There are some days, when I wake up, and I think "What is God going to do today? What is his amazing purpose for me today?". And then there are other days, when I wake up and I think to myself (horribly) that I wish God had never given me free will- so that I wouldn't have to choose Him over myself, when all I want to do is go back to bed and put a pillow over my face.
Today, I asked God to take the decision away from me. I simply don't want a choice anymore. I don't want to wander away from Him, and I don't want to constantly struggle with myself, my body, and my mind to serve Him. I feel so tired! I don't want my faith to be some kind of giant hypocrisy!
I'm not sure of the the theological connotations of asking that of God (although I think they're probably negative. After all, what is a relationship with Jesus if you're not willing to "Count it all as loss"?). All I know is that after I woke up way too late, I got in a fight with my Dad, worried anxiously over the status of one of my student loans, and then jumped on the train, listening with irritation to the overly loud chatter of high school students on their way to the Arts school near Cityplace.
I took a seat across from the bathroom, and my mind drifted as I looked at the door with its star-shaped key hole. I remembered hearing about a young person, a few years back, taking their life in a train bathroom. I started thinking about it, imagining what would've happened if I was present for that situation.
Now maybe you're not like this- but I my mind sees everything in scenes- like acts of a play, or moments in a movie script. In my mind I could see the blood seeping underneath the doorway two feet in front of me like it was really there- and in my mind I jumped up, banging on the door, asking someone to go get train personel. But the door was open. Once I figured that out, I tore the door open, and saw a young man slumped on the floor, in a worn poloshirt and faded black jeans, his eyes shut, his wrist bleeding profusely. I ripped a section on his undershirt and tied it around his wrist to staunch the bleeding. In my mind, I'm screaming for someone to stop the train and call 911. I'm thinking "Who is this guy, who decided that he couldn't wait to get home to die? Did he hate himself that much?" That's when I start thinking, as his eyes flutter open, his face perspiring and his eyes dilating as he starts going into shock- that maybe this man isn't going to make it.
And then in the middle of this horrible, detailed, daydream about something I never want to personally experience- I think "What would I say to a strange man I know is about about to die? What would I want him to know? What would the last words he hears on earth be if I spoke them?"
I started tearing up, on the seat across from the bathroom. I know exactly what I'd say. And suddenly I realize that the whole reason my mind is wandering strangely around in this dramatic scene is for this moment. I am conscious of the fact that God is showing me something.
I would say this.
"Jesus loves you. You are the beautiful creation of God, made in his image. He created you with purpose, and with delight.You have been pursued your whole life by that love. Right this minute, God wants you to know what a treasure you are to Him, even as you make this choice. You are a precious gift of the Most High God. Even if you don't get through this- you can still live with Him in eternity. Choose Him now. Choose His Love. Don't drift away without Him."
God often uses my imagination to wreck me. My greatest weakness, and my greatest strength. It makes me empathetic, and it makes me idealistic- but make it harder to bring it into practice. Harder to bring my mind to order and to honor God with my thought-life.
To choose God in my daily life is my greatest struggle. But as I sat on that train, I remembered again why I chose him in the first place. I chose him because the man on the floor of the train bathroom would've been me.
I remember what it was like to hate everything about myself so much that I wanted to die, everyday of my life. I remember what it was to think myself so unworthy of love, that hearing people talk about my value made me angry with them, because it felt like they were lying, or twisting the truth about my petty, lying, innately flawed nature. Thought secretly, that if they really knew me, they couldn't possibly love me. I lived with that darkness most of my childhood, as a teenager. I lived with it as an adult.
But God brought me truth in the form of people who unashamedly loved me. He showed his love to me through people first- and then when he had my heart primed- he showed me his love Himself, in quiet moment on the floor of a dorm common room. I was sitting in front of a mirror, crying for some unremembered reason, when I caught a glimpse of myself in the mirror, all runny nosed and red- and I felt the love of God inexplicably come at me full force, with "I love you. You are my beloved. You are beautiful." Suddenly, God's pursuit of me during the entire extent of my life seemed blatant- everything wonderful and horrible that had happened, seemed both intentional and loving. And the wounds I carried seemed trivial in comparison to that Love. It swallowed me up.
And for the first time in my life, I felt really, truly beautiful. I really believed it of myself in that exact moment- with angry red cheeks, and blood-shot eyes, and tears running down my face. I started laughing, and ...I fell back into the arms of Grace.
That is why I choose Him. That's why I WANT to choose Him.
I don't ever have to worry that God's going to let me walk away from Him. He knows my thought-life- he uses the imagination that I let run away with itself lead me right back to Him. Like a child, he grabs my hand before I run into the street- he leads me back to the safe haven of the front porch. I sit on his lap and watch the cars drive by without fear, anxiety or worry, because I know he's got my hand. and that I am in the palm of His.
I'm glad I'm not some kind of robot. I'm glad I get to choose Him- and experience the tenderness of his well-pleased love in me. I'm glad I get to choose him instead of myself, because it reminds me that my body is formed out of dust. Formed lovingly, as a temporary vessel to possess a soul that is desperately loved, and of use to God.
But truthfully,that daydream also reminded me of something else-
Preparedness. The dying man wasn't just me- He also represents the people around me. There are people I meet on the street, every day of my life, that feel that daily the kind of self- hatred and anger that I felt for myself. They walk across the street when you pass by, avoiding authentic relationships because they think they don't deserve them. They angrily huff past you when don't move fast enough in the narrow aisle of the gas station grocery. They are your anxious coworker. They're your silent mailman. They are your very angry boss.
