My Tumblr: Greener Pastures

This is a more consistent place to keep up with what's going on in my life right now. Nothing kills blogging like college.

Anyway, I have gotten a Tumblr, and you can follow it here: http://rachel-aldrich.tumblr.com/

little graces (that turn out to be big graces)

Sorry. You get another post on how beautiful life is. Why? Because it's true, and yet so easy to forget. And because writing these things down helps me to remember also.

My friend asked me how I was doing today, and for the first time, I was actually able to articulate what God has been slowly teaching me and working in my heart.

Our attitude towards life should and can be quietly content. Not because life is not hard... because it is hard. Really hard. But in the midst of some really, really hard things going on, God has been gracious enough to send me little reminders of His grace about every 5 minutes.

In the midst of heartbreak, confusion, loneliness, unfortunate circumstances, strife and the occasional panic attack, God drops little blessings in my lap to remind me that He is there, He is powerful, and He loves me. Whether it's a friend who randomly stops to say that that they've been thinking of me, a shooting star flaming across the sky, a rainstorm to wipe away the humidity, a butterfly, mist on the grass, swing dancing, or a song on the piano, God fills this life with small, shining moments of pure love for us. These are all little things... but these small graces turn out to be big graces because they remind me, again, that God is, and that He is a rewarder of those who seek Him. And that knowledge changes everything.

I don't believe in coincidences... especially highly improbably ones. I think it is God's grace that, during a time in my life where I could be severely tempted to complain or worse, despair, He puts me in a play where I spend hours rehearsing and committing to memory reminders of what makes life beautiful and challenges to not overlook those things.

Life is hard. Life is confusing. Life is disorienting. Life is painful. But our good God has also made life beautiful.

and all shall be well

The wind whispered softly through the leaves around the lake. The sun shone down through the crisp air, dancing through the grass. The girl sat contentedly, back against brick wall, face toward the water, book in lap. It was a perfect afternoon.

She sat there quietly happy for a time. Suddenly, her ears pricked up to noise. A siren in the distance built slowly to a crescendo until it was right on her back doorstep. She froze, heart pumping. Perhaps it was paranoia, but every time she heard a siren coming in their direction, she wondered…

It passed. She breathed again. The sun shone as before. The wind still laughed.

She sat back and thought.

A siren seemed out of place on this idyllic day. Sirens ought to be on rainy days, stormy days, or at least cloudy days. Days like today ought to be reserved for dancing and laughing and reading a book under a tree.

Ought to be.

No, this world is not as it ought to be. One person’s perfect day could be the day another person’s world falls apart. The sun shines on both the joyous and the horrific, and the rain falls on the comedic and the tragic. What a confusing, upside down, crazy world she lived in.

She lifted her eyes to the clear, infinitely deep blue sky. A bird sang. Her heart warmed to the day.

One day, she thought, all shall again be well. All shall be well.

One little thought that changes everything

I can’t say where the thought came from. Its first entrance into my consciousness was so unobtrusive so as to be barely noticeable. And yet it would change everything.

It seemed so innocent and unique – it piqued my curiosity, like hearing a single strain of music from an unknown location. It was quiet, barely recognizable as a thought; more of an intuition really.

What started as a gentle whisper, like a breeze on a summer day, soon became discontent with being ignored. It grew into a gnawing discomfort, prodding the deepest, most tender parts of my heart and soul, still whispering, “See me… don’t you see me?”

I nodded at it, then moved on. Maybe if I didn’t speak to it, it would go away. I didn’t find it pleasant anymore.

But the thought was persistent. It grew and grew until I couldn’t see past it – it affected everything; the way I thought, the way I felt, even how I saw the world around me. And every day its whisper grew louder until it was a voice, a shout, a roar like a waterfall pouring through my insides, screaming, “Acknowledge me! Why won’t you acknowledge me?!”

Finally the thought grew so monstrous, so pervasive, so all consuming, that I could hold it back no more than I could hold back the tide. It burst from me in a cry that was so agonized and yet so relieved for finally being spoken, “I WANT TO LIVE!

