quick thought: non-creepy evangelism?

I knowwww, I can't just say "by the way, my whole life is turned upside down" and then not follow up on it right away ... but I have allotted myself exactly 11 minutes to blog before I have to go do stats homework, so I can only drop a quick thought today.

I just finished eating dinner at a little study table on the top floor of our student union. I didn't choose it for any particular reason; it was open, so I grabbed it. Shortly after I unwrapped my Jimmy John's Vegetarian sandwich, my Internet conked out and refused to reconnect. So, with a shrug, I closed my computer and settled in to enjoy my dinner in peace.

The next part was the providential part: Three young men sat down at the table behind me, and started holding a Bible study.

Two of the youths were very new believers, still stumbling over concepts like "take up your cross" and "count the cost" (although what believer, young or old, doesn't stumble over those concepts sometimes!!). The older young man guided them gently with questions and allowed them to sit a moment after their "ooohh, I get it" moments. I firmly believe that God knocked out my Internet so I could listen to their study.

The theme was boldly speaking about Christ in daily life. My blood immediately ran cold - this is one of the deepest areas of struggle in my life. I try to model Christlike behavior; I will write and write until I'm blue in the face about my journey following Christ; but speaking about Him with my mouth chokes me up and makes me sick to my stomach. It is certainly good old unadorned fear, but it is also partly a reluctance to speak about something so sacred to me - just as I trip and choke over conversations about men whom I love or very close friends. I don't have words eloquent enough to do them justice - even less so my Christ.

But the youths' study gently reminded me that fear is not an option when it comes to witnessing. We won't get a pass for being shy or afraid to speak about Him. He will be ashamed of me if I am ashamed of Him. And too often ... I am.

BUT, but but but, this leads me to my ultimate question: How do you ladies talk about Jesus in your daily lives? 

After I used 20 seconds of courage to stop and thank them for letting me listen in, I came downstairs and saw a young lady sitting by herself on a bench, and my first thought was OHMYGOODNESSIMUSTEVANGELIZEHER. However, the thought of unsolicitedly approaching someone sitting by themselves reminded me too much of the cult missionaries who always ambush me when I'm sitting or walking alone. The apostles did a bit of that, but only when they sensed an opening, like with the Ethiopian eunuch - typically, they were much more likely to either talk about Jesus as part of their normal interpersonal interactions, or else stand on the rooftops and proclaim Him and take questions from the crowds.

So I wonder - what does evangelism look like for you? Are you so in love with Him that you talk about Him easily, freely, beautifully? Or are you more like me, stumbling a bit over self-consciousness and crowd-pleasing tendencies?

(Drat, 11 minutes is up ... more about my crazy life to follow, after statistics ...)

uprooted

Ladies and gentlemen, I would like you to meet my new baby, Legolas.

Legolas is an unidentified species of green plant that I bought the other day, and he has proudly and officially become the guardian of my new home. He is quite the handsome gentleman and performs his job admirably.

And the real news, of course, is that I have moved.  :-)  For a week and a half, I have successfully adulted in my very own apartment and I love, love, love it.

It was very difficult at first - easily the hardest transition I've ever made. I am very thankful that John and Heather moved with me and we're all living together; because for the first few nights, I don't know if I would have eaten or changed clothes or done any self-care at all. I have never felt so foundationless and primally disturbed. It was like my entire self had somehow fallen out of the bottom of one of my boxes and disappeared. I would come home from work and just wander - pick things up and put them back down, go into the kitchen, leave the kitchen, go to clean things up in my room but wander back out again - always burdened by an eerie feeling that I needed to do something, but never quite sure what I needed to do - and certainly not able to finish anything I started.

But ... I'm better now.  :-)

***

Things are much quieter and more relaxed with just the three of us. Much less stuff, currently much less work. Laundry is a problem - the machines in our building are incredibly expensive and ridiculously slow, so last week we got so behind that we had to haul our overstuffed hamper back to Mom and Dad's and use their machines. We have since acquired some drying racks, and I'm going to do a load or two tonight so I don't get so behind again.

My favorite thing about the move so far is very small - I like being able to sit with the patio door open for a few hours every evening while the sun goes down, without upsetting anyone's allergies. I know, so prosaic! But fresh air and sunshine have always been really important to my mental health, and I could never leave the windows open for long at home because my family has such bad allergies. It has done wonders for my spirit to be able to welcome the evening into my home.

***

There is a lot going on in my life right now, so much that I'm not sure how to summarize it ... I'm afraid I've done much too much self-reflection lately and not enough seeking God's face and God's will, so I'm not seeing things in the perspective I ought, either.