I need to walk out of my house prepared, with the words ready at my lips. The words I would speak to the dying man- I need to speak to the persnickety members of my home owners association.
I need to live those words into friendships- into interactions with strangers on the street.
I need to take my idealistic ideas, and get out of my head, and bring it the streets.
And through it all... I need to still remember, and continue to be the crying/laughing girl in front of the dorm mirror. Vulnerable and jubilant. In awe. In Love.
Let the dying man live again. I have all the rescue I need.
:) :) :)
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Monday, August 1, 2011
Pollyanna, and Reality, and Heartsongs.
Recently, I've come onto blogger all of 15 times in the last two weeks to post about thoughts running through my head.
The problem is, that whenever I do that, I start writing, and a kind of mental regurgitation seems to happen- where all the unfinished thought processes my brain has been sorting through appear, and I lose sight of what I originally meant to post about in the first place. It has been a taxing process for me to get through those "thought bunnies"- that are often the product of my inner Negative Nancy. She likes to insert her annoyingly morbid rhetorical questions in the middle of my pursuit of redemption- she's such a freaking jerk.
So....I think its time to let my inner Polyanna talk for a while.
I've always been a bit fixated on movies Pre-1970s. When I was a kid, my mom would let me watch TCM and AMC. I was NOT allowed to watch Nickelodeon. My mom thought it taught kids to be disrespectful, rude, and that farting in public was okay.
So, in addition to Disney movies, my childhood was swept up in the romance of Fred Astaire, and glittering silverscreen starlets. I wanted to be in a movie with Rock Hudson. I thought he looked kind of like Prince Eric in the Little Mermaid- my Quintessential Disney Prince. I wanted to sing in a large field in Oklahoma, and be carried up red carpeted steps- to wear a sweeping dress made out of feathers, and sing with beautiful lips and shining eyes and glossy magnificently waved hair. The stories were timeless, and the music was beautiful, and the dancing was classy, and I, at 12, was more in love with Nancy Drew than I ever could be with the Babysitters Club.
But out of that era of story telling, one of my favourite characters was Pollyanna. She had beautiful blonde hair, and she met adversity with a smile on her face ,and truth on her lips. I did not envy her the catastrophic fall from the tree- but I did envy the love her whole town felt for her. I wanted to be so loved, and honored- to be found special, and lovely, simply for being me.
But childhood wounds aside.....I think that its funny now, to recognize that there is a hidden kind of Polyanna within me now, that I am now recognizing has been smothered by me.
I have wanted to be "A realist'. I've wanted to be honest with msyelf about of the challenges I face in terms of my personality, and the restrictions my world has on it.
I've have strived to be a realist, because I know that within me, is a resolutely deep propensity to dream- to let imagination take over, and allow reality to become blurred. I recognize now that, although it is true that if I let it take over, dreaming could take my life out from under me- I also recognize that stifling it all together- to become so assailed with doubt every time even the simplest dream outside of my "scope of reality" emerges- that it kills that hope all together...is ridiculous. Its not realism. It is fear. And fear will rip my life out from underneath me just as surely as dreaming would.
People make fun of "Polyannas" now. To the world, they are cheesy, unrealistic, and two dimensional. They don't understand Reality- and Reality is that one person can't change the world, and one person can't effect an entire town with their goodness- that one horrible act will carry twice as much impact as one good act. Reality says that Polyanna was overly perfect- no one had the capacity to love as honestly, or as innocently all those strangers. Reality says that Polyanna would probably have grown into cynicism, once she saw the way the world worked. That the hope of a child is tempered by the living Reality of adulthood.
Reality. What is that really anyway? It doesn't work the way people think it does, and should. The world says Reality is that the world is the way the world is, and it is important far more important to be informed, and that you need to know your limitations. Reality is statistics- its not what we know as completely true- its what we know is true MOST of the time. Reality is facts, figures, banks statements, and parking tickets, and water bills. Reality is money. Reality is that you can't spend time with your kids, because you're busy giving them the American Dream. Reality is that you don't want to go on a date with your wife, because you're so tired , you don't know what you'd talk about that wouldn't segue into an arguement. Reality is that you're too fat, or too thin, or too acne prone, or too pretty,or too ugly. Reality says that you're too much but not enough. You don't fit a standard for normal set by statistics like you should.
Reality says you must stay in your box, and live in your small world, and eat healthy, and pay your taxes until you die. Anything else would be a wonderful anomaly that usually only happens in fairy books and disney movies.
Wrong. Reality is WRONG.
Its so wrong it makes my skin crawl. So wrong it makes my heart beat angrily on the cage of my ribs, and my mind scream in outrage, and my spirit threatens to cower until it realizes it has the power to swell rebelliously- to completely obliterate that NOXIOUS LIE with overwhelming, gut wrenching, wonderfully freeing TRUTH.
Pollyanna's going to have her say!
.......Well...maybe I should put aside that reference. It was helpful before....but now Maybe I should just take ownership of what I'm about to say.
That this is ME speaking. Its MY heart (yielded) and My life (*surrendered*), and Polyanna was a children's story, but I have living, breathing proof of God's creative masterpiece.
So-Here's MY reality.
Psalm 3:1-3
"O Lord, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me;
2.Many are saying of my soul,
"there is no salvation for him in God" (How many times have I told myself the same lie?)
3. But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,
my glory, and the lifter of my head."
Every self-destructive cycle I've lived through has convinced me, over time, that I am incapable of not repeating them- and inadvertantly, that God's love and redemption of my life cannot change that. That was my "reality"- that I would keep making the same mistakes until I died- and that at Heaven's gate, I would be rejected because I couldn't live up to "The rules of being a person on fire for God"- a secret code that only the most disciplined ,and naturally beatific of Christ-followers knew, and everything else was just "luke-warm". I have lived believing that I was a bad taste in God's mouth, that just wouldn't go away.
