The person of the critic.

The worst part about having a critic isn't what they think. It's not their critique, not their disparaging influence, their pretentious condemnation or even the panic they induce; for as our own worst critics those things already lie within the realm of ourselves.
Rather the bitterness is what is worst.
We're already in a heavy battle; we're grieving beyond their consideration, fighting for truth beyond their recognition, and making amends beyond their limited perception of the situation. Still, they have the audacity to judge the glimpse of something they callously misunderstand. We feel they've created a less than human identity of us that only includes our mistakes and the pain we've inflicted and certainly never lends us graceful opportunity for growth.
So in anger, injustice and defense we embitter ourselves towards them. Not just the injustice, or the pain caused - but towards them, the person, as well.

Bitterness is the worst part.

Our response to injustice becomes just that, injustice. We create a less than human identity of them that only includes their mistakes and the pain they've inflicted and certainly never lends them graceful opportunity for growth.
Does the last sentence sound familiar?

That is why bitterness is the worst.
It inexcusably demeans their personhood.
Then we become the very thing we find disdainful in them.

Value their humanity, not their callous critique.
Disregard their critique, not their precious humanity.

The Critic in the Stands.

"The critics voice is so powerful because it resonates with the voices of our deepest fears, those voices speaking from inside of us, telling us that we are not good enough. The critics confirm our repressed and terrified suspicions that we don't measure up, that we are unsafe and unlovable.
The voice of the critic can be like a hot dagger that reaches the heart quickly and surely.
But the critic's voice is untrustworthy."
- Michael Gungor

"It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat." 
- Theodore Roosevelt


I know you came to watch the show.
You hoped for a glimpse at my shortcomings, to slip in a jeering smile saturated in contempt.
How very kind.

We looked out of the arena, into the stands where you sat back, arm around another waiting for it to start, and we just shook our heads. Out of disbelief... astonished humor, even?

Did you get what you wanted? Do you feel justified yet?

I looked into the faces of those who've joined my arena. Who have stood by my side, watched me stumble, seen the blood but picked me back up anyway...
and I genuinely hope that when you are in the arena there are as many people willing to climb in with you as I undeservingly have. 
We all need them.

A Grief Observed, Ch. 4

My idea of God is not a divine idea. It has to be shattered time after time. He shatters it Himself. He is the great iconoclast.

Romans 15:13

I pray that God, the source of hope, will fill you completely with joy and peace because you trust in Him. Then you will overflow with confident hope through the power of the Holy Spirit.

The True "Safety Dance"

I've been fascinated by the concept and human disease of "loneliness".

It causes us, humans, to do so many things we would otherwise be so against.
I've seen it drive people to their darkest hour. Its driven me to mine.
It's existence is everywhere, even places we would never believe it to belong.
The kid in a large loving family. The married couple who seem to have it all. The one with an abundance of good, loving friends. But at the end of the day, we all drive home alone. Or fall asleep alone. Or... just simply feel alone. Its feeling alone in a crowded room.

Unsurprisingly our loneliness causes us to migrate towards and chase after human interaction, connection, and community.

But the strangest thing to me is the very solution we pursue for our loneliness (community, human interaction and intimacy) is the very thing that so often drives us back into hiding, into wanting to be alone with just ourselves again, or more specifically into wanting to be safe.

Few have the strength and fear to remain completely disconnected from others,
so lets not fool ourselves into believing we'll be able to hide away forever.
But what would healthy community look like?
How would we connect with people in ways that doesn't end in destruction?

Not all struggle or deal with loneliness in these ways, of course.
But for those of us to whom this sick little dance has become the story of our lives - whatever are we to do?

You've Got It All Wrong, Kid.

They told me all about you.

They told me you were good and loving,
but then preceded to explain how you would rob me of my identity,
violate my existence and force intimacy upon me.

I tried to believe them, I really did.

But then I met you.

You were tender. Considerate. Trustworthy.
They forgot to mention how much you loved who I am,
and what true freedom and love look like.
You showed me anyways.

Now I believe you.

Empathy

I think a lot of times we forget our empathy.
We forget what it felt like at our most desperate hour, our most broken state, our darkest secret or our deepest despair.
It's not religious or moral obligation that leads us to a genuine compassion. But rather realizing we can empathize with the brokenness that resides within all of humanity, even if the life circumstance is beyond our understanding.
True empathy leads to people coming alongside one another to move forward as mutually broken individuals.

