Attempting to catch up ...

I've thought about this blog a lot lately, I think because this was always the place I turned to when I had thoughts I couldn't unburden to anyone in real life.

My last post was one of those thoughts - I had my first real two-sided romance this past winter, and some poor emotional coping mechanisms (on both sides, but admittedly more on his), fears, and doctrinal disagreements came between us, and it was ... messy and ugly. It should never have happened, but I'm also glad it did - I learned about myself, and I learned about what I do and do not want in my future husband. I'll be thinking about it for a long time to come.

But, that relationship is only one of the vignettes in an explosively growth-filled six months. A friend of mine suggested that I might have codependent tendencies - that I need to feel needed by broken people in order to feel good about myself. So I have started going to counseling to learn how to think more healthily about myself - to listen to my own feelings and opinions instead of downplaying them, to learn how to set boundaries and say "no" when I need to, and to see myself as worthy, loved, and important. So many of these new ways of thinking are completely foreign to me - I'm not used to accepting limits to myself. I'm not used to taking time to rest and replenish my emotional strength - it still makes me feel "weak" and self-indulgent at times. But as I recently counseled a young student, "You can't pour from an empty cup"; and I'm learning how to fill my cup with good things in quiet time so I can pour that back into others' hearts when I'm full.

Early this year, I went out on a limb and applied for a science journalism internship with NASA - and lo and behold, I was chosen! So this summer I will be packing a U-Haul and hitting the road for the East Coast, living away from my family for the first time ever. It's only for 10 weeks, so it's the perfect length of time to see what living on my own is like; and I won't be taking any classes or working any other jobs - just writing and taking photos, 40 hours a week for 10 weeks. Four hundred beautiful hours of doing what I love best. I am definitely nervous about living away from my family, but I'm also incredibly excited.

And just like I'm wading into the scary unknown of my unhealthy emotions and flying out to the scary unknown of living with strangers in a metropolis, so I've also been swimming out into the breathtaking unknown of putting all my faith in Christ's finished work on the cross and letting go of trying to earn His favor with my "good Christian" deeds. Through a combination of counseling, sharing the Gospel with my former editor and his wife, and studying Galatians in my Bible study group, I have been shocked and confused to realize that what I thought were just "standards" I held for myself were really yet another attempt to "make God happy with me". This isn't a new struggle; it's as old as this blog - it used to be my long dresses and conservative music; now it was my attempts to be sacrificially present and nurturing to literally everyone in my life. If I could just give more of my time and my energy, then God would be pleased with me. If I could just spend more hours listening to friends vent about bad relationships ... if I could give more effort at work ... if I could set a better example for my siblings ... if I could finally get my driver's license ... if I could just be and do more, then I would finally feel that God was pleased with me.

But God in His mercy directed me to Galatians 3:

Let me ask you this one question: Did you receive the Holy Spirit by obeying the law of Moses? Of course not! You received the Spirit because you believed the message you heard about Christ. 

How foolish can you be? After starting your new lives in the Spirit, why are you now trying to become perfect by your own human effort? Have you experienced so much for nothing? Surely it was not in vain, was it? 

(Galatians 3:2-4, NLT)

Christ is enough. It isn't "believe in Christ AND then do good works". No. Christ is entirely and wholly enough. If I were incapacitated today and could never do another good work for the rest of my life, it wouldn't matter because Christ is my righteousness. Christ is my holiness. He alone is Who and What I need to get into heaven and to secure God's favor.

As one of my dear believing professors put it, this is faith. Checking off the "checklist" of being a "good Christian" is impossible, but it is something concrete and visible that people can hold onto. You can see a long dress, or choice of music, or how you spend your time. That isn't faith. Believing that, even on those crappy days where you lose your temper and want what you shouldn't and just want to hide away from the world, Christ is still enough and God still loves you - that is faith. It's ambiguous. It can't be seen or held, and sometimes can't even be felt. But it is beautiful and it is empowering and it is what sets us free from guilt and shame and fear.

Learning all this simultaneously - clinging to a failing relationship while believing Christ is still enough; applying for a NASA internship while learning how to develop healthy friendships with myself and others - has been a rollercoaster of crying and laughing and staring blankly at this upended world that I now inhabit. But I can't wait to see what my Potter is doing as He squishes me down and reshapes me from the wheel up. Who am I about to become?

***

I do miss this space and all of you, and I leave it up so I can come back here and keep it alive in hopes of returning regularly. I pray that God is working in your lives as amazingly as He is working in mine, and that each of us is being lovingly polished and crafted into vessels that His glory and brightness can shine through.

Be well, friends. I love you.

~ Vicki

Strength to carry a secret

"Oh, hey," he said casually as my classmate and I turned to leave for class, "I'm getting married in the fall, you know."

I froze with my coat half-on as my classmate shrieked in delight, rushing over to demand pictures, ask the woman's name, and hear the story of how they met. Instead of following her, I turned partly away and slowly concentrated on loading my books and computer into my blue backpack, hoping that she didn't summon me to join the conversation. I didn't have the strength today to pretend that I'd never seen these pictures before, and to look him in the eye while I asked for a story I already knew. To his credit, he didn't turn in my direction either. Even though he had given his ring to another woman, there was still something heavy and uncomfortable that sat between us whenever we spoke.

I lifted my backpack to my back and slipped past the chattering crowd. He didn't say goodbye. Neither did I.

***

In three months, the tall young man with the sparkling brown eyes who gave me my first romantic embrace will be walking down the aisle to marry the woman God created for him many years ago. On the day of their wedding, I will be working in a newsroom near Washington, D.C. I will probably steal a moment on my lunch hour to cry; because once that day is over, a short story full of sweetness and pain will be sealed and tucked up on the shelf of my heart, never again to be opened or shared with anyone who knows both of us.

On paper, there isn't much to tell. He is a doctoral student who has a desk on the other side of the aisle in our small, stuffy third-floor grad student office. The day he came to visit our program, I greeted him and his host parents warmly, telling them all about apartments and things to do in our little Midwestern town. We met officially at a poster session in the fall - I explained my research to him and noticed how nice he looked in blue. My professor-mentor noticed that I noticed.

