Thursday, August 9, 2012

very inspiring blogger award

While not the first time I've received a blogging award nomination, I feel compelled to share something for the sake of promoting the woman that nominated me. Elaine posts regularly on her At Home With God blog, sharing the daily surprises, blessings, and challenges of an intimate relationship with her Creator. Everyone should check it out; her maturation process is weaved through the archives and serves as an encouragement to any believer interested in lifting the veil. I'm excited to know that pursuing His Presence is not in vain; Elaine's relationship with God testifies to the reward of my longing.

I'm not currently reading fifteen blogs, so the acceptance process would be in vain. Typically, I follow five blogs at a time, and those I find most inspiring usually run their course and cease to exist... until God brings me a fresh five. I try to promote my favorite blogs on the sidebar, though it's in need of deep cleaning as some have left me missing their words. :)

Merriam-Webster defines "inspiring" as having an animating or exalting effect. One of its synonyms happens to be breathtaking, but as this could describe an ugly baby as well as my blog, I'll stray from its neutral connotation and pray the Ledger's inspiration has been a positive one. Thank you. :)

[Since I have yet to kick the obnoxious habit of adverb overuse, this award is most fitting. Very inspiring, indeed!]

Seven important and personal facts about myself:
  1. I appear to have shed the nickname bug for the first time in my life. Since preschool I have been Ant, Anth, Antny, Antonio, Antony, Antoine, Twan, Twanithan, Twanifer... this list excludes the glut of embarrassing pet names offered by my mom. Interesting to note: I have never introduced myself as any of these. I steadfastly hold the conviction that nicknames should be received organically rather than solicited. Aside from name shortages initiated by parents (Dan for Daniel, Beth for Elizabeth, Zach for Zachary, etc.), an individual should never promote the advance of his or her own nickname-fame. If it's meant to take off, it will happen. Creating a nickname for yourself is lame.

    More about nicknames:
    • The only common thread in my adolescent dating relationships was the use of my real name. I never demanded it; my girlfriends intuitively knew I would find it special. I did.
    • In the vanity of youth, I broke my cardinal rule and tried to create my own nickname. It failed miserably. I would tell you what it was, but then I would have to change each of my internet passwords.
    • I have never been a Tony. I will never be a Tony. I know you're tempted at this very moment -- don't do it... EVER! I WILL DESTROY YOU AND YOUR ENTIRE FAMILY!!! =)

  2. This blog was originally inspired by 1 Chronicles 29, in which David passes the torch to his son and pleads with the assembly to consecrate themselves before the Lord. David offers a large inheritance to the building of God's temple, a task larger than Solomon can handle in his youth and inexperience. However, there's an air of spiritual preparation in David's intercession:
    O Lord, God of our fathers Abraham, Isaac and Israel, keep this desire in the hearts of your people forever, and keep their hearts loyal to you. And give my son Solomon the wholehearted devotion to keep your commands, requirements and decrees and to do everything to build the palatial structure for which I have provided. (1 Chr. 29:18-19)
    I love transition points in scripture. God regularly provides transition in leadership where a new work is to begin. Moses couldn't enter the promised land. David couldn't build the temple. Isaiah was given the Messianic prophecy once his spiritually proud king had died. I believe that we're living in another such time and that God is allowing me to prepare a work that will be completed by a generation removed from the idolatry of the contemporary church. My ministry is to till the soil for a move of the Spirit that I will likely never see to the end. I'm perfectly content with this arrangement. :)

  3. My best friend through the first 15 years of my life distanced himself because his high school girlfriend didn't like me. I haven't truly had a "bestie" since, and I've gone out of my way on several occasions to avoid gaining one. For this reason, I think it's easier to identify with God being almighty and sovereign, but less so as an intimate friend. At the very least, I respond to God with the same degree of standoffish independence that I do with my earthly friends. We're working on this.

  4. After playing football in junior high, the head coach of the high school team asked if I'd volunteer as a team manager the following year. This established the need to run from Poing A to Point B, as the coach had me "gophering" this and that for four years... items that were always needed "yesterday." Not only did this role get me in amazing shape (I used to do acrobatics running for the kicking tee during games), it developed a habit of running when it was sufficient to walk. During my camp directing days, our administrator once commented that it never felt like Teen Camp had officially begun until she saw me running across campus to grab a forgotten item during registration.

