To Love Well (Part Two)

(Read part one here)

I feel there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people. - Vincent Van Gogh

     If we are artists, what kind of artists are we? If we are Christ-lovers, what should we be known for? What do you want to be known for? If we believe our lives consist of more than what we create, do we dare to live that belief wholeheartedly? Do we dare to learn how to love well, even if that means the sacrificing of ourselves or our own comfort?

     It is when the lives of others are messiest that they desperately need us to walk beside them in silence for that stretch of broken road. It'd be easier for us to stand just beyond the splatter screen unaware of the darkness inside they battle with just like us. Somewhere safe where we don't have to know of the wars they rage against their own brokenness, and this brokenness -oh, we know it so painfully well. This brokenness looks a lot like us.

     And that hurts because we're repulsed by our own crippled limbs. We'd like to think we have it together or are somehow better, but we grow weary, too, and become too tired to fight, too discouraged to hope. We get torn down, and then we are most vulnerable to temptations, to those pesky little thorns which dig into our sides out of others’ view. And the weariness cripples our ability to fight. We succumb and hide our shame because we should know better, and we do, but we’re so tired. We're so broken. It hurts to see the same brokenness in another. How are we even capable of love, let alone some kind of artistic love?

      Although we are broken, we are far from useless. Somehow, with all our flaws, God can use us in unimaginable ways. He has this knack of making broken things beautiful, artistic even.

     For example, in a portion of Joni Eareckson Tada’s autobiography, The God I Love, she relates the events following an accident that left her a quadriplegic at 17-years-old. Joni spent many lonely hours in the hospital questioning God as she tried to wrap her mind around this new way of life.

     One night after visiting hours, a friend she never considered particularly ‘close’ to snuck in and spent the night with her. For those hours, she was able to forget where she was and what was happening. She was a normal teenager having a slumber party with her friend.

     In the grand scheme of things, the action might have seemed so small, but it wasn’t. Later when Joni was asked where the turning point was after her accident, she always pointed to that night and said it was the best thing a person could do for a paralyzed girl.

     I read that story, and I stopped. Could I be a friend like that? Could I be brave enough to be that close to someone’s hurt? Joni didn’t write that her friend tried to fix her sadness or tell her it was going to be all right. Joni wrote that her friend just laid beside her and sang, "Man of Sorrows".

      In the same situation, I would make so many excuses. Rules. I can’t break the rules. Maybe she doesn’t really want company. I even make excuses for my selfishness because of my unwillingness to drastically break routine. Or just because of fear. Fear of being that intimate with someone else.

     This depth of relationship isn't something that is just nice. God gave us friends specifically for these dark hours. In 1 Timothy 2:1 (NKJV), Paul writes: "Therefore I exhort first of all that supplications, prayers, intercessions, and giving of thanks be made for all men."

     Intercession - that is such a strong word. It means we’re pleading for someone else. We're asking on behalf of someone else's soul, and those are the prayers all of us desperately need not just in the hardest places of life but every day.

     You know the first scene in It’s a Wonderful Life? It’s the one where the prayers of almost everyone in town are being sent up to Heaven on behalf of George Bailey. It may be just a fictional story, but I can’t think of a better picture of intercession than that.

     If we never open ourselves up to that kind of relationship to begin with, how will anyone ever know the sadness behind the offhanded, "If you could pray for me, that’d be great." Prayers are the very lifeline a person needs. There will be days when each of us will desperately need people to go before the throne of God, into the Holiest of Holies, on our behalf. That is nothing to be ashamed of.

     Some days we will be the ones whose hearts plead for someone to come and just sit beside us. Someone who won't tell us the things we already know deep down or try to say we shouldn't feel these things. Some days all we will need is for someone not to be afraid of our desperation, of our human brokenness. Other days we will be the ones interceding on someone else’s behalf. Or maybe we'll be the answer.

     And this is the artistic love. It isn't perfect, but it is trying. It's doing the things we find hardest. Being brave enough to expose our own brokenness in order to share in someone else's vulnerability. It's giving our time. It's fighting tooth and nails for someone else's very soul. And it's praying. It's stepping back from being right, taking credit, pulling the attention to ourselves in order to be a channel, albeit a leaky one, of God's perfect love. This is what makes a masterpiece. 

