"Like a Waterfall..."

I am absolutely overwhelmed tonight. Our world and our lives may be broken and entropic, but God makes Himself present somehow in every circumstance and situation. And at times, He doesn't just gently intertwine Himself in our lives; sometimes He comes like a raging flood, tearing away our insecurities and inhibitions.

Watching hundreds of people get baptized in one night is one of those times.

How can I begin to describe the awe-filled joy that seeing that inspires in me? I have no idea to respond to the way that God is moving in and through the community of my church. It's like I'm watching Acts unfold in front of my face -- literally hundreds of people coming to Jesus, not for only their own sake, but for their desire to be completely sold out to Him because of who He is. It's the most beautiful, whole-hearted form of dedication that I can imagine, and I feel so privileged to be a witness to this unfolding of events. There's nothing better than watching people jump wholeheartedly into either the beginning or the continuation of their adventure with Jesus.

It forces me to reflect, too, on the journey God's been taking me on over the last few years...

Two years ago around this time, I was a shattered shell of a person. I was absolutely overwhelmed by depression and brokenness; I'm continuing to realize just how broken I was and how much I have healed (and how much I need to continue to heal) from that. In the back of my head, I don't think I ever really thought I would be myself again; I never dared to think that I would be genuinely happy again.

I've said before that happiness isn't everything, and I'll say it again a thousand times. Having deep-seated peace and joy in and with Christ regardless of circumstances outweighs any happiness I could ever have. I'll also say, though, that peace and joy that bubble up and manifest themselves in happiness make life really fun and really enjoyable. I've often overrated and under-appreciated happiness, I think, but it's something that I'll have a hard time taking for granted again.

In any case, I'm left absolutely speechless when I think about how far God has brought me in the last two years. He pursued me. He actually accepted my halfhearted surrender and ran away with it -- ran away with me. He convinced me that I was still worth something, even (and especially) in the moments that I felt worthless and empty and wanted to die. He slammed into me like a brick wall and left me breathless with the impact of His love. He gently made me realize how silly I had been to think that my circumstances had changed Him.

And now... beyond anything I had ever hoped and dreamed, I'm in a place of more joy and true happiness than I knew existed. I'm falling more in love with Jesus every day, and that's the foundation of it all; this happiness, though, also stems from being at the school and the church He's led me to be a part of. I didn't know that these sorts of communities and friendships could actually be a part of my life, especially in the remainder of my college experience. I had entirely given up on that hope, honestly. Knowing that God took my messy, even somewhat defiant surrender (seriously-- I think my exact words were, "FINE! But only because I don't really have another option..."), lovingly wooed me back to Himself, pulled me in the direction He wanted me to go, and eventually led me exactly to the point and place where I am now is beyond my comprehension. I'm not who I was six months ago, never mind two or three years ago (thank GOD!).

I guess I've made the decisions that have gotten me here, but I can't even take credit for those. He's the one who's told me what to do every step of the way; all I've done was follow. And honestly, I wouldn't trade a step of the journey for anything, even the messiest, ugliest, most difficult parts. I wouldn't appreciate the light so much if I weren't so intimately acquainted with darkness; and God has redeemed even the darkest of moments: I wouldn't be at CCU now if I hadn't first been at CU and then FRCC.

This is perhaps a long post to make a simple single point, but we all know that simplicity isn't nearly as simple as it might first appear to be. When I say then, that I am absolutely overwhelmed by God's goodness, you might understand a little better not only why I'm left with tears streaming down my face. And, I must say, these tears of joy are wonderfully sweet compared to those of hopelessness and despair...

 Like a waterfall of honey
Let Your love be poured out on me
Overcome me
Overcome me
 ~United Pursuit Band~

This waterfall of love is inundating me, and it's more wonderful than I can say. I know this feeling won't last forever, but I'm definitely relishing this happiness and contentment while I have it.

God is so good.