  5. I have an unhealthy obsession with the color blue, but I think it's getting better.

  6. As a youth pastor / camp director, I loved van and bus rides. I still love to travel, even if I'm by myself. I led four Spring Break trips to Florida, and only the first of these was laden with bad weather. However, I hold this trip in higher regard because the van ride was more memorable. I can't remember much of anything about the other trips.

    I desire to take a coast-to-coast trip some summer, visiting large cities and ridiculous rural claims-to-fame as I go. The only rule: never use an interstate to pass through area where a U.S. Highway still exists. This should send me through quaint towns, mountainous passes, and urban hoods -- I want to see everything my citizenship will allow. And if I never have the funds to complete this trip, I'll have to get a job as Googleman.

    BTW: this is only my consolation trip, should I never have the opportunity to cross Western Europe with nothing but a backpack of belongings!

  7. The only passage of scripture that has been personally prophesied over my life is Psalm 18. All the more reason to grow in faith.

Friday, August 3, 2012

man-child

I returned from my vacation with a burned out headlight this past February and decided this was the time to prove I was a man. Opening the hood, I scoped out the machinery and loosened the hoses that blocked the passage to my destination. The manual was clear that the next step was detaching the plastic clip that shielded the accidental removal of the bulb. I strained with all my might, but the clip wouldn't budge. First time, second time... eleventh time -- same result. While other men were exchanging their own belts and breaks that lovely weekend, I couldn't even detach a half-inch clip of plastic.

Of course, this is nothing new for me. I had long since determined that I would never be a real man. What use was making the best espresso and preaching the best message if I could never change a flat tire? Clearly, God had messed something up and was unable (or unwilling) to do what was necessary to be the kind of "warrior" that male devotionals describe. As other men were aspiring to be William Wallace, I would be fortunate to compare with the bipolar nature of Martin Luther... save his intelligence.

Flashback nearly nineteen years: an abnormally miniature 8th grader just had the best three hours of his life with a smiley girl that appeared to share his affections. The following Monday at school, she makes a point to find him in the cafeteria and inform him of her recent breakup with her jerkface boyfriend. [Hint, hint.] I'm immediately happy inside, but haven't the sense or experience to know what to do. A few days pass and I see her in the hallway with friends. She passes by, smiles, and continues towards class. The same the next day. And the next. Never another word exchanged, never an explanation for my sudden loss of tongue. As the school year approaches its end, she passes by with indifference.

"I don't even know what to say."

"I've never been told how to treat a woman."

"I'm probably not cool enough for her anyway."

Or on her end, "I thought he liked me..."

The ridiculous nature of junior high romance aside, I wish I could say I've grown. I would hope that years of physical growth and life experience would train me to behave less like a child and more like a man. In all seriousness, it has not. A good part of me still feels underdeveloped and ashamed of my ignorance. It's time to buck up and get over it already, right?

I can't turn back time. Even if I could, I could not force my dad to help me grow. It was always easier for him to do it himself. I would screw it up. I was in the way. He met my basic needs and taught me the value of providing for a family. Everything else I had to figure out on my own. It hasn't happened yet.

Physically and socially, I will never be the man that I thought I needed to be. Somehow, I must accept God's grace in this and presume that He has a plan despite my lack of basic training. My struggle will always be against my own standard of what is required to be valuable, as I strain to find usefulness through any level of competence that accompanies my shortcomings. Maybe I could be loved if I learned a new trade. Maybe the effort I place into failing will be noted. As I kick the tires of my beat up Escort, maybe this headlight will miraculously fix itself...

It hasn't yet, so I'm forced to adopt a different identity. Amidst the labor and frustration of the daily grind is a glory waiting to be revealed. It's been there since the beginning, but it's time He told me who I am. I must accept the paradox of being His beloved. I must choose to acknowledge myself as a son. As I walk over the hill desperate and dirty, I must return the embrace that my Father offers.

Being His man has always been a greater comfort than being yours.

Monday, July 30, 2012

dreams

There are two difficulties that caution me from sharing the dreams that God has laid on my heart:
  1. Acknowledging my dreams forces me to hope, which leaves me vulnerable to disappointment. (lack of faith)
  2. Hoping out loud holds me accountable to loved ones that challenge my growth. (lack of healthy dependence)
Likewise, I recognize the misery incurred within an aimless lifestyle. If I wait for my whims and feelings to align with God's heart, I'm reminded that God has an abundant supply of "wilderness" through which I can tread two or three times. I'd like to avoid that where simple obedience and diligence could spare me the mileage.

