Love.

The Love of God is something that I feel I've never understood.  It's not that I don't feel loved, and not that I don't know what it means to give love, but this different kind of Love, the kind with immeasurable depth, the kind that should (but so often doesn't) cause awe and quaking humility, confuses me.  I feel as though I can never live up to an appropriate response of His love, stemming from an inadequate understanding of how much I take it for granted.  I know... I'm getting extremely wordy.  And even re-reading that, I know that this shouldn't be the way I seek to understand His love... it's the "free gift" of my childhood evangelism education, and yet still I struggle to understand and accept something that I both take for granted and can't grasp the weight of.  

Charlie spoke on 1 Corinthians 13 today - the well-worn paragraph used to define Love the world over.  But I really appreciated hearing more about why Paul said these words, why Love was described in this way to those people.  Paul was speaking not in generalized statements, but specifically to the behavior and lack of true Love displayed by the Corinthians... hence, the reason this paragraph comes in the 13th chapter, after Paul has spoken to each of these areas previously.  As I looked down the list in a new way, I easily saw a Corinthian reflection in my own life... this time, I didn't read through in the traditional practice, replacing "Love" with "Juliana" to check my behavioral status, but instead, reversed the list to see what Paul saw in the people he was lovingly calling out:

Am I... impatient? unkind? envious? boastful? arrogant? rude? selfish? irritable? resentful? proud of sin?

I know I could supply a very specific example to each one of these without difficulty.  

I read in a devotional today that the word "pure," when used in the sense of a musical tone, means free from harshness or roughness, and being in tune.  It made me think about parts of my character that are characterized by roughness, that are not in tune with God's version of Love.  Whether it's the shortness with which I carelessly treat my parents, or the worry that I have let creep back into my view of the future, my melody is blaringly off-key.

What's more, all of these "adjectives" in the Love paragraph of 1 Corinthians 13 are actually verbs in Greek... Love is only Love when we see it in action.  

And one more thought that really struck me - Paul was speaking to a church with many gifts, many talents, and a wealth of Biblical knowledge.  The Lord spoke to them in visions and manifested himself in supernatural ways, and yet... they lacked Love.  Though God can surely use us in our insufficiency, blindness, and arrogance (or, I should say, despite it) our doctrinal knowledge or spiritual commitment are not the gauge for our hearts - authentic Christianity flows out of a heart of Love.  

And so, actually in a backwards way, I started this post with the compilation of truths below... which all happened to point directly to this Love that I'm trying to understand.  I hope these words bless you as much as they did me, I hope my ramblings help you to think as much as they made me.

God's love is meteoric, his loyalty astronomic, his purpose titanic, his verdicts oceanic.  Yet in his largeness nothing gets lost; not a man, not a mouse, slips through the cracks.  Psalm 36:5-6 (Message)

How precious is your steadfast love, O God!  The children of mankind take refuge in the shadow of your wings.  They feast on the abundance of your house, and you give them drink from the river of your delights.  For with you is the fountain of life; in your light do we see light.  Psalm 36:7-9 (ESV)

I'm more of a sinner than I ever dared imagine, but I'm more loved than I ever dared hope.  (Tim Keller)

The love of God is greater far


Than tongue or pen can ever tell


It goes beyond the highest star


And reaches to the lowest hell


The guilty pair, bowed down with care,


God gave His only Son to win


His erring child He reconciled:


You and I pardoned from our sin.



When ancient time shall pass away,


And earthly thrones and kingdoms fall


When men here refuse to pray,


And rocks and hills and mountains call


God's love, so sure, shall still endure


All measureless and strong


Redeeming grace to Adam's race


Shall be the saints' and angels' song



get this:

Could we with ink the ocean fill


And were the skies of parchment made


Were every stalk on earth a quill


And every man a scribe by trade


To write the love of God above


Would drain the ocean dry


Nor could the scroll contain the whole


Though stretched from sky to sky


(listen to Ascend the Hill sing this here)

Words.

Words are important to me... 

sometimes the beauty of the way words are arranged is so overpowering, I have to stop and repeat them in my mind, write them down, sing them, dance them.  I can't listen to songs without hearing the words and the meanings they intend, which... sometimes can be a bit burdensome, and sometimes it makes me want to press repeat over and over again.  When Scripture resonates with me, I'm compelled to simply rewrite it, to inscribe its truth once again, hoping to write it on my heart and mind as it comes out of my pen. I love the arranging of words - the perfect combination of well-placed words in a poem or lyric, or arranging them myself in order to demonstrate something important... to read well-written words, to hear the words sung in the instruments of music... I love the words exchanged between people who care about each other - discussions about things that matter, conversations that spur on and encourage, lift up and repair, bless and send, share and invite.  In choreography, there are words.  There are words I am trying to tell you through each movement, through the emotion they create.  There are words spoken by others that I want you to know and experience.  There are words spoken through the combination of movement and music that I don't even know, words only you understood when you saw.  There are words that I want to say as I create that only some will know - the choreographer, the dancer, the Creator.  And I think whatever comes my way - profession, location, kaleidoscope community - words will always be important.

