Dawn's Psalm 3

PSALM 3
My heart has grown weary,
  Of fighting this fight;
My soul has grown tired of the path
  You are asking me to walk.

I am such a greedy glutton,
  Taking what I think
Is mine to take;
  Taking what I think I deserve.

But there is little satisfaction
  In the taking right now;
Leaving me stuck in the swirling mire
  Of my perceived failures.

Nothing works anymore.
  I can see only failure after failure:
I can no longer make any good choice
  Without your merciful help.

Nothing seems to break through the lies,
  Even compliments become quickly
Twisted into words of condemnation.
  My soul feels worthless.

Why aren’t you giving me
  The good things I want?
Why aren’t you letting me
  Have the things I so rightly desire?

When will this struggle ever end?
  Will you ever choose to relieve me
Of my painful circumstances?
  I don’t know what to do.

I want to get up and flee this place.
  Tell me what direction should I to go in;
Tell me you have a better plan.
  I can only plead for you to save me

You open my eyes to truth.
  You bring peace to my soul.
You see past the lies in my head,
  To the deeper parts within me.

When I least expect it,
  You come and surprise me.
You show up to answer
  The truest prayers of my heart:

You ask me to stay the course;
  And to live despite my pain;
You ask me to carry others
  And to love despite my struggle.

You are a merciful, loving God.
  You soften my hardened heart.
You look on me with great tenderness
  And point me in the right direction.

A friend challenged me to write a Psalm last week as a way in which to record an event where God recently showed up. I am grateful to have had a chance to write a few words to describe it.

In a World With No Shame?

I sought the LORD, and he answered me;
he delivered me from all my fears.
Those who look to him are radiant;
their faces are never covered with shame.

Psalm 34:4-5 (NIV)

My Newest Family Members

Jeff Comstock, his daughters Oasha and Sydney.
Chris Comstock, his wife Mandy and son Blue.

I recently met my two half-brothers for the first time. I am glad we made the effort to get together and talk. It was good to get to know them better, even though it stirred up many strong emotions for me.

This life is some ride, you never know which path you are going down next. Maybe next time I will get a chance to meet their families.

Responsive Obedience

--continue to work out your salvation in fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you to will and to act according to his good pleasure.

Philippians 2:12-13 (NIV)

Memorial Day 2010

Thank-you to those men who fought in WWII: Ralph Stull. Bob Stull. LeRoy Ratliff. Max Ratliff. Billy Ratliff (died in Battle of Leyte Gulf). Thank-you to those men who fought in Korea: Dick Hendges. Thank-you to those men who fought in Vietnam: Lee Guckenberg. Carl Lehman.

Thank-you to these few men whom I have had the great privilege of knowing in my lifetime. Thank-you to all the millions of men and women who have fought over the years for America's freedom. Many soldiers have died so that I might live in safety and in freedom.

Being Un-dragoned...

I met with a few friends last Wednesday evening to talk about life. In the process of our conversation one friend said something that cut straight through me. I felt this huge wave of grief sweep over me. The truth of hers words stuck with me for days. It felt hard not to twist it into proof of my burden on her; in fact I prayed for help because it was an all-together too familiar path for me. I wanted to allow the grief to remain, to see the impact my choices and my withdrawal have on her and on others. The process of staying in the brokenness and grief was a painful one.

It reminded me of the part of the story in The Voyage of the Dawn Treader where Eustace is un-dragoned. The painful process in which Aslan tears off the deeper layers of dragon skin to reveal Eustace's true self.

"The very first tear he made was so deep that I thought it had gone right into my heart. And when he began pulling the skin off, it hurt worse than anything I've ever felt. The only thing that made me able to bear it was just the pleasure of feeling the stuff peel off. You know--if you've ever picked a scab of a sore place. It hurts like billy--oh but it is such fun to see it coming away."

The Voyage of the Dawn Treader, C.S. Lewis

If you read the rest of the chapter here you would see that Eustace tried to remove the skin himself but was unable to do it. Only Aslan had the ability to remove what needed to be removed. I felt that way too. All my resources felt depleted and I had to entrust my journey to God.

It happened that my churches Women's Retreat was this past weekend. It’s kind of funny how it fell on the weekend after I had this conversation with my friends; I am sure it was God's hand. That along with the fact that I had already been asked at an earlier time to share my journey during the retreat left me feeling completely hemmed in by him.