Basically, when I uprooted myself from my home, it seems that God was quietly and dramatically uprooting some other things, too - my educational plans, my career plans, and the way I see myself as a person. I'm going to talk about it all in another post soon, but the gist of it is that I'm trying to courageously use the talents God has given me, while avoiding the opposing pitfalls of paralyzing fear and self-obsession. It's a very delicate balance, and the path ahead is incredibly murky; but I know that my Father is holding my hand, and that He knows where He is taking me. And regardless of what my emotions tell me, I know that's all I need to know.

***

What about you? Are you being uprooted in any areas lately? How are you handling the aftermath - can you see yet what's being planted?

(Also, I love you and I've missed you during my absence!!)

~ Vicki

i will wait for love

Over the last week or so, quietly, inexplicably, I have found myself stepping back from my one-sided relationship of the last year, and looking at it.

And silently, I have admitted to myself that it wasn't as pretty of a thing as I thought it was.

I know, they never are; but the real ones, the ones that are going to last, have a strength to them that holds together all the messiness and gives them shape - a solid skeleton under the uneven, shaky, imperfect tissue that knits together the "one flesh".

This one was like a skeleton with osteoporosis. Much too fragile to stand up to the weight and blows of daily life ... because only one of us was building, and I was building haphazardly and without proper materials. It was doomed from the beginning, just like he said it was.

***

He didn't respect me or my judgment. He frequently told me - and others - that I was scatterbrained, unreliable, inconsistent, and confusing. He called me condescending names, questioned my decisions, and said he liked it when I got angry or jealous because it reassured him that I was human.

In turn, I tried to use him as a security blanket when he didn't want to be. I placed selfish demands on him by seeking attention and support when he was already fighting stress and worry; I got peevish and angry when he didn't drop everything to tend to my needs; and I tried to shame him into conforming to the ideal I had built in my head for him.

Yes, I really was that ugly. And so was he.

That's not to say that it wasn't a very special, important relationship while it lasted. God let us find each other so that we would each have someone to lean on during the pain we went through last year - my rejection and failures, his insecurities and fear. When I was able to put aside my own needs and really listen to him, and when he was able to put aside his standoffishness and really listen to me, each of us was the support and understanding that the other needed.

But while that would have been a great start for a lasting relationship, it wasn't enough to sustain it. A relationship that lasts must be built on respect, trust, selfless care, and ultimately, a desire to serve and exalt God together. Because he didn't respect me, and I didn't trust him, and because neither of us could let go of our selfish wishes for the relationship (me to warm it up, him to cool it down), it could not survive.

***

As one of my dear friends said, the good thing to come out of this relationship is that now I know I can love - which I had strongly doubted in the past. I loved him very imperfectly, it's true; but if love is the genuine desire for someone's well-being and the willingness to sacrifice for that well-being, then I did love him. For every time I caved to my pounding heart and shot him a bothersome text, there were three or four times that I pushed the phone away and left him alone. His grades and reputation were huge motivators in how hard I worked on our joint projects. And when I could make him laugh and forget about his troubles for a moment, I felt like the most powerful and successful woman in the world.

I'm not going to try to love him in this way anymore. I've made sure, the last two times I've seen him, to let him know that he can come to me anytime he wants to vent or take a break from school, and I have genuinely meant it - not as a ploy to get him to go out with me. Now he knows it; and with that promise successfully tucked in his pocket, I can leave and freely explore the big world opening up ahead of me.

I hope - I really do hope - that he will call me back every so often. I hope I can stop by his office and sit with him in the afternoon again sometime. I hope, someday, he'll give me that hug that he never quite did. But I'm not going to chase after it anymore. Love that is not freely offered is not love at all.

***

I continue to hope that, somewhere along my journey, I find a tall, brown-eyed Jesus lover who welcomes me into his heart with warmth and understanding - someone who values and cherishes me, who looks at me with pride, not disgust. I pray that there is a man who will grow stronger and bolder when I shyly hand him my heart, who will allow me to add my strengths to his and to gently pour compassion into his weaknesses. I pray that there is a man who will raise up children with me, loving and protecting them as precious gifts from God.

I have caught a tiny glimpse of what love can be, and I see now that it is worth wanting and worth waiting for. And whether I am ever allowed to step fully into its light, I now know that the love of my friends and their husbands is worth supporting, nurturing, and protecting as a friend, not something to be feared or sneered at. Any pain or disappointment I have felt over this past year has been completely worth it, if I have truly learned this lesson.

After all - "for love is from God; and everyone who loves is born of God and knows God (1 John 4:7)". May I always value and protect this most precious gift.