“And not just exist, like a tree or a flower lives. I want to live as only a human can – fully engaged in every moment, every sense and sentiment of this fleeting life. I want to fully know life before it is gone. I want to do more than see, I want to taste; I want to experience the colors, the music, the light, the utter miracle that is life. For we only get one life, and then eternity. I don’t want to forget life until it’s over. I want to live.”

What had once been a nagging thought became a completely intoxicating spoken word. What were once the most significant mountains became only small, irritating pebbles in my path, incapable of distracting my focus for long from the great adventure I finally saw. And what were once the “little things” -- the moments of laughter, the sun on the leaves, the sparkle in the eye, the mist on the water, the broken smile, the hugs goodbye, the seconds of silence, the music, the relationships – I suddenly realized were the substance; the very fabric God uses to weave this beautiful, haunting tapestry. They were never really the little things; they were the significant things overlooked.

But no more.

Never more must I be chained down to the inconsequential or the petty. I have found the chains are unlocked, the wings unfurled, the eyes opened with one remembrance; one simple prayer:

I want to live.

reflection on friendships in Heaven

Paul implies that those in Heaven will not think much of their days here on earth. And who can fault them for it? For who dwells upon the dull, feverish nightmares once the morning has broken?

Still, this always caused me some distress. Will loved ones gone before truly forget me? Will they recognize me when they get there? Would not seeing me again cause them to think again on the painful life from which they are finally free?

But perhaps memory in Heaven is different than memory on earth. Perhaps it is not like looking at a picture or memento that takes us immediately back to the thoughts and emotions of the past. I have often felt of the people who have impacted my life that their soul left an imprint on mine. Certainly the mark of one immortal soul on another is something that would last past the gates of eternity. Perhaps it will look more like one liberated soul coming up to another and saying, “Your heart and soul feel familiar. We must have truly loved each other in the before days. Thank you for walking beside me in the darkness – let us now dance together in the Light.”

Hard Goodbyes

If someone has failed to pick up on this yet, I love this song. One of my favorite parts is the bridge, when he starts listing things that “make us feel alive.” After listening to it for about the hundredth time, I finally noticed something. Most of the things in there are intuitively happy moments – dancing, Christmas lights, babies, etc. But one item on the list stands out.

Hard goodbyes.

It seemed kind of strange that he would include something as painful as goodbyes in his list of blessings that make us feel alive. Especially in this season of my life, when nothing affects me quite as much as the dozens of tearful goodbyes I’ve had to make, it caught my attention.

So I thought about it for a while… and realized he was right.

Hard goodbyes are painful – but it is a pain that is indicative of a blessing. After all, in order to have a hard goodbye, one must first have something wonderful that made saying goodbye so hard.

I hate goodbyes. Right now, I hate goodbyes more than just about anything. Even as you read this, I am probably on a plane flying across the country. But even so, I would rather have hard goodbyes than have never had people in my life that made goodbyes difficult. Hard goodbyes are a blessing in disguise.

Goodbye couldn’t be put off anymore. I held my friend close, as if I would never let go. I had never known anything could hurt this much. My heart tore as I said goodbye to my friend for a very long time, knowing that even when we were together again, it would never be the same. It hurt. It hurt like all the brokenness in the world, because our hearts were not made for goodbyes. But even in the midst of my heart breaking, a quiet, warm knowledge crept stole into my heart like a beam of hope.

“I love you and this hurts so much, but...” I whispered, “Knowing you is worth the pain of saying goodbye.”

Any similarities between the above scene and a real goodbye I have said is not coincidental at all. This is every goodbye I’ve had to say – to the people I only knew for a week, but still managed to change my life forever, to the friends who have walked beside me for years and know me better than anyone else, to the friends I won’t see until Christmas, to the friends I won’t see this side of eternity. I am so thankful for you. How lucky I have been to have something that makes saying goodbye so hard.

Hard goodbyes reminds us that we are alive, because it reminds us how much we have loved.

I discovered this song today, and it really encouraged me in the midst of all the separation. So you should listen to it right after you have finished listening to "Life is Beautiful."  

