Submission, That Ugly, Dirty Word.

Written in 2017, published 2018, because college. I'm a year older and wiser than this post, but even I learned from reading the words I wrote a year ago. I hope they mean something to you, too.

Children are the furthest thing from my mind, half way through my twenty-first year of life, and yet their lessons are still ever lingering, even as I dive deeper into life while yet still in its early stages. The ways of children both haunt and amaze their parents, teachers, other children, theologians, but none more so than I when reading the revere with which Jesus considered children in the cosmological macro-scope. I've been reading from a book called Celebration of Discipline by Richard Foster for a college class and I want to share something briefly about submission, that ugly, dirty word. I'm going to paraphrase since my book is buried in the rest of the collegiate material I've saved.

Power is discovered in submission.

Now, you might be thinking, Submission? What? That's completely counter to being independent and happy. I assure you it isn't. 

Submission, or as Foster puts it, self-denial, or for our purposes... submitting your will and your instincts to God and the needs of others, is not the same thing as self-contempt, or, in simpler terms, placing your own personal well-being as a lower priority in your life. At the same time, self-contempt, thinking down on ourselves, or only ever putting others above our own well-being suggests that we have NO worth, and even if we do have worth, we should reject it before the worth of others. 

Contrarily, self-denial without self-hatred declares that we are of infinite worth and the theory of it shows us how to realize that worth.

Let's break this down: 

Claim: Jesus made the ability to love ourselves the prerequisite for reaching out to others.

Warrant 1: "You shall love your neighbor as yourself" (Matt. 22:39). 

Claim: Jesus made it quite clear that self-denial is the only sure way to love ourselves most fully.

Warrant 1: "He who finds his life will lose it, and he who loses his life for My sake will find it." (Matt. 10:39).

Warrant 2: "There is no greater love than to lay down one's life for one's friends" (John 15:13).

Claim: Loving others means submission,  the beautiful kind.

Thesis: By self-emptying, we become filled.

This simple idea is so necessary to any exchange between any humans. Happy children give because it makes them happy. Their instinct is to make others happy, to be silly, accepting, and loving— the way Jesus meant "submissive". Submission to God —minute by minute— and concern for others primarily over ourselves— in any given moment—fills us with purpose, for submission is the ultimate design. Humans are wired to love, wired to hug, to shake hands, and to connect.

So this begs the question: why be selective about your love for mankind, when it's your quickest route to a smile, to fulfillment? 

Whether you're returning to the office after Christmas festivities, or the classroom, or staying home with the family, submission will always mean that the love you have for others is your primary concern, the same way my nephew Hunter desires to makes his family smile over discomfort, exhaustion, and snacks.

Jesus said to "Love your enemies"; if you can do this, you can love anyone. Pure, loving relationships are born from pure and honest characters. 

If you are responsible for your character, then does it not follow that you are also responsible for the relationships and —concurrently— the people you value and — conversely— do not value? If you value all relationships and make it known that this is so, even the store clerks will know you value them. To be valued, loved, is a need of human nature. It's where our worth is found.

Now, to live in a world where you're always at ease is a dream, but to live in a world where you endure life and overcome its qualms along with the ones you love and who love you, that can be your reality. Ultimately, whether that reality belongs to you or not is your choice. Do not stand in the way of your own happiness, only to wonder down the road where it is. Likewise, do not consciously remain the object of another's discomfort. Show everyone, even in your dullest of moods, that you love them, that Jesus loves them, and you, yourself, on your own can convey the story of Redemption through a single glance. After all, isn't that why we're here?

Jesus said, "Let the little children come to me, and do not hinder them, for the kingdom of heaven belongs to such as these" (Matthew 19:14). 

Hunter, my step-nephew, Age 2. 

Them.

Warning: 

Paragraphs with more than 117 words ahead. 

It's too late to turn back now though, so you might as well read on. 

__________________________________________________________________________

This is not about me. 

This summer, this job— this ministry— it's not ... about ... me. 

It's about God, and it's about them— the campers. 

And they are coming. 

This beautiful, peaceful camp has been empty of them for a majority of the last three weeks, 

and now, they are coming. 

Today, at 4pm, Blind Camp starts. 

And— not to be funny, or smart, or punny or anything but sincere, 

but, I feel extraordinarily blinded by the things distracting me from my job today

 which is solely to prepare myself for them. 

But, thankfully, a coworker shared a worship thought last night which really hit home 

with me and this uneasy feeling I have, and I wanted to share it with you. 

So, here it goes. Picture this: 

You ordered pizza and you hear the doorbell ring. 

Hopeful and with great excitement/mild relief, you open the front door to see the pizza man. 

He has the box in hand and your mouth starts to water at the sight of it. 

When you take the box and begin to make your exchange, however, the box is completely and unmistakably filled with the disappointment and confusion you instantly put into it from realizing it is terribly empty. Your pizza is not there.