During our first session they asked us to find our Red Dot. You know, the red dot on the map at the mall that shows where you are located. Where was I at, internally? I was spiritually, physically and emotionally exhausted. I felt undone, provoked, exposed, grieved, and broken. I had no resources to change anything and I felt totally at God's mercy; but yet deeper than all that I longed to be able to love others despite the turmoil going on in my own soul. My cry was “Mercy Father, Mercy!”

I tried to go to bed early Friday night since I hadn't gotten much sleep the two nights prior to the retreat. I slept from 10:30-12:30. Then I kept waking up on and off for the next four hours, finally getting up at 4:20am feeling totally exhausted. In hindsight, I believe this was yet another act of God. He was continuing to deplete me of my resources, leaving me totally dependent on him.

For two hours I didn't see anyone. I sat in the meeting area and prayed. I read Philippians and gathered my thoughts for the morning session. I felt at peace with what I would be sharing later that morning, but I still did not feel at peace with the words that had been spoken to me by my friend on Wednesday night.

She attended the retreat also and it seemed that every time I interacted with her I felt a tension or an awkwardness in it. It was literally breaking my heart. I felt utterly unable to fix it on my own. I remember going into communion at the end of the retreat feeling broken and so desperately in need of his mercy. I wept and prayed in my brokenness; I allowed his mercy to sweep over me.

It was following this time of communion that God orchestrated a few minutes for me to talk with her; to put words to what was grieving my soul. I felt utterly grateful to God in that moment. It was only by his movement and power that I was able to freely talk with her.

For those few minutes I was free of the relational bondage that she had so truthfully spoken of to me in her words on Wednesday night. I was un-dragoned and clothed by Him in something beautiful that revealed a bit of the true Dawn. What a gift! Not only for me but for her as well.

I remember thinking on the way home that this was the first retreat with my church (and I have gone to quite a few) that I have really enjoyed. I was exposed, exhausted and aware of the impact in my relational choices on others, but I was also engaged and aware of others around me. I didn't hide, withdraw or bolt and oddly enough I really didn't want to. It was really different for me. I didn't know that I could hold all those things at once. I feel so grateful!

Psalm 142

A maskil of David. When he was in the cave. A prayer.

1 I cry aloud to the LORD;
     I lift up my voice to the LORD for mercy.
2 I pour out my complaint before him;
     before him I tell my trouble.
3 When my spirit grows faint within me,
     it is you who know my way.
  In the path where I walk
     men have hidden a snare for me.
4 Look to my right and see;
     no one is concerned for me.
  I have no refuge;
     no one cares for my life.
5 I cry to you, O LORD;
     I say, "You are my refuge,
  My portion in the land of the living."
6 Listen to my cry,
     for I am in desperate need;
  Rescue me from those who pursue me,
     for they are too strong for me.
7 Set me free from my prison,
     that I may praise your name.
  Then the righteous will gather about me
     because of your goodness to me.

PSALM 142 (NIV)

I read this Psalm for the first time a couple of days ago. There was something that resonated as truth for me then but I still don't feel totally connected to it. I think it is a path that I know I need to be on, but I haven't been able to quite find my way there yet.

Water Droplets Hanging Out on the Pine Tree

I came home and found the pine tree glistening in little water droplets. It sparkled so much I thought it was tinsel. That was at 4pm and when I got the mail at 7pm it was still glistening. The water just setting there nestled in the pine needles like hidden diamonds. It was spectacular, the picture just can't capture how breathtaking it was.

A Light That Can't Be Hidden

I was trying think of some other passages where there was a reference to hiding and this one came to mind. I wonder if it isn't connected to my thoughts from my last blog entry about the Glory of God.

"You are the light of the world. A city on a hill cannot be hidden. Neither do people light a lamp and put it under a bowl. Instead they put it on its stand, and it gives light to everyone in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before men, that they may see your good deeds and praise your Father in heaven."

Matthew 5:14-16 (NIV)

Our light is the glory of God shining through us. It makes no sense that I would try to cover up His light, but I certainly do try to hide it.

He created me to be seen, so that He might be known. The good, bad and the ugly within me all reflect His glory somehow as we are transformed into little Christs. This journey is quite a ride.