To Love Well (Part One)

"I feel there is nothing more truly artistic than to love people." - Vincent Van Gogh

     A lot of us here are artists of some sort. An even greater portion are introverts, and the art we do takes a lot of our time and energy. With art, there is no definite arrival. There is always something else we can do, and let's be honest, we get swallowed in our passions, stuck in our creations. Who are we kidding? The act of creating and the creations appeal to us more than the outer world. 

     

     But what if we viewed our art as something more than the books we write, the visions we create, the music we make? What if we viewed our life as the art and those things we create as the means to better prepare for the tasks God gives us outside our hobbit holes? The tasks we are given in life are important, but what is the second greatest commandment given to Israel? 

     

      “You shall love your neighbor as yourself...” -Leviticus 19:18b (NKJV)

     Maybe Vincent Van Gogh was onto something. We are artists with pen and paper, with words and music and color, and that is noble and God-given, but what if our greatest artistic work is the love we learn to give others? 

     Love is the hardest thing to do. 

     “Love suffers long and is kind; love does not envy; love does not parade itself, is not puffed up; does not behave rudely, does not seek its own, is not provoked, thinks no evil; does not rejoice in iniquity, but rejoices in the truth; bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. Love never fails.” - 1 Corinthians 13: 4-8 (NKJV).

     In the KJV, they use the word ‘beareth’ which in Greek is a term stemming from a verb for the term ‘roof’. So instead of the image of someone carrying around a huge burden on their back, ‘love bears all things’ should create an image in our minds of us being a roof, a shelter over others. 

     It seems impossible, doesn’t it? How do we love another, especially in times of grief and deepest hurt when this strangely artistic but broken love is needed most? 

     You know that book in the bible where God lets Satan take away a bunch of stuff from a guy and then there’s a lot of chapters of talking and you feel a bit confused at the end? Oh yeah, Job. Towards the beginning of the book, after everything has been taken away from Job, his friends show up. 

     “So they sat down with him on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw that his grief was very great” - Job 2:13 (NKJV)

     Think about that. They sat with Job in silence for seven days and seven nights. Honestly it would probably have been better for him if they had kept silent because when they started talking, they were going to fix his situation by fixing him. They said a multitude of words that meant nothing because they could not see the whole picture. Then there was Job's wife that told him to curse God so he could just end his misery. This story is a good lesson, not just in trusting God’s character in all situations, but also what love doesn't do when someone is hurting. 

   

      So the whole 'you've done something to deserve this' isn't the right way to go about this artistic love? What is the right way then?

     I can't think of any Jesus lover who doesn't want to one day lead another individual to Him. We want to be a small part of saving someone else's soul, and so when we know someone who isn't a Christian, we imagine going into battle for that person's soul. 

     But what about our brothers and sisters, our best friends? That intense caring for souls can't stop as soon as someone comes to Christ. We wanted to save a soul from utter destruction, but then we continue on our merry way with maybe a nudge deep down that something may not be well, you know, if people are anything like ourselves. What about the bruises and the crippling? Do we care then? There's more to be done for a soul than just simply pointing it towards the path of salvation. 

     I know, when all is said and done, we can't be someone's salvation or make someone else's decisions for them. But if there is a chance for us to fight for them, for their souls, just till they catch their breath, just till they find their footing again, are we willing to do that? Are we willing to swallow them up with a Love not our own and give of ourselves? God can use us as a way to show someone His love, as a crutch to help someone go along their path for a little longer. 

     

     That's something we have to remember - sure, we want to fix the ones we love, and that's good and all, but we can't sew them up with feeble human hands. If we can't, there's no reason for us to be here, right? Hold up, they don't expect us to fix them and God certainly doesn't. 

     Sometimes it is enough to simply sit beside them in silence. To sit beside them in their darkness and become intimate with their brokenness, but do we dare?

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This is my 100th post! And somehow I'm still here. 

Invisible Property Line

Invisible property line 

-- Am I trespassing on yours

Or are you trespassing on mine?

If you just keep your distance,

I'm sure we'll be fine.

These lines are for our safety,

Or at least that's what I'll say 

As I take my steps away.

We could be friends

Or maybe friendly neighbors,

But that would imply

A wave as I go by,

And I don't think that's what you think of

When you say that's what we'll be.