What a hideous lie.
1 Peter 2:4
"As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men, but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." ..... v.9 "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own posession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness and into marvelous light."
I was created by the God of Marvelous Light. The God who made me- created the empathy and sensibilities in me that have been perverted by a broken world into something I have been ashamed of. I am "too emotional", and "spazzy", and my vulnerability has become something I want to hide- to keep from the eyes of people who would use it against me. But God created in me, when I surrendered my life to him- a kind of openness of heart that he wants to use. How many times, in the past, did I ask God to make me transparent for his message? How many times did I ask him to make me authentic- to help me be living proof of his love for humanity, and his unfailing mercy? And when he creates in me this softness- in the world this "weakness" and "naivety"- how can then try to shield it? I am a building block for a building- a temple of the living God. Where others are called to be a wall- I am called to be a window. Its time to wake up to that reality, embrace it, and move forward with open hearted discernment and embrace God's brokenhearted, lost little children.
And I can do that because my reality is NOT defined by the my "experience"- by how many times I've been burned or how many time I've been broken or tried and failed. I am DEFINED by my REDEMPTION.
John 14:6
"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
And that redemption is perfect. Is the person? No. I am constantly swayed by past understandings of who I am and who I was. I fight the quelling knowledge that I am one person in a big world. But that is until I begin to remember that this world is not made up of building or tools. Its not made of the things humanity has created, or the natural, temporal world we can't control despite technology.
This world is full of created, sentient beings who were created with an instinct, and desire to love and be loved. Every act speaks of a desire for love, pure of perverted - that is constantly seeking its fullfillment in the world of buildings around it-
Hebrews 11:1
"Now Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.
For by it the people of old received their commendation.
By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."
I was created to love things not seen-to Love God and after filtering my vision of this world through that exceptional love, to then meet humanity, and love the wholeness of a person as I understand it- to love despite perceived flaws and failures - to love beyond race, and class, and creed, and socioeconomic status. I am created to be a window that reflects, and allows light to pass through. To let love pass through.
I am not a failure. I am not an accident, I am not a bad taste in God's mouth, or a liability to his kingdom.
I am beloved.
And SO. ARE. YOU.
THAT is reality.
The problem is, that whenever I do that, I start writing, and a kind of mental regurgitation seems to happen- where all the unfinished thought processes my brain has been sorting through appear, and I lose sight of what I originally meant to post about in the first place. It has been a taxing process for me to get through those "thought bunnies"- that are often the product of my inner Negative Nancy. She likes to insert her annoyingly morbid rhetorical questions in the middle of my pursuit of redemption- she's such a freaking jerk.
So....I think its time to let my inner Polyanna talk for a while.
I've always been a bit fixated on movies Pre-1970s. When I was a kid, my mom would let me watch TCM and AMC. I was NOT allowed to watch Nickelodeon. My mom thought it taught kids to be disrespectful, rude, and that farting in public was okay.
So, in addition to Disney movies, my childhood was swept up in the romance of Fred Astaire, and glittering silverscreen starlets. I wanted to be in a movie with Rock Hudson. I thought he looked kind of like Prince Eric in the Little Mermaid- my Quintessential Disney Prince. I wanted to sing in a large field in Oklahoma, and be carried up red carpeted steps- to wear a sweeping dress made out of feathers, and sing with beautiful lips and shining eyes and glossy magnificently waved hair. The stories were timeless, and the music was beautiful, and the dancing was classy, and I, at 12, was more in love with Nancy Drew than I ever could be with the Babysitters Club.
But out of that era of story telling, one of my favourite characters was Pollyanna. She had beautiful blonde hair, and she met adversity with a smile on her face ,and truth on her lips. I did not envy her the catastrophic fall from the tree- but I did envy the love her whole town felt for her. I wanted to be so loved, and honored- to be found special, and lovely, simply for being me.
But childhood wounds aside.....I think that its funny now, to recognize that there is a hidden kind of Polyanna within me now, that I am now recognizing has been smothered by me.
I have wanted to be "A realist'. I've wanted to be honest with msyelf about of the challenges I face in terms of my personality, and the restrictions my world has on it.
I've have strived to be a realist, because I know that within me, is a resolutely deep propensity to dream- to let imagination take over, and allow reality to become blurred. I recognize now that, although it is true that if I let it take over, dreaming could take my life out from under me- I also recognize that stifling it all together- to become so assailed with doubt every time even the simplest dream outside of my "scope of reality" emerges- that it kills that hope all together...is ridiculous. Its not realism. It is fear. And fear will rip my life out from underneath me just as surely as dreaming would.
People make fun of "Polyannas" now. To the world, they are cheesy, unrealistic, and two dimensional. They don't understand Reality- and Reality is that one person can't change the world, and one person can't effect an entire town with their goodness- that one horrible act will carry twice as much impact as one good act. Reality says that Polyanna was overly perfect- no one had the capacity to love as honestly, or as innocently all those strangers. Reality says that Polyanna would probably have grown into cynicism, once she saw the way the world worked. That the hope of a child is tempered by the living Reality of adulthood.