I learned about the tragedy that had stolen his parents from him when he helped me with a class project, and I cried as he told the story. He noticed that I cried. And as the leaves changed to the reds and golds that matched the shirts he often wore, he started stopping by my desk - for a few minutes, for half an hour, for hours at a time. We talked about theology, politics, research, our childhoods, our future plans. In the middle of a rainy October night, he backhandedly messaged to ask if I might consider dating him.

If emotions are our connection to life, then I was drowned in life for the next four weeks. Passionate and sure of himself, he praised my character and faithful lifestyle, he whispered in my ear how beautiful I looked, he cautiously reached out to hold my hand, to touch my arm, to press his knee against mine as we sat together. He called me his queen and dropped comments about taking me back to his country with him, carefully watching my face to see how I would react. He could read me like a book and knew things about me that I couldn't put into words myself. The first time he pulled me into his arms and placed his hand on my waist, my entire being exploded into a firework display of fear and longing that I had never experienced before.

Things unraveled fast. My heart, filled with anxiety and brought up in the era of kissing dating goodbye, tried desperately to keep him at arm's length while I feverishly laid the "perfect husband" template over everything he said and did. Annoyed that he wanted to move the conversation from "maybe dating" to getting married in the space of a few short weeks, I didn't realize that I was doing the same thing, both of us in our first dating relationship and unable to handle the tornadoes of hope and hormones that raged inside us. Over and over, I told him to slow down, back off, go away; and over and over he came back, pleading, pressuring, poking me into anger just to get me to react to him. Finally, hiding behind my parents' firm disapproval, I called the whole thing off, informing him there was no way to bring our strong and opposing personalities into a relationship.

I have never sensed pain in another human being at the level that I sensed it in his heart when I told him my decision. He tried to convince me that it was all a fling, that he never cared for me the way I thought he did, but it wasn't true. I, too, knew things about him that he couldn't put into words himself; and I knew that his last desperate whisper when I reached up to fix his coat collar - "I want you to do that every day for the rest of my life" - was spoken from a place too deep for lies to grow. I wrote to my best friend the next day and cried, "I feel like I just cut his arm off with a chainsaw."

He left for Christmas break. I stayed home in my snowy town, taking long walks in bitter winds to cool the raging confusion and anger that burned in my heart. And I told myself the same lies that he had told me. It was all a fling. I never cared for him the way he thought I did.

***

Just like Jo's rejection in Little Women spurred Laurie to look at Amy with new eyes and see the way things should have been all along, so my friend went to spend his Christmas holidays with a beautiful girl whom he had known since they were children. As he poured out his sorrows to her, things started to rearrange themselves in his heart; and he realized that the girl who had waited for him for so many years was really the one who deserved his love after all. Christmas worked its magic, and before he came back to school, they were engaged.

I told him I was happy for him, and at first, I was. But on the early-spring evening that he waited for everyone else to go home so he could come stand by my desk and show me his fiancee's picture, he finally looked me in the eye and told me that I had been right. It was not all a cruel joke. Everything he said about falling in love with my character, being impressed by my humility, cherishing the way I love and care for others, holding my purity and modesty in high regard - all of that was true. And he confessed that, on that last evening when I had fought with every intuitive and empathic power in me to pry away his careless mask and see the truth he buried deep inside, everything I had confronted him with was true. He was lonely, and he was wounded, and he did love me in some frantic, imperfect way.

After he put his phone back in his pocket and went home, I was left sitting in an empty, sun-soaked office, wondering what I had done - and what I had lost. Why had he finally come to tell me the truth? Was he truly a manipulative Mr. Collins who showed me his heart to triumph in my fresh pain, the way my sister and spiritual mentor insisted he was? Or was he the broken, lonely, imperfect but holy and faithful man I thought he was in the beginning, trying to break the news to me gently in some clumsy concern for my heart? Were we really too strong-headed and dissimilar to have figured things out, the way my parents and mentors insisted we were? Or did I let my anxiety push me into giving up on something beautiful?

***

I will probably never know the answer to these questions; and in a few short months, I will no longer allow myself to ask them. But whatever the thing was that we burned down, some beautiful things have begun to grow in the ashes.

For one thing, I have seen myself in a completely new way and learned things about myself that I couldn't have learned any other way. I learned more about what I really want in my future relationships. My friend wanted me as a wife because I was a fellow Christian grad student whom he thought could help and support him in his doctoral journey - a normal and fine thing to hope, but also lacking the element of partnership and mutual growth that I am seeking in my future marriage. I am a woman full of dreams and ideas and desires for adventure, and I want a husband who will support my growth and development just as much as I support his. My friend never mentioned my growth or betterment once when we were together - only after he was already engaged.

I also learned how important it is to find a boyfriend who values purity as much as I do. Both of us were strongly attracted to each other and desperately wanted to touch and hold each other; but in many ways, even though he couldn't stop himself from emotionally diving headlong into our relationship, my friend had more physical self-control than I did. He knew when to stand at a distance to talk with me, when to reject my requests for a hug, and also when the time was okay to flirt and touch because we were in a public place. I didn't experience the overwhelming level of temptation that I expected to, but I learned that I still need practice to get in tune with when it is and isn't safe to express affection through touch.

And lastly, I learned that it's time to start making my own decisions about my life, and not to keep making my parents make decisions for me, like I'm still a child. I'm turning 30 years old this year, yet I still almost frantically pleaded with them to tell me whether or not I should date my friend. Ultimately, even though my decision was informed by my own anxieties and frustrations, I still used my parents' wishes to shield me - not brave enough to own the decision as my own. It's one thing for me to honor my parents' wishes and seek to make them proud with my actions, but it's another for a grown woman to make her parents choose the direction of her life.

***

I've received a fellowship to work as a science journalism intern in Washington, D.C. this summer. I will be embarking soon on a real adventure - living alone for the first time, living in a metropolitan area, and getting my first real experience in the profession I have chosen. Soon, this brief and painful chapter will be far behind me. My friend will be a married man, and I will be launching out into the dreams that God has given me.

But I wanted to record the story here, because it was both too powerful and too mundanely predictable to seal away in silence forever. None of our classmates can ever know, but someone must. I have been loved; I have been desired and pursued. I have been held, and I have wept in sorrow and anger, and I have seen those same tears reflected in another's eyes. No matter the outcome, I am richer and stronger for this experience, and I pray that he is, too.

