neglected road in inner city Akron, picking up waste along the 

cracked pavement—beer bottles, empty bags, cardboard.

     He helps me, picking up one piece at a time and bringing them back, longing for 

affirmation—a sweet child.

    We pass boarded houses and rap-rumbling cars containing people with gazes hard and 

weathered.

     Their stares are like concrete. We walk along the grass.

*  *  *

“This is the heart of the slums,” he tells me, pointing me to the jail.

The rehabilitation center on our right, on our left the homeless shelter.

“Hi Pete!” he calls to one across the street with a heavy coat and a single bag of 

possessions.

“Hey, hey!” he replies, smiling. Neighbors.

We walk by other people from the neighborhood as well, all guarded, own agendas.

Concrete.

“Oh! There’s the community center,” he states, “for those getting treatment for mental 

illnesses.”

     I met some attendees of the community center at the Porch the week before. They insisted

 on buying me a cream soda because I had never had one. We talked about roller coasters 

and laughed loudly at each other’s fears of heights. They asked me about college. He told us

 about truck driving. They complained about the Center serving baked beans—again.

My tour of the block is over. We go back to the Porch.

She comes up to me and I hug her, seeing in her wide-open eyes that something is 

wrong.

“How are you?” A question usually followed by “Good.”

But here, there is honesty. The cracks in the concrete.

“I’m homeless now. Spent the last few days in the shelter but it…it freaks me out. The people 

in there freak me out. Had to go to the hospital because I got so screwed up. Started thinkin’ 

bad things.”

She looks at me for reassurance and all I can do is give her another hug and my story.

Part IV

In them I see me.

In their pain, my own.

Concretes of wealth, sexuality, nations, gender, age

All replaced by the realization of our common humanity.

Oh, compassion.

The realization that under all the concrete I put up and

The concrete that my neighbors put up

And under the concrete facades of America and Iraq and Mexico

The beautiful realization that

We. Are. All. Grass.

So raw and irreversibly

Human.

A simple realization like that, well…

It’s enough to drive a person insane.

Psalm of the Early Morn

I want

So deeply from the soul I want.

I lack.

Always lack.

Always striving for more, a taste, a glimpse.

But of what?

What on this side of eternity can satisfy? What can satisfy this deep hunger?

Approval, pursuit, success

All fall short.

Hold me. I desire to abide in You.

To stay—protected, loved.

Every tear caught with the brushing of Your fingertips.

Every lie washed away by Your blood.

Majestic.

Take my weary soul

The soul that is coarse.

Experiences--worldly, hurtful experiences

Chisel them away

So that I may draw closer to You.

I hunger for You

The only one who can satisfy.

The One who has endless creativity

Creator of my closest friends, of intimacy

Of Beauty

Of Grace

Aid me. Guide me.

The path is rough.

Chisel. Chisel.

Who will be by my side?

Who will remember me when darkness falls?

Find me. Hold me.

You alone can satisfy.

You alone will be my heart’s desire.

Lead me, Lord.

I will follow.

One Gray Dress 2012: A Reflection

                                                                             Photo Credit: Bree Lea Photography

Author’s Note: One Gray Dress is a challenge to use fashion as a means of social justice, wearing the same gray dress for 24 days to create awareness for human sex trafficking.

The moment I heard about One Gray Dress, I knew I was going to participate. I wasn’t sure how this was going to happen, as I not only didn’t have a gray dress, but was aware how out of my comfort zone and radical this was going to be for me. I knew it was going to be a challenge from the get go—a challenge to wear the same dress everyday, a challenge to keep my eyes on my motives so that I wouldn’t slip into doing this as a way to “boost my image,” a challenge to learn about the horrors of human trafficking and really allow myself to explore these uncharted territories. Twenty-five days after, at the conclusion of the project, I have some reflections, some thoughts. I have grown more that I could have ever imagined during this past month, not only in character, but also in worldview and awareness. 

Here are five lessons from the past month.

1. I don’t need stuff.

It’s really as simple as that. Growing up in an extremely consumer driven culture has engrained it in my brain that I need all this STUFF—the new boots, three pairs of scissors, multiple gadgets and gizmos. And I have totally believed it. Totally believed it…until I wore the same dress for 24 days. Suddenly I realize that shirts can be used as a scarf, and scarves can be skirts, and my world is oddly turned upside down as I begin to question why I have SO MANY CLOTHES. Why I have SO MUCH STUFF. Consistently juxtaposing my life daily with those in sex slavery made me realize how trivial all of my materialism tendencies are in the grand scheme of everything. Why buy a new purse when I can make one out of my jeans? Then I have an awesome purse, and an awesome story, and I get to CREATE A PURSE. HOW AWESOME IS THAT?! What does a purse matter in the grand scheme of everything anyway? It’s like bought happiness. 

I desire to simplify instead of multiply, focusing my energy on reducing my footprint for the common good. I’ve been especially affected thinking about how the items I buy were at one point most likely touched by someone in forced labor (human trafficking). How can I reduce the problem by reducing my footprint? By buying secondhand more often and using my creativity for viable solutions when I have problems, I truly believe that I can reduce this footprint, and in some way, help.