This is Not Goodbye - Sidewalk Prophets

Life is beautiful

This summer, the song "Life is Beautiful" by the Afters was playing in my head almost constantly. This summer was filled with moments of light and love and laughter that will be stored in my heart forever. Not like pictures -- silent, flat and unmoving. These moments are like snow-globes -- colorful, three-dimensional, and come alive with a little stirring.

This was a summer of change and transition. When I came home for Christmas break, all I wanted was for things to be as they were when I left. And for one perfect month, they were. This summer was not like that. I encountered many changes and endings. But I found that it was not bad. It was immeasurably good.

It was a summer of easy reconnecting with some, and of elbow grease just to talk with others. It was a summer of carefree days and long, sleepless nights. A summer of work and play. A summer of remembering, forgetting, and looking forward to what is to come. It was a summer of holding on when everything in me screamed to let go, and of letting go even when I thought it would break my heart. It was a summer of joyful reunions and painful goodbyes. A summer of questions, answers, and resolution. A summer of finally acknowledging that some things had to change, and of promising that some things never would.

It was a summer of closing a door I had been fighting to keep open... but not locking it.

There were so many moments where I suddenly realized that, in spite of everything, we really do have it all. These are the times that make us feel alive, and make us realize that life truly is beautiful.

One year ago

This post won't be very long. I just don't have the words I need to do justice to the occasion.

Jimmy Brazell went home one year ago today. We miss him. He has taught me so much... I wonder if he knows now, or if God is waiting to let us all tell him about it ourselves.

Today was just another day, except for one difference. The difference was this: all day I wondered, what must a year in heaven be like?

Thank you, Jimmy, for making us ask ourselves things that really matter. I can't wait to experience what you are experiencing right now.

~Rachel

"It takes a lot of love to live." - Jimmy Brazell

stillness

"Life is busy and noisy -- and it allows us to forget things too difficult to think about. But there is something about a still night...
Sometimes, when the girl walked from one building to another on such a night, she would pause, and take it in. But she would soon hurry on again, slipping into the light and noise of the buildings before her fears could quite get a hold of her. 
But tonight she didn't run. She slowly sat down in the darkness, as the stillness seeped into her very being. As the hustle and bustle subsided, everything came to the surface. 
The weight and depth of her thoughts and emotions were overwhelming. 
The bittersweet memories. The gentle nostalgia. The deep longing. The dull grief. The warm joy. The cold fear. 
She closed her eyes. She wanted to flee back to the blissful oblivion of noise. But she stayed. The night didn't cause these things; it simply exposed them. She couldn't avoid them forever. 
Slowly, she confronted all these hidden things, one by one. The thoughts, the memories, the emotions. She forced herself to admit the existence of things she wanted to ignore. 
That bitterness remained. That grief, shoved aside, still festered and ached in some forgotten corner. That desire was as strong as it had ever been..."

I've heard it said that the early church fathers believed every strong Christian had to spend time in the desert. I don't think it was really the physical desert itself that made them stronger -- the heat and sand, the caves and camels.
I think it was the silence.
Silence is a beam that pierces to the darkest corners of the heart. Silence is a knife that carves away the concealing fronts the mind constructs. Silence is a hand that rips away the veil that covered the blistering turmoil within the soul.
It is in the silence that we can hear a still, small whisper.
If we find ourselves feeling alone, perhaps what God is really trying to do is make us be silent for a time. Sometimes, silence is what is truly needed.

"We live, in fact, in a world starved for solitude, silence, and private: and therefore starved for meditation and true friendship."
- CS Lewis

"Be still and know that I am God." 
- Psalm 46

"He's not a tame Lion."

Three times I pleaded with the Lord about this, that it should leave me. But He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.

- 2 Corinthians 12:8-10

Sometimes I read this thinking, "Lord, are You seriously telling me that Paul, a traveling preacher could serve You more effectively with a physical weakness than without it?"
In my mind, if I'm going to pick someone to travel around the known world preaching, and then sit in prison for a couple years, I'm going to pick someone who is going to be healthy. Or, if the right person really does have some physical injury and I had the power of healing, I would heal them. That's miracle enough, right? Can't God show Himself strong through healing?
Moreover, it just floors me that Paul's response is that he is content with the situation. If I were Paul, and God told me what He told Paul, I would flip right over to John 9 and say, "Hey, instead of this whole strength in weakness thing, how about You just display your power through healing me? That sounds like a way better plan, if You ask me."