"I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us. The creation waits in eager expectation for the sons of God to be revealed. For the creation was subjected to frustration, not by its own choice, but by the will of the one who subjected it, in hope that the creation itself will be liberated from its bondage to decay and brought into the glorious freedom of the children of God. We know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time. Not only so, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for our adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved. But hope that is seen is no hope at all. Who hopes for what he already has? But if we hope for what we do not yet have, we wait for it patiently. In the same way, the Spirit helps us in our weakness. We do not know what we ought to pray for, but the Spirit himself intercedes for us with groans that words cannot express. And he who searches our hearts knows the mind of the Spirit, because the Spirit intercedes for the saints in accordance with God’s will. And we know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose. For those God foreknew he also predestined to be conformed to the likeness of his Son, that he might be the firstborn among many brothers. And those he predestined, he also called; those he called, he also justified; those he justified, he also glorified. What, then, shall we say in response to this? If God is for us, who can be against us? He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things? Who will bring any charge against those whom God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who is he that condemns? Christ Jesus, who died—more than that, who was raised to life—is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us. Who shall separate us from the love of Christ? Shall trouble or hardship or persecution or famine or nakedness or danger or sword? As it is written:

“For your sake we face death all day long;

we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered.”

No, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him who loved us. For I am convinced that neither death nor life, neither angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, nor any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation, will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord."

~Romans 8:18-39~

...I have a blog?

Er... Let's try that again, shall we?

Yes, I do indeed have a blog.
Sort of.

Thanks to the limited (AKA virtually nonexistent) time I've spent with it lately, my little bloglet has been left unkempt as a hippie rocker's hairdo. These things don't write themselves, apparently, which makes sense considering the fact that they're inanimate pixelated objects. In any case, I haven't sat down with Mr. Bloglet for almost two months now, and I've missed it.

The last couple of months have been decidedly, wonderfully busy. I moved in with my brother and sister-in-law halfway through August and started school at Colorado Christian University a few days later. Between being a full time music student, a worship team member, a college ministry team leader, and a part-time babysitter and self-employee, I haven't exactly had a lot of time for extra projects and activities! I wouldn't trade it for the world, though: this is the happiest I've been day-to-day in a long time. I'll be the first to say that happiness isn't everything -- peace is worlds better -- but happiness in conjunction with peace is absolutely priceless.

In many ways, it's utterly overwhelming for me to be at a school like CCU. If I'm being honest, I had completely given up the dream, even the idea, of having a truly enjoyable college experience. After the last two years, I just assumed that any college I attended would be nothing but a means to an end: I'd stay in only as long as necessary to get my degree, than get out. The thing that amazes me, then, is this: from the first week that I set foot on CCU campus, I felt like I was a part of something there -- a community, a body of believers, a network of friendships and relationships. I'm still a new face, and I'm still getting to know people and be known by them; but I'm still a part of it all, and that floors me. Finishing college is still a means to an end in some respects, but for once I don't dread and/or regret that means. I'm actually in a place where I am learning rather than being forced to memorize and regurgitate political agendas; I'm surrounded by a community of people who want to run after Jesus with me and build me up rather than try to reshape and redefine the core of my identity.

It's funny... In many ways, being here is forcing me to realize how deeply affected I was by the semester I spent at CU in Boulder. I don't say that to bash the school in any way; my experience there really had little to do with the school. I do know, though, that I was in a terribly broken, dark place emotionally, mentally, and spiritually when I was there (although I was, strangely, at peace). Back then my saving grace was God's making me realize that denying my brokenness, my fear, and my utmost dependence on Him was killing me (and I don't say that lightly); I'm realizing more and more that it doesn't do me any good to deny that the memories and the residue of that experience are still with me and still affect the way I think and live. I don't think it's possible to be in a place of total fear and depression and not be radically changed by it, even if the ultimate change was and is for the better.

I know I'm rambling. All I mean to say through all of that is that I am inexpressibly grateful to be where I am physically, mentally, and emotionally right now. I wouldn't have appreciated the environments I'm in (especially CCU) right after high school nearly as much as I do now. The presence of God in these places is indescribable...

Life is wonderful. Life in the truest sense of the word is utterly joyous.
Regardless of that, though, and regardless of how I'm feeling or not feeling in any given moment,
God is in control. And He hasn't let me go.
He is good.

I think I'm in love...  

Unedited: Truly Alive

Some things are best written unedited.

I know: writers aren't supposed to write without revising. Editing provides the coherence and fluidity that a first draft simply does not contain. First drafts are too choppy, too raw.

Sometimes, though, that rawness is exactly what a writer needs to communicate.

I've been living a lot lately. Not simply "living" in the ordinary workaday sort of way; living in the "I'm climbing 14,000-foot mountains and traipsing all over this beautiful state and its great outdoors" sort of way. It's a sort of living that only summer can provide, and it's the sort of living for which Colorado provides an unsurpassed environment. Breathtaking mountainscapes, rolling valleys, the neverending panoramic views of wild flowers and sedges and pines... I don't think you've really lived until you've looked into this sort of infinity and been brought to your knees. It's been my privilege to do so continuously for the past two weeks.