Reality. What is that really anyway? It doesn't work the way people think it does, and should. The world says Reality is that the world is the way the world is, and it is important far more important to be informed, and that you need to know your limitations. Reality is statistics- its not what we know as completely true- its what we know is true MOST of the time. Reality is facts, figures, banks statements, and parking tickets, and water bills. Reality is money. Reality is that you can't spend time with your kids, because you're busy giving them the American Dream. Reality is that you don't want to go on a date with your wife, because you're so tired , you don't know what you'd talk about that wouldn't segue into an arguement. Reality is that you're too fat, or too thin, or too acne prone, or too pretty,or too ugly. Reality says that you're too much but not enough. You don't fit a standard for normal set by statistics like you should.
Reality says you must stay in your box, and live in your small world, and eat healthy, and pay your taxes until you die. Anything else would be a wonderful anomaly that usually only happens in fairy books and disney movies.
Wrong. Reality is WRONG.
Its so wrong it makes my skin crawl. So wrong it makes my heart beat angrily on the cage of my ribs, and my mind scream in outrage, and my spirit threatens to cower until it realizes it has the power to swell rebelliously- to completely obliterate that NOXIOUS LIE with overwhelming, gut wrenching, wonderfully freeing TRUTH.
Pollyanna's going to have her say!
.......Well...maybe I should put aside that reference. It was helpful before....but now Maybe I should just take ownership of what I'm about to say.
That this is ME speaking. Its MY heart (yielded) and My life (*surrendered*), and Polyanna was a children's story, but I have living, breathing proof of God's creative masterpiece.
So-Here's MY reality.
Psalm 3:1-3
"O Lord, how many are my foes! Many are rising against me;
2.Many are saying of my soul,
"there is no salvation for him in God" (How many times have I told myself the same lie?)
3. But you, O Lord, are a shield about me,
my glory, and the lifter of my head."
Every self-destructive cycle I've lived through has convinced me, over time, that I am incapable of not repeating them- and inadvertantly, that God's love and redemption of my life cannot change that. That was my "reality"- that I would keep making the same mistakes until I died- and that at Heaven's gate, I would be rejected because I couldn't live up to "The rules of being a person on fire for God"- a secret code that only the most disciplined ,and naturally beatific of Christ-followers knew, and everything else was just "luke-warm". I have lived believing that I was a bad taste in God's mouth, that just wouldn't go away.
What a hideous lie.
1 Peter 2:4
"As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men, but in the sight of God chosen and precious, you yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ." ..... v.9 "But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own posession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness and into marvelous light."
I was created by the God of Marvelous Light. The God who made me- created the empathy and sensibilities in me that have been perverted by a broken world into something I have been ashamed of. I am "too emotional", and "spazzy", and my vulnerability has become something I want to hide- to keep from the eyes of people who would use it against me. But God created in me, when I surrendered my life to him- a kind of openness of heart that he wants to use. How many times, in the past, did I ask God to make me transparent for his message? How many times did I ask him to make me authentic- to help me be living proof of his love for humanity, and his unfailing mercy? And when he creates in me this softness- in the world this "weakness" and "naivety"- how can then try to shield it? I am a building block for a building- a temple of the living God. Where others are called to be a wall- I am called to be a window. Its time to wake up to that reality, embrace it, and move forward with open hearted discernment and embrace God's brokenhearted, lost little children.
And I can do that because my reality is NOT defined by the my "experience"- by how many times I've been burned or how many time I've been broken or tried and failed. I am DEFINED by my REDEMPTION.
John 14:6
"I am the way, the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me."
And that redemption is perfect. Is the person? No. I am constantly swayed by past understandings of who I am and who I was. I fight the quelling knowledge that I am one person in a big world. But that is until I begin to remember that this world is not made up of building or tools. Its not made of the things humanity has created, or the natural, temporal world we can't control despite technology.
This world is full of created, sentient beings who were created with an instinct, and desire to love and be loved. Every act speaks of a desire for love, pure of perverted - that is constantly seeking its fullfillment in the world of buildings around it-
Hebrews 11:1
"Now Faith is the assurance of things hoped for, the conviction of things not seen.
For by it the people of old received their commendation.
By faith we understand that the universe was created by the word of God, so that what is seen was not made out of things that are visible."
I was created to love things not seen-to Love God and after filtering my vision of this world through that exceptional love, to then meet humanity, and love the wholeness of a person as I understand it- to love despite perceived flaws and failures - to love beyond race, and class, and creed, and socioeconomic status. I am created to be a window that reflects, and allows light to pass through. To let love pass through.
I am not a failure. I am not an accident, I am not a bad taste in God's mouth, or a liability to his kingdom.
I am beloved.
And SO. ARE. YOU.
THAT is reality.
Tuesday, May 17, 2011
Let me introduce myself. Who am I again?
Hi. My name is Amanda. I am a girl who has always struggled to maintain a work ethic that my family could be proud of.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I shirk the mantle of responsibility my family yokes on me unfairly, because I recognize that even if I did something amazing with my life- there would always be something my mom would see in me that needed fixing.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm a woman afraid of her own power. I am capable, I am intelligent, I am knowledgeable and artistic, and influential. Yet I am incapacitated by my own fear.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I despise the concept of taking ownership of "my own power"- because I know my own weakness. I refuse to make myself out to be something I'm not simply to acheive goals other people put in front of me, or because I am attempting to cover up some insecurity that I harbor about myself. I don't want to be a millionaire, or a huge success, or make everyone else proud, while I lose myself, lose the chance to do something that makes me a better person. I don't want to climb over other people to make my life better, or to become so abrasive in order to acheive some personal perfection that I can't empathize with other people, and they can't empathize with me.I don't want to become soulless, broken, to become one dimensional, and lost.