But God doesn't seem to be in the business of doing things our way. 

And what more shall I say? For time would fail me to tell of Gideon, Barak, Samson, Jephthah, of David and Samuel and the prophets— who through faith conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, put foreign armies to flight. Women received back their dead by resurrection. Some were tortured, refusing to accept release, so that they might rise again to a better life. Others suffered mocking and flogging, and even chains and imprisonment. They were stoned, they were sawn in two, they were killed with the sword. They went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, mistreated— of whom the world was not worthy—wandering about in deserts and mountains, and in dens and caves of the earth.

- Hebrews 11

All were heroes of the faith. But not all proved their faith in the same ways. Some conquered kingdoms, others were tortured. Some obtained promises, others were mocked and flogged. Some stopped the mouths of lions, others stoned. Some quenched the violence of fire, others sawn in two. Some received their dead back to life, others were themselves killed. And not a single one got to decide which part of the list they were on.

As I pray, I often pray to be on the earlier part of the list. Please let me glorify Your name by unexpected success -- not excruciating loss.

Facing the very real possibility that God may not answer my prayers the way I want in certain areas, I'm very tempted to panic. I have literally been on my knees, in tears, begging God to act in a certain way as I suddenly realize how true it is that He is not required to do it my way.

I may not be on the list of those conquering kingdoms, being healed of physical infirmities, and receiving my dead back to life. I may be on the list of those who glorify God by how well they walk in the fire.

"He is not a tame Lion."

I never really thought about that line in Chronicles of Narnia. Now, I suddenly understand. Just because I pray, and beg, and desperately want God to act in a certain way... He may not. He is not my Santa Claus or my vending machine. He is God.

But perhaps that is the essence of trust and surrender. Trust isn't trust if you know what the other person will do. Trust is not knowing -- but knowing it will always be the right thing. It may not be easy, it may not be what I want, I may not understand for a very, very long time why God did what He did. Trust and surrender mean knowing beyond a shadow of a doubt that all God's ways are righteous -- knowing it so much that it brings true contentment and peace.

"He is not a tame Lion. But He is good."

Me and Bob

I committed to post once a week on Sundays, but I don't really have anything to say tonight, so I'm posting something old. I wrote this a week or two before school let out. Lake Bob is the retaining pond behind my dorm.
I post this expecting readers to understand a couple things. First, it's a bit dramatic because it makes for a more fun piece to write. Second, I promise you don't have to worry about me. It's just a bit of reflection.
With that explanation, proceed with caution. :)

--

She remembered standing on the edge of the ocean on a stormy night. “Wait,” she had put her hand out and stopped her friend, “I want to show you something.” “Okay,” her friend was confused, but willing. The girl had closed her eyes, faced the ocean, and tilted her face toward the sky. The constant roar of the waves drowned out all else. Such power – she couldn’t even comprehend it.
Bob was a poor substitute for the ocean, to put it kindly. In fact, Lake Bob was even a poor substitute for a lake. But on this night, with emotions raging wild and mind threatening to go kaput, anything would be better than the lights and noise inside. Even Bob.
She trudged out to the lake in silence, feeling moisture creep into her shoes from the wet grass. She stopped at the path surrounding the lake and stood quietly staring at the little body of water. She took a deep breath and waited. Ah, yes… she could feel her emotions responding to the quietness of the night. Slowing, slowing… it was good to be able to hear herself think again.
 So maybe Bob wasn’t all that magnificent, but he was certainly calming. In the darkness, she could ignore the scum clinging to his edges, and the geese had long gone to bed. Yes, she did owe a debt of gratitude to Bob, regardless of his status as a retaining pond. He listened quietly when she needed to vent and didn’t try to offer vain solutions when she cried. She had many times come out at night to sit beside humble Bob until her soul became quiet again.
 The girl dropped her head back. It was a clear night. She glanced back at Bob, gently reflecting the college lights on his dark surface. Hmm. She crept closer to the edge of the lake until she just toed the edge, and peered in. The moon and stars gently projected wavering ghosts of themselves onto his smooth, dark face. He looked so much deeper at night.
She leaned back on her heals and gazed at Lake Bob thoughtfully. She suddenly felt a bit of sympathy for his existence. Maybe they weren’t all that different, she and this scummy, old retaining pond. Both were small and unimpressive. Neither were terribly attractive in their nature when exposed to the bright light of midday. Both had collected a good deal of scum around the edges, and no one really knew what lay beneath their shallow, and yet somehow still impenetrable, depths. Both were filled with a good deal of gunk collected off the streets. But somehow, both were still able to fulfill some purpose, and maybe even hold a bit of beauty, if one knew where to look for it.
She knew that feeling of grime and shame; that wondering what role such a pitiful existence could play. She craned her neck to see the stars reflected in this pathetic little lake.
“And somehow, when we are alone and still,” she said quietly, “Even us, my friend, can reflect the magnificence above us.”
And maybe, this simple ability of reflection, kept this quiet, little existence from being so miserable and useless after all.