These laws are for a purpose

--To keep us contentedly in a box

Or a square or rectangle

Or whatever the lines are

That make up your staked property,

And I'm in this box contentedly

With no wish to make its corners curved,

But you are a little close for comfort,

Coming closer every day.

Don't you remember

There's this invisible property line,

And I'm sure you're invading mine.

Just take a step back,

And then I'll build a fence

Which we will conversate across.

We won't worry about lines

-- I won't worry about how close you are

Because we'll always have this wall

--This protection for my heart.

I guess I'll add 'hello'

To my daily wave,

And I guess we'll be friendly neighbors now,

Even though the fence will bock our faces

From having further conversations. 

Snapshots of April

Hearts are broken in ten thousand ways, for this is a heart-breaking world; and Christ is good at healing all manner of heart-breaks. - Charles Spurgeon

In April, I learned more about friendships. And people. And relationships. And communication (especially the faults of written/typed communication - for all its handiness, it can be quite destructive). And love. Sometimes you think you have those things down, or at least you think you know how they should work, but how often do they follow that set of rules in your head? (Pretty much never). I tend to linger on the side of pessimism in life (because if you don't expect much of anyone or anything, then you won't get disappointed, right?), but still, even as a pessimist, I put too much stock in people, and surprise, they disappoint because everyone is human. Everyone has some big log in front of their eye, and I get that. And not everyone's pursuit of God is the same, and I understand that, too, but I guess what surprised me is how close you can feel to someone, how you can never have disagreements over Biblical living, and then the carpet gets pulled out from underneath you.

I guess this month I learned what it's like for someone to die but not to physically die. For someone to still exist but somewhere else, somewhere they are no longer in your life. How you can love someone so much but still be unable to say anything that will remind them of that love because they've lost faith in your heart. Misunderstood hearts ache from sorrow, from indignation. Then comes the inevitable "Was I wrong?" Does love really confront or stay silent? If 'the moment you're most repelled by someone's heart is when you need to draw closer to that heart', then how do you draw close to someone's heart that has shut you out?

But even if mistakes were made, even if attempts were misguided, God can redeem them for good. And maybe I'm blunter than I think I am? And maybe being honest isn't always best, even though I promised myself to be more honest about how I feel/what I think rather than stuffing those things down in the basement (But now I'm back to feeling like stuffing things in the basement is a good idea). Like everything, I suppose it's a balance, a middle ground, and I don't know about middle grounds. Please, someone tell me you struggle with balance, too. That sometimes you're too black and white about things. And please tell me there is something good in being black and white.

My brother (the Navy nurse one) visited from the East Coast for a week towards the end of April. He came for one of his best friend's wedding. It was a short visit, but a nice break (I took most of the week off from work, but I was still tired which shows emotional things are more tiring than physically tiring activities). One day we headed up into the mountains hoping there were some hiking trails open this early in the year. It was the hottest day we've had so far, and even in the mountains it was warm. We kept driving and saw a bit of snow here and there in the forest. There were butterflies and bumble bees out. It was 72 degrees. Everything was looking pretty good...and then...on the very last section of road to the trail head, we got stuck...in the snow. It was only on the road and not really in the forest. Yup. 72 degrees. Butterflies and bumble bees and...snow. Go figure. I briefly had a moment of horror as I remembered the whole 'no cellphone service in the mountain regions of Washington', but it really wasn't hard to get the car out.

We backtracked to another pass and another trail, and it was even hotter there. Felt like a desert, really. Almost 80 degrees. The trail was in the bottom of a canyon and followed a small stream.
It was a mixture of the kind of landscape we have around our house (like the above picture) and forest, but since it had been colder up to that point, there weren't any wildflowers around and the trees hadn't leafed out. So it was desolate. Like a Winter hike but with sun and heat. Not the greatest hike, to be honest. I didn't even get any good photos. And we didn't make it to the end of the trail because my brother said it was 3 miles roundtrip...then 5 miles...then we reached the end dot on his trail app, and the trail kept going. So...he decided we'd climb up out of the canyon to at least get a view. The canyon's sides kept going, and the climbing was steep which meant we had to go back down, and going back down was definitely not my highlight. I'm pretty sure my brother was embarrassed of me, even though there was literally no one around. But since my double sprained ankle in the Winter, I didn't want to take any chances.