Hi, My name is Amanda, secret overachiever. If I can't do it 100 percent well- I struggle to do it at all. I get an A or I get an F. I find it stomach turningly hard to maintain anything in between.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I am lazy. I think about doing things all the time- the laundry, the housework, searching for another job- but I'm tired. I do it for ten minutes, and then I get frustrated, and then I get bored, and then I give up.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I just want to love people. I find joy and enjoyment in watching people grow. The smallest story of redemption brings an upwelling of tears that I have a hard time keeping back. They aren't sad tears. They are very happy tears. Hearing about redemption reminds me of experiencing redemption in my own life- of a God that saves.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm not any of these things. I am all of these things. And I am afraid of ALL of these things. I don't know who I am. I know that there are some things I do really really well. And the rest of my life I feel like I don't do well at all.
Hi, I'd like to ...try...this...again. Like an AA meeting. Lets start with the things I know are true, when I break through all the lame psycho babble crap that I inundate life with on a regular basis to try to make sense of how I feel.
Okay. Let me introduce myself again.
.
Hi...I'm Amanda. I'm Amanda Jean Yorke.
I am loved.
I am held
I mean something, because I was made by someone
to be special
to be funny. and quirky
to love a certain way, and be loved in return
to snort a little when I am caught off guard and laugh unexpectedly
to sometimes pretend I am in a music video when I am bored at work, and dance around the store as I put out inventory.
to help people.
to be helped by people in return
to be humbled
to want to keep being humbled.
I am not defined by what people think of me
I am not defined by what I think of myself
I am not defined by my acheievements
I am not defined by my failures
I am was created with purpose.
I was made with delight by a God who cherishes me.
I am defined by his love.
And he defines my practical world.
Hello, I am Amanda and I don't know who I am. I only know that I am loved. I only know that I am Held. I only know that I am His.
I struggle to know more....but maybe the point is, that right now....I am only meant to let THAT define me. To not be
"Amanda, the singer/workerbee/familymember/friend/patronsaintofeveryonebecauseIneedvalidation."
Maybe I just need to be broken down enough to be here, right now, meeting God in this moment.
Maybe he doesn't expect me to change the world, to get an amazing job, and be the modern day mother Teresa.
Maybe he just wants me to be His. To not be sidelined by a goal I'd run 100 percent after if I had one, or the job I'd blow him off for, or the pride I'd feel if I was prettier, or smarter, or more successful- the pride that could separate me from him.
Okay. So here I am. Amanda. Undefined, individual, jobless, dreamless.
Relearning what Hope looks like.
Jesus, keep waking me up. Keep teaching me. Keep me off kilter, until I find my center in you.
I confess that I struggle with my own hypocrisy on a day to day basis- that maybe I'm not representing you truly to the people in my life. Jesus- I thank you that, even though I am imperfect and weak- that you always glorify yourself despite that- you provide hope and redemption through imperfect words, awkward moments, stilted conversation. I pray that I might learn how to operate in a way that defines YOU instead of me. Let me find a reality in you that satisfies my need for an identity by making YOU my indentity. My key stone. My foundation.
Amen.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I shirk the mantle of responsibility my family yokes on me unfairly, because I recognize that even if I did something amazing with my life- there would always be something my mom would see in me that needed fixing.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm a woman afraid of her own power. I am capable, I am intelligent, I am knowledgeable and artistic, and influential. Yet I am incapacitated by my own fear.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I despise the concept of taking ownership of "my own power"- because I know my own weakness. I refuse to make myself out to be something I'm not simply to acheive goals other people put in front of me, or because I am attempting to cover up some insecurity that I harbor about myself. I don't want to be a millionaire, or a huge success, or make everyone else proud, while I lose myself, lose the chance to do something that makes me a better person. I don't want to climb over other people to make my life better, or to become so abrasive in order to acheive some personal perfection that I can't empathize with other people, and they can't empathize with me.I don't want to become soulless, broken, to become one dimensional, and lost.
Hi, My name is Amanda, secret overachiever. If I can't do it 100 percent well- I struggle to do it at all. I get an A or I get an F. I find it stomach turningly hard to maintain anything in between.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I am lazy. I think about doing things all the time- the laundry, the housework, searching for another job- but I'm tired. I do it for ten minutes, and then I get frustrated, and then I get bored, and then I give up.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I just want to love people. I find joy and enjoyment in watching people grow. The smallest story of redemption brings an upwelling of tears that I have a hard time keeping back. They aren't sad tears. They are very happy tears. Hearing about redemption reminds me of experiencing redemption in my own life- of a God that saves.
Hi, My name is Amanda. I'm not any of these things. I am all of these things. And I am afraid of ALL of these things. I don't know who I am. I know that there are some things I do really really well. And the rest of my life I feel like I don't do well at all.
Hi, I'd like to ...try...this...again. Like an AA meeting. Lets start with the things I know are true, when I break through all the lame psycho babble crap that I inundate life with on a regular basis to try to make sense of how I feel.
Okay. Let me introduce myself again.
.
Hi...I'm Amanda. I'm Amanda Jean Yorke.
I am loved.
I am held
I mean something, because I was made by someone
to be special
to be funny. and quirky
to love a certain way, and be loved in return
to snort a little when I am caught off guard and laugh unexpectedly
to sometimes pretend I am in a music video when I am bored at work, and dance around the store as I put out inventory.
to help people.
to be helped by people in return
to be humbled
to want to keep being humbled.
I am not defined by what people think of me
I am not defined by what I think of myself
I am not defined by my acheievements
I am not defined by my failures
I am was created with purpose.
I was made with delight by a God who cherishes me.
I am defined by his love.
And he defines my practical world.