Reblog...

I'm Not a Christian, But I'm Coming to Your Church This Sunday

Thomas Weaver » 

Okay I’m not a Christian, but I’ve finally made the decision to come to your church this Sunday. Don’t expect much from me though. If something comes up I might not, but right now I’m planning on it. I feel like I need to go, but I’m not sure why. I want to tell you a few things about myself before you meet me.

1.  I’m not going to understand religious language or phrases so be aware of that when we talk. I don’t understand slain in the spirit, God is moving in me, covered in the blood, I need to die to self, you just need to be in the Word, what you need is a new life, etc. If we have conversation filled with religious talk, I’m probably not going to understand half of the words...and maybe think you’re a little crazy.

2.  When you ask me how I’m doing, know that I don’t trust you. I’m probably going to lie and tell you I’m fine. It’s not that I don’t want to tell you; it’s just that I come from some pain and am not sure if I trust you yet. How about you tell me your story first? If I like you and get the vibe that you’re not trying to capture my soul or anything, I’ll tell you mine.

3.  I’ve got pretty rough language and I can be bitter and angry about some things. If I sense in you a mindset of superiority, I’m out. If you are just waiting for your turn to talk instead of truly listening to me, I’m not going to be interested. Don’t expect me to be exactly like you.

4.  Don’t make a big deal of introducing me to everyone you know. I understand a couple of people, but please; don’t set up a welcoming line. I’m just there to check it out; I need a bit of space.

5.  I’m going to be looking for genuine interest in me. I don’t want to feel like your personal salvation project or be a notch on your “I saved one” belt. If this Jesus is who you say he is, then I’m looking forward to seeing him in you. That’s how it works, right?

6.  I’m going to have questions. I need truth, not your preferences or your religion, so can you just tell me what the Bible says?

7.  I need to feel welcomed. Is there a time limit or something on my visit before I’m supposed to feel unwelcomed? I mean, I’ve been to other churches and there seemed to be a push for me to make up my mind or something. How long until I’m unwelcomed?

Thanks for hearing me out. I’m pretty sure I’m going to come this Sunday. But I might not.

Wise Words, from Current Friends and Ancient Sailors

You should listen to this while you read... (it was on my Pandora when I did)



I have to totally credit my friend Lindsey for posting this wonderful poem by Sir Francis Drake (her words at the end, too), but I had to repost it - I've been awol from blogging for a pretty long time - not necessarily because I had nothing to say, but mostly because so much was happening in such a small amount of time that I didn't know what to say, what to chew on some more, what to throw out there, and what to keep in my head for a later date.  I guess that the result (nothing) doesn't seem very productive, but it also meant I was just waiting for something that would sum things up, which I think this does quite well.  In as much of a nutshell as I can muster, these things happened:


The semester finished up.
Last dance concert (my choreography) at USC.
Final exams, presentation in Russian and Dance History.
I found out where I'll be from September-June: Hello, Belgorod, Russia.
(It's not Siberia!)
I also found out an interesting fact about Belgorod: this fun thing called an Anti-Missionary Law.
(more about Belgorod later)
I graduated COLLEGE.  Like, I'm done.
Anya came all the way from Russia to see me graduate and hang out in Greenville for a few weeks.
(Oh, how God handpicked that girl and her family for my life and His purpose, I am certain)
Last life group x2 - God is so faithful and good, but that's hard.
I said goodbye to people in Cola that I'll hate to not do life with all the time.
(I don't believe in ex-roommates.  I'll miss Monday nights, Tuesday mornings,
Wednesday evenings, and Thursday chats.  I'll miss Chinese dinners and walks by the rivers and 
homework nights and horseshoe days and Cool Beans and studio time and E-wood Sundays.)
The Lord gave a long-awaited answer to a question I'd been asking this semester.
(It was good, and our God is SO faithful - praise Him!)
God provided and grew and strengthened leadership for those taking my place.
I went to Charleston, took a nap on the beach, experienced the crash of waves with my eyes closed.
(kinda like following God when you don't see what's next, but you know it's there, you feel the wind on your back and the sand in your toes, and you trust)
I moved home.
I told my brother goodbye for the summer.
(He gives and takes away... I'm sacrificing without such a wonderful person for Woodlands Camp ;-)
It seems every sermon or Bible Study in the past two weeks has had to do with End Times, Heaven, and related topics.  
(another reason why this poem is so appropriate)
I sent in my application for Ballet Mag's Teacher Training Workshop, though it means I'll be pinching pennies all summer.
I've wrestled and settled and wrestled again with why this dance thing keeps holding on, what I'm supposed to do with it, confused how it all fits, but knowing that I'm not supposed to give it up...
I got on a planning kick for grad school.
(yes, already...)
And, I read Lindsey's blog today... 