The Kingdom of God

"Seek ye first the Kingdom of God, and all these things shall be added unto you." - Matthew 6:33

If you are to find what you are seeking, you must first know what you are looking for. So I did a quick phrase-search to see just what I am after.

We are seeking a Kingdom

That is small like a seed, but will grow into the largest tree (Luke 13:19)
That in small portions, leavens the whole lump (Luke 13:20)
That does not come in ways that can be observed, but is in the midst of us (Luke 17:20)
That is at hand (Mark 1:15)
That is not a matter of eating and drinking but of righteousness and peace and joy in the Holy Spirit (Romans 14:17)
That is not inherited by flesh and blood (1 Corinthians 15:50)
That is difficult to enter for the wealthy (Mark 10:23)
That belongs to the childlike (Luke 18:16)
That is like the growth of seeds -- we do the planting, and God does the rest (Mark 4:26)
For which those who put their hand to the plow and turn back are not fit (Luke 9:62)
That people cannot see unless they are born again (John 3:3)
That belongs to the poor in spirit and the persecuted (Matthew 5)
That belongs to those who accept the invitation (Matthew 22)
That belongs to those who show mercy (Matthew 18)
That belongs to those who wait expectantly (Mathew 25)
That has suffered violence (Matthew 11:12)
That is like a hidden treasure that we sacrifice everything for (Matthew 13:34-35)
Belongs equally to all who enter (Matthew 20)
That consists not of talk, but of power (1 Corinthians 4:20)
 And so much more. 

It is not a Kingdom at all like an earthly Kingdom. It seems so backwards, so hard, so upside down.

But so worth it.

Worth it all

"When I survey the wondrous Cross, on which the Prince of Glory died, 
My richest gain I count but loss, and pour contempt on all my pride.
Forbid it Lord that I should boast, save in the death of Christ my God. 
All the vain things that charm me most, I sacrifice them to His blood." 

I have only read the first two and a half chapters of Radical by David Platt, and already it is challenging my view of what it means to really follow Jesus. I've started to wonder what harbored habits have to go, what little luxuries are not as innocent as they seem, in what small ways I have begun to flirt with materialism. I have said I am following a Man who was abandoned by friends, rejected by most, and condemned to die by the authorities. I have said I am standing with His followers, who, yes, conquered kingdoms, enforced justice, obtained promises, stopped the mouths of lions, quenched the power of fire, escaped the edge of the sword, were made strong out of weakness, became mighty in war, and put foreign armies to flight, but who  were also tortured, suffered mocking and flogging, chains and imprisonment, were stoned, sawn in two, killed, and went about in skins of sheep and goats, destitute, afflicted, and mistreated. I didn't make up that list, it's in the Bible. That's the side I stand on, and yet I walk in ease and comfort, offending none. It seems a little unlikely. I have started to ponder what I am to do, not just think. I've started to think that maybe, this path I have chosen will be even harder than I originally imagined. 


These are high-risk thoughts to think -- the outcome could end life as I know it. I may have to wish the American Dream goodbye. After all, Jesus never told us it would be easy -- in fact, He told us it would be downright difficult. 