So contrary to the interest of my self-preservation, I will dare to hope:

My heart is that God will be glorified. He does not offer us dreams without intending to demonstrate Himself. A dream solely for my own satisfaction is one pursued in vain. I hope that the fulfillment of each dream will graciously reveal His love, His character, and His truth. He has granted me no greater privilege than to live as a beacon of light.

My heart is for a pure and lovely assembly. Christ has named us His bride, and we have been charged to reveal His mysteries to the dying as instruments of reconciliation. We are not asked to reconcile mankind with itself, though unity is found in fellowship with the Lord. No, we are asked to point every man and woman to the Christ that gave us life and set us free. We must first bear this testimony ourselves. Where the assembly is modeled and structured with the unbeliever in mind, we squander His intent and bring dishonor to the name of His people. In love and grace, we should pursue righteousness for the sake of the kingdom He is establishing in the hearts of men.

My heart is for the sick, impoverished, and poor in Spirit. Rather than inviting them to an unevenly yoked assembly, I want to actively participate in the lives of the broken. I desire to participate in the life of Christ by offering my very life for the lost. Only then will they know Him to be the God that transforms.

My heart is for a humble, ruined woman to be my wife. She must be the kind of woman that would sacrifice everything to receive her eternal inheritance. She must be willing to live anywhere, own nothing, and love everyone. I desire to begin every morning with her hands in mine, meeting our Lord in prayer. We will love and minister as one flesh, representing Christ's love for His people. We will spur one another in intimacy with Christ and be a comfort to one another for the rest of our days.

My heart is for offspring that I would be privileged to spiritually lead. They would grow up on the mission field and understand what it means to serve those in need as opposed to seeking their own privilege. I pray that my children would know the Lord through firsthand experience of His faithfulness, joyfully living with less and being grateful that it's enough. I look forward to blessing them as a good father should and taking an interest in every area of their lives. Discipleship will begin with my own family and I anticipate daily opportunities to teach and affirm God's intervention in their walk.

Thursday, July 26, 2012

death

I was minding myself at work yesterday when God sent me an African-American prophetess to speak into my life about God's heart (and our frustrations with this dry land resistant to sanctification and reconciliation). Most challenging for the both of us is covering our beautiful pearls when "believers" would trounce them as pigs. My heart cries for a ripe audience.

Anyway, I told her that this place was killing me; she promptly interjected, "Not killing you -- killing your flesh." Truth. What makes this season so torturous are not those around me, but the lack of comfort they provide, even in areas where they previously sufficed. Spirit only consoles spirit. Even where God would have my physical and relational needs met, He would have them met through divine people and circumstances. Whatever I seek for my own good will consistently fall short of what He graces for my perseverance.

Lord, sustain me in this death, and bring my spirit greater life!

Tuesday, July 24, 2012

flesh

In the psych world, they refer to them as "self-defeating behaviors." I know better. They are entirely spiritual. These are the crazy measures that men and women are willing to take when something they covet is threatened. For me, that something happens to be human intimacy -- I find it comical that I fight to defend myself from losing something that I do not possess. This fight quickly transforms me from a reasonable, rational being into an impulsive, destructive monster with no regard for anyone but myself. In the end, I sabotage myself from attaining the one thing I desire.

I'm not sure how He plans to make me well, but I want to be well. When I presume that I've healed because I'm walking in the Spirit, it cannot be put to the test until the next time I dare to move, at which point I consistently find that I have not. I don't know what else to do or how long He would have me endure this pain. I'm tired of hurting.

Tomorrow I will feel better, just as I felt fine yesterday. But I'd rather take confidence that this will one day be finished. I need this fragile hope.
Therefore, since we have a great high priest who has gone through the heavens, Jesus the Son of God, let us hold firmly to the faith we profess. For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but we have one who has been tempted in every way, just as we are -- yet was without sin. Let us then approach the throne of grace with confidence, so that we may receive mercy and grace to help us in our time of need. (Hebrews 4:14-16)

Thursday, July 19, 2012

gifts (pt. 2)

If I asked a crowd of sports fans to name the two most prominent Christian athletes of our day, it wouldn’t astonish anyone if they surmised the same two names:

Athlete One was born to missionary parents active in the field. At a young age, he was taught the benefit of deep Christian values and homeschooled with his four siblings. His home state had previously passed legislation that allowed homeschooled children to participate in local high school athletics, so the family moved to a district with a pass-oriented offense to demonstrate his skills as a quarterback. After twice being named state player of the year, Athlete One attended his parents’ alma mater, winning two national championships and the Heisman trophy. Drafted in the first round of the NFL draft, he led his team to the playoffs in his first year as the primary starter. Athlete One is visibly noted for his charity work, vocal demonstration of his faith, and his decision to remain a virgin until marriage.

