Beautiful | Crazy

Can't sleep for thinking again.

I have concluded that I have a weak mind (Jedi mind tricks would work on me - after all, I'm not a Toydarian! There's a nice little Easter egg for you Star Wars punks out there).

Ahem. As I was saying, I have concluded that I have a weak mind. I think I am more easily overwhelmed than the average person. Having experienced clinical depression, I know I am biologically predisposed to mental illness. Also, I recognize that my coping mechanisms are often flimsier than others', and I reach what I call "crisis point" sooner than many. And yet, where this knowledge would've once discouraged me, it is now, by the grace of God, nothing more than a neutral set of facts.

For I know that my weak mind is not me. Look at it this way: if I were suddenly diagnosed with cancer, the cancer would be an outworking of an imperfect body born into a sinful world. You would not say it was a result of me, though, would you? Jaimie with cancer would still be...Jaimie. My skills, traits, quirks - they'd all still be there. My personality, soul and spirit would be in tact, too. In the same way, my weak and broken mind is an outworking of an imperfect body in a sinful world. Jaimie with a broken mind is still Jaimie. Therefore I have great hope.

One day, when Christ brings about the new heaven and the new earth, there will be neither physical sickness nor mental sickness. The infirmity of the mind as well as the body will be washed away in the perfection that comes in being fully immersed in Christ's presence.

That's not to say that our "true essence" is separate from our body. Accepting that would be bowing to Platonic dualism - a fallacy that can easily lead to the belief that the body isn't important. Indeed, we are both spiritual and physical creatures. The two cannot be separated without removing something that is inherently part of who God made us to be. Otherwise, why does the Bible say we will have actual, resurrected bodies one day? Why would we want or need them?

All this to say that I'm glad that the Lord has worked in my heart over so many years to show me that I am not the sum of my defects. Indeed, I am a child of God's image - no small thing! I just haven't seen just what that looks like, yet.

These thoughts pour from my heart after an evening when a thousand stresses crashed home, and my husband was there to catch me and hold me and listen to me, and my God was there to give me the light and joy and strength that comes from hope and truth. So, I overflow with thankfulness in all of this, because God is good, has been good to me, and will ever continue to be!

Death, and a Challenge

I have a challenge for you.

First, read this Facebook note by my friend Emily. No, that is not the challenge - I've posted some of Emily's writing before, and if you haven't read it yet I think you'll find it elegant, frank and full of wisdom.

This particular note is about death, inspired after Emily's beloved Grandmother passed away and she began thinking about the whole situation in light of Biblical truth. It's spot-on, and it's stuck with me throughout the week. God has used it to remind me that worldly beauty - which, as you know if you've been reading this blog for a while, is something I put an inappropriate amount of stock and hope in - is nothing...at the end of my life, it'll be gone, and I'll have nothing to show for it.

There's more, of course, but I'll let you read it for yourself. My challenge is this: after you read the note, consider what you put your trust in. Not what you profess to put it in - what you actually do put it in when the scenes of life play out. Ask yourself: will it be there a the end? After I've lived, what will I have to show for it?

--- "Longing for a Better Country"

"It is better to go to a house of mourning than to go to a house of feasting, for death is the destiny of every man; the living should take this to heart. Sorrow is better than laughter because a sad face is good for the heart." -Ecclesiastes 7:2-3

I would dare anyone to visit a nursing home and walk away prideful. They are halls of death, corridors where people come to await their final breath. The names on the doors represent lives...Jane...Norman...decades of life, no doubt, but what does it matter now? They are but shells of their former selves. Perhaps they used to run, but now they cannot even stand. Perhaps they once did great things, but now they cannot even eat without great effort. My heart and mind are sobered and I am taught.

As I pass through these halls, I know that all roads lead here. Whether our lives are marked by wealth, poverty, the extraordinary, or the ordinary, they all converge to this spot, to this door of death. How little we think about it and what a tragedy that is, for it is the destiny of us all and when we arrive, so many of us find that we have been deceived. All those comforts and achievements we fought for have betrayed us. We are left alone with nothing but the sound of the machines and a thin gown. We find that even our bodies have lied to us. We are not strong, for we cannot even sit up. We are not beautiful, for our flesh is deteriorating. We are not smart, for our minds have abandoned us to a dim fog.

These truths must be pondered in life to prepare for death. If we do, we find wisdom. We learn that "the world and its desires shall pass away, but the man who does the will of God will live forever." I John 2:17 And there is One in whom we can hope and trust who will not deceive us or desert us, but draws near to us as we draw near to Him. We must choose Him over the things of this world so that when we meet our common destiny, our hope does not vanish like the finals rays of day, but rather, grows ever brighter like the coming dawn.

Then we will not be surprised or hurt by the desertion of the things of this world, for we did not cling to them in the first place. The simple truth is that we will all die. We will all be humbled and brought low, but it is our choice of how and when. We can ignore this truth and reality and have all that we cling to ripped from our hands, leaving us alone and afraid in our final moments, or we can embrace wisdom. We can release our false hopes now, humble ourselves now, cling to Jesus now, and so someday, meet death not as a thief of all we hold dear, but as a giver of what we have hoped for, but not seen, the fulfillment of our faith.