We were supposed to get home by an earlyish time to hang out and watch movies with the sister so on the way back, my brother was in front to set the pace (but nobody is ever gonna hurry me - 100% accurate). All of the sudden, there was a loud noise (kinda like when a cat is startled and explodes), and my brother danced back a few steps to me. About a foot and a half from the trail was a Prairie Rattlesnake all wound up and in strike mode. So...we debated our options (a. throw sticks and try to scare it away from the path. b. wait for it to move. c. try to walk around it (but the path in that area was pretty tight) or d. go back up to where we crossed the stream and follow the stream down to where it connected with the path again), and we decided to follow the stream. Going off the trail wasn't very fun because now we were super wary of meeting more rattlesnakes and we wouldn't be able to see them that well this way, and the bushes/trees grew close to the stream so we had to push through branches and stuff. Fun times.

We made it home, and my siblings forced me to stay up till 2 to play Marvel movie catch up. It was three movies (2 Guardians of the Galaxy and Thor: Ragarnok), and it was too many. I was not made for marathons. Blurgh. Especially action movie marathons because you start feeling whiplashed, and you forget all the characters names, and you wonder if Thor: Ragarnok is just a continuation of The Guardians of the Galaxy. And you eat way too much pizza, popcorn, and ice cream (actually, that didn't happen. I ate it all, and I wasn't stuffed because hiking does that to people). Yep, but it was all in preparation for Infinity War which we went to see, and now I'm Marveled out. So yeah, I guess that means I actually watched more movies this month than I have for awhile.

























I went on another hike that same weekend. It was a local one. A little over 3 miles but very beautiful. It was an overcast day. In the 60s. And the hike afforded good views of the valley, and it was in a nice little area. Sure, the landscape was some I've seen a million times, but familiar is good, too.

Otherwise:

I finished Cress in The Lunar Chronicles.

I bought two books! (Hear ye, hear ye, hear ye, this is abnormal). A book by Shannon Dittemore and a book by Jill Williamson (granted, I bought the third book in one of her series by accident. That just goes to show how good I am at book buying). Since I've followed GoTeenWriters for so long, I wanted to support them.

My calendar in my bedroom is still in February...so...that just shows you how my life is going :P

Went to a flute, bassoon, and piano concert, and I didn't fall asleep or almost fall asleep! Progress.

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How was your April? Favorite part? Least favorite part? Do you know of any books that have a similar feel to The Lunar Chronicles? I've really enjoyed those books so far, and I would love to find more like them. Do any of you run into poisonous snakes? Do you have any stories about them? (I've helped my dad kill two rattlesnakes in our yard...). Hope your May is wonderful!

The Bruises of Friends

"I ran the risk
Of being intimate with my brokenness.
I was given a gift of hope and a thousand finger prints
On the surfaces of who I am." -Ryan O'Neal

They say the bruises of friends can be trusted, but I don't know what that means. Who truly bruises you for good? We bruise each other with our selfishness and pride, with our careless words and pinpointed daggers because we know each other's weaknesses. We know each other's weaknesses, and we would use them against one another.

We would never trust the bruises of friends. We'd rather lose faith in the heart of the one who loves us than acknowledge the truth. Who wants to be told they're wrong? We don't need to hear those words. We don't need to take those bruises. There are others out there who do not judge, who will not question or challenge, who will let us be comfortable in our lives, with our decisions.

People are dispensable, or at least that's what they say, but a love that loves regardless of our wrongs, our mistakes is greater than a love that loves and sees no wrongs. A heart of love will bruise you but be there to bind you up. Love will not expose your nakedness to the world but quietly clothe the ugliness and look on you the same.

The bruises of friends can be trusted because it means they aren't afraid of being intimate with your brokenness. They aren't afraid to reach down and say, "You don't repulse me." Those are the friends who have been given God's eyes to see us with. They see us and who we can be. They love us enough to want better for us than we, at times, want for ourselves. And that kind of love is without price.

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I'm temporarily forgetting about my blog schedule because it's stressing me out. Plus, one of my brothers was home for a week, and I didn't have much extra time. 

Also, this subject is something I've been thinking about for a bit. I wrote it all down, and then I found this more in-depth article just yesterday (funny how God seems to send things your way at the perfect time), and I really recommend reading it. Some of the things stated are similar to what I said here, but I would say it has a stronger Biblical center.