The Lord's Glory Reflected

I woke up last Sunday morning feeling like I was weighted down under a heavy blanket of shame. I didn't have a lot of words to put to it then. It felt mostly wrapped around this sense of failure that has been the dominant battle for me lately. But there was also a sense that at least a small part of my shame was healthy and that part of it was touching the edge of true brokenness.

I feel overwhelmed by how twisted everything is, it feels so twisted that I don't think I can even begin to separate the good shame from the bad. I feel so desperately in need of others to help me sort through this twisted mess right now.

It happened that it was also communion Sunday at church, and although I wasn't sure what part of my shame was healthy and what part was twisted, I felt able to partake of the Eucharist because I knew it is all covered, every twisted thought and feeling.

Yesterday I was looking up verses in the Bible on shame and somehow (the Spirit's work I am sure) ended up in II Corinthians reading about the Spirit instead.

Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord's glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the Lord, who is the Spirit.

II Cor. 3:17-18 (NIV)

I don't feel much freedom right now, instead I feel like a slave to my struggles and failures. Perhaps that is the bad shame that I feel: the failures, the unhappiness, the hiding and the withdrawal.

I feel like if I uncover my face only my failures will be reflected, but these verses say that when I uncover my face it will reflect the glory of God. I wonder, are they really two separate faces or will the glory of God be reflected in the failures and the misery? Is it really not about looking a certain way but rather about being seen?

These verses also say that we cannot be transformed into God's likeness without being seen. That is quite a rude awakening to someone to just wants to hide.

In Memory of Sassy and Albie

I recently lost the two pets that I would say I loved the most. Neither dog actually belonged to me but there was definitely a mutual attachment between each of them and me.

SASSY POYNER
Sassafras "Sassy" belonged to the Poyner family, but she was always excited to see me when I stopped by. She wouldsit at the edge of the room and bark or whine until I gave her some attention. She liked to sit for periods time in my lap and always wanted her belly rubbed. No matter the time of day she was always hopeful that I would take her for a walk, even if I was leaving the house at midnight she would be at the front door looking at me with questioning eyes.

I remember the time that I stopped by on a Sunday afternoon to talk with Sue. Someone had locked the front door so I wasn't able to enter the house. Sassy heard me and when I left started crying. Sue had been napping and thought something was wrong with Sassy. She got up just in time to see my car going around the corner.

My favorite memory of Sassy has got to be the first time that I watched her after the Poyner's got a cat. I had bought Molly a cat toy that hung from a stick and had spent some time playing with her. When I was finished I had laid the toy on the coffee table with the string hanging over the edge. Sassy was so jealous that she went over and batted the toy with her paw just like the cat had been doing. Too funny!

ALBIE GUCKENBERG
Albie was my parent's dog. He was definitely a character unto himself. As a daschund he was suppose to be territorial and fierce, but with me he was a marshmallow. If they mentioned that Aunt Dawn was coming he would go spastic with excitement.

When I would get to their house he would want to get to me as fast as he could. They would put him on the couch next to me, he would come over and try to lick my face. He would expose his stomach for a rub and roll his eyes up at me with total affection. Lee never could figure this strange behavior of Albie's. It was quite unusual for a daschund.

You Were On The Cross

I meant to post this song on Friday but never got around to it. It feels a bit late and a bit odd to do it on Easter morning. Someone has taken pictures from The Passion of Christ and made a YouTube video. Just remember that HE HAS RISEN or all would be lost. Happy Resurrection Sunday!

Lost, everything is lost
And everything I've loved before is gone
Alone like the coming of the frost
And a cold winter's chill in my stony heart

And where were You when all that I've hoped for?
Where You when all that I've dreamed?
Came crashing down in shambles around me
You were on the cross

Pain, could you take away the pain?
If I find someone to blame, would it make my life seem easier?
Alone, all my friends are asleep
And I can't find anyone to stay awake with me

Where were You when sin stole my innocence?
Where were You when I was ashamed?
Hiding in a life, I wish, I never made

You were on the cross, my God, my God, alone, alone
You were on the cross, You died for us, alone, alone
You were on the cross, victorious, alone, alone

You were there in all of my suffering
And You were there in doubt and in fear
I'm waiting on the dawn to reappear

You Were On The Cross, sung by Matt Maher

I'm Still Yours

I've really been struggling the last few weeks and in the process I have been moving further and further from people. I haven't gone to church in four weeks and as much as I want to be there Easter morning I still haven't decided if I will choose to go on Sunday. I had been attending faithfully in the weeks prior even though I didn't really feel like being there. When I was there I felt disconnected, and I often left after the service feeling more desperate than when I came. It feels like nobody seems to understand how much I am struggling these days.