Hello, I am Amanda and I don't know who I am. I only know that I am loved. I only know that I am Held. I only know that I am His.
I struggle to know more....but maybe the point is, that right now....I am only meant to let THAT define me. To not be
"Amanda, the singer/workerbee/familymember/friend/patronsaintofeveryonebecauseIneedvalidation."
Maybe I just need to be broken down enough to be here, right now, meeting God in this moment.
Maybe he doesn't expect me to change the world, to get an amazing job, and be the modern day mother Teresa.
Maybe he just wants me to be His. To not be sidelined by a goal I'd run 100 percent after if I had one, or the job I'd blow him off for, or the pride I'd feel if I was prettier, or smarter, or more successful- the pride that could separate me from him.
Okay. So here I am. Amanda. Undefined, individual, jobless, dreamless.
Relearning what Hope looks like.
Jesus, keep waking me up. Keep teaching me. Keep me off kilter, until I find my center in you.
I confess that I struggle with my own hypocrisy on a day to day basis- that maybe I'm not representing you truly to the people in my life. Jesus- I thank you that, even though I am imperfect and weak- that you always glorify yourself despite that- you provide hope and redemption through imperfect words, awkward moments, stilted conversation. I pray that I might learn how to operate in a way that defines YOU instead of me. Let me find a reality in you that satisfies my need for an identity by making YOU my indentity. My key stone. My foundation.
Amen.
Monday, May 9, 2011
So...Its been a while
Since I wrote in a blog.
Since I shared my thoughts (*the serious ones*) with other people.
Since I trusted other people. Since I trusted myself.
This blog is supposed to be a sort of new start for me. But even as I write this, I am assailed with doubts. Its such a risky thing, to write about how you want to change, and how you are working for change, and how you believe you are capable of consistency, when you feel otherwise.
Today, for example- I am in the process of cleaning up the ridiculous mess I have made of my room. I moved some furniture around- and somehow managed to leave the majority of my clothes dumped into the middle of the room- most of the dirty- in a huge heaping pile that overwhelms me. I moved the furniture approximately a week ago. I have let it sit for a week now, and even though i want a clean room- I want a fresh smelling, large looking, organized room- what it is right now is NOT that. And I want to really start working on it- but looking at it makes me feel like its going to be an impossibly long process. So...for the majority of the day, I have done what I have always done. I let it sit- while I watched TV downstairs. Away from the place I'm supposed to love being in.
You say "Oh Amanda, its fine, its just a week, its just a room, and you just need to get over it".
But I guess my point is that it is NOT just the room. This is the way I have conducted my life up until now.
If it is messy... I leave it. If it is scary...I run away. My life, right now, is a messy room that I don't want to clean. But its not dirty socks, or an unorganized pile of laundry- its student loans- frustrated parents, no car, and a job that doesn't support me.
And the bottom line is....I am still Amanda Jean Yorke. I am still a messy room on the inside too. I struggle to be truthful about my reactions to things because I don't want to offend other people- or worse yet- I don't want them to dislike me. I obsess over wearing the right thing to the right place, because I am a big girl- and I am afraid people will judge me harshly if I look sloppy, or I will stick out like a sore thumb if i am under dressed or over dressed -if I don't carry myself with confidence, people automatically assume its because I'm fat, and not because I'm having a bad day, or I have a pimple. I feel like there is something wrong with me, because I don't pursue anything hardcore- I don't have a goal or a dream, or an ambition. I don't want to be an opera diva, or a pop star. I don't want to save the world through politics, or fight a war. I just want to love individual people, and encourage them on a person to person, day by day basis.
And Today, I am having a bad day, because today has been a day just like any other, when I wanted today to be the day I really showed myself that I can do more than I've been doing.
So...messy mind...messy heart...messy room. Messy Life.
This is what is constantly going through my brain. I look around me every hour, on the hour, and the panic ridden voice inside my head says "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!"
That's why I watch so much T.V. why I'm so FB obsessed. It easy to forget about my problems, when I'm doing something else.
But.... BUT.
I took the TV out of my room. I started this blog. I've started...talking about how I feel. I've started praying again.
Oh. Did I not mention that? Maybe that's the first thing I should said.
I am a christ-follower. I hesitate on the word follower...because I am also currently an avid follower of myself. I am in the process of wrestling out an honest relationship with God. Its a one on one match- not with God- but with myself. I had a genuine relationship with Jesus a few years back- and I let myself push him out. For anyone who might be reading this who sees that last sentence and goes "What? who is this weirdo." Well...its the truth. I felt the presence of God in my life daily, hourly, sometimes by the minute. I talked to him through out my day as I went about buying groceries, eating lunch. I sang to him. Sometimes, I'd just walk down the street, and see a stranger smile at me- and I'd feel the love of Jesus, and I'd start crying at the miracle of that love, right in the middle of the grocery store, or on the sidewalk.
But there were also things I did that I wish I could take back. I hurt people I loved by seeing the world in black and white only- but not understanding the mercy needed to speak to those people living in gray areas- in places where they just didn't know or see what God was doing in their lives. I find it ironic that that's really kind of what I'm living now. That my mind can be ambiguous- that I can both love and almost hate something or some situation dually. That I can feel so utterly lost- without direction. That I can have a moment of clarity in one minute- and then feel totally spun around the next.
So for the last few years- some of it spent in real misery- I have looked back at that relationship- that intimacy with God- as something I both wanted back, and didn't want again at all. I believe that what I experienced was real - that that palpable experience I had with him in my everyday was honestly real. But I also believe that I never again want to so narrow myself that I lack the grace to speak to people who struggle, or don't understand.
