as for me, it's good to be

sometimes i forget how blessed i am, how i truly am surrounded by a great cloud of witnesses, how there are continually people encouraging me and loving on me and pressing me toward the Lord, often without even knowing it. in my thoughts, i frequently focus solely on those moments when i'm not encouraged, or those moments when i feel the exact opposite is happening. but in reality, i am encouraged a lot. the Lord is encouraging me every day, drawing me with an everlasting love, pursuing me with consistent kindness. all of this when i don't want to be near. all of this even from afar.

if i can't dance - i don't want to be part of your revolution

the more i dance, the more i realize how different i would be without it. there is so much i can only say through movement. there is so much i am no good at talking about, there is so much i am no good writing about, there is so much it's no good crying about. sometimes it only makes sense to dance. this is the outlet the Lord has created for me to speak.

there are so many days i have no words. dancing is the only thing that feels right, that can be an adequate response to what God has done in my life.

over the summer, the day i asked how to use the sound system in the chapel changed the way i could interact with the Lord. everything that was upsetting, everything that was difficult, everything that was encouraging, everything that was awful and wonderful and true could be danced. i couldn't explain it, i couldn't do anything with it but take my body, my silly little frame that the Lord has made into an offering, and move.

for some, moving seems like running. for me, it's one of the only ways i have of grappling with life, death, hope, and God. of actually facing them. it is like nothing else i know when it comes to meeting the Lord. praying, singing, reading the Word: all incredible, all things i love to do, all things that the Lord loves. but dancing. oh my goodness. moving in the Lord's presence is like being tiny and seen at the same time, being so small yet so loved. dancing. the only times i feel worthy of praising such a huge and wonderful Savior. oh my goodness. dancing. you may have no idea. but dancing.

the Lord's revolution has dancing.

something worth holding onto

although the world is full of suffering, it is also full of the overcoming of it. -helen keller

healing takes time.

because God takes His time. not because He enjoys our pain but because His love for us is enough to let us stay there while He is a doing work in us.

i always knew this. but i also always assumed it would come easier to me, and in a shorter time frame. and yet, still, i'm me, alone and frustrated by my complete inability to heal myself. by the fact that such a long long time later, i am still wounded.

i have to catch myself in the net, pull myself back on board, and remind myself that it is not me doing the healing at all. it has never been me. (repeating it to myself: it has never, ever, ever been me.) the Lord has been healing me all along, slowly but surely, more gently now than it felt before. His touch is so evident in how my heart has changed.

and still, i complain. maybe not externally, maybe not the way i do about my term papers. but i do make my case. God, why are there parts of me where i still feel injured? why are there certain aspects of myself that are calloused? why, Lord, can i not bring myself to feel things i felt before? why is this still so hard sometimes?

it's not the thing itself anymore. it's the side effects. it's the parts of me that have changed as a result. they are now my battle. they are now my prayer.

it's the deep parts of me that i don't reveal to anyone. they are where the healing is going to happen soon. i know it.

in certain areas, i have become more of a runner than i was before. i hide. and these are the deep repercussions of being hurt. these are the remnants of pain. this is what is left of what i gave away. broken pieces.

it frustrates me that i have such a hard time admitting it most of the time. i'm scared you won't understand. i'm scared you'll think of me differently. i'm scared you'll treat me like i'm shattered. i'm scared you'll actually read this.

and somehow i muster the strength to care less about you and more about the Lord. i sit. i try to start. i fail. and i procede. i force myself to type. because in a lot of ways, this is the only place i feel comfortable and uncomfortable with where i am.

i worry that one day, a long time from now, i will wake up and realize that i am the same. i fear that i will accept this brokenness as part of who i am and who i always will be. and while brokenness is an innate part of my humanity, this specific brokennes, this exact wound, is not who i am. it is not who i will be. it is only part of shaping me into the woman that God has intended me to be all along.

"this too will pass" and the places where i was cracked, i will be sealed. and yet there it will be, the place where the blood once was. the spot that was once so cold and foreign will be warm and familiar, part of who i am only because the Lord has changed its nature.

it seems contradictory. but it is no longer a reminder of my failure and shame, of all the ways i did things wrong. it is a testimony to all the things the Lord has done right. this hurt will be part of me only because the Lord is redeeming it. this mark will be mine to cherish, because God has made it beautiful in its time.

people are not little stones, or keys in someone's pocket

on march 31, serbia formally apologized for not doing enough to stop the massacre of bosnian muslims in srebrenica, the un safe zone. the main reason for this apology was to do something favorable that would benefit serbia in its quest to enter the european union. yet they did not call the killings genocide, as the UN and the hague have already done.

sometimes i think about how often i am serbia. i apologize to get something in return, whether its something material, or just a pat on the back for doing a good thing. i also don't call things for what they are. i am good at skirting around the issue, at apologizing for something lesser than what is required, at making my faults seem justified when they are not. i don't want to make amends for concessional gains. i don't just want some surface-level declaratory statements that mean nothing in reality. i don't want my actions to please others. i want my everything to please God. this is my wish.

wish (v.): to want, desire, long for