Athlete Two was born to former athletes; by the age of four his father had laid out a plan to make him a professional athlete. Spending his childhood honing his baseball ability with his dad and older brother, he was quickly asked to participate with older kids in Little League due to his advanced skills. Earning a reputation among scouts as a humble, All-American country boy, Athlete Two led his high school to the state finals as a pitcher and hitter. He was drafted first overall the following year; his parents decided to quit their jobs and travel with him in the minor leagues so that his mom could cook for him and his dad could discuss his performance. Following a car accident that forced his parents to recuperate at home, Athlete Two wrestled with injuries on the field. On his own for the first time, he made new friends and developed addictions to alcohol, cocaine, and meth. After numerous attempts at rehab, he was suspended from baseball. By the grace of God, he reconnected with the father of a high school acquaintance that shared the gospel of Jesus. Athlete Two continued to suffer a series of relapses, but eventually found freedom from the drugs and married his high school friend. Having been away from the game for three years, a team took a chance on him; he has since led another team to a pair of league championships and earned MVP honors. As an alcoholic, Athlete Two has publicly addressed his shortcomings and inability to drink in moderation. He admits that aside from a transformational work of Christ, he would never have the strength to sustain himself.

Taking nothing away from Tim Tebow, were I granted the opportunity to shoot the breeze about Jesus with either man, I would choose Josh Hamilton every time.

"It’s my privilege to tell my story. I never get tired of telling it. I know how fortunate I am.

"… There is no reason why I shouldn’t be dead or crippled."

-- Josh Hamilton

There’s just something about grace.

The nature of their struggles is irrelevant. Actually, my life bears closer resemblance to Tebow’s than it ever will to Hamilton’s. From a protective home to a faith-nurturing college, I entered my twenties as a vocal, charitable, virginal leader. While I cannot identify with the limelight and temptation that must follow Tebow at every corner, I could have made any of these boasts apart from Christ. I’m sure that I did.

What draws me closer to Hamilton is not the body of his story, but his conclusion. Regardless of how the enemy might attempt to discredit our testimonies, Hamilton’s story is not stronger because he indulged in drugs, sex, and tattoos. These are merely the facilities God used to bring him to a righteous conclusion. Through a smaller stage and a milder set of circumstances, He revealed to me the same truth:

“There is no reason why I shouldn’t be dead.”

This is the foundational piece of grace I think most Christians miss -- at the very least we fail to communicate it, and I can‘t imagine knowing it and not wanting to share.

I presume that the motivation of Tebow’s heart is to reveal the character of God through his actions and the stage he’s been allowed. If so, he’s done a fantastic job. This sort of diligence speaks volumes to complacent believers that aren’t making Christ central in their lives. Tebow is quick to give God glory for what he has received and considers football his open door to minister. The only thing missing from Tebow’s presentation is a recognition that it’s ALL grace. His supportive family: grace. His freak-athletic ability: grace. The privilege to share in Christ’s name: grace. Tebow shares enough about the value of hard work that I wonder if he’s acknowledged that there’s no reason he shouldn’t be dead aside from the heart-wrenching intervention of his loving Father. He may have, but he doesn‘t seem like the type to recognize his depravity and remain silent; he‘s plenty vocal about his faith. But the lost desperately need this single confession. It is the Gospel that saves.

*************************

GIFT(S) #2 PROPHET / MERCY -- Compassion vs. apathy

Like many young leaders, I was exposed to the mother lode of personality profiles in my late teens and twenties. Our camp director loved Florence Littauer’s work on temperaments, thus I was subject to assessment branding by the tender age of 16. I decided to pick up a copy of her book in college, wherein she describes my results as a “mask for survival.” Not only was I personally dealing with the most emotional blend of personalities, but I was sent on a witch hunt to discover what was wrong with it. The enemy didn’t miss the opportunity.

During my graduate work, an otherwise amazing adjunct professor had us take a Myers-Briggs assessment. My extrovert/introvert line again teetered close to center, coupled by the emotionally driven intuitive/feeler/perceiver. The secular world at least had the decency to accept my results as “unique, but normal.” Regardless, I coveted a greater understanding of what might cause my social demeanor to switch without warning.