I'm coming again to this point with God where I want to be real with him. I want to say "I don't understand. And I don't know if I have enough faith to get through this" and then watch him provide it- watch him show up, like he did before. I want to have a relationship where I talk to him daily again, like I did.
But...messy mind. messy heart. messy life. It keeps coming back. It doesn't stop. Its the same horrible patterns- the same self hate- the same crimes against myself and God that I couldn't bring to him before, because i was to afraid of what would happen if I did. That it would be PAINFUL. That I'd show everyone, again, how truly messed up I could be.
Today, I didn't just not clean my room- I also didn't pray. I didn't talk to Jesus. I didn't WANT to. I was angry with him for not giving me some instant feeling of transformation. It was like I was expecting the messy heart of mine to be instantly perfect- like when you're a little kid , and you ask Jesus into your heart expecting some Sailor Moon transformation song to start so that somehow I would be swallowed up in sparkly smoke, and popped out squeaky clean and perfect.
And that, I'm realizing- is a habit- a cycle in my life as well.In the last two years, I've been so mad at God for not making me a better person than I am- that my automatic, irrational response to his love in the face of my own failure is ANGER.
God I'm angry at you for not stopping me from falling into my own horrible cycles.
I'm mad! Over the fact that I am Still messy, inconsistent. That I am not self-motivated or ambitious. That I made this contract with you, believing that you had the best for me- that future and the hope bit- but that here I am, still jobless, still dreamless, living in my parents house where I am repeatedly told, daily, that I am disappointing them by not having a dream or a job, or money enough. That I'm this heartless mooch who wants to live on her parents money for the rest of her life.
God- I'm mad at you for not giving me the strength to change, when you said you would.
but...
maybe you're in the process of doing that now? Maybe this time was preparation? Maybe...all this time, when I've been screaming so loud that tears fill my eyes, blinding me... you've been with me the whole time- I just didn't see you?
Maybe- I've been a child, throwing a temper tantrum, for two whole years.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Let the fog lift. Let the bridges burn. Let the fire consume me. Wipe my eyes....so I can see you here.You are bigger than my messy room. You are bigger than my fear. My failure. My petty anger. My jealous rage.
I am just not that strong. I can't change on my own. I can't use willpower to make myself a better person. I can't will my heart to be yours. But you've already taken my heart before- you've already laid claim to it. While I was wrestling with own self....you were creating in me a heart for the gray shades- for the people in between. For your people, lost and found alike. You were building up compassion in my heart. While I saw the ugly...you were creating the beautiful. Building relationships that you'll use for your glory. While I was struggling with my faith-you still gave me the words- your words- to strengthen the faith of other people that I love.
So, Jesus- I'm sorry. Sorry that I didn't look to see you working in me. That I didn't believe that you were constant in me. That I've been spinning myself in circles, when all you wanted was for me to look up- to crane my neck up as far as it was go, so I could study the laugh lines at the corners of your mouth... those people who were still honest and loving with me while I was struggling- the sunshine on the days when I needed it - the people who came in to work on a day I was struggling to remind me that you're around, that you exist. The compassion you put in my heart for other people that CONSTANTLY reminds me of you. Those things I call laughlines...because they spell out "I love you" to my this vagabond heart of mine.
I just want to tell you I'm sorry...and I love you.
And I might struggle to remember that tomorrow, or even in an hour- but Jesus....keep reminding me. Keep loving me. Keep showing me your crooked smile, your endless heart.
I think I'm going to stop whining and clean my room now.
Since I shared my thoughts (*the serious ones*) with other people.
Since I trusted other people. Since I trusted myself.
This blog is supposed to be a sort of new start for me. But even as I write this, I am assailed with doubts. Its such a risky thing, to write about how you want to change, and how you are working for change, and how you believe you are capable of consistency, when you feel otherwise.
Today, for example- I am in the process of cleaning up the ridiculous mess I have made of my room. I moved some furniture around- and somehow managed to leave the majority of my clothes dumped into the middle of the room- most of the dirty- in a huge heaping pile that overwhelms me. I moved the furniture approximately a week ago. I have let it sit for a week now, and even though i want a clean room- I want a fresh smelling, large looking, organized room- what it is right now is NOT that. And I want to really start working on it- but looking at it makes me feel like its going to be an impossibly long process. So...for the majority of the day, I have done what I have always done. I let it sit- while I watched TV downstairs. Away from the place I'm supposed to love being in.
You say "Oh Amanda, its fine, its just a week, its just a room, and you just need to get over it".
But I guess my point is that it is NOT just the room. This is the way I have conducted my life up until now.
If it is messy... I leave it. If it is scary...I run away. My life, right now, is a messy room that I don't want to clean. But its not dirty socks, or an unorganized pile of laundry- its student loans- frustrated parents, no car, and a job that doesn't support me.
And the bottom line is....I am still Amanda Jean Yorke. I am still a messy room on the inside too. I struggle to be truthful about my reactions to things because I don't want to offend other people- or worse yet- I don't want them to dislike me. I obsess over wearing the right thing to the right place, because I am a big girl- and I am afraid people will judge me harshly if I look sloppy, or I will stick out like a sore thumb if i am under dressed or over dressed -if I don't carry myself with confidence, people automatically assume its because I'm fat, and not because I'm having a bad day, or I have a pimple. I feel like there is something wrong with me, because I don't pursue anything hardcore- I don't have a goal or a dream, or an ambition. I don't want to be an opera diva, or a pop star. I don't want to save the world through politics, or fight a war. I just want to love individual people, and encourage them on a person to person, day by day basis.