Disturb Us, Lord


"Disturb us, Lord,
When we are too well pleased with ourselves,
When our dreams come true
Because we have dreamed too little,
When we arrived safely
Because we sailed too close to the shore.


Disturb us, Lord, when
With the abundance of things we possess
We have lost our thirst
With the waters of life;
Having fallen in love with life
We have ceased our dreams of eternity,
And in our efforts to build a new earth
We have allowed our vision
Of the new heaven to dim.


Disturb us, Lord, to dare more boldly,
To venture on wider seas
Where storms will show your mastery;
Where loosing sight of land,
We shall find the stars.


We ask you to push back
The horizons of our hopes;
And to push into the future
In strength, courage, hope, and love."

~Attributed to Sir Francis Drake, 1577


Dream. Live. Dare. Go boldly to answer God's calling. Stay thirsty for Him... To do without is like a ship in a sea of doldrums.

Daddy, your footsteps are far apart.

Apart from me you can do nothing.
Abide in me.
You are the branches.
He prunes, that <you> may bear more fruit.
As the Father has loved me, so have I loved you.
If you keep my commandments, you will abide in my love.
These things I have spoken to you,
that my joy may be in you,
that your joy may be full.
Love one another as I have loved you.
You did not choose me, but I chose you...
... Appointed you, 
that you should go, and bear fruit that your fruit should abide
that you will love one another.
(John 15)

Abide.  #soeasytosay #sohardtodo #sogoodformysoul

Waiting...
Steadfastness, that is holding on;
Patience, that is holding back;
Expectancy, that is holding the face up;
Obedience, that is holding one's self in readiness to go or do;
Listening, that is holding quiet and still so as to hear.
(Passion and Purity)

Show me who I am, Abba -
apart from distractions.  As your child, as a woman, as a girl.  
As a student, as a graduate.  As a leader, a follower, a sister,
a friend.  As a daughter, as a lost sheep.  As a Mary, as I sit
at your feet.
Show me who I am.


"True oneness, true unity inspired by the Spirit will always
sacrifice preferences at the feet of the person of Christ and the
unity he wants, whether they be political, theological, or anything.
May the Bride find delight in the service of sacrificing for unity."
(RT: @drummerboyTJ, John 14)




#preBrazil.

learning to lament

Jesus, why is it so hard for me to carry your name?  God, my vision is so clouded by the film the world wants to paint over everything.  Your glory has been reduces to the feeble attempts at describing or describing away who you are.  We keep building towers of Babel and then celebrating in the climax of our confusion.  So many, God? So many are lost and believing this construction of false truth that we've made for and from ourselves, or that we've swallowed, begged, borrowed from generations before?
If grace is an ocean, we're sinking, but the avalanche of self-worship keeps plunging into the sea - it won't ever fill it but it still keeps coming - no one learning from before...
I know.  I know the ocean's not big enough to describe your grace.  I know, even, that the avalanche can't compare to how far we've fallen... but somehow the spring comes after every//single//winter... right, God?  The mountains move, the lame walk, the blind see, the dead rise... right, God?  You are a God of miracles. Of turning Babel on its knees, of extending the kingdom to the sinner on the cross by your side, of loving the tyrant, the rebel, the arrogant, the one who gets himself lost on purpose.  
But sometimes they don't come.  Sometimes the daughter they've seen grow up and cling to you just doesn't seem to be enough.  The friend who's loved them believes truth that's only for her.  The sister's example of 'religion' is just a drop in the bucket in a sea of hypocrisy, her earnest prayer seems not to be heard.  The husband that left has caused too deep a scar, the years of a misfed philosophy are too deeply ingrained.  
And the hope that I claim, the one I live by, has only been a shade of the truth.  I'm only standing ankle deep in that sea of grace - my body still whipped by the wind and the sun and the views of Babel towers on the shore - though not for lack of your invitation.  God, I want to swim.  Bring me in, deeper = may I not stop at my knees, my waist, my neck. But God, will they come?  Will they even come as far as their ankles?  Maybe they'll never come if they're not called by someone swimming.  So teach me to swim, Father.  Teach me to swim by drawing me in - may I not fear, may I not forget those on the shore, but may I jump in to the truth of your grace, your sacrifice, your salvation, your arms.  Catch me, Daddy, I want to jump in.


Matt (my worship pastor from home) spoke about the Psalmist's lament on Sunday, and that day, it didn't quite resonate... but yesterday, quite unexpectedly, I got it while I journaled and wrote this.  He said that a lament is different from grumbling or complaining, because a lament still places focus on God, and ends in giving him glory.  He cares deeply about our thoughts, and yet, we must see that all of our confusion and fear ultimately ends with Him, at the foot of the cross.  

beautiful things.

yesterday, i had a nice talk on the horseshoe.
today, my best friend Amie got engaged!
tomorrow, i'm going to Philadelphia.
it's been a good 72 hours.