Monday, October 26, 2015

Unveiling Zits on the Road to Glory

     Let me tell you a little not-so-secret secret: I have acne. Not exactly a problem I enjoy having. What girl wants to have puffy red dots all over her face? Not me. Driven by insecurity, I have gone about fixing this all too visible flaw in my vanity through various cleansers, masks, and, as only girls have the luxury of doing, makeup.  But, let me tell you from experience, all the layers of chemicals and skin-colored powder have only made everything worse.  Because, no matter how much I try to cover it up on the outside, the problem is on the inside.
     Let me tell you another bigger not-so secret secret: I have sin--a problem that is far uglier and far, far worse than a couple of zits.  And just as all my pesky pimples are only a symptom of the bacteria trapped inside me, all my icky behaviors that come to the surface--getting impatient with my roommate, boasting about my abilities, using harsh and manipulative words to get my way, arguing with my mother--are just the manifestation of a problem that is within my very nature.  A problem I was born into.  Try as I may to cover up all my pride with some real good spiritual makeup or religious zit-pop by trying to fix all my wrong behaviors on my own, these me-methods simply won't work. I will never get rid of my sin by dealing with it on the surface.  Sure, coverup may appear to be working for a while, but even if other people can't see what's underneath, God sure can.  And it's what he sees that matters to me, anyway.

     Now let me tell you something a little more hopeful in all this: my acne is going away.  I've figured out that certain foods irritate me, so I've started eating right to clear out my system from within.  I've also decided "to heck with the makeup!" If I want to see some true change, I've got to okay with the ugliness that's going to be exposed along the way. And you know what? It really is getting better!
     Let me tell you something way more hopeful than a more even skin tone: Jesus has conquered my sin problem.  He died for my sin--my ugly, horrible sin--by taking it on himself and defeating it.  My sin problem isn't a behavioral issue, those are just the zits that show me there's something that needs to be dealt with.  My sin is a nature problem: a bigger-than-me-I-can't-fix-it-I-need-a-doctor problem. And praise be to Jesus, he has done away with the old and made me new.  The sins that still cling to me?  Those don't define me--Jesus' righteousness is what defines me now.  And the sin that's still in me?  By the grace of God it is being being dealt with and extracted by his firm, loving hands.  Jesus has made me a new woman--that is his free gift, but I also am taking my responsibility seriously to "eat right" (feasting on the word of God!) and stop using spiritual makeup (I don't want to be a hypocrite! authenticity for the win!), so that God can work out in me what he's done within me.  Jesus has already saved me, but it's a process to take off the old nature and put on the new.  To surrender myself daily to the work that Jesus is doing inside me.  Yes, I'm aware that means a lot of ugliness is going to be exposed on the way, but I also know that I am daily getting closer to true healing and wholeness. And, oh, I am excited for the day when I get to stand before Christ with confidence and an unveiled (zitless) face, filled with joy as I gaze upon the absolute beauty of his.

***Disclaimer: this post is in not written to trap readers into legalistic dietary and cosmetic rules.  I could care less if you do or do not eat dairy or whether or not you decide to put on some Almay.  I do, however, deeply care about your walk with Christ.  If that's ever something you'd like to talk more about, I'd be more than happy to ;)