Lord, give me the bravery to carry this secret and to plant seeds of grace and love in its ashes, so that I can greet his new wife with grace, embrace their children with sincere love, and nourish their relationship as a sister and a loving friend.

loss, then discovery

There is a pattern throughout literature that more closely resembles real life than we sometimes realize, and that is the pattern of "loss, then discovery".

Every rags-to-riches story begins this way. The hero or heroine loses something terribly precious - often a family member or other loved one, sometimes a home or a job, sometimes a dream. Whatever it may be, the Lukes and Annes and Jos and Janes are hit with a terrible loss that shakes them to their core ... and then, something beautiful and mighty softly flows into their open, defenseless hands.

A dusty old lightsaber hits a work-worn palm. A new love springs from the ashes of death. A fresh dream is softly planted by a gentle word. The morning of hope, as our Father foretold, follows the darkness of night.

***

A day still does not go by that I don't feel the bitter pain of my messy separation from my clinical graduate program. I don't know why it continues to hurt or when it will go away, but I suspect my fellow INFP friend was right when she said it was because I've never lost anything before. I've never had a close family member die, never been rejected, and certainly never poured so much of myself into something that would end in failure.

But you see ... that day that I hid under the stairwell and wept for two hours? That only felt like the end. Just like my favorite literary characters, I was really just being dragged into the place where my story could finally begin.

***

I spent most of the summer regaining my bearings. My job started as a safe place to land for a while - the old editor was a good friend of mine; the new editor is a peaceful, ambling man who puts no pressure on me; and some of the oldest employees there have known me since I was born. I thought I was protecting myself from the inevitable pain of the past and the future - yes, I had another graduate program as my upcoming destination, but for the summer, I was going to hide behind my big desk and quietly write nice little articles for nice little publications.

Well, that plan started to fall through when my new editor somehow started believing that I was a really, really gifted writer. As in, good enough that he said so to my face, to my older team members, and finally to the department head herself. My little articles gave way to bigger articles, then stories for small magazines, then out-of-town multimedia assignments.

My shattered self-confidence didn't know what to expect from any of this; but to my surprise, I not only handled it easily, but I kept getting better. I have gone from meekly penning informational releases, to crafting feature stories with flair and even humor. Next week, I will be the official media coordinator for my first statewide event.

My editor was my mentor, pushing a lightsaber into my hands and telling me to let the Force flow through me ... and somehow, I did.

***

And would you believe that this is all still just backstory?

The biggest breakthrough of all happened just after John and Heather and I moved. I was in a terrible haze of anxiety and nerves and didn't know up from down; and one day, my mom said, "Have you ever considered transferring to study in the department where you're working?"

I think I mumbled "No, not really".

She said, "Well, why don't you? Consider it, I mean. Meet with the graduate coordinator next week and just talk to him."

"About what?" I asked.

"Writing, you goof," she replied.

So I did. I went and talked to him about writing ... for two hours. Then we talked again, about educational writing. And then we talked again about Star Trek and Irish pubs and nontraditional education (homeschooling!) and theories of communication and how to use words to change people's lives.

"Please apply," he said. "You need to be here. You need to be with us so we can help you and support you. Please, please apply. We want you. I want you."

So I'm applying.

I, the scatterbrained failure, the old child who can't find a place for herself, am going to research better ways to get informational articles and materials to people who need them. I'm going to write. I'm going to take journalism classes. I'm going to keep reading and learning from the great communicators and storytellers around me. I'm going to take this incredible gift - this gift of writing that I've carried nonchalantly around on my hip all these years - and finally, truly learn how to use it, how to become a powerful communicator who can help get knowledge to people who need it.

***

I don't know what the next step will be - I haven't the faintest idea what God has in store. But for now, I'm just content to know that He isn't finished with me yet!

My biggest ongoing challenge is to not be so engrossed in self-discovery that I neglect God's teaching and wisdom. Everything has happened so fast and surprised me so much that I spend a lot of time staring at my published articles or my face on the department website and marveling that I could find myself in such a place; but I need to keep looking forward, not get stuck looking around or inward.

The past continues to be a stumbling block for me, too. I still have a great deal of bitterness festering in my heart that I'm not sure how to get rid of. But I know I have to get it rooted out now, so it doesn't taint the excitement and hard work of the next chapter of my story.

The solution, of course, to stop looking in the wrong places is to look in the right place - toward the Word of God and toward seeking His face. I desperately want His blessing and His working in every second of the upcoming years, but I need to reflect that desire in my prayer life and devotions. I pray that He would increase my desire to know who He wants me to be, and especially Who He is.

***

I pray that the Lord would sharpen me into a vessel of His grace, and that He would write in my life a story of hope that will inspire others to keep trusting Him and not give up on His loving plan!!

What about you? Has God been creating any surprises in your life? Tell me about them so I can rejoice with you!!

~ Vicki

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

life is {often} beautiful

{{mom's glorious roses!!}}

Today was my fourth day without feeling anxious or fretful, and it has been glorious.

I woke up on Monday after another fretful night of restless dreams, and my first thought, as always, was of the guy friend and what lies ahead for us - followed shortly afterward with weary thoughts about work and nervous thoughts about the research projects that are coming up quickly. I thought of my friend who had just lost her baby, another whose son just left the NICU, a friend who is very ill and could die. The elections are weird, the news is depressing, life is heavy and exhausting. For weeks, my mind has been closed down with a dark fog of fear, worry, obsessive thinking, and dragging depression - as has, sadly, been quite evident in my blogging.

But Monday afternoon, I picked up a biography of J.R.R. Tolkien, and lost myself in his rich descriptions of war, Christianity, mythology, and the great spiritual battle of the universe; and when I emerged, the fog had cleared and my pounding heart had calmed.

I am a dreamer, a wielder of imagination; and I want to use my power for brightness and holiness, not darkness and fear. I want to be like Tolkien - clear-sighted and realistic, but remembering that ultimate victory is assured and Light will finally win out over darkness; and for that reason, I should always have hope.

***

Work is going beautifully. They think I hung the moon, and I'm not arguing.

The research project may not even happen, if all goes as I hope.

The guy friend and I are still talking occasionally. Audacious, stupid hope still blooms alongside the deep-rooted certainty that all will be well no matter what happens.

The precious baby whom my friend thought she had lost? He LIVES by God's grace and his life-journey is just beginning.