Venturing home from these adventures was bittersweet at first: sweet because home is, after two weeks of being away, more welcoming than any other destination could be. It was bitter, not because I had to leave behind a baseball tournament in Steamboat, along with the neighboring mountain towns and views; but because we were forced to creep towards home in what we considered an ungodly standstill of a traffic jam.

Amazing how quickly perspectives can change, isn't it? One moment I'm humbled and awed by the blade of a leaf, almost brought to tears by the intricate network of life in the forest; the next moment, I forget to notice the obvious beauty all around me because of a line of cars. In fact, my family decided to pull over for dinner in Georgetown, typically a 1 1/2 to 2 hour drive from home, to avoid becoming a permanent part of the parking lot on the road. (This decision was probably best for everyone's sanity and stress levels, in all honesty!)

About an hour later, we left the European restaurant we discovered to face the roads once more. The traffic, though lesser, was still present. Needless to say, we were still a little impatient. Getting home at a decent hour is of utmost importance, after all.

We drove for about an hour before reaching Golden at dusk. Yet again, the line of traffic started to slow. This time, though, our countenances shifted quickly from annoyance to concern. On the left shoulder of the road, a dented car faced the wrong direction, its bumper torn away and left to embellish the pavement. My dad slowed our truck to talk to the seemingly uninjured passengers standing next to the vehicle, urgency and immediacy in his voice.

"I used to be an EMT. Does anyone need any medical help?"

The man's face twitched in a moment of realization before he responded,
"...Uh...check the car up ahead."

A few yards ahead on the right side of the road, a mass of twisted steel and glass balanced on what I suppose you could call tires. Nothing about the object seemed like a car, not when the front of the once-vehicle was only a tangle of wires and metal shards. The screaming woman trapped in the driver's seat was engulfed in the wreckage, surrounded by strangers whose greatest desire was to see her stay safe and alive.

My dad whipped his truck into park behind the accident, then jumped to the scene. My mom and I could only stay in the car, praying for his and the other aids' wisdom and the injured woman's safety.

Time dragged by as we all waited for emergency personnel to arrive. After an eon of seconds, the lights appeared on the horizon, soon followed by the sound of wailing sirens. As soon as they had moved into position, taking over where the good Samaritans had left off, my dad came back to the car and once again pulled onto the winding highway.

The rest of our journey was broken between conversation about the occurrence and a heavy silence. Our sentiments, though, united our thoughts for the duration of the ride. The things we spoke and thought revolved around a central question, though:

Were we stuck in traffic just long enough to be at the scene of the accident at exactly that time?

None of us knows what is happening in that situation right now, nor what the woman's life will look like tomorrow or a year from now. What we do know is that we were in exactly the right place at the right time. My dad was the only one at that place for a while who knew anything about medicine, who knew that he needed to get her head immobilized to prevent any further injury to her possibly broken neck. He'd be the first to say that the situation was and is not about him; he'd also be the first to say, though, that such a use of his EMT experience and training is not accidental, and that it still affects him (in more ways than one) to be a part of it.

Amazing how quickly perspectives can change, isn't it? One moment we were growing weary of a traffic-packed highway, counting down the minutes until we pulled into our own driveway; the next, we were begging the seconds to slow, praying that the woman's moans and blood-stained face signified her life more than her pain.

My family and I finally arrived home, and we are more than grateful to be here safely. Tonight was (and still is, really) one of those slap-in-the-face realizations: I take so much for granted. Tonight was a reminder that I am alive, and that I have much to live for. It was a reminder that I don't have a clue about how big God is, and that I'll never really comprehend it. It was a reminder that I wasn't meant to "live" my life by wishing that I were in a different moment than I'm currently in. It was a reminder that every moment is sacred, that every second is to be LIVED and cherished.

I'm humbled tonight. More than anything, though, I'm grateful. My heart is raw, but it's raw once again with the realization that I'm alive. (And oh, how I wish that I didn't forget that so easily...) Whether I'm writing or reading or eating or drinking or sleeping or changing the world in one of a million ways... I'm alive, and I intend to LIVE my life in that realization.

I know I can't do it by myself. I also know that I'll forget that. I know that I'll slip and fall and make horrendous mistakes because I'm human... but that's all the more reason for me to try. It's not my strength that allows me to live, after all. The Spirit of God is ALIVE and well, and He's living in me.

And that is the most humbling thing of all...