In order to even begin thinking about these things (much less beginning to come to any conclusions), one very foundational truth had to be in place. 


Jesus said it would be hard. He also said it would be worth it all. 


In Matthew 13, in both the parable of the hidden treasure and the parable of the pearl of great value, Jesus says that the man and the merchant sold all they had. The call of Christ, it would seem, invariably involves sacrifice. But they sell everything for a treasure, for a pearl of great price. They didn't give up what they had because they had to. They gave up all they had because they had found something infinitely better, and they wanted it. 


David Platt describes the parable of the hidden treasure this way: 

"You know in the end you are not really giving away anything at all. Instead, you are gaining. Yes, you are abandoning everything you have, but you are also gaining more than you could have in any other way. So with joy -- with joy! -- you sell it all, you abandon it all. Why? Because you have found something worth losing everything for." 

This year has made me think about eternity more and more. The death of two young men I knew has cemented the reality of heaven into my mind indelibly. It's nearly impossible to have heaven on your mind for any length of time, and still really believe that the things of this world are of much consequence. The more I think about heaven, the less important the world seems. After all, I only have to be in one forever. 


It's kind of like going to a beach house. My family went and stayed in a friend's beach house for a week after I got back from college to have some family time. Don't get me wrong, it was a nice beach house. It was far from perfect, however. The beds there weren't as comfortable as my bed at home. The carpet wasn't my favorite color. It was smaller, and we all had to share rooms. So, of course, we remodeled the whole thing, bought new furniture, repainted the walls...


Of course not! That would be silly. After all, we're only staying there for a week. Better to use our money to make the house we live in all the time liveable. Isn't that the same as our lives on earth when you start thinking about heaven? You invest your money in the house you're going to spend the most time in -- we ought to invest our time, energy, and yes, money in the Kingdom we are going to spend the most time in also. 

"Or, in the words of Jesus, "Do not lay up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy and where thieves break in and steal, but lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust destroys and where thieves do not break in and steal. For where your treasure is, there your heart will be also." [Matthew 6:19-21]


Giving up earthly treasures for treasures in heaven is always worth it. 


But I don't think it's just heaven that makes it all worth it. Maybe, just maybe, it's worth it on earth too. 


I'm not advocating getting your perspective on life from Bon Jovi. However, in the song (the only song by him I listen to),  "Livin' on a Prayer," he describes Tommy and Gina's hard life. He continues to say  that they've got to hold on to what they've got, they've got each other, and that's a lot. There seems to be a sense that earthly poverty can be endured, so long as you are with someone you love. 


Okay, so that's enough mushy, feel-good talk. But look at the application. I don't know about you, but I think I would rather walk through a hard life with Jesus, who loves me more than any earthly person every could, beside me than walk through the American Dream alone. I would rather speak with my Redeemer every morning in a jail cell than be the subject of another lonely millionaire story. We are willing to say we would rather be with family and friends in a small house than alone in a mansion. Why is it such a far leap to say we would rather be with Jesus in a hut than alone in a castle? It's the love of Jesus that makes even the love of family and friends pale in comparison. 


Jesus is worth it all. 


I do not yet have the ability to say, unequivocally, that I want to give up every earthly possession and friendship that I have. I can say, however, that if that what it takes to have Jesus, then it's worth it. 


I have leaned for far too long on the the sweet, frail frames of this earth. Too many times I have forgone the sustenance of heaven for the tempting dainties this world offers. They have failed me too many times. Clinging to a blood-stained cross on a lonely hill, I found I am far richer than when ruling my castles of sand. 


I do not know what God will ask me to give up, turn away from, or sacrifice in the days, months, and years to come. I do not know what trials, persecutions, or valleys I will have to walk through. I do not know what others may think of me, or how they will treat me. But I know this. It will not be a burden or a sorrowful thing to sacrifice these things, anymore than it was a burden for the man to sell all his possessions to gain the treasure in the field.


If in the end, I have Jesus, then it is worth it all.