The little guy who just left the NICU is hearty and growing and nursing.

The friend who could die walked from the hospital to his own car this afternoon.

***

Things can and do go badly and our wishes can be crushed, certainly. People and dreams do die. And the fog and weight of anxiety and depression can cloud and pull down the best of us no matter how hopeful we may be inside.

But sometimes it's easy to feel like God's will is this inexorable, iron machine that is going to march forward and crush our wishes and hopes underneath it unless we make sure we're marching in its direction. And that's not a truthful picture of how our God works. His will is ultimately inexorable, but He is no heartless tank driver; He is our loving Father who leads, carries, or lovingly drags us along the path toward being changed into the image of His Son. He knows that we are fragile, frightened, and terribly limited in what we can understand; but He doesn't roll His eyes in frustration and shove us forward along the rocks, He puts His arms underneath us and helps us walk, and soothes our fears with the promise that He will get us home safely.

Father, I'm sorry for helping to dig myself into a pit of fear and not turning my eyes upward to You - thank You for freeing me from the darkness, and thank You that You will do so when I fall in again, and again, and again. Thank you for the sunshine and hope that You have set before each of us, and thank You for winning the victory over darkness and sin!

and forgive us our trespasses

***

To forgive.

Who would know that it would take me until I was almost 30 to learn what it means to forgive?

For more than a month, I have tried to pretend that I didn't need to forgive. I have tried to pretend that I was only hurt, wounded, vulnerable, and sad - not angry. After all, I'm the nice one. The sweet-tempered one who never, ever gets angry.

Well ... I've been angry.

I have felt wronged, betrayed, and abandoned; and I have wanted to hurt them in return. I have cloaked a desire for revenge in a pretentious desire for justice. And I have stored up bitter words and actions that I have desperately longed to spew out in an acid rain shower for all to see.

Yes, certainly I have been hurt and vulnerable. But I have also been angry.

I have been holding onto this anger even past the point when I knew I shouldn't, because I convinced myself I was going to fight for some kind of justice. I told myself I was going to channel my anger to make change, to stand up for the poor defenseless students coming after me who were going to be subjected to the deception, unfairness, and harshness that I endured. Well, I still would like to do that; but - was it really for the students that I wanted to stand up and make a ruckus? Or was it really for myself, to stand up and shout to the world that I had been cheated and wronged?

***

It's time to let go.

"Forgive" is defined by the Webster-Merriam Online Dictionary as "to give up resentment of, or claim to requital for". Easton's Bible Dictionary defines "forgiveness", in reference to God's forgiveness of a sinner, as being absolved from condemnation and removed from guilt and liability.

So forgiving my professors means not being angry anymore, and it means ceasing to believe I should be repaid for the wrong they did me.

I am not going to look back at those painful days and sleepless nights and let my blood boil anymore. I am going to say: I am a fallen sinner just like the people who hurt me, and I need forgiveness just as much as they do, for offenses just as bad against others. I am not better than they are. This was God's will for me, and He never allows me to pass through pain for no reason - He will bring blessings and good fruit out of the dug-up places in my heart, as long as I raise my hands to the rain and say "Behold the handmaid of the Lord; be it unto me according to thy word".

I'm not going to look for ways to "make them pay". I'm not going to keep expecting someone to admit they were wrong and apologize. I am going to "accept the apology that was never offered". And I'm going to allow the Lord to gently close that chapter of my life as He sees fit, and stop dragging my heels and looking back over my shoulder, like Lot's wife.

***

I want to be mighty. 

I want to be strong and active and courageous, full of righteous power. I want to be the Christian equivalent of Luke Skywalker - I want to do hard things, deny myself, and actively fight against darkness and sin in myself and the world.

Luke Skywalker forgave. Luke Skywalker didn't go after Darth Vader to seek revenge for all of the horrible things that he had done to him; he went after Darth Vader to rescue him from the spiral of destruction that had trapped him for so many years.

And I look higher and even more importantly: Jesus forgave. Jesus Christ could have righteously punished the earth and destroyed us with the death we all deserved, but He didn't. He forgave us long before we asked. He loved us when we were completely vile and hideously deformed with sin. And He allowed Himself to be punished as though He were vile and deformed with sin, instead of us.

Who am I to hold a grudge, when I have been forgiven so much? And how do I think I can grow and get stronger if I'm letting anger and bitterness shrivel me up?

***

Well, I'm done shriveling now.

I'm done being angry. All of the professors, all of the administrators: I forgive you. I love you. I truly want the best for you. And I truly believe that God wants the best for you and me and all of us.

I forgive. Therefore, I am free.

{re: change}

I wonder how I'm going to feel in the future when I look back on the 2015-16 school year?

Right now, it feels like I have never truly lived before this year. I am honestly amazed when I step back and look at the sheer number and amount of experiences and emotions that have pounded over me and soaked me to the skin.

I have experienced physical exhaustion to the point of near-fainting and emotional exhaustion to the level of sobbing uncontrollably for three hours.  

I have thrown every iota of mental, physical, and emotional strength into something and seen it end in defeat - then I have seen hope be reborn and the Holy Spirit lift my eyes to look toward new horizons.  

I have uncovered unfairness and untruth and been their victim, and from that experience gained a desire to stand up for other students who are coming behind me.

I have discovered the strength that lies in the unchanging love of friends, and I am learning that even that strength is utterly frail and helpless compared to the ever-present love of my Father God.  

I have dared to fall in love, and felt the jagged pain of rejection cutting my heart and soul - but I have planted seeds of hope in the wounded places and watched them continue to grow, fragile and sweet and ridiculously audacious.

Defeat and hope, courage met with obstacles, injustices discovered. It's been quite a year.

***

At the advice of my mentors, and after many painful meetings and long nights of weeping, I have decided to leave my clinical program of study after this semester and move to a Master's degree program focused on health education and support. Admitting failure and letting go of my dreams and plans has been one of the most painful experiences of my life, and it will take me a long time to recover from the emotional damage of the decision and the semester in general; but God has moved in every stage of the process, and I am firmly convinced that this is His leading. There is no doubt in my mind that this is all Him, and that I am doing the right thing. Despite the sadness of failure, I am excited to see what He has planned and where He will take me next year.