2. Expanding one’s worldview cultivates gratitude.

I had days where I woke up and would go through the day, almost in a zombie trance, unable to decipher the thoughts in my head and overall overwhelmed with all that was being thrown at me. Even on these days when I chose to stay in this mood, not actively seeking redemption in it, as I was doing this project, I found that the lows became less low. I would look down at my dress and think of the women who were being raped repeatedly at that moment, and recognize that the fact that I was breathing and not in a situation such as that, which was a gift. I would recognize that what I take for granted is not experienced by all, and for that, I have a reason to celebrate every moment, to savor every moment, if not for me, for them (as empathy is also cultivated with thankfulness). 

As I go to a play, I am struck by the beauty of it—not only of the performers, but that I am able to be at a play, free, watching this gift given by the performers that I get to unwrap and enjoy moment by moment. Everyday the dress began to feel like an externalization of my internal workings and thoughts, “Regardless of what today brings, I am going to face it, not by myself, but with others, as I am imperfect and fall to the darkness in this world and need help up.” This externalized mantra really helped to solidify that changes that have been going on inside of me for the last few months, as I had a purpose and reason (the gray dress) to externalize thoughts of social justice, passions, and Jesus. 

3. I love social justice.

Many most likely knew this about me before I, but I’ve been chewing on this for two years now, this whole social justice concept. It has only been recently, within the last five months, that it has absolutely exploded, (beautifully so), and this love manifested itself in the Project. My friend Bree took modeling photos of me at the onset of One Gray Dress that I could use for promotion purposes through social media, creating awareness about the Project, and ultimately, human trafficking itself. As these pictures were taken, I didn’t struggle with thoughts of self-image—in fact, it was quite the opposite. I wasn’t self conscious, as I knew that these photos were not taken for myself but for the benefit of others. 

As the project went on, I found myself loving being able to share my experiences with others, whether it be social media or face-to-face. I’ve always known that I am a sharer at heart, but it has never so clearly manifested itself until the purpose of human trafficking was behind it, and suddenly, all insecurities were gone. It was beautiful. 

Friends, I love social justice. I love the “outcasts,” the ones that society has deemed unworthy or of less value—the abused, the broken, the mentally ill, the impoverished, the incarcerated, all of these PEOPLE. Because that is what they are…they are people. And it is beautiful when common humanity can be found in all, and love is shared.

4. Taking a stand and speaking up for yourself is scary, but important.

As I faced opposition before this project, and discouragement, I began to learn the importance of taking a stand. I began this project impulsively, the only affirmation being from myself. Being this alone in affirmation was rough and strange, but I knew that it was important in order for me to grow. As the days went by and I found myself beginning to feel dumb wearing the same dress, recognizing that not only was I making this about me, but that I was taking an extreme amount of pride in my looks, I was able to stand tall in my insecurities and face them for what they are—fear induced lies. I was still loved when I wore the same dress, I was still loved when I disagreed with others, acknowledging their opinions and respectfully stating mine. This was mind-boggling for me, as I’ve always latched onto this fear of rejection, which has hindered me from exploring avenues of interest (social justice, radically different lifestyles, cultural exploration), for fear of being rejected and opposed, instead conforming to what I think I’m “supposed” to do instead of being true to myself. 

One Gray Dress taught me to take a stand, as each day I was externalizing what I felt on the inside (social justice), and was able to slowly transform into this mold that I have been desiring to grow into. Basically, it has been a beautiful transition for myself, and I have learned so much in this realm of self-discovery especially.

5. This world needs a Savior.

Please know before you read this that these are my beliefs. Feel free to agree or disagree, but I’d encourage you to read regardless, as this is the crux of what I have learned. 

It has been increasingly apparent to me as the days have went on during this project—this world is incredibly sick. From the dehumanizing of women until they become a good that is bought and sold, to my very own slavery footprint (www.slaveryfootprint.org), to the injustices in all countries (even the United States), it is so easy to become discouraged by all that is around. The most horrendous story I heard about human trafficking was one from Germany, where they were beating women’s teeth out so that they would be better at oral sex. A 9-month-old baby was rescued from the brothel—the baby was used for oral sex. I am disgusted by this. Disgusted. How can one find hope in a world such as this? How can one find hope in a broken world that falls victim to materialism, violence, hatred, pride, lies?

Jesus is my only hope—what is keeping me in this sick world. (This is not a vague statement, as I can sit down and spew my thought logic of how I came to this realization. Seriously, I would love to do that…it’s a great story.) He redeems this world and redeems me (this means that He pulls me out of all of the self-made holes I dig myself into by choosing other choices rather than Love), and because of this I can face these situations and stories such as the one above and begin to understand this broken world, and the Savior’s role in God’s love story. 

These last three sentences are loaded, absolutely loaded, and I have yet to unpack all that I have learned about God through this project, and all that I have learned about man’s capability for evil and the evils of the world. I’m assuming that as the months go by, I will be able to unpack them, and as I do, be able to be taught more lessons like the ones above.