I have been reflecting on what a strange thing it is for us to say that someone died, as if they did it on purpose, took some kind of action. In truth, living and dying are such passive acts that we have no say in. We do not choose to be born, not do we choose to die. Our hearts beat. We inhale. We exhale. But there is nothing purposeful in that, nor is there anything purposeful in ceasing to do so.

Yet, it occurs to me that there is a paradox here, a reality that so few come to face. In order to have any kind of purpose, we must live to die and die to live. Of course, it is more than the physical living and dying that we cannot escape even if we should wish it. But no, in living to die and dying to live, we focus our hearts, our minds, and our bodies on putting to death our false and transitory hopes, on considering all our profit and gain as loss for the sake of Christ. And Christ is our model. He himself came to this earth and lived to die, but He knew the Father's promise. “He poured out his life unto death,” Isaiah 53:12 knowing that “after the suffering of His soul, He would see the light of life, and be satisfied” Isaiah 53:11

So, we must follow in His footsteps. For His sake, “we face death all day long; we are considered as sheep to be slaughtered” Romans 8:36 We die to ourselves and this world deliberately, purposefully so that we might live and live just as deliberately and purposefully as we have died. In so doing, we gain the censure of the world and are counted as fools. “Yet I am not ashamed, because I know whom I have believed, and am convinced that he is able to guard what I have entrusted to him for that day.” 2 Timothy 1:12 And I now find that the wisdom of this truth has never been more clearly authenticated. I perceive it and lay hold of it and exhort you to do the same. If we do, we live it out. We “give what we cannot keep to gain what we cannot lose.” And we are no fools.

But what of those left behind? What balm do we find for the sorrow of our souls? What ointment to assauge the sting of loss? It is nothing of this world, for we have seen how fleeting it is. Indeed, the changefulness of this world, the sifting of its shores teach us not to build here, but to build upon His future promises. We must be like Abraham, and by faith, look “forward to the city with foundations, whose architect and builder is God.” Hebrews 11:10 The pain of this world, teaches us to distrust it and admit that we are “aliens and strangers on earth. People who say such things show that they are looking for a country of their own”....for we are “longing for a better country—a heavenly one” Hebrews 11:13-16

So, we lift our eyes to heaven. We deposit our trust in His love. We “consider him faithful who has made the promise.” Hebrews 11:11 We build on that promise and long for a better country. And we do not do so in vain, for it is an ever-fixed shore whose sands are not altered by the tide of time nor the winds of change. Pain and sorrow find no root there, and upon it treads our Savior, our King, our Conqueror. On Him we fasten our gaze and to His word we cling, believing and knowing that one day “he will swallow up death forever. The Sovereign LORD will wipe away the tears from all faces; He will remove the disgrace of His people from all the earth. The LORD has spoken.” Isaiah 25:7-8

Begging Like a Servant

Note for non-Normanites: Tarahumaras is a Mexican restaurant.


Ted at Family Fellowship, talking about a particular denomination:
"They think if you're sinning at the moment you die, you go to hell; if you're doing good, you go to heaven."

John, the teacher: "What if you're in Tarahumaras?"

Man in the back, quietly: "You go to Mexico."

---

Talk about a heart cry. Imagine yourself pressed on all sides by people--and spiritual forces--who hate you to the core. You are falling into despair. You defy them time and time again, because you know they're doing wrong--the world is so far from what it should be! Yet the wicked powers, dead-set on destroying you, only seem to flourish more as time goes on.

Now, imagine you're more eloquent and old-timey-sounding than you actually are. You might pray something like this to the God of justice:

Behold, as the eyes of servants look to the hand of their master, as the eyes of a maidservant to the hand of her mistress, so our eyes look to the Lord our God, till he has mercy upon us (Psalm 123:2).

How exactly does a servant look to the hand of his master? Well, he knows his master has power over him and his future, and that with a word, the master can change his circumstances from horrible to wonderful...or vice versa. He approaches the master both in trust and fear--trust, because he doesn't know whether things will turn out good or bad, and fear, because he recognizes his authority and position is absolutely nothing compared to the master's.

The Lord our God is our master. Oh, to look to him with trust and fear like the servants we, as Christ-followers, are! If there is hope for the servant in the story--that is, the possibility of redemption from his bad situation--how much more hope is there for the servants of God, who know that they can trust him and that he is good--slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love and faithfulness!

If you will humor me once again, imagine yourself at the end of a long, hard struggle. Your enemies have been vanquished, and you are standing on the battlefield, looking at what the fight has left behind. The war isn't over--you know. Still, the vision of victory, the approach of peace, reminds you that though the war rages on, your hope is secure. God has promised to win in the end, and he will indeed.

If it had not been the Lord who was on our side when people rose up against us, then they would have swallowed us up alive, when their anger was kindled against us; then the flood would have swept us away, the torrent would have gone over us...Blessed be the Lord, who has not given us as prey to their teeth! We have escaped like a bird from the snare of the fowlers; the snare is broken, and we have escaped! Our help is in the name of the Lord, who made heaven and earth (Psalm 124:2-8).