Empathy is one of the few things I've seen to make a difference. Cold, arrogant, or oppressive attitudes don't yield positive results. People aren't meant to be treated as objects. Empathy helps us see past flaws and look at the person instead.

What does that say about grace? What kind of empathy must God have to care for us with a genuine compassion?

I want to hold deep compassion for people, not shallow obligation for objects.

Abnormalities

"Stay safe" is what she ended our conversation with yesterday.
Today I came home to find he'd locked the deadbolt, too.

They've been robbed of their security; they don't understand.

A Miraculous One

I've seen God change the lives, heart & characters of so many people, to include myself. Some I never thought were possible. Purely magnificent.

Goodnight world

I'm really tired. The good kind of tired, where at every moment my eyelids become thick and my neck finds the weight of my head a little more unbearable. Where dream world and reality threaten to collide.
It feels great. I've been tired for... a long time. But it's the sickly tired, the one where every ounce of energy seems to have leaked out, abandoning the need for permission. Where sleeping life away is ever so appealing because the exhaustion has been so invasive.
So tonight, I happily conclude the day.
Because I'm tired. Good tired.
All resulting from a night spent laughing a flood of endorphins into my system, along side a flood of tears down my cheeks. Good tears. Tears of silliness that could only exist so purely while amongst the community I love.

I think I did something right, tonight.
I love my friend!

Not some grand division.

Today my dad and uncle were watching a  reality show that was telling the stories of some young girls that had made some bad choices in their lives and were getting another chance at life.
To my uncle my dad explained that, "kids like that, they're missing hope. All they need is some hope; to know that there is something better for them."

I was somewhat astonished he understood and saw that.
He's becoming quite a someone.

Its like my parents have started up this "ministry" lately.
They've always expressed compassion to the needs of others throughout the years.
But lately I've noticed how much they are touched by the pains of the people around them.
How they give of themselves and their time and their resources to care for them.

I love that God works through anyone.

Today I went to a memorial service of a man who'd been married to his wife for sixty-five years.
She said, "I'm doing alright, but one of these days I think I might lose it."
How do you do it alone after all those years?

An Unexpected Conversation

"I know I've made a lot of mistakes, but I'm okay with it; I didn't know any better at the time."

That was a good outlook to hear.
Contentment, not deflection.
Grace, not self-loathing.

You scare me.

Man...  you are so kind and caring. And valuable.
But you're going to kill yourself, and you don't even know it.
What will it take for you to understand the severity of this?
I mean, you just had another heart attack. Another one.
And you still don't get it.
You're still fooling yourself.

Turns out its not all about me.

Tonight I was sitting in the sanctuary of this place that I come to so often.
In awe I was reminded of how many stories have started here.
But I suppose reminded isn't the correct term, for I barely know any of them.
But those I do know, those I've seen, heard of or experienced... that's real.

I was reminded, once again, what all of this is about. And how that "what" is why I do "what I do".
I think of the darkest parts of my life. The most hopeless, fearful, pain-ridden places of my life, and then I look at what God has done with that.
I know there are others around me who know darkness, they've seen trial, pain, shame and fear. Yet God has been our healer, redeemer, giver of hope and joy and life again.

I'm here because I know what that darkness feels like. I know its drowning, deafening. But I also know life again. I know healing, I know love and grace. And I want people to know its possible.

And I want the world to know why its possible.

Its possible because of a great God.
A mighty one.
An all-loving one.
A holy God.
Our redeemer.
My gracious reason to not be afraid.
Someone to trust with my past, present and future.
MY HEALER.
The King.

Mad Genius

I just found out my grandfather has a tested IQ of 182. He is also schizophrenic.

This fascinates me.

Family Culture

Mom: "Mother, you always expected me to have perfect grades!"
Grandma: "I did not...?"
Mom: "Yes you did, I was in huge trouble if I didn't have STRAIGHT A's."
Grandma: "Well, no... I don't.. it didn't have to be A's.."
Mom: "Yes it did. I couldn't get B's or C's like average students."
Grandma: "Now Tonya, that's because YOU are Japanese."

I was talking to a friends mom about her church's pastor.
She said that one recent Sunday, during his sermon, he said something that was just a little off.
Most didn't notice it, but one gentlemen, in private, questioned him on it.

