Surprises Around Every Corner

I’ve had a lot on my mind the last few days. A huge opportunity that I’d never asked for just sort of plopped in my lap on Friday and has been looming on my conscious for a better part of the weekend.

It’s odd when things like this happen because, well… they never happen to me. I’ve never been one for whom things came easily. Everything required some amount of pleading and praying, pain and sacrifice, patience and crossed fingers. But this? It came straight out of the blue, perfectly wrapped in pretty paper, almost too good to be true.

It scares me to realize that, at this stage of my life, nothing is holding me back. I have no huge obligations or responsibilities. Nothing. No one. I am as free as a bird, and it’s terrifying.

Last night I cried in the bathroom, pleading with God to give me some reason to stay here in Nashville.

As weird as it sounds, there are parts of me that want for someone to beg me to stay. (A bit of my romantic side coming through, I suppose.) I want for a gallant knight to come running after me, and, with tears streaming down his face, grab my hand and tell me that his world would end without me near. Sadly… that’s not the case. At all. Hardly.

As I shared the news with friends here, there was this small sliver of hope that someone would express their deep heartache at the thought of me leaving so soon after arriving. But, that hasn’t really been the case. Instead, they have been... supportive. [gasp!] One friend was even as bold as to advise me to run after any and every opportunity that this life may throw at you. You can always come back is what he said. But, I can’t chase the wind like he does or jump headfirst into the rabbit hole. The fear of dying, of failing, of getting lost in the shuffle is enough to have me running for safety.

It’s so strange that this comes now. Now, that I’m finding my footing. Now, that I’m learning to enjoy my life here. Now, that I’m falling in love with my church and these friends who’ve etched out little niches in this tiny heart of mine.

And, I have to ask in all honesty, Why now, God? After three years of waiting and watching Him open doors to come here… Why… now? I’ve only been here six months. A blip in the radar. A mere paragraph’s worth in what I thought would be a chapter of my life. I feel as if the story, in many ways, has yet to fully unfold.

It's true, I can always come back. But... to what? Who knows how the sands of time will mark us (me) or how distance will loosen heartstrings? I already feel the strain of change in my relationships with the people back home in Philly. And Nashville, I am afraid, is just as transient a city as Philadelphia. As hard as I may try to keep in the loop, it's inevitable that phone calls and emails will be missed or spread apart as I live my life and you live yours.

I honestly don't know what (or to whom) I'd be returning.

I think of my friend Cameron and the tough decisions he needed to make when he was preparing to leave for the Peace Corps. He'll be away for two more years, and I wonder at the anxiety he felt as he realized that life would continue without him here, that he (this city and everyone else for that matter) would be different.

Reason would tell me that I should take the opportunity and run with it, gain all the experience I can, tuck it under my belt and head back here or onward to some other city. Caution tells me to tread softly – that to leave this position I’ve now had for a mere 4 months would be professional suicide. It tells me that I need to stay at least a year, gain experience, investigate and search out opportunities to work with the existing refugee populations and use these resources to the best of my abilities. And Faith tells me that either decision will be for His glory in the end. There are no mistakes in the grand story of Grace, after all.

It’s all too confusing. And, I’m having mild panic attacks. Daily.

"Martha, Martha! How Does Your Garden Grow?"

Gardens are not made by singing, "Oh, how beautiful," and sitting in the shade. - Rudyard Kipling

Living here in Nashville, I've been perplexed and saddened at the overwhelming sense of individualism and self-centeredness. I see it most prominently, unfortunately, in the eyes and walks of those who profess the same faith I do. Their relationship with Christ, like every other relationship in their lives, is theirs -- you will have no access to it unless it is at the volition of the individual. They set the rules for how long or deep it will go, of how deep they'll let God move or impact them. And of how comfortable they are in making Him visible/tactile in their lives. Like every relationship, they determine and set the guidelines for how they encounter God and how/when they meet with Him. I'm learning in my own life that I have done the same. (They say you will see your deepest sins in the people around you.)

There are days when I want to ask people what Christ, His death and resurrection means to them because more often than not confessions won't match character and actions will deceive words. We all want to say that we believe Him, but only when it's convenient.

I'm not saying that we need to be fanatics (I certainly am not one!) or that we need to be clanging bells with our faiths (definitely not) but there is concern when faith/belief is expressed so subtly that it could easily be overlooked and missed. Forgotten.

I am relearning that I need to have Christ at the center of my life and every relationship whether "Christian" or "secular." If He is not, than I am lost to my heart's emotions, the waves that crash and break and disrupt the stillness and confidence He provides, the dark thoughts that flood my mind in times of utter loneliness. I will drown in disillusionment, in the expectations of myself/others, in the brokenheartedness and foggy, sludgy mire of a life not focused on Him.

I need Christ. I need for Him to matter.