P. S. Happy Independence Day.

Ditching the Drama?

Please pray for the families in Norman who lost loved ones and/or homes/property in the tornado.
---
Sometimes looking at old pictures makes me sad. Wistful might be a better word. After the last ten times of not doing so, I've made a mental note that I shouldn't go all nostalgic and pour over photo albums (digital or not) when I'm already quite melancholy.

I know for a fact it's possible not to do this. For example, Chris doesn't. What is it that keeps my heart hanging on to periods of time that I'm glad are over and would never want to experience again?

I'm telling you, it's the proverbial rose-tinted glasses that gets me! I've always felt things deeply--often more deeply than is appropriate--so any moment of high joy or dramatic despair from the past has a foothold in my memory. And yes, I chew on some old despairs as much as joys because the despair is over now, and I can appreciate the sheer drama of the situation.

I guess it's a guilty pleasure of mine, drama. Not the I-dyed-my-hair-blonde-and-you-told-the-guy-I-liked-how-ugly-you-think-it-is kind of drama, but epic, Pride & Prejudice-y, grandiose music swelling in the background kind of drama.

It's silly! As if life isn't dramatic enough without my hyperbolic interpretation of it! I'll be honest. I think that drama has given me a goal throughout my life. That is, I think that if I am part of the story, I can make it end the way I want it to. So, no matter what happens in between, the drama is going to be awesome because all's well that ends well, right?

If you don't know the answer to that question, please refer to reality now,  as it took me too long to do so! :p

I think this is but one of the infinite reasons that we need God more than life itself. Our hearts are built to participate in a grand, sweeping narrative way over our heads. Our hearts long for a reason for the extent of both pain and delight we are able to feel. That vague ache in our hearts must be homesickness--we won't be what we were truly meant to be until we're home.

And then, my meager stories will be swallowed in glory, when everything we hope in, everything we love, comes to completion--Christ the King will reign forever and ever!

I love this verse--it has carried me through many dark moments:
"Beloved, we are God's children now, and what we will be has not yet appeared; but we know that when he appears we shall be like him, for we shall see him as he is." (1 John 3:2)

C.S. Lewis said we weren't made for here, and he's right.

Heaven is a nice thing to think about. We all have some preconceived idea of Heaven, whether from a children's book or a depiction at church or the Bible.

Today, while curled up the left corner of our long couch,I began to contemplate Heaven, and found myself experiencing an emotion I didn't expect: startlement.

Does the mind-blowing concept of eternity ever scare you? To be honest, it made me squirm quite a bit. I knew that was inappropriate, if you will, but I had to walk further in order to catch a glimpse of why. So, stop your bumper-to-bumper traffic of cares for a moment and think about what eternity actually means.

Those in Heaven will live forever. FOREVER. How...? It seem so...I don't know!
When I'm at a loss for words in a blog post, dear reader, you know this is unresolved and still bouncing around in my brain.

When talking to Chris about this (big surprise, right? ;-)), he mentioned that many people feel like there needs to be an end. Perhaps, that's because we only know this world and its imperfections. Even the good things here are weak reflections of what good really is, so we may have an innate desire to see it reach a conclusion at some point, like a good book that can't go on.

However, Heaven's not like here. That is probably not news to you, but it allays my own discomfort--and, at the risk of someone judging me "a bad Christian"--fear. A Christian's everlasting life there will be amazing, and so amazing that we won't desire it to end! There's no point in my trying to hold my idea of Heaven up to an earthly standard. I won't know fully while on this earth, so time to sit back and enjoy the most perfect hope there is.

Once Upon a Time

When I was eight, or even eighteen, it was a lot easier to be a princess.

It was a lot easier to believe in castles and kingdoms, heroism and battles won, legend, undiscovered lands, epic romance and adventure.

Even for a dreamer, it can be hard to dream when pain creeps into the mundane, rendering it not only mundane, but burdensome. You stop wanting to, Eowyn-like, pick up your sword and ride to war, believing in victory.

Every once in awhile, something will remind me of the burning in my heart for greater things--the beauty and romance that I know is bound up somewhere, if only in Heaven--and I take one breath of that refreshing air that used to sustain me all the time.

I'm thankful for those breaths, though they fade quickly in this season. God's not through writing this story yet.

Look Up!

One of my husband's and my dearest friends, PJ King, said that longing is good for the soul. I was in the mood to play Socrates and commented that I needed clarification between longing and pining, for the latter is negative.

The dictionary makes no distinction between the two, he said, and reasoned that longing reminds us of Heaven, that the grave is not our end, earth as we know it is not in its ultimate form, and though we know God now, we will know Him fully when we see Him in His glory in Heaven (once again, I refer to 1 Corinthians 13:12).

Some days, I find myself longing like this: Staring off into the void, wishing for an indescribable something that I know has been and will be again. This yearning--this relentless itch--is the reality behind our very meaningful childhood dreams of knights and princesses and kingdoms. It's the truth that draws us, inexplicably, to hope and endurance when wretched despair chokes out the light.

We long for more in life because this life is not our final destination. We dream of Heaven because we were made to dwell with God.

Keep longing.