The next Sunday, my friend's pastor got up and corrected his previous weeks statement.

I think that is pretty cool.

This happened.

*ring ring*
 Me: Customer Service, how can I help you?
...
...
Customer: wait, is this Carolyn?!
Me:um.. nope, this is Mercedi.
...

Later that day...

Customer: I was the guy that called in earlier and thought you were Carolyn.

Me: Ohh, haha, it wasn't a big deal. (Oh great, this is the perv that always hits on me... sick.)

Customer: I guess your voices just sound alike.

Me: No really its no big deal, people think I'm her all the time. In fact, people get us mixed up in PERSON. They always think I'm her or vice versa.

Customer: Reallyy? Hm.... I don't think you guys look alike.

Customer: I mean, Carolyn is waaaay prettier, no offense.

Me: *cough* what was that?

Customer: Its just my opinion, but she is way prettier.



Really?... Awesome.

Church Done Different pt. 1

Today I had the immense pleasure of being a part of a "church tour." Meaning, for the day we traveled to three different churches, three different services and just simply experienced them.
Now this day was right up my alley, I loved it! I left with more questions than answers and more importantly knowing just a smidge more about myself. Not to mention had a fabulous time with people I love in fascinating new places on a sunny day :)


Most prominently my head reels (and rather squeals and squirms) after my experience at the second church we attended. We were informed about each church before the trip, even watched welcome videos and read statements of faith - but with all the nonsense my life is crowded with I couldn't keep them straight or remember a thing about what I was supposed to be "expecting".

I guess the walk to the church didn't hurt in lightening my mood. We were on Queen Anne Hill walking through communities of quaint rustic houses with gardens and flowers and just a general loveliness that immediately lit my soul alight as I exclaimed (at most everything) "What!? I want to live here!!!! This is my place! I love it!"

Before I gush uncontrollably (be prepared) I'll say that I am still grounded. I do still love the people God has called me to be around now, I do not envision this as "perfect church" or "the right way" I just view this as something I've never seen before and something that truly spoke to me and painted a grin on my face that wouldn't fade.

It's times like these in which I wish I had a talent with words. In which I wish I was created in a way that I could express the depth of my emotion through words - unfortunately (as any of you know) my emotions are very reactionary, instead. It is much more common, much more natural for me to just let out squeals or mixed up improper sentences of extreme excitement to express positive emotion.

If I had a way with words I could let you know how it felt.
How it felt to have the sun on my skin as I walked through a fascinating neighborhood and straight up to a church in which I had no expectations. No preconceived notions, just a contented attitude and a desire for something, anything, to be found there that I had not found before.

Upon entering the building (the very sweetly styled old building that I covet, that is) there was a gentle roar. Not  lion roar, mind you - but the roar of a community. The sound of conversation, of interest, of investment, of connection. It just felt good. Brittney, who was at my side (and who does have a way with expressing herself with words ;) immediately said "Oh, I'm home." - that couldn't have expressed it any greater. It just felt comfortable. It just did.
We talked with a few people, introduced ourselves, shared bits of our lives and stories over refreshments and so forth. Then filtered into the "sanctuary" or perhaps I think they'd refer to it more simply as the main room. (Which was beautiful and quaint as well)

"Worship" was my second clue that this place had my heart.
We sang a song, the small congregation/gathering accompanied by a simple keyboardist and vocalist on the stage.
But then we were asked to sit. "One song? Hm.. weird, cool, okay.."
She (the vocalist) then explained that they were going to do something a little different, but that she thought to be valuable. She talked about worship, explained its purpose or rather her thoughts on the response to God and His greatness and how that filters into the lives of others around us. & then she preceded to read the story of the writer of a famous hymn. She explained the background of the hymn and why it meant so much to the writer and people back then. After hearing the depth and richness of meaning we sang the hymn together. We worshiped together. Generally, I don't think much of hymns, not that I don't like them, I just don't think about them much - it was nice to go old style without kicking it old-style, you-know? Simple.
Two more back-stories read by others, each followed by the song being sung. It just led to a level of contemplation, I felt. And it was just so simple.

In that moment I realized something about myself (and I do clarify I'm not stating "wrong or right" but rather what I like best) is that I don't want to be entertained in worship. I mean, it wasn't awkward, she had a great voice and he was a great keyboard player, but it was simple. It wasn't distracting. It was contemplative. I worship most strongly in contemplation.