This year has also been the year of my first real, complicated relationship with a man about whom I have dared to use the word love. He has cared for my heart so gently through the pain of this semester, driven me home after midnight, lifted my spirits with food and stories, carefully protected my confided thoughts, and rewarded me with the gift of his trust, his tears, and his hopes. We are a beautiful team. He calls me his confidante, his counselor, his kind and good friend ... yet for all this, he still says he does not love me in the same way that I love him. Every time he catches my eye and smiles, my heart leaps; and every time he waves and drives away, it sinks with frustration and pain.

I continue to hope. It may be futile, this tiny flower in my heart may be trampled back down again; but I continue to hope and pray. And even though I don't know what the outcome of this will be, just like the situation with school, I can say that the things I have learned through our friendship will outlast the pain, regardless of what the future holds.

***

I am a different person today than I was in August. I am no longer arrogantly enamored with my own sweetness and intelligence. I have failed, I have been the "stupid one", I have wounded others, and I have been wounded. I have learned about the depths of my own sinfulness. I have lost ten pounds and am thinking about getting my first tattoo.

I am not the same person that I was before this year.

But.

God is still the same God that He was before this year.

He has pursued my soul in a visible, vibrant, astounding way this year. He has met my collapsing soul with truth in the night when I was too weak to reach for it myself. He has nourished my soul through unexpected people and given me peace and rest in places I never would have looked for it.

I love Him. Oh, so imperfectly, so inconsistently, so unworthily of His majestic grace and all-powerful mercy; but I love Him and I am truly delighted in following Him. He is everything that I need, and even as I pick myself up and stumble away from the wreckage of my failures and broken dreams, I know that I am leaving nothing behind, compared to the glory that lies ahead in getting to know Him better, and in letting Him make me the comforting person for others that others have been for me.

Jesus Christ, the same yesterday, and today, and forever.

Amen.

Let Me Sink

Sometimes, I just really don't want to be okay.

I wandered away from my take-home neurology exam this evening and drifted into Blogger, my eyelids and spirits drooping, as seems to be my constant state of existence lately. There just aren't enough hours in my day now to leave time for sleep, let alone meaningful relaxation - I am completely drained of the ability or motivation to stay awake for anything anymore. Between classes, exams, papers, quizzes, readings, labs, presentations, data analyses, clinic instruction, filling in charts, learning MATLAB, and trying every couple of days to help out a little bit with chores at home, I feel like a wet washcloth, completely limp and constantly soaked with more information than I can possibly absorb.

Don't get me wrong, there are many things that I love about grad school so far. I have learned more in 6.5 weeks than I ever dreamed possible - I'm doing things and working with people far beyond anything I thought I could do. It is absolutely amazing. I love my major professor and my labmates - each one of them is teaching me some very powerful spiritual lessons that I've never learned before. I am growing and stretching, and it's good, but it hurts. I feel like I'm getting sprains instead of muscles.

When I came to Blogger, I was immediately, simply, plainly smacked in the face by this article: "Give Your Weakness to God," by Steven Lee. It is powerful, it is beautiful, and exactly what I needed.

But as I read it, I didn't really feel encouraged right away. I actually felt dis-couraged. The whole point of the post was to bring hope and reassurance that God is with me, He is picking me up and going to carry me, and everything is going to be okay. But you see, I just don't have the strength to be okay right now.

I don't want to be encouraged. I don't want to pick up my cross in hope and keep going with renewed strength and enthusiasm. I don't want someone to pat me on the shoulder and tell me it's going to be okay. I really just want to lie quietly down on my face in the middle of a hallway and give up for a while, and have someone tell me it's okay not to be okay. 

But I don't feel like it's acceptable to admit that I'm struggling and really doubting my decision to choose this field of study for grad school, because doing so would be selfish and ungrateful for the incredible opportunity I've been given. Everyone around me is doing such a good job at keeping on a brave face, even those whom I know don't feel like being okay either; so I don't be the one to buckle and bring down the morale of the whole class. My professors, my parents, my friends - they all expect so much of me, and I've succeeded at everything I tried so far in life. I don't know what they would think if I failed at something.

So ...

Tonight, privately, here, I'm lying down in the middle of the hallway, and giving up for a few minutes, and letting you know that I do know that God is with me and that He will help me accomplish what I need to, but I just don't feel like being okay tonight.

Maybe I'll be okay tomorrow.

Second Week: Words of Encouragement

It is 6PM and I am sitting on the floor in my pajamas, drinking coffee, listening to atmospheric music, and looking through a friend's vacation photo album.

(I'm doing this because our dog is lonely and he won't stop barking until someone sits next to him on the floor. So I volunteered.)

Also, I've survived my second week of grad school.

At the beginning of this week, I wasn't doing very well. Most of my classes this semester are heavily focused on the electrophysiological aspects of the hearing and nervous systems, which is essentially engineering, and everybody knows that Vicki doesn't do engineering. So Vicki has had many doubts. Vicki has cried. Vicki has locked herself in her office and hidden. Vicki has locked herself in the bathroom and hidden. And cried.

It's been a bit rough.

However, this week, I have also been reminded of the power and strength found in the love and encouragement of other people. You see, I tend to be very emotionally independent (read: proud) and avoid discussing my fears and worries with other people. I try to seem strong and put-together - I hate showing weakness and I hate people knowing what's going on inside my head. This week, though, I admitted to some of my close friends that I was doubting myself and fearful of the future; and the uplifting words they sent my way gave me such a huge boost.

It's amazing how much encouragement you can get from simple words like:

You can do it.
I have a lot of faith in you.
You will be the kindest, most beautiful Ph.D. around!
Don't put so much pressure on yourself - you're doing fine.
I trust you.
You're not crazy.
You were born for this. 

And most importantly:

Have I not commanded you? Be strong and courageous! Do not tremble or be dismayed, for the Lord your God is with you wherever you go.

Regarding my lovely humans' encouragement, I really don't think anyone who encouraged me this week knew that their quickly jotted posts and casual comments were so helpful and important for me. It actually reminded me that my words can have the same effect on others - it only takes me a second to shoot off a text saying "Hey, just wanted to you to know you're awesome"; but it might be just the little boost someone needs today.

How have your family and friends encouraged you this week?