*  *  *

At the conclusion of this project, I am blown away by all of the support from others. From people coming up to me and saying, “I love watching your dress project online,” or “I like your outfit today…and I like what you’re doing,” it has truly been an amazing experience. My eyes have been opened to further injustices nationwide, and to how my strengths can potentially play a role in a career oriented in some sort of social entrepreneurship avenue. I have learned SO MUCH about human trafficking, and am encouraged by the amount of awareness that was raised, not only through my participation in One Gray Dress, but by every other woman and by the Aruna 5K. The past month has shown me what mission really looks like, and for that I am so extremely grateful.

Tomorrow another day begins, but the women and men and children involved in human trafficking are still in my heart. I’m aching not only for them, but for all of us—all of the broken people in this world, struggling to love and be loved. At the end of the day, all I can do is worship the Redeemer, my only Hope, and fight FROM victory, not TO victory. And this makes all the difference.

Much love,

Am

October 22nd, 2012

I wake up, groggy at 12am on October 22nd to my phone ringing.

It’s Gary.

“HAAAAAPPPYYYYYYY BIIIRRRTHHHDAYYYY TOO YOUUUUUUUUU!” he screeches off key.

All I can do is listen, half dazed, half dreaming, until he completes the tune with a laugh, saying, “Now go back to bed. Happy Birthday!” and hangs up.

Beautiful.

I wake up, open my door, and a card comes crashing to the floor. It’s barely 9am and already, so many beautiful notes of love, of appreciation.

The card concludes with, “You really are worth it; I hope you know that. Love, Marisa.”

Beautiful.

Not even an hour later, after being holed up in my room, journaling, praying, praising the One who created this beautiful day and who created me and who created all those I love, I creep out of my room in my Gray Dress, ready to start the day.

 A note crashes to the floor. It’s from Courtney.

“Coffee is ready for you. Happy start of birthday”

I screech, literally screech with excitement. I was about to go make coffee (something I don’t do very often). What a beautiful, beautiful gift.

“COURTNEY!” I yell, “ARE YOU STILL HERE?!”

No response, just Padfoot barking. I guess the tackling Courtney hug will have to wait.

My friend, Zack, wrote this on my wall, “AMBER CULLEN I'M SO GLAD YOU WERE BORN HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” It made me begin to think.

This is the first year I haven’t been extremely wound up about my birthday. Usually I’m so excited for everyone to be looking at ME to be celebrating ME to be giving gifts to ME because it’s MY day; I own it. The way this is worded sounds extremely selfish, but in a weird way, I severely enjoyed a day where everyone told me how great I was (maybe because I didn’t believe it myself—still sometimes don’t).

But this year…this year. My birthday is just another day. Not in a depressing way, but in a “HOLY MACKEREL…there are so many beautiful days…why just celebrate October 22^nd?!” kind of way. On October 20^th, my brother and his girlfriend came to visit me. We walked around campus in the rain, watched Princess and the Frog, and colored.

Gift.

On October 12^th and 13^th, I was at a camp where the leaves fell so beautifully from the trees, clothing me and the 50 other women who were there to learn—to learn about life and living.

Gift.

On October 6^th, I got to hold my newborn cousin, Gatlin, watching his hand wrap around my finger and his little eyes open with the wonders of the world.

Gift.

So many beautiful moments. So many beautiful days.

On October 22^nd, 1991, Brian and Cindy were blessed with a gift—a beautiful baby girl. They were ecstatic with the arrival of their first child. As she grew older, they watched her grow, and learn. “Lord, You pieced me together in Mom’s womb, giving me a dash of creativity, a spurt of energy, and a lot of love—thank You.” They watched her go off to school, watched as she played Barbies, as she and her brother, Brad, learned about the world. And finally, they watched as she went off to college—watching this beautiful, God given gift go off to college.

What if the point of my birthday is to celebrate the gift that is me? It’s new to me, this concept of celebrating that I am alive on this earth, that I am worthy of being celebrated. With this beautiful lens, I am humbled with gifts given to me by friends and family instead of brushing them off as I used to, where I accepted them, but not really. I can get excited as I once did when I was three, when I knew full well that I was loved, and that everyone was there to celebrate that I was on earth and frolicking in the leaves.

I am so thankful for this past year—for this year of beautiful change and troublesome adversity—my testimony. I’m so thankful that I am able to write this and share this blog post with others, that I am not silenced by the government, or by outside forces and influences in my life. I am thankful that last night I was able to walk outside with a dear friend of mine, and that we swung, went through shady alley ways, and star gazed, and yet were not taken hostage as human traffickers, raped, or bothered by anyone. I’m thankful for this safe neighborhood to be able to learn and grow.

I’m thankful that today I get to once again wear my gray dress, that today I can tell people of the horrors of human trafficking, bringing light to what has been silenced. I’m thankful for the GORGEOUS fall day, that there is a SUN to keep me warm, and majestic fall leaves that I can EAT WITH MY EYES—FALL CANDY. I’m thankful for so much, and so beautifully thankful that I, a gift, am able to live and learn on this beautiful earth.

Happy birthday, Amber.  :)

Amen.

“I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful, I know that full well.” Psalm 139:14