[During my most recent job interview, I found it comical that the employer was similarly bewildered by my introvert / extrovert results. It's the first time I've ever filled out a profile for a non-ministry position, and the first time I've ever left a non-ministry interview without a job. Coincidence? When we place too much credence in "fitting," the abnormalities present an administrative difficulty.]

However, it was my experience with spiritual gift inventories that stood most prone to confirmation bias; I quickly learned what would be revealed through honest answers. It was in good humor that other prophets made lighthearted jokes about those bearing the burdens of the mercy-giver, and I didn’t have any documented explanation (spiritual or scientific) as to why I should identify with both. It was much easier to hide the fragile (weaker?) gift.

In my study this week, I considered the seemingly oppositional nature of my "motivational" gifts (Romans 12:6-8). What I found should not be particularly earth-shattering in light of Christ's teachings:

As Jesus went on from there, He saw a man named Matthew, sitting in the tax collector's booth; and He said to him, "Follow Me!" And he got up and followed Him.

Then it happened that as Jesus was reclining at the table in the house, behold, many tax collectors and sinners came and were dining with Jesus and His disciples. When the Pharisees saw this, they said to His disciples, "Why is your Teacher eating with the tax collectors and sinners?" But when Jesus heard this, He said, "It is not those who are healthy who need a physician, but those who are sick. But go and learn what this means: 'I desire compassion, and not sacrifice,' for I did not come to call the righteous, but sinners." (Matt. 9:9-13)

In verse 13, Christ quotes Hosea 6. Perhaps a small connection, but my heart immediately stirred. His words in Hosea have always felt closest to how I've known God to reveal Himself when I'm walking in the Spirit. One part terror, one part compassion: it is His romantic pursuit that allows me to feel something other than crazy, as if He stitched me this way for a reason.

What I must explore are the particular attitudes of His people that provoked particular responses from our Father:

What shall I do with you, O Ephraim?
What shall I do with you, O Judah?
For your loyalty is like a morning cloud
And like the dew which goes away early.
Therefore I have hewn them in pieces by the prophets;
I have slain them by the words of My mouth;
And the judgments on you are like the light that goes forth. (6:4-5)

For I will be like a lion to Ephraim
And like a young lion to the house of Judah.
I, even I, will tear to pieces and go away,
I will carry away, and there will be none to deliver.
I will go away and return to My place
Until they acknowledge their guilt and seek My face;
In their affliction they will earnestly seek Me. (5:14-15)

When Israel was a youth I loved him,
And out of Egypt I called My son.
The more they called them,
The more they went from them;
They kept sacrificing to the Baals
And burning incense to idols.
Yet it is I who taught Ephraim to walk,
I took them in My arms;
But they did not know that I healed them.
I led them with cords of a man, with bonds of love,
And I became to them as one who lifts the yoke from their jaws;
And I bent down and fed them.
They will not return to the land of Egypt;
But Assyria—he will be their king
Because they refused to return to Me.
The sword will whirl against their cities,
And will demolish their gate bars
And consume them because of their counsels.
So My people are bent on turning from Me.
Though they call them to the One on high,
None at all exalts Him.
How can I give you up, O Ephraim?
How can I surrender you, O Israel?
How can I make you like Admah?
How can I treat you like Zeboiim?
My heart is turned over within Me,
All My compassions are kindled.
I will not execute My fierce anger;
I will not destroy Ephraim again.
For I am God and not man, the Holy One in your midst,
And I will not come in wrath.
They will walk after the Lord,
He will roar like a lion;
Indeed He will roar
And His sons will come trembling from the west.
They will come trembling like birds from Egypt
And like doves from the land of Assyria;
And I will settle them in their houses, declares the Lord. (11:1-11)

Return, O Israel, to the Lord your God,
For you have stumbled because of your iniquity.
Take words with you and return to the Lord.
Say to Him, “ Take away all iniquity
And receive us graciously,
That we may present the fruit of our lips.
“Assyria will not save us,
We will not ride on horses;
Nor will we say again, ‘Our god,’
To the work of our hands;
For in You the orphan finds mercy.”
I will heal their apostasy,
I will love them freely,
For My anger has turned away from them.
I will be like the dew to Israel;
He will blossom like the lily,
And he will take root like the cedars of Lebanon.
His shoots will sprout,
And his beauty will be like the olive tree
And his fragrance like the cedars of Lebanon.
Those who live in his shadow
Will again raise grain,
And they will blossom like the vine.
His renown will be like the wine of Lebanon. (14:1-7)