Thankful for the Fleas

We lay back, struggling against the nausea that swept over us from the reeking straw. We could hear the women who had arrived with us finding their places.
Suddenly I sat up, striking my head on the cross-slats above. Something had pinched my leg.
"Fleas!" I cried. "Betsie, the place is swarming with them!"
We scrambled across the intervening platforms, heads low to avoid another bump, dropping down to the aisle, and edged our way to a patch of light.
"Here! And here another one!" I wailed. "Betsie, how can we live in such a place!"
"Show us. Show us how." It was said so matter of factly it took me a second to realize she was praying. More and more the distinction between prayer and the rest of life seemed to be vanishing for Betsie.
"Corrie!" she said excitedly. "He's given us the answer! Before we asked, as He always does! In the Bible this morning. Where was it? Read that part again!"
I glanced down the long dim aisle to make sure no guard was in sight, then drew the Bible from its pouch.
"It was in First Thessalonians," I said. We were on our third complete reading of the New Testament since leaving Schevingen. In the feeble light I turned the pages.
"Here it is: 'Comfort the frightened, help the weak, be patient with everyone. See that none of you repays evil for evil, but always seek to do good to one another and to all...'" It seemed written expressly to Ravensbruck.
"Go on," said Betsie. "That wasn't all."
"Oh yes: '... to one another and to all. Rejoice always, pray constantly, give thanks in all circumstances; for this is the will of God in Christ Jesus--"
"That's in, Corrie! That's his answer. 'Give thanks in all circumstances!' That's what we can do. We can start right now to thank God for every single thing about this new barracks!"
I stared at her, then around at me at the dark, foul-aired room.
"Such as?" I said.
"Such as being assigned here together."
I bit my lip. "Oh yes, Lord Jesus!"
"Such as what you're holding in your hands."
I looked down at the Bible. "Yes!" Thank You, dear Lord, that there was no inspection when we entered here! Thank you for all the women, here in this room, who will meet You in these pages."
"Yes," said Betsie. "Thank You for the very crowding here. Since we're packed so close, that many more will hear!" She looked at me expectantly. "Corrie!" she prodded.
"Oh, all right. Thank you for the jammed, crammed, stuffed, packed, suffocating crowds."
"Thank You," Betsie went on serenely, "for the fleas and for--"
The fleas! This was too much.
"Betsie, there's no way even God can make me grateful for a flea."
"'Give thanks in all circumstances,'" she quoted. "It doesn't say, 'in pleasant circumstance.' Fleas are part of this place where God has put us."
And so we stood between piers of bunks and gave thanks for fleas. But this time I was sure Betsie was wrong.
--
At first, Betsie and I called these [Bible] meetings with great timidity. But as night after night went by and no guard ever came near us, we grew bolder. So many now wanted to join us that we held a second service after evening roll call. There on the Lagerstrasse we were under rigid surveillance, guards in their warm wool capes marching constantly up and down. It was the same in the center room of the barracks: half a dozen guards or camp police were always present. Yet in the large dormitory room there was almost no supervision. We did not understand it.
--
Betsie was waiting for me, as always, so that we could wait through the food line together. Her eyes were twinkling.
"You're looking extraordinarily pleased with yourself," I told her.
"You know we've never understood why we had so much freedom in the big room," she said. "Well-- I've found out."
That afternoon, she said, there'd been confusion in her knitting group about sock sizes and they'd asked the supervisor to come and settle it.
"But she wouldn't. She wouldn't step through the door and neither would the guards. And you know why?"
Betsie could not keep the triumph from her voice: "Because of the fleas! That's what she said, 'That place is crawling with fleas!'"
My mind rushed back to our first hour in this place. I remembered Betsie's bowed head, remembered her thanks to God for the creatures that I could see no use for. 