Some may read this and think me pretentious, haughty, naive, accusing, judgmental or lofty, but this -- this need to have Christ drive every moment, is me -- this is what my heart longs for and needs to survive. This is the air that fills my lungs, the strength to take another step, the courage to stand. This is how I must tend to this garden. This is how and where God will take plow, shears and hoe to hand to remove the weeds of selfishness, self-reliance, doubt, fear and worry. I need for my heart and mind to be more intentional and proactive in their actions. (I fail at this. Daily.)

There's a lot of work that need to be done here. A lot.

Dede (Edit)

I had a very deep conversation with a fellow Ellie's Run for Africa volunteer named Dede this morning.

I've always been drawn to older people ever since I was a child. Perhaps it's the general sense of calmness that surrounds them, the quiet assurance and confidence that comes from living life and learning from the many mistakes of the past? I don't know. All I know is that I was completely at ease with Dede as I poured out my heart to her under the shade of a tall tree at the edge of the course marked out along the grassy terrain of Percy Warner Park.

We had met on Friday and decided to be partners in tearing down one of the tents (a proposedly furious storm that night threatened to rip apart every tent pitched up earlier in the afternoon). We talked a bit about my move here to Nashville, about her move here from Texas years ago when she and her husband were still dating. I shared a tiny morsel of my family and my past.

This morning as I headed over to the park to help tear-down at the conclusion of the race, I ran into Dede again. Her face lit up, she ran over to me, wrapped her arms around me and told me she had been praying for me last night. I was touched.

A couple hours passed and I wandered around talking to a couple musician-friends/acquaintances, people I'd met back home in Philly when I helped out with some of their shows. It wasn't until the end of the morning that I ran into Dede again.

We stood under that tree and talked. I poured out my heart -- all the frustrations, fears and hurts I'd experienced in the short time I've been in Nashville. She understood. Completely. And as I shared about 2 friends who'd hurt me the most in my "short" time here, the ones who've caused me the greatest heartache and from whom I've felt the most rejected, she could only say 2 words: Release them. Release them from the obligations your broken/needy heart has placed on them, from the hurt they've caused you, from their inability to understand you (or want to for that matter). When you release them, you'll finally be able to fully forgive them.

There is wisdom to be gleaned from our elders, from those to whom we've been fortunate to be bound to in God's beautifully full family.

I am thankful for Dede and am thankful for each of you -- for the ways you pray for, encourage and challenge me to grow. For the ways you remind me of the Truth that I can't seem to see during the hailstorms of life and in my stubbornness.

A Storm's a Brewin'

After the goings on at work today, I'm nearly positive that my time there is coming to an end. It's been a daily concern lately, wondering when I'll be called into the director's office and told that they won't be needing me to come in anymore. Looking at my paltry "savings" and wondering how long I can realistically "live" here before I start making plans to move back home where I will be in the same situation I am now, but living rent free.

I am physically queasy. My innards are nervous and knotted. I want to rip my skin off because all of this discomfort.

Tonight as I lay here on my bed, the fear and worries molesting every part of my heart, mind and soul, it rains. A storm has been brewing all day and the clouds have finally released their tears. The sky is grumbling as lightning plays a game of peek-a-boo behind heavy blue-gray clouds.

Part of me wants to go and stand in the middle of the storm -- to be physically and emotionally drenched. I want the outpouring of heaven to wash away all these fears.

I have no idea what to make of this, nor what tomorrow will hold. And, quite honestly, I hate it!

It's sink or swim, fight or flight time and all I'm feeling is defeated, deflated and discouraged beyond belief.

If you're in a praying mood... now is the time.

"Tell Me All Your Thoughts On God"

Today, after a gruesome 9-hours at work, I, on a whim, headed to Centennial Park to read. Up until now, I'd never done more than drive past it, but today was just too glorious a day to waste sitting in a coffee shop (however wonderful Fido can be).

I parked my car, pulled out my yoga mat from the trunk and found a quiet spot under the shade of 2 tall trees just a stone's throw from the lake and its fountains.

As I lay there reading, the last bits of sun dancing softly through the trees, I took a moment to breathe it all in. Reclined under the coolness of these tall arbors I was reminded of how very small I am in the grand scale of things. And yet, my Creator sees even me. As I observed the birds and squirrels dancing in the trees, a peace filled my heart (a first here) as I reflected on Matthew 6:26. And as I reflected, I heard God speak into the depths of me a promise to provide and satisfy my deepest longings and needs. A call to trust and wait on Him, my loving Father and attentive Creator. A command to set my worries, anxieties, fears and hurts aside.

Live each day with the courage and boldness to follow your convictions.
Love as I have loved you... even if others reject you.
Forgive.
Wait.
Trust.
Show compassion. Breathe mercy.
Love and forgive. Again and again and again...
Be joyful no matter what the situation (even when life hurts like hell) because you are dearly loved.
Find your hope and satisfaction in the One who knows you completely, intimately and wholly.

The Changeling (or Metamorphosis)

I’m sitting here in Philadelphia International Airport, on my way back to Nashville from a visit home that was all too short.