Wednesday, October 14, 2015

Burnt Pans & Broken Plates

     Let's be real about something real quick: I break things.  A lot of things.  I trip.  I fall.  I lose things.  I forget.  I show up late.  I'm messy.  I'm disorganized.  I'm unobservant.  I'm scattered. Keep these qualities in mind when I tell you what I did last night....
     Last night I cooked dinner.
     The whole endeavor began with good intentions. My desire was to honor my roommates with a special me-made meal in order to return the favor for their many incredible kitchen-creations I have shamelessly indulged in.  Comparing their expertise with my limited abilities of popcorn-making and Snickerdoodle cookies (hit or miss depending on whether I keep count right on all the measurements), I knew I was taking on a weighty task.  But a task I would take on.  And I mean FULL ON.  Go big or go home, right? Let's go salmon dinner extravaganza!
     The slight pangs of anxiety began when I watched the clock tick past my desired start time. Sitting down with little Edward to help him finish his math problems, I knew this was where I most needed to be...and, yet, I didn't want to disappoint my roommates by being further behind than planned. Rushing to the kitchen post-homework, I began my meal-making with some typical Kelsey Oops-Moments. Pulling out a pan I'd recently singed with my attempted tea-making experience (I put too little water in with some pineapple peels that burned to the bottom when I forgot it on the stove...), I started up a batch of green beans.  Some nasty pot burny junk surfaced to the top, quickly revealing my previous pan mishap in sight, smell, and sound.  Putting the must-be-cooked-with-precision-salmon in the oven that I couldn't quite tell whether or not was actually pre-heated, I completely forgot to set the timer.  Guess I'd just have to check it myself!  But, not understanding my roommate's directions about "flaking," I assumed I would have to wait for the pink little bugger to turn into a crusty, fried looking filet (hint: that's not what she meant).  Thankfully, my nearby roommate was able to salvage this mistake pre-disaster. Anyway, with these mistakes and others, by the end of the entire experience I felt the tension and disappointment of my less-than-worthy kitchen skills laid out bare before the eyes of the experts.  I wanted to do something special, but by the end I just felt like a disaster... again.  Fighting back tears of failure, I reached in the cabinet to pull out a plate.  My emotion-masking would have been successful if it weren't for that final action.  I dropped that plate, and it shattered, along with my resistance.  The tears came, and I left.
     Taking a moment to gather myself and cry out to the Lord, a few other things ended up surfacing along with the tears.  Something I'd been holding inside: I'm afraid to cook because I don't think I belong in the kitchen. I'm sure you know me well enough by now to know I don't mean actually cooking in an actual kitchen.  Burnt, raw, or perfectly "flaking", a piece of salmon is going to go in and out the same way no matter how perfectly cooked--not a big deal.  What I'm talking about here is this--do I see God's kitchen as a grace-filled place that allows for burnt pans and broken plates?  Or do I see him as a top-notch food critic letting me know all the little ways I'm not living up to his sophisticated tastes (not to mention having ruined his precious cooking equipment in the process)? Although I don't always allow myself to believe it, the truth is that God is full of grace, mercy, and loving kindness.  Yes, he's "the perfect chef", but he also delights in having me with him in his kitchen! He holds my hand and guides me step by step, and though I may slip up, he won't let me fall completely.  He even takes the "broken plates" of my life and finds ways to not let them go to waste. A funky art project perhaps?  A lesson learned in love?  Who knows how, but he does! The truth is, my God is a God of love, and he wants a relationship with me.  Perfect love drives out fear, and since he loves me, I don't have to be afraid of his perfection.  He's willing to walk with me step by step, tablespoon by tablespoon, on the journey to becoming more like him.
     Sure there are times when I'm tempted to stay out of the kitchen.  I find myself closing off to others for fear of their rejection, keeping myself from digging deeper into conversation for fear of saying something I'll regret, letting creative ideas be left undone for fear of never finishing... But in those moments may I remember whose kitchen I'm in: the Lord's.  And if the Lord is on my side, I have nothing to fear.  My Lord works all things together for the good of those who love him.  In the Lord's hands, our greatest disaster can be worked out into his greatest glory and our greatest good. Want proof?  The cross.  Our most shameful moment in history--when we nailed the God of the universe to that horrible cross--turned out to be the climax of our Lord's great mercy and love for us. Talk about redemption!
     So...would you like to know how my messy kitchen chaos ended?  A hug.  My roommates chased me down and drew me out of myself.  After a long embrace and refreshing words, they brought me back to an already-set table to enjoy the surprisingly delicious meal together.  If that's how my (sorry, ladies) totally imperfect roommates respond to me (mess and all), just imagine how much more love my Father who created me shows me!  And not just to me: to you.  He wants you in his kitchen! And though his capabilities far surpass that of a five star meal, he'll joyfully join you where you're at--even if, for now, that means you're still learning how to make toast.  Go on, join him in the kitchen, and trust that he loves you far more than his pans.

Wednesday, October 7, 2015

In His Light

     As I look out the window I see the green of the trees, the grayish blue of the distant mountains, the reddish brown of our cabins, the faint yellow of a passing butterfly.  I can see so many colors on all sorts of objects as they are illuminated by the light, though I do not see the light itself even as it permeates everything around me.  And though I don't see all the colors inside the light that is everywhere, I know from my elementary education that the full spectrum of colors are wrapped up inside just a beam of sunshine.  Take a prism and watch as the red separates from the green and from the blue to spread distinctly and beautifully in front of your eyes.  Or watch after a storm how a drop of rain separates the newly returned rays of peeking sunshine into a beautiful rainbow.  Completely brilliant and distinct is each individual color in the stripes of a rainbow, and though unseen individually they are no less themselves when joined together to form a stream of white light.  Miraculously impossible though it may seem, as the light shines there are millions of colors all around us.
     I hope I didn't lose your interest with a less than worthy semi-physics lesson, but I don't know how else to introduce what I'm feeling.  The deeper I walk with Christ, the closer I come to his bright light, and the more I can see things for what they are in the harmony of all the colors all around me. Just as light brings out the colors we see in the objects around us, the light of Christ brings out the color in everything around me. The blue hues of sorrow, the yellows of joy, the red shades of anger over injustice, the purple streams of glory given where it is due, the fiery orange of never-distinguishing hope...  The world is becoming more saturated in color by the light of my Lord.
     And just as a beam of white light is almost paradoxically mixed by the spectrum of colors, I too find myself a simultaneous mix joy and sorrow, anger and praise.  Every day here is another battle. Pain from the daily rejection from teens that want nothing to do with God let alone me; joy from the daily laughter I share with a best friend fighting by my side.  Anger at Satan for the lies he's using to convince my Micah brothers that they aren't loved and are worthless; glory as I watch one of my Father's 17 year old sons physically hold back a brother in love to keep him from falling into the temptation of another drunken night.  Hurt as secret sins--drugs, sex, lies--are discovered in those I love; hope as I see those boys beginning to take steps towards healing.
     As I walk forward with my eyes on the Lord, I am beginning to understand more and more what Paul meant by "sorrowful, yet always rejoicing" (2 Cor 6:10).  Jesus took up his cross for the joy set before him, and so will I.   Each blow of suffering around me is carving out an even deeper well that the Lord faithfully fills with refreshing waters of living hope.  And although the hope I have isn't eliminating the suffering in these moments, my hope is stronger than the suffering.  My hope is Jesus: he is risen, he will return, and this hope will not disappoint.  You see, all of the colors in the light of my Savior are magnificently woven into the pure, brilliant, mysterious light of Jesus' great and ever-shining love.  Therefore, I find myself sorrowful yet always rejoicing in the light of His grand love. Love that will never end...

A Cup of Water

For truly, I say to you, whoever gives you a cup of water to drink because you belong to Christ will by no means lose his reward. Mark 9:41 ...