~ Vicki

Martyrs

After ISIS slaughters Christians, an Egyptian village mourns its sons

My Father, I thank You for bringing these courageous and faithful brothers of ours safely home through this fiery trial that they have just endured. I praise You and rejoice with their families that their faith was strong enough to hold onto Your hand and leave earth in such a horrifying way, far from their families, surrounded by hatred and fear, and probably enduring pain and suffering before You took their spirits. Even after their death, they are bringing glory and honor to Your name.

May those of us who live here, in peace and safety, learn to use our safety as a gift with which to serve You and support our brothers and sisters who have been deemed worthy to die in Your name.

Waiting for the Wedding

I watched a bit of the most recent Duggar wedding on the Learning Channel last week, and when I flipped it on, Mr. Duggar was explaining why the bride and groom had decided to wait until their wedding day to share their first kiss. I turned it off at that point because I've heard these stories a thousand times before; but it did gave me a smile, for a different reason - it reminded me of something special that I thought about during my devotions last week.

I'm doing a read-through-the-Bible-in-a-year plan this year. This past week and a half, I've been reading the events of Holy Week in the book of Matthew; and when I read Jesus' words at the Last Supper this time, I was struck with a very special thought:

"While they were eating, Jesus took some bread, and after a blessing, He broke it and gave it to the disciples, and said, 'Take, eat; this is My body.' And when He had taken a cup and given thanks, He gave it to them, saying, 'Drink from it, all of you; for this is My blood of the covenant, which is poured out for many for forgiveness of sins. But I say to you, I will not drink of this fruit of the vine from now on until that day when I drink it new with you in My Father's kingdom."

~ Matthew 26:26-29

Kissing on the lips is a Western symbol of romantic love, shared affection, and mutual enjoyment of one another's bodies and emotions. For this reason, some couples wait to share this symbol until the wedding, to show that they value the sacredness of their love enough to wait until they will be together for the rest of their lives. In a similar (but much more powerful) way, drinking wine in the context of the Last Supper is not just the physical consumption of a liquid; it is a symbol of Christ giving His blood, letting the nails and spears tear open His veins and pour His holy blood out onto the ground, a guilt offering given as atonement for the sinful people He loves. And when Jesus promised at the Last Supper that He would not drink wine again until we could all share this special symbol together, He was demonstrating not only His victory over death and sin, never to shed His blood and die again; but His anticipation of the day when we can celebrate His precious gift together, finally with Him for all eternity.

What a romantic thought! I hope this isn't the case for you, but I know that in my life, I rarely think about the fact that Jesus wants to be close to me much, much more than I want to be close to Him. I tend to feel in my heart like His dying on the cross was more of a duty, a noble sacrifice worthy of a lofty Shakespearean hero - something He did just because He was God and it was the right thing to do. But the fact is, that's not true at all. It was not the "right" thing to do - it was wrong on so, so many levels. The all-powerful, infinite Creator of the universe, reducing Himself to a frail, unattractive human body, letting that body be spit on and torn and beaten by the very people He was coming to save? Letting His total, majestic, white-hot purity and sovereignty be crushed under the humiliation of a criminal's death? Bearing the ugly scars of this death for the rest of eternity? It was an injustice, a crime, a shame of the highest order. He did not suffer all this because of a sense of duty. He suffered all this because of a passionate, burning, world-encompassing LOVE.

And so, on top of everything He suffered to bring us into a love relationship with Him, Jesus now holds this special, sacred symbol, abstaining from all wine until He can drink it with His beloved Bride, the Church that He died to ransom.

We, of course, are asked to continue celebrating the Lord's Supper, to keep us in remembrance of His love while we wait for His return. There is a chance that we, in our frailty, could forget sometimes how much He loves us; so He asks us to continue to remember by sharing this symbol together. But He, in His perfection, will never forget how much He loves us; and so He waits, His very abstinence a testimony to the patience and fullness of His love.

This is romance of the highest order. A foregone kiss, a special ritual between a couple - these things are beautiful, lovely earthly shadows of the great Wedding that is to come. But none of them can come close to the awesome beauty of the loving Savior, waiting in heaven to bring His Beloved to the wedding table, where together, at last, we will look into His eyes, perhaps feel the gentle touch of His scarred hand, and celebrate face-to-face the joy and wonder of His loving sacrifice for us.

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God, the Almighty, Who was, and Who is, and Who is to come!

"I Am the Prince of Wales"

As we all know, many times the enemy - be that Satan himself, his henchmen in the world, or our own wicked flesh - tempts and seduces us via subtle trickery and sensuous lies. Just one more. Only for a minute. It's not that bad. This is the temptation I most often face in my life, because it is the temptation to which I am most susceptible. I easily fall for the just for a minute line.

But sometimes, the enemy comes charging up to us with hideous banners streaming, blazing eyes, standing ten feet tall in front of us and demanding our surrender. I am powerful and mighty. Look at you cowering before me in fear and impotence. Surrender your arms to me, puny sinner.

In both of these cases, it certainly is tempting to cower and break. The subtle attacks that wear us down day after day after day with no victory in sight, or the full-out smoking ruin that tears us down with one flaming blow - the pain and discouragement of either kind of sin can bring us to our knees. Maybe he's right. I've tried to conquer that sin for years. Nothing's working. No matter what I do, I just keep falling into it. Maybe I should give up.

But in that moment, we forget who we are.

At 2:45 in the video I posted above, young Prince Henry V of England, or Hal, is fighting in the midst of a desperate battle, and he comes face-to-face with Hotspur, or Harry Percy. In this scene, Hotspur defiantly confronts Henry with the intent of killing him and seizing the throne; and Henry responds boldly with one of the great speeches of English literature:

"I am the Prince of Wales; and think not, Percy,
To share with me in glory any more:
Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere;
Nor can one England brook a double reign,
Of Harry Percy and the Prince of Wales."
~ Henry IV, Act 5, Scene 4, William Shakespeare

This should be our response when Satan tries to wrestle us into the dirt and tell us we are powerless and weak! "I am a Princess with God; and think not, Satan, to wield thy power over me any more: Two stars keep not their motion in one sphere; nor can my heart brook a double reign, of the Prince of Darkness and the King of Light."