-The Hiding Place; Corrie ten Boom

I recently finished The Hiding Place for the first time. It's an amazing book that everyone should read. There are so many powerful quotes and passages. This one stuck out particularly to me when I read it, because the application to my life was so obvious.
There have been a few specific situations this week where something has irritated me, and I found out later that if it hadn't been for those minor irritations, I would have missed out on an enormous blessing. I am not going to tell the story -- somehow, it seems petty to talk about my little irritations right after reading about Corrie's experience in a concentration camp as if they somehow compare. Besides, who of us can't think of our own story about the moment where we suddenly understood that God's plan really is better?
It's one thing to thank God for the big hard things, knowing it will grow us, or to look back later and say, 'oh, I get it!' It's a different ball game entirely to look at all the small, annoying things going on this afternoon -- the traffic, the scheduling issues, the lost item, the low battery, the fleas, and thank God ahead of time.
I, personally, am tired of constantly looking back and apologizing for complaining about something that turned out to be in my benefit. Maybe it's high time I just learned the lesson. Maybe it's time to have a little faith, exercise a little trust, and say 'thank you' things don't go my way. God doesn't have to prove Himself to me, but He has done so over and over again, and yet I fail to trust Him when something goes wrong.

I resolve to thank God for the fleas in my life, and rest in the knowledge that everything works to the good of those who love God, even if we don't see them. Will you join me?

shout-out

A couple things:
1 - I am still here, and I will write again. Just rethinking what the blog is, what I want to write, and how I'm going to find time to write it.
2 - I got really tired of the ugly blog design. I'm aware this isn't all that much better, but I wanted to just simplify it for now. Someday I'll do that extreme makeover I promised.
3 - Thanks for your patience. See you again soon.

Something to think about until next time:

O Love that Will Not Let Me Go

O Love that wilt not let me go,
I rest my weary soul in thee;
I give thee back the life I owe,
That in thine ocean depths its flow
May richer, fuller be.

O light that foll’west all my way,
I yield my flick’ring torch to thee;
My heart restores its borrowed ray,
That in thy sunshine’s blaze its day
May brighter, fairer be.

O Joy that seekest me through pain,
I cannot close my heart to thee;
I trace the rainbow through the rain,
And feel the promise is not vain,
That morn shall tearless be.

O Cross that liftest up my head,
I dare not ask to fly from thee;
I lay in dust life’s glory dead,
And from the ground there blossoms red
Life that shall endless be.

Currently Reading...

Inferno by Dante
That Old Time Religion: Evangelical Protestantism in the Twentieth Century by DG Hart
What's So Great About Christianity? by Dinesh D'Souza
One Thousand Gifts by Anne Voskamp
All Quiet on the Western Front by Erich Maria Remarque

It makes for an interesting combination of thoughts running around inside my head.

Where have we come from as Christians?
Where have we come from as American Christians?
What role does Christianity play in the world today?
How should I live each day as a Christian?
How does my faith help me understand the harsh realities of the world?

mhm. fascinating.

On Change

inevitable. exciting. painful. necessary. frightening. just some of the words that come to mind when I think about the change in life.

I've experienced a lot of change. But never more than I have in the last six months to a year. It's very odd to think back to a year ago.

A year ago, I was in the height of my debating career. I was in the middle of my year of staffing TeenPact. I was living at home when I wasn't traveling all over the country.

A year ago, almost to the day, I was visiting Patrick Henry College.

I knew my life would be different by the end of the year, but I don't know if I ever stopped to think about how different it would be. Sometimes, in the middle of my day, I will stop for a moment and reflect on the drastic changes I've seen in the last six months. I can't think about it for too long - it's too overwhelming to process. Not all bad. Not necessarily all good either. Sometimes slow - a two steps forward and one step back at times. Sometimes far too fast - precious moments slipped through my fingers before I even had a chance to fully understand them.

We've been reading Augustine's Confessions in Western Literature. In class yesterday, Dr. Libby asked us to think over our lives, and briefly write a mini confessions. Write down some experiences we had had that impacted us, people we had met, or things we had learned.

I stared at the blank paper in front of me. A mini confessions? There would be nothing mini about my confessions. There were too many experiences that all built up into each other. Too many people. And certainly too many lessons.

I will say this - I had a very difficult time concentrating for the rest of class.

But, if I had to summarize all the change, all the lessons and experiences, into one small package, it would be this.

God is faithful and constant. God loves me and has beautiful plans for us. God is strong, and we can trust Him.

That is my confession. And all the change this world has to throw at me cannot change that.