Now, this experience did not end... it got better, and I've got more to share (to anyone who'll read it ;) but I do have to get up in five hours for a long next few weeks so I'm going to wrap this up with a
  "to be continued..." because I know we all love those.

I wish I had more time to write.

I don’t mean to write like this 15 page analysis I’m currently supposed to be writing, but I mean like write what I want. Write what I think about, what I feel. About the things I want others to know about Jesus.

Jesus, exceed my every expectation.

You go and think you’re already in love & then He goes and has you falling in love with Him all over again.

I genuinely am excited to be old someday.

“Grace makes us nervous, it scares us to death because it strips us of our beloved “you owe me” religion. It snatches control out of our hands.  It forces us to rely on the naked goodness of Another and that is simply terrifying.”

http://thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/tullian/2012/03/06/one-way-love/

I'm moving back into my parents house.

Yep, I'm an adult.

Lovely Unity

I just can't help but love you. I can't.
I can't help but hope for you. Hope so greatly for you.
I know its not all for not, but I'm still scared.
Scared that you'll run away; that you'll not stick around.
I want you to stick around. And not for me, but for you.
You need this. Be fearless, dear friend.
You are loved, dear friend.
You are accepted, dear friend.
And we have hope for you, even if you don't.
& when I'm hopeless, I similarly have people believing for me.
That's what this is. This whole thing.
There's a long journey ahead, but its worthwhile, and you're not alone.

Before figuring out what to believe, figure out what you already believe. Don't be afraid of that. I promise you, it probably wont make much sense; that is okay. Now you have a place to start.

And the day came when the risk to remain tight in a bud was more painful than the risk it took to blossom.
-Anais Nin

What always makes me cry most:

The way God loves the people I know. I seriously can’t get over it. I’m overcome when I see how much value He places in them. . That’s the reason I love corporate worship most. Being surrounded by people who need Him, but also are WANTED by Him. All the glory to Jesus!

I literally felt two zits form throughout the duration of that meeting.

My Bride! Do you remember your first love and the feelings you had for me?
Do you remember our long talks and the way that you wept with me?
Do you remember our long walks and the way that you stepped with me?
Do you remember the silence and the way that we’d listen 
to the wonder I created… and you’re eyes used to glisten 
like the stars… 

I’m just kind of wondering where you are…

The times you spend with me are far and in-between – I miss you.
PLEASE! WON’T YOU COME AND MAKE MORE MEMORIES WITH ME?

I’m here with you, be here with me! 
I want to hold you and I want you to see that 
that cross you took up to follow me isn’t dead
and I am not another empty fleeting thing. 

The stone is rolled away and I’m awake and I breathe.
Stick your fingers through my hands if it helps you believe – 
Not my will but Yours through the steps I take with these feet… 
Make this triumph our memory as we sing and we scream:

SURRENDER IS DIFFICULT, BUT
VICTORY IS SO SWEET!

Iron sharpens iron, eh? Who said there wouldn't be shavings littering the table?

I just want to sit for hours, reading in chairs next to one another, sharing tea and the things that intrigue us.

Between last night and tonight have just been my sweet spot! 
My brain has just been dancing between the beautiful conversations that challenged and connected me last night, to hearing the heart and growth process of those God has so beautifully refined this morning, to reading commentaries and working on/writing a paper that is in a teaching format this afternoon.
I love when my brain gets fed! And I love how God made me! 
& to top it off, between those three intellectual experiences were relational experiences that cannot be numbered! I love spending time with my girls, and the people in the Underground, and some of my dear friends! 


:) <—- (that’s all I’m made of right now) 


Now, do I take a nap before work? Or continue to soak things in, extract more thoughts and challenge my brain?

I'm astounded and dumbfounded by how unique God makes each of us.

I figure this process of peeling off the labels will get easier in time.

One of my favorite things to do: minutes before bed open up my back door and let the bitter wind rush in and chill my pillow and blankets. Then climb in and rewarm them up myself :)

I am not who I was. Its so hard to escape that. So hard to break free of the me people have known me as and believe me to still be. I am not who I once was. God is so much more loving and powerful than that.

I will continue to grow. I will continually to be proven fully in need of Christ. Nothing without Him.

My mistakes… oh, how they threaten to define me. My wounds, cut so deep, that are still so raw, God will make those scars beautiful.