And Today, I am having a bad day, because today has been a day just like any other, when I wanted today to be the day I really showed myself that I can do more than I've been doing.
So...messy mind...messy heart...messy room. Messy Life.
This is what is constantly going through my brain. I look around me every hour, on the hour, and the panic ridden voice inside my head says "WHAT ARE YOU DOING WITH YOUR LIFE! WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!!!"
That's why I watch so much T.V. why I'm so FB obsessed. It easy to forget about my problems, when I'm doing something else.
But.... BUT.
I took the TV out of my room. I started this blog. I've started...talking about how I feel. I've started praying again.
Oh. Did I not mention that? Maybe that's the first thing I should said.
I am a christ-follower. I hesitate on the word follower...because I am also currently an avid follower of myself. I am in the process of wrestling out an honest relationship with God. Its a one on one match- not with God- but with myself. I had a genuine relationship with Jesus a few years back- and I let myself push him out. For anyone who might be reading this who sees that last sentence and goes "What? who is this weirdo." Well...its the truth. I felt the presence of God in my life daily, hourly, sometimes by the minute. I talked to him through out my day as I went about buying groceries, eating lunch. I sang to him. Sometimes, I'd just walk down the street, and see a stranger smile at me- and I'd feel the love of Jesus, and I'd start crying at the miracle of that love, right in the middle of the grocery store, or on the sidewalk.
But there were also things I did that I wish I could take back. I hurt people I loved by seeing the world in black and white only- but not understanding the mercy needed to speak to those people living in gray areas- in places where they just didn't know or see what God was doing in their lives. I find it ironic that that's really kind of what I'm living now. That my mind can be ambiguous- that I can both love and almost hate something or some situation dually. That I can feel so utterly lost- without direction. That I can have a moment of clarity in one minute- and then feel totally spun around the next.
So for the last few years- some of it spent in real misery- I have looked back at that relationship- that intimacy with God- as something I both wanted back, and didn't want again at all. I believe that what I experienced was real - that that palpable experience I had with him in my everyday was honestly real. But I also believe that I never again want to so narrow myself that I lack the grace to speak to people who struggle, or don't understand.
I'm coming again to this point with God where I want to be real with him. I want to say "I don't understand. And I don't know if I have enough faith to get through this" and then watch him provide it- watch him show up, like he did before. I want to have a relationship where I talk to him daily again, like I did.
But...messy mind. messy heart. messy life. It keeps coming back. It doesn't stop. Its the same horrible patterns- the same self hate- the same crimes against myself and God that I couldn't bring to him before, because i was to afraid of what would happen if I did. That it would be PAINFUL. That I'd show everyone, again, how truly messed up I could be.
Today, I didn't just not clean my room- I also didn't pray. I didn't talk to Jesus. I didn't WANT to. I was angry with him for not giving me some instant feeling of transformation. It was like I was expecting the messy heart of mine to be instantly perfect- like when you're a little kid , and you ask Jesus into your heart expecting some Sailor Moon transformation song to start so that somehow I would be swallowed up in sparkly smoke, and popped out squeaky clean and perfect.
And that, I'm realizing- is a habit- a cycle in my life as well.In the last two years, I've been so mad at God for not making me a better person than I am- that my automatic, irrational response to his love in the face of my own failure is ANGER.
God I'm angry at you for not stopping me from falling into my own horrible cycles.
I'm mad! Over the fact that I am Still messy, inconsistent. That I am not self-motivated or ambitious. That I made this contract with you, believing that you had the best for me- that future and the hope bit- but that here I am, still jobless, still dreamless, living in my parents house where I am repeatedly told, daily, that I am disappointing them by not having a dream or a job, or money enough. That I'm this heartless mooch who wants to live on her parents money for the rest of her life.
God- I'm mad at you for not giving me the strength to change, when you said you would.
but...
maybe you're in the process of doing that now? Maybe this time was preparation? Maybe...all this time, when I've been screaming so loud that tears fill my eyes, blinding me... you've been with me the whole time- I just didn't see you?
Maybe- I've been a child, throwing a temper tantrum, for two whole years.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Jesus.
Let the fog lift. Let the bridges burn. Let the fire consume me. Wipe my eyes....so I can see you here.You are bigger than my messy room. You are bigger than my fear. My failure. My petty anger. My jealous rage.
I am just not that strong. I can't change on my own. I can't use willpower to make myself a better person. I can't will my heart to be yours. But you've already taken my heart before- you've already laid claim to it. While I was wrestling with own self....you were creating in me a heart for the gray shades- for the people in between. For your people, lost and found alike. You were building up compassion in my heart. While I saw the ugly...you were creating the beautiful. Building relationships that you'll use for your glory. While I was struggling with my faith-you still gave me the words- your words- to strengthen the faith of other people that I love.
So, Jesus- I'm sorry. Sorry that I didn't look to see you working in me. That I didn't believe that you were constant in me. That I've been spinning myself in circles, when all you wanted was for me to look up- to crane my neck up as far as it was go, so I could study the laugh lines at the corners of your mouth... those people who were still honest and loving with me while I was struggling- the sunshine on the days when I needed it - the people who came in to work on a day I was struggling to remind me that you're around, that you exist. The compassion you put in my heart for other people that CONSTANTLY reminds me of you. Those things I call laughlines...because they spell out "I love you" to my this vagabond heart of mine.
I just want to tell you I'm sorry...and I love you.
And I might struggle to remember that tomorrow, or even in an hour- but Jesus....keep reminding me. Keep loving me. Keep showing me your crooked smile, your endless heart.
I think I'm going to stop whining and clean my room now.
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