Now the box isn't worth much. But the pizza? The pizza gives the pizza box its value, hence your disheartened frown given to the delivery man in place of his tip.

Now, putting that into terms that will settle my uneasy feelings and hopefully make actual sense to you,  I am the box. You are the box.

And God gives me—us— weight, credibility, and purpose, or pizza— in pizza box analogies. 

Tracking? Good. This is too powerful to miss. But first, hold onto that; rabbit trail ensuing. 

God does not call the prepared, necessarily, all of the time. 

He prepares who He calls. Now, how AMAZING is that? Speaking of this very phenomenon,

I came to this place, to Camp Wakonda in the middle of nowhere in the cornfield-furnished parts of Wisconsin to follow God's call again, myself vastly and rather ghastly unprepared. Surprise? Naw. Last summer it was Montana after Angel Airways (Delta and actual angels) provided me a $1 plane ticket after a very specific prayer. Now, it's Wisconsin. ( It's as if I travel in the wind, I swear; you never know where I'll end up!)  In fact, I didn't even know what Wakonda was before physically bumping into the interview table at school. I got a bruise from that incident. No joke. But it was a good thing I did bump into that table because here I am, giving everything I can to God for Him to utilize and multiply like the fish and loaves fed to the multitude; Lord knows I can't multiply what I have to offer on my own. Hence the uneasy feeling— the blind feeling. 

I am going in blind. Me. But God has already gone before me this summer and has paved the way for all the work He will do through me. Who needs sight with a promise like that?? 

Am I nervous? Yes. (As stated above more than once). Am I excited, though? 

Oh— oh yes. 

I am just a vessel this summer though, much like last summer. A vessel for carrying the pizza. Whereas I went to them in Montana, going door to door on foot, this summer they are coming to me, in fleets, and all I have to do is trust and let Him fill me with the pizza, if you will— the right things to do and say, and the love, wisdom, and discernment— compassion—energy  I will need to pull children from the depths of their loneliness and the waves of their pain, the shallows of their selfishness, and the widths and boundless heights of their fears and inner turmoils. Perhaps I'll find a piece of myself a long the way. Or my whole self. (But that would be all too providential. There is always more to learn. Why else would we have these crazy adventures if we were going to suddenly discover all 1000000 pieces of ourselves in one go?)

M'kay. There ya go. I've said pretty much all I intended to. 

Blessings. :)

Ps. Mail address to be posted at a later date.

"This is not about me. 

This summer, this job— this ministry— it's not ... about ... me. 

It's about God, and it's about them— the campers. 

And they are coming. "

Faithful, Like Moss

They say moss grows on the north side of the tree. 

Unless, of course, you're in the southern hemisphere, then it mostly grows on the south side. 

Either way, no matter which hemisphere you're in, where there is moss, there is direction. 

There is something to be said for consistency and faithful guidance. 

From missioning last summer in Montana, to having almost completed my first year of college studying English and Spanish Translation, God's guidance has been faithful. His hand in it all has been sure. At every turn, around every tree, a sign to continue has been found.

From $1 plane tickets to Montana, down to the job I now have at Andrews University, to my new summer job working as a camp counselor this summer in Wisconsin, God has been guiding and providing and I am thankful. 

Doubts

Fears

Anxieties

They're all on the wrong side of the tree.  The side that leads astray.

The mossy side points homeward. 

Trust in the Lord with all your heart 

and lean not on your own understanding. 

In all your ways acknowledge Him and He will direct your paths.  

Follow the moss. Follow the Creator. He will lead... 

Eyes On Christ

When Peter took his eyes off of Christ, he sank.
That's the Christian walk summed up right there in ten whole words.

But, that's only half of the story.
When Peter began to sink, and when he, a grown man, cried out in fear, there was that loving hand—Jesus' hand...

Outstretched. To save.

         Always to save...


Look not left, nor right, but straight ahead to Life, to safety, and to an assurance like none other.


Look to Christ.

And immediately Jesus stretched out His hand and caught him, and said to him, “O you of little faith, why did you doubt?” 32 And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased.33 Then those who were in the boat came and worshiped Him, saying, “Truly You are the Son of God.”-Matthew 14:22-23

Because Angels Deliver The Mail

Then he (Jacob) dreamed, and behold, a ladder was set up on the earth, and its top reached to heaven; and there the angels of God were ascending and descending on it. Genesis 28:12

To: The Highest

From: A Poet On The Ground

Dear God,

I wrote You a poem, Lord,

and it started with "please".

I asked for your blessing

on one down on her knees.

It ended
in "Amen", a breath, and belief,

but if it should come to be, Lord,

that the answer is no, Lord,

I'll write you another poem,

and I'll start it again with "please".

But this time
I'll ask for your grace, and your peace,

Your righteousness— Your serenity.