I am a princess. It isn't just about the sin-fighting tools I have; it's also about who I am - I am the daughter of the King, with armor on my chest and sword and shield gripped in my hands, in training to rule with my Father after He comes to vanquish Satan's forces once and for all. I am powerful, because my Father is powerful. He battled Satan's forces long ago and won my heart with His own blood, pulling me out of my slavery and lifting me up in His arms. I should move with dignity and confidence because have the rights, privileges, and freedoms that come with being a royal daughter - and that, most importantly, means I am completely free from any power that Satan would try to exert over me.

Does that make it easy to fight off these temptations? Of course not. God may have won the war, but there are still battles to fight every day to rescue others and to get us safely home. Prince Hal battled valiantly against enemies from outside himself as well as against the demons in his own past. My spiritual life looks very similar. I have battles to fight, and I will get muddy, I will be injured, and I will sacrifice to protect my fellow soldiers and rescue prisoners from the other side. It will be tough and grueling.

But in the end, like Hal, we will get to our feet, raise our hands to the sky and cry, "The day is ours!"

"My Beautiful Woman"

You may have seen the "My Beautiful Woman" series before, especially if you are familiar with the pro-life movement at all; but I'm sure there are at least a few of you who haven't seen them, and so I wanted to post them here:



In the first video, an expectant mother receives devastating news that forces her to decide between her own life and the life of her unborn child; in the second video, a hard-driving business executive must face the disappointment and misunderstanding of her coworkers when she mysteriously quits work for a very important reason; and in the third video, a college student bears the weight of malicious rumors to ensure a carefree life for her preschool-age daughter.

These videos were created by Wacoal, a Japanese lingerie company that also has branches in the U.S. and other countries. Unlike what you'd expect from a lingerie manufacturer, however, these videos focus not on a woman's body, but on her spirit - all three celebrate the beautiful gift of a woman's sacrificial love and maternal instincts, whether she has her own children or not.

I'd really, really encourage you to grab a cup of coffee and a box of tissues and watch these videos. Each is only 8 minutes long; you can even watch them one at at a time, as you have opportunity. I was deeply moved by each one of them - they helped me remember that our desires as women to nurture and love children are beautiful and God-given; and as the second video shows, we don't have to have children of our own to use these maternal impulses to bless others Additionally, because each of these videos is narrated by an important man in each of the women's lives, they also helped me remember that good men still respect and value a woman who is willing to sacrifice her career, reputation, and even health to take care of her children.

If you do take a few minutes to watch the videos, please leave me a comment and let me know what you think! I'd love to hear your opinion!  :-)

Have a wonderful evening, my sisters!!

Hugs,
Vicki

One Day

With all of the sad news in the world this week - fighting in Iraq, bombings in Syria, rockets fired to and from Israel, hostility in Ukraine - I found this song to be very timely and encouraging today. It's called "One Day," and it's by Matisyahu, a Jewish reggae artist whom I was introduced to through in a culture class a couple of years ago ... all of his music that I've heard is very uplifting and filled with powerful Old Testament passages; but this one is one of my favorites.

It's so powerful to listen to this as a Christian because I know that this will all come true one day - when Christ returns and establishes His reign on this earth and the next, once and for all, we will have no more fighting, no more wars, no more hatred, nothing forever but peace, harmony, and joy.

One Day

Matisyahu

Sometimes I lay
Under the moon
And thank God I'm breathing
Then I pray,
Don't take me soon
'Cause I am here for a reason

Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around, because

All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There will be no more wars
And our children will play
One day ...

It's not about
Win or lose
'Cause we all lose when they feed on the souls of the innocent
Blood-drenched pavement
Keep on moving though the waters stay raging

In this maze you can lose your way (your way)
It might drive you crazy but don't let it faze you, no way
No way

Sometimes in my tears I drown
But I never let it get me down
So when negativity surrounds
I know some day it'll all turn around because...

All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There will be no more wars
And our children will play
One day ...

One day this all will change
Treat people the same
Stop with the violence
Down with the hate
One day we'll all be free
And proud to be
Under the same sun
Singing songs of freedom like
One day ...

All my life I've been waiting for
I've been praying for
For the people to say
That we don't wanna fight no more
There will be no more wars
And our children will play

One day ...

Thank You + Back On Track

THANK YOU dear, dear sisters so much for your prayers and encouragement after my last post. I'm truly sorry to subject you to my emotion-dumps; but I hope you know how much your gentle thoughts and prayers always help me. Someday I will learn to talk to people in real life when I'm feeling low; but until I overcome my shyness, I take such comfort in knowing that my blog sisters are there, despite the busyness of your own lives and thoughts. I do so hope that we can meet in person one day and share this sweet fellowship face to face; but if not, I will definitely say that knowing we'll meet in heaven is going to be one of my biggest motivators to hurry up and get there!!  :-D

***

I had originally planned to write a huge long in-depth analysis of the triggers of my most recent emotional breakdown and try to draw some lessons from it - I actually have that post half-finished, gathering dust in my drafts folder - but rather than get hung up on what is mostly just perfectionism + anxiety, I've decided to move on, now that I'm feeling better.  :-)  Someday I will blog about perfectionism, anxiety, and trust; but for now, I want to keep myself from falling into a non-blogging funk because I keep getting stuck.

***

It's been a much busier summer than I anticipated! Between taking over some of my mom's duties so she can work, keeping up with my own work, and trying somewhere in my subconscious mind to get prepared for my final undergraduate year and grad school applications, I haven't had a whole lot of free time lately.

So for my post today, here are two little things to share with you - firstly, some incredible cloud formations I saw during our sunset tonight:

And secondly, I was so excited to find this little drawing, because she is probably the most accurate drawn representation of myself that I have ever found. Her hair is almost exactly the same length and color as mine; her clothes are just like something I'd wear on my casual days - other than her being petitely thin and my being a bit on the plump side, this painting is incredibly accurate to what I look like. So I wanted to show her to you, in the hopes that you can imagine me almost-correctly when you drop by and read my silly posts!!

Have a wonderful night, dear friends!! I hope you, too, are feeling well, living well, and enjoying this wonderful summer we're having!

Hugs and blessings,
Vicki

Tired

I'm so tired lately.

I feel like I can never be the kind of Christian I want to be. I know in my head that I'm supposed to rest in God's finished work and trust Him to complete my sanctification in His own time; but I see the wreckage of self-will, rebellion, bitterness, covetousness, discontentment, doubt, and fear that fills my heart and mind, and I feel like I just have to do something to clean it up.