The funny thing about going home after being away from it for any length of time is that the ties that connected you to it seem to oddly fray and loosen until they aren’t as taut as you had hoped or remembered. Distance makes the heart grow fonder, yes. But, it also makes the heart strings slack.

I’m going through a season of transition that is often times excruciatingly painful and hard to bear. There are days I walk about leaving a trail of tears, feeling as if all is coming undone within me and all anyone can do is watch - if they even choose to do that much.

Most would turn away, shake their heads and say, “[S]he’s still got such a long way to go.” - Remember Your Chains by Steven Curtis Chapman

In their attempts to “help” me, many people have tried to remind me how “strong” I am. How I’m tougher and more fit to bear this cross than I realize. That I only need to wait out this storm and “chill out” before all is well.

But I’ve realized that in going through all of this - in being torn apart and ravaged as it were – that God is doing something. He’s opening my eyes to my own folly. He’s showing me my weaknesses, my sins, my idols. It’s gruesome and painful to endure. I want to die! And, maybe, that’s what He’s calling me to do? To die to myself. To my need to feel appreciated and loved. To my loneliness that eats away at my sanity. To my need to matter.

Maybe this is where true strength is found? Not in pumping myself up or pulling myself together, but in opening up my hands and letting go of the fraying rope I’ve been holding onto for dear life. In letting my Creator break apart the pieces of this house I’ve constructed so He can rebuild me according to His design.

It’s not going to be pretty and I’m sure it’s going to be an ugly thing to watch. And, there will be moments when I’ll need LOTS of prayer and an encouraging word (and maybe even a hug every now and then).


I’m just hoping He speeds up the process...

… please, Lord?

Ramblings...

Work sucks, but life is good... most of the time.

That's been my sentiment for the last few months. It's sad, I know. But c'est la vivre, I guess.

Pessimism aside, I am so thankful for my home group. This random hodgepodge of of people who never cease to amaze me in their pure acceptance for each other and their hunger to learn deeper the heart of God. There are no scholars or profound speakers, but we dialogue, we study the word and ask questions of it and each other. No one presumes to know the "correct" answer. No one pretends to be perfect.

Sometimes I wish I'd have met these people sooner, and wonder at God's planning; wonder if I threw a wrench in His plans with my stubbornness and fear of change and kick myself in the butt for fighting God for as long as I did, even when I knew He wanted something different for me.

Sadly, our co-leaders are leaving soon. They're heading back to Nashville and starting a new chapter and vision for/in their lives. They've no idea if it's completely the "right" thing to do, but they trust in God's wisdom and His sovereign hand at work even in this blind leap of faith they take.

It's strange how I found myself here amongst this group and in this church. But, however long it took, I'm glad and thankful for the wisdom and sovereignty of my Father.

[Annie smiley]

Once Upon a Time...

Per the request of Yellowinter, here is my abridged testimony:

I grew up in what I thought was a typical Korean-American, Christian home. My dad was an elder at our church, my mom a member of the choir. Although we went to church every Sunday, God and Jesus were rarely mentioned in our home.

I first came to Christ when I was about 7 yrs old while attending a VBS at a friend's church. The speaker asked us to raise our hands if we wanted Jesus to be our friend, so I did, and was led through the "Sinner's Prayer". Since salvation and the work of the Cross were rarely taught at home or church, my knowledge of the person of God was limited to Old Testament stories of a wrathful God who punished those who were bad. I feared God as the great
Discipliner and Punisher, but was ignorant of God the loving Father.

It wasn't until a fateful night at an overnight camp that I finally learned of the loving, patient, forgiving and sacrificial love of God. It was then that I was taught about God's unconditional love for me; that though I wronged Him in so many ways and was so undeserving, He sent His one and only Son to rescue me, to restore my relationship with Him. Like the beaten man on the road to Jericho, I was dying in my sin until Christ came and healed me, washing me clean of my sins. Even more astonishing to me was that He came and took my place on that road, taking my beating and my shame, allowing His clean robes to be bloodied and stained for me.

My faith was shaken, however, when my parents suddenly divorced during the summer leading into my freshman year of college. Secrets of my dad's repeated infidelities and lies surfaced and rocked my trust in him and in my heavenly Father. I was angry, bitter and confused. I couldn't understand God's reasoning or plan for all the pain He'd allowed to come to my mom, brother and myself. I couldn't let go of the dad I knew and was unable to accept this stranger who resembled my father, but who didn't seem to have any interest in remaining in the lives of his children. His infrequent visits became more and more sparse. Many nights were spent in angry, hot tears as I, in my furious and helpless state, challenged God to bring about good through all the chaos we [my family] had now found ourselves in.

Slowly, God has been revealing His father's heart for me. He's showed unending patience and compassion while I struggled to walk again. His promise to be a "father to the fatherless" has brought a silent and still comfort that have brought me thus far. He's remained faithful to His
promises and has honored the prayers whispered in desperation. He has taught me about the meaning of restoration, and has opened His heart He calls me His beloved, His daughter and His precious child. And I am so thankful because, honestly, I have no idea how or why He could sometimes.