I'll ask for Your mercy (if ever impatient I am to be).

Then I'll thank You, dear Lord,

For always hearing me, Lord,

For the cross bore at Calvary, Lord,

and for daily rescuing me.

Baby sister with the littler sister.

Why I Can't Stay Away: A Haphazard Narrative

Author's Note: Prepare for the length of this one, friends, for I've had a bit to think on. Also, you'll have to forgive me for starting mid-thought. Wonder not though, for I assure you —I spared not for brevity. 

~ ~ ~ 

That's the trouble with beautiful places; they're too difficult to leave. But then again, if they were easy to leave, I suppose there would be no longing to stay. So, maybe all is as it should be, just as it was tonight where I start my musing. 

After my "mouth surgery", which is an exaggerated way of saying the extraction of my wisdom teeth, I'd been pretty keen on lounging around the house for healing and the regaining of chewing abilities. Tonight, however, now four days past, I was in need of reprieve from my respite, and really, there was only one place I wanted to be, the inhabitants of which for the most part have four legs and a grass diet. Hardy Farms; I moved Levi there a year ago this June, just a few months after we first bought him. I'm sad to say my boy and I will be parting so soon and I know I said in a prior blog that parting doesn't make me sad. Well, allow me to singularly contradict myself. This parting of ways will ache softly for a while. That being said, Levi and I have had a good run together, a run made more beautiful by Hardy Farms. For that, I am grateful. 

Bonita, Levi's photogenic girlfriend. (She's a redhead).

 This particular evening held more beauty than I've ever seen out there in the last year. Perhaps it's because I haven't seen the sunset in four days due to post-surgical healing and such; perhaps it's because I sensed my approaching leave for the summer lying more directly in my foresight. Either way, save for the flies, it was a perfect night. To start, the sunset was definitely the heaviest I've ever witnessed.  I'm serious. Atop my horse rounding vast, white-fenced pastures kissed with pink and orange sun, wistful clouds drifting slowly to the East, geese choosing that moment to fly into the sunset in arrow formation, the blaze of the sunset offset by a cooling horizon, all whispered to me on the wind, you're leaving soon. 'Twas a bittersweet lullaby that lulled off the humid honeysuckle breeze; almost tantalizingly hanging intangible options in front of my gaze. Stay....the night tempted.
I cannot....I whispered back, breathing my resistance.

Go, said Levi. And it wasn't a go as in leave for good, like the silly notion I've periodically let slip into my vision of the future, but go as in "Yes, the sunset is nice, but hay is better and hay is that-a-way". That horse; he always knows what he wants. Given he lives moment by moment, but, still I envy his lack of indecision.

Levi tossed his head to tug at the reins—a slight suggestion— offering up his two cents. A moth fluttered around us, disappearing in the fields of white-haired dandelions under hoove. You're supposed to wish on those... and I did so thoughtfully, wishing for more nights like this one.

A young barn cat danced on the dirt road to my left as we rounded the last pasture, its tail twitching over curved back. There were many more cats living here now than when we first arrived. On this particular evening, every tenth foot traversed revealed a different set of paws, as if signaling the way around the pastures; they made rather adorable traffic guards, however little traffic there was tonight. As far as I'd seen, the only pair riding so close to sundown was reflected in a puddle Levi and I passed. Neither I nor the cats minded the solace.

I glanced up in my peripheral, per the suggestion of the twitching tail; the half-moon glanced back. On par with the pact well made at the dawn of this earth, the sun graciously bowed out of sharing the sky with its lunar counterpart, though they exchanged parting words a good while as they swapped look-outs with the clouds as their couriers. Their conversation a colorful show, a stream of silent words that passed through brilliant rays which simultaneously darkened and grew more saturated, greatly amused me from my seat on my horse, my wonderfully decorous horse.


Though I may digress, I dare point out his weakness in saying the approach of darkness frightens him. It's been in witnessing Levi's increasing anxiety that I've come to admire the power of darkness. To explain Levi's fear, in which he is unquestionably not alone, the oppressive nature of the unknown is modeled in the small and utterly exposed feeling it exacts on large beings...Examples of such beings existing in the form of animals that fear all, despite being bound in a metric ton of body weight with the ability to crush and kill by accident.

I return, however, to my musing. We ended our lap in a tight circle that allowed me to face the sunset before it dipped away into the tree line; for once, Levi didn't fight the one step backward. I appreciated the finality in his allowance. Call me dramatic. After that, I untacked him by my car and set the torn dressage saddle I'd been given from someone's garage in my trunk; this last year I'd treated it as my prize. God had provided all we needed and then some to enjoy our time together over the last year. Every gifted item brought a smile to my face. The horse world is a wonderful world and one I've been blessed to have been apart of.

After returning Levi to his pasture, I passed the owner of the farm checking on a mare in foal; she was expected to give birth anytime tonight. New life. I smiled.