Who am I? What does Jesus think of me? THAT is what matters. Not what others think of me. Not what I think of me. But who JESUS says I am.

So, Jesus, continue to reveal Your love to me. I want to know nothing but that of Your praises and this big love You have for us broken souls, for Your treasure.

Live redeemed. Not in order to become redeemed, but because you already are.

I've laughed a lot, today. That makes me want to simultaneously fist-pump & cry :)

My heart broke twice today...

[ONE] A man, who most obviously did not have a home, found refuge from the bitter cold at Safeway today. For most the evening he slept hunched over in a chair of the sitting area (side note: this very same sitting area had be occupied by our powerless community for the last few days as they also sought warmth, wifi, & a plug in to charge their phones.) He wasn’t disturbing, or even unsettling any customers, as I could tell. And he had the kindest of eyes, I noticed, while I saw him awake for a time. His situation moved me with concern, certainly, but this man’s situation is not what broke my heart. Rather, it was the reaction of coworkers and supervisors, those that I have grown to care for, that upset me. I caught wind of the plan just in time. Rage’s little sister masked in my diplomatic disposition stopped them twenty feet before they went to awake him and ask him to leave. For “he’s not allowed to be sleeping here.” I urged them to leave him be, and warned them of the exposure dangers he’d be facing if they made him leave. They conceded, thankfully. But there was something in their natural lack of compassion that struck me pained.

Aren’t we all a little like that sometimes? What if he were wearing a business suit, & fell asleep? Would he be asked to leave then? Perhaps, but I’m not sure he would.

To be completely honest, I don’t think I would have given this man much thought. Had it not been for Jesus, I may not have noticed HIM. A person. Jesus had been expressing to me today how much he cared for that man. How important this man was to Him. I needed to know how much Jesus cares for him, or I wouldn’t notice. I need to always be told that, about everyone. My coworkers, customers, those who seem to have it all together, and those who obviously don’t. I’m so thankful He told me that today.

[TWO] As I drove home, I had to slow as I noticed an animal crossing the dark empty road. As I approached, I saw it was a coyote. It was lost, and scared. That also broke my heart.

I love that Jesus is sweet. So sweet in all the littlest things...

I complain, too much. "Woe is me..." but man, He is sweet enough to show He cares about the simplist littlest things too.

I don't know why, but He treasures me. I can see He's fond of me in those sweet little moments.

"We are by no means a religious lot. On the contrary, we think the myth of a Christian religion is an incredible fallacy. We are a subversive movement of rebels and lovers with an insatiable desire to see the world’s wrongs righted, the world’s hungry fed, the world’s widows and orphans cared for and most of all to see that those with no joy and no love receive both to the point that their cup runs over. We believe that this is what Jesus is after, not unquestioning minions who conform to arbitrary rules and regulations, but a group of rescued lovers who are deeply loved and who love others."

I've been stuck. Stuck. Just plain stuck. For so long. 

My boots were buried so far in the mud I thought I'd never be released. 

But then, He mentioned - I don't really need those boots. In fact, I don't even like those boots anymore. They're ugly and they squish my toes. I'm just afraid I'd miss them anyways.

I started to pull my soggy feet free from those boots and the mud that had me stuck, but I'm still covered in mud. And its a long walk home. 

But I'm not alone, and He says He's got a garden hose and a pair of shiny new boots for me.

"How can I tell what I think till I see what I say?" E.M. Forster

Fear < Jesus

I think sometimes pain and fear cause us to curl up in a feral state of absence. Be as contradictory as that statement seems to be. Afraid to let anyone close, to inspect or heal our wounds, and distrusting all. At least, that's how I find it for myself. Survival by ignoring the pain until it slams me so absolute in the chest that I can no longer breathe, not realizing that all the while I wasn't breathing anyways. In that realization comes the feral lashing out, and then re-hibernation. I think by leaving it to time, or licking at my wounds by my own strength, that eventually, somehow, the pain will subside rather than overtake me. And instead of trusting the ultimate Healer to come in and heal me anew, I avoid His intimate touch and instead trust in myself - the very reason I'm afflicted by so much pain in the first place. I hold onto my pain with ferocity, matched and defeated only by the ferocity of His jealousy for me. Pain sucks, but fear intensifies it beyond anything but the love of Jesus can refute.