I purge my iPod of all secular music. I force myself to memorize Bible verses. I plaster Bible verses all over my Facebook page.

Nothing works.

Sometimes I look at my heart and really, truly struggle to see any evidence at all of God's hand on it. I've continued to pick at my strange attitudes about men and marriage, like picking at a scab, and have exposed a festering wound of bitterness - bitterness against men for being so inscrutable and unavailable when I'm lonely; bitterness against my married friends for blooming so joyfully under the protection of their husbands; and bitterness against myself for being old and not fitting into the culturally desirable model of beauty. I haven't regularly attended church in years, and I've picked that down to the wound of superiority - feeling like, because I know the Scriptures better than most of the recent converts in college groups, I'm too spiritual to waste time sitting through sermons that cover issues I've known for years. I've picked at my shyness and loneliness and discovered selfishness and a rampant imagination that often has me imprisoned in a glass cage, barred from interacting with real people in the real world.

Can such a heart truly be covered by Christ's blood?

Sometimes the fact that I can and do still ask these questions is my only hope that I do belong to Him. An unbeliever wouldn't be asking these things. Only a child of God who underneath everything still longed to please Him would be dismally poking at this mess of a life and trying to find some evidence of His handiwork.

How many witnessing opportunities have I messed up by talking about Tom Hiddleston instead of Christ's work in my life? What kind of example am I setting when I push away my little brothers' requests for attention and play another round of "Farm Heroes Saga"? How can I make any kind of impact for Christ when I spend hours on Pinterest and minutes in the Word?

I'm so tired.

When I Fall In Love

When I Fall In Love

by Victor Young

When I fall in love it will be forever
Or I'll never fall in love

In a restless world like this is
Love is ended before it's begun
And too many moonlight kisses
Seem to cool in the warmth of the sun

When I give my heart it will be completely
Or I'll never give my heart

And the moment I can feel that you feel that way too
Is when I fall in love with you

(Music sung by Nat King Cole)

More Myself

I would give anything to be able to turn from a Prince Hal into a King Henry ... to have a moment where I say, "yes, now I leave it all behind. I shed the drunkenness (Internet overdosing), the bad companions (people I hang out with who aren't getting me where I want to go), and the ratty old clothes, and hereafter I shall be more myself."   I can. It's not impossible. Going to bed and getting up and getting to WORK in the morning would be a great start.  :-) ~ Vicki

What makes me special?

Oh my, it's been a long time since I've blogged, hasn't it!? Life has been crazy with final exams, projects, presentations, reports, applications ... you know, all that fun college-y stuff. I won't bore you with the details.  :-)

In the shuffle, however, I've been trying to grasp at fragments of the lessons that the Lord tries to stuff into my pathetic head before I collapse to sleep each night ... they have been profound and terribly important, and I've only gotten my fingertips around a couple of them before they've slipped right back out again - those important ones being to root out bitterness, to shake off the dust of the world that is starting to cling to me rather thickly, and to turn my focus back onto the Lord and His children, and not onto myself.

In support of the last one, I came across a video tonight that I had seen a long time ago and really been blessed by, but had filed away and forgotten ... it's a short 7-minute lesson that I think we all need to hear:



What makes me special? That's an entirely different take on the question than "Why am I so weird?". I tend to struggle badly with self-pity because I frequently feel off-balance and awkward in conversation, like an outsider who doesn't quite fit in (read: Belle); and this leads me to feel sorry for myself and wonder what's wrong with me and if I'm just odd. Throw in my singleness and the feeling is multiplied.

But that's not how I should be viewing myself. I am fearfully and wonderfully made, and being made perfect by the sanctification of the Holy Spirit. He has given me gifts that uniquely fill needs that no one else can address, and viewing my differences in this way will give me a much more positive outlook on life - one that not only will allow me to be more useful and happy in life, but that will also allow me to value and cherish the differences in others as well.

And since it's 2AM here, I'd better head for bed!! Have a wonderful day, dear friends - I love you all very much!!

~ Vicki

So Much Bigger

Every so often, I am overwhelmed by a tidal wave of realization that life is so much bigger than the tiny two feet of ground than I am occupying right this moment.

Anything can trigger this - I was watching a BBC Sherlock music video this evening, and when Sherlock grabbed Moriarty by his coat collar, suddenly I was drowned by the force of their emotions sweeping over me: desperation, triumph, horror, anger, determination, sadness, fear. And I realized just how huge the world is - I don't know if that makes sense, but I realized that in each person, there is a vast depth of thoughts, experiences, feelings, wishes, dreams, and passions that can never be fully explored by the persons themselves, let alone by those who know them. The world is full of billions of these dark, turbulent ocean-trench hearts. So many are completely unlit and unexplored, perhaps full of beauty, and certainly full of pain and sadness. And each of these hearts is just a little speck in the huge expanse of the earth, with all of its mountains and valleys and rivers and forests and deserts - each as deep as the human heart.

And in turn, just a moment after being struck with the magnitude of all these depths, I looked up and saw the indescribable infinity of God - and I was awed and overwhelmed. God in His majesty and glory is vast. He is unable to be comprehended or known by the human heart. Think of all the yawning expanses of the universe and multiply them by a billion, and you have the tiniest fraction of the size of God.

Life is BIG. God is big.

And now - the most incredible mystery of all: This great vastness of God, the mighty power and glory that overshadows the universe and outshines every sun, the righteousness that is blinding in its whiteness and purity, the love that is too incredible for the human heart to comprehend - all of His majesty and glory is contained in the person of Jesus Christ.

Colossians 2:9 - "For in Him [Jesus Christ] dwells all the fullness of the Godhead bodily ..."

Christ hid this glory for us, so that we could be near Him and know Him without being driven away by awe and fear, like the Israelites who were terrified of the holy mountain. But it was in no way diminished by His humble human appearance. He still had the power to calm a massive, raging sea, and to control huge storms with just a few words.

This is something I know in my head. But do I know it with my heart? I want to - I want to be completely drowned in the vastness of God, so that I can better understand and appreciate His love, which is both bigger than the universe and small enough for me to understand. I want to value Him more than all of the petty little things that have captivated my heart.

Lord, please don't let me get so small-minded that I can't look up and see the depth of the hearts around me, the hugeness of the world You have created, and the breathtakingly vast expanses of Your power, righteousness, and love!