“Therefore, behold, I will allure her,
Bring her into the wilderness
And speak kindly to her.
“Then I will give her her vineyards from there,
And the valley of Achor as a door of hope.
And she will sing there as in the days of her youth,
As in the day when she came up from the land of Egypt.
"It will come about in that day,” declares the Lord,
“That you will call Me Ishi
And will no longer call Me Baali.
"For I will remove the names of the Baals from her mouth,
So that they will be mentioned by their names no more.
“In that day I will also make a covenant for them
With the beasts of the field,
The birds of the sky
And the creeping things of the ground.
And I will abolish the bow, the sword and war from the land,
And will make them lie down in safety.
“I will betroth you to Me forever;
Yes, I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice,
In lovingkindness and in compassion,
And I will betroth you to Me in faithfulness.
Then you will know the Lord." (2:14-20)
Whereas my heart is drawn to righteous anger at the sight of proud idolatry, it is equally aroused with compassion in the presence of the brokenhearted. For the longest time, my least favorite setting was among a church body because I was placed in position to speak judgment or hold my tongue. Seemingly, I had to choose between burning bridges and disobedience. When I read His word, I'm reminded that discomfort is a small price for righteousness, and it is nearly always a necessary precursor for compassion.

Among the brokenhearted, my heart is easily driven towards mercy. This doesn't mean that Truth and rebuke are unnecessary, but the broken are keenly aware of their need for healing. The doctor doesn't need to convince the terminally ill that measures are necessary for survival. They understand the alternative is death; aside from the hands of Something infinitely greater, they are left to the curse of their deeds.

What we ignore in our flesh is His message of healing. We act as doctors among doctors, spending our days in a common office to verify our own health. Outside these walls lie the sick, but despite our extensive education, we fear contagion more than we desire compassion. My frustrated response is apathy -- if the healthy are nothing more than collectors of unless vials, my correction does little more than harden hearts. They believe their reward is deserved and arrogantly praise God for protecting them from infection. They fail to recognize they were already born with a fatal condition and a willing Antidote.

Though I'm inclined to give up, how dare I turn away? How do I disregard His bride as if we haven't made covenant? Indeed, I cannot. I must chase and ravage in hope for her purity. In my firmness I pray for her to come undone, that she might acknowledge her nakedness and blindness and come to be healed. For in her shame I am predisposed to wrap her in my arms and call her mine. This body of the redeemed will shine His glory among the lost like scorching embers. His compassion cannot be resisted.

Wednesday, July 18, 2012

new post coming Thursday

In the meantime...
  1. All I've been thinking about this week is grace, and why God has even bothered to have a relationship with me. It's completely unreasonable. My entire life I've felt like a leper because my acceptance has always been tied to my function. In short, where I am useful, I am beloved. The idea that someone would go out of their way to meet me in my disease is so foreign. It seems the only valid response is their attempting to convince me that I'm not sick or to adore me until I am shown to have fault. I recognize the corruption in expecting a human to love me unconditionally, but my perception is that others have this in their lives. And I so desperately want something tangible as my comfort. But here's the Creator of the universe wanting to be in relationship with me for no other reason than love... it's hard for me to process. But I just want to be near Him, or perpetually nearer.
  2. When I quit my job in April, my primary spiritual reason was that I was hiding behind my work as a means to ignore my longing. And it did a fantastic job of it. Since my emotional energy is not fully spent working with the girls, I am forced to be emotionally honest with my heart, which has been terrifying. To be honest is to admit that I feel regretful, rejected, and untouchable. And then I get a glimpse of human acceptance and I want to suffocate the life out of it, because they're certain to bail when they find out I need them as much as they need me. So I tried applying for another job that would mask my needs in the same way, with an employer that many affirmed would be amazed by me. I prayed that I wouldn't be hired despite my qualifications if God didn't want it for me. He intervened, and while I'm not disappointed by answered prayer, I'm continually pushed back into my pain. His grace is not allowing my escape, if that makes any sense. He wants to heal me rather than leave me functional. It's excruciating.
  3. I see that it's unreasonable to expect a noble woman would want to be my helper when I haven't determined where I'm going. And I cannot determine where I'm going until I can trust God to lead me into the unknown. I'm not scared of gunshots, robberies, or physical harm, but I'm frightened of being alone... frightened enough to prevent myself from fully running to Him because I'm scared He might not be everything I need Him to be when it's just the two of us. That sounds really ugly when I see it in words.
This and more on Thursday, but I had to get it off my chest before I retired for the evening. As always, I appreciate your prayers.