Dazzlin', the mama-to-be.

I headed back to my car, sweeping the farm one last time. The wind moved, the horse tails moved to swat at flies, the clouds were on the move, and soon I would be too, and yet, everything was still. So still. That's one of a thousand reasons why I can't stay away. Somewhere, sometime, someone commanded the stillness of this world. All that was requested in exchange for that stillness was the acknowledgement of the omnipotence of the One Who Calmed The Seas.
"Be still and know that I am God". 
Psalms 46:10

I took a deep breath to take in the advice. I could do this.

For me, tonight's great sunset and peaceful, easy ride with my old trail horse symbolized the end of our run together. At least, that's how I see it for now. I can't tell what will happen for sure beyond today; I'm leaving him behind for the summer to mission in Montana, and that's that. You might be thinking, for lack of personal interest, he's just a horse. You're right. Though his well being is of great concern to me. And believe me, if he fit in a suit case, I'd check him in a heartbeat, PITA forgiving. But he doesn't, and when I return the first of August, who know's how much time I'll have for leisure, for college awaits me mid-August.
Perhaps I'll find a way to take him with me and board him in Berrien Springs. Perhaps I'll find him a new running partner with better shoes and more stamina closer to home. Perhaps, I just don't know.

Either way, if chance would have it that we never run again, and if by chance it were that tonight be one of the last memories of us constructed of only a picture-perfect evening and a short but thoroughly enjoyed ride with my old boy,  to me, I think it's safe to say it would be the finest of farewells.




Go in peace. The presence of the Lord be with you on your way. -Judges 18:6
                               

                             ~ ~ ~

This Is The Way Of Love

There was a moment, on March 29th, 2012, when Innocence looked into the eyes of Understanding and Understanding was filled with envy.

***
Loss is rarely accompanied by forgetfulness, no matter how much we might wish it were so, and no matter how small, the feelings left behind sting for a good while. In fact, I still remember everything about the day my dog of fourteen years passed in our kitchen in my mother's arms some time back. Yet, I can't remember what his face looked like now. It's funny; time has a way of taking memories and distorting them, inserting emotion into the gaps to fill the void. But, when people die, other people remember. Emotion, when inspired by other people, especially when paired with pain, rarely does not surpass the fleeting.

***

I remember looking into the hazel eyes of Innocence as I weakly handed him a funeral home toy to play with. I had tried to hide the tears, but you don't miss much at five. Innocence accepted the toy but reached out to me in return.

      "Are you sad for Daddy?" He asked me, quietly in contrast to the noise of the room, but directly.
***

They say you can feel it—really feel it, when your heart breaks and transcends beyond the realm of the figure of speech.  I did.

***
      "Yes, I'm sad for your Daddy," I whispered, a bit taken aback.

I couldn't look him in the eye after that. Those hazel eyes, with only five years of memories in their film-tapes, looked past my exterior and instilled an unsettling question in me. A question I wouldn't answer until tonight, three years and nearly a month later.

'I remember daily the death resulting in loss and heart-ache that affects my life, but do I daily remember the One who died to change that, Who died to give me life?'

At the time, I dared not answer what would require a change in heart.

People remember people. They remember how people made them feel, how they were treated, what they accomplished, what time they shared together, and people remember the time they missed out on. At the same time, God watches all of it happen.

The God who lost his Son to mankind's redemption, but held fast His own gaze into the eyes of Joy with omniscient understanding, remembers every bit of time this planet has been in motion and with it every battered, beaten, and broken heart that ever filled its void. Glory in the highest, His name is Immanuel..."God is with us". And with us always, God remembers the daddies and the sisters, the selfish, the beloved, and the outcasts. God, the one who holds the date of Calvary etched in His hands and feet, He, Immanuel, remembers the sinners; He remembers you and me. The difference is, unlike me, bound to hiding tears whilst looking into the eyes of Innocence, so taken aback by the directness and uncovered strength undoubtedly reflected off his mother on that day, God has promised that "there shall be no more death, nor sorrow, nor crying. There shall be no pain, for the former things [will] have passed away." Rev 21:4

So tonight I remember those beautifully deep hazel eyes that secretly instilled a life-changing question in the tares of my heart, and I remember my Savior who rescued me. Who rescued you. I remember that God will wipe clean the slate of this world and with it all the tears of the broken who remember Calvary and the Lamb Who was slain for mankind, holding on to the promises with their own lives. I also greatly look forward to the fact that there will come a day when Understanding looks into the eyes of Innocence and is no longer filled with envy, for Understanding will be paired with joy, not pain, for this is the way of the Lord and the Lord does not look back with pain, but onward with love, for love is hopeful. And this?

This is the way of love.

In loving Memory of James Craig Whitton who encouraged my love for God and for writing with his own.

John 15:12