I know that not going to church is a bad choice for me, but I am wondering now if this might be a chance for me to see some of the more deeply embedded lies that I believe. I feel so angry. I feel very angry at people closest to me. I'm not even sure what it is I want from them. I would leave if I could, I would walk away from my church and my friends, but I can't bring myself to do it. I can't hurt them that way no matter what I am feeling in the midst of this crappy life. I know they love me and I also know God loves me. This should be comforting but it only seems to make me more frustrated. I have no case, at least not one the stands up. I feel great turmoil in it all.

I was listening to a new Kutless album this morning and I heard a song called, "I'm Still Yours" that I really liked. It feels hard to keep my hands lifted to Him but I feel like there is little else I can do.

You can listen to the song on YouTube:

If You washed away my vanity
If You took away my words
If all my world was swept away
Would You be enough for me?
Would my beating heart still sing?

If I lost it all, Would my hands stay lifted
To the God who gives and takes away
If You take it all, This life You've given
Still my heart will sing to You

When my life is not what I expected
The plans I made have failed
When there's nothing left to steal me away
Will You be enough for me?
Will my broken heart still sing?

If I lost it all, Would my hands stay lifted
To the God who gives and takes away
If You take it all, This life You've given
Still my heart will sing to You

Even if You take it all away
You'll never let me go
Take it all away, But I still know

That I'm Yours, I'm still Yours
Oh, I'm Yours, I'm still Yours
I'm still Yours

I'm Still Yours, sung by Kutless

Our Place

In order that we should realize the distance between ourselves and God, it was necessary that God should be a crucified slave. For we do not realize distance except in the downward direction. It is much easier to imagine ourselves in the place of God the Creator than in the place of Christ crucified.

Waiting for God, Simone Weil

Twitchy Puddin'head O'Mama's 45th Birthday

It seems incredible weird to say that I am 45 today. I feel older, my body aches more and so does my soul. I am not really sure how I feel going into another St. Patrick's Day birthday.

One of my friends posted a "Capstan Leprechaun" name on facebook. So I googled it and found out that my name was Twitchy Puddin'head O'Mama. That pretty much sums up how I feel today. You can just call me Puddin'head for short.

Crazy Heart

I haven't seen the movie Crazy Heart yet, but I was recently reading the USA Today's review of the movie. It reads like this:

Upside: Bridges won the Oscar for best actor for his compelling performance. The infectous score includes the Oscar-winning song The Weary Kid.
Downside: The story of redemption is too familiar.

How can the story of redemption become too familiar? Why would anyone tire of it?

Perhaps they are talking about a different type of redemption: the redemption of yourself from your own mistakes. But is that really your own work? Doesn't all redemption come from the same source? God?

Doesn't a good redemption story remind us all that we need redeeming? Perhaps this critic doesn't see a need for his own redemption; perhaps he tires at being told once again that somethings in his life may need redeeming.

But am I any better at seeing my need for redemption? Not always, that's why I like a good story of redemption. So after this review I really hope I get to see Crazy Heart soon.

"Uncle" Captain Dynamite

I've known for a while now that my father had a half brother, but I never really knew anything about him. Last year when I obtained a copy of my grandparent's marriage certificate it had Baken on it as the surname of my grandma's first husband. So I knew his surname but that was about it.

My half-brother recently emailed me and told me a bit more about our uncle. My father's half brother was Alfred R. Baken. He was an escape artist with the Transworld Auto Daredevils. For his act he would attach eight sticks of dynamite to a handbuilt coffin that he would lock himself in. After the explosion he would be standing there untouched in his white breeches, motorcycle boots, red shirt and helmet.

He had been successfully doing his act for three years when something went wrong; he was killed in front of 2000 spectators in Waterloo, Iowa. He was only 24 years old when he died in 1956. I wish that I had a picture of him (especially in his Captain Dynamite outfit) but there wasn't one in the few articles that I found online.

They are still doing this exploding coffin trick during stunt shows, so I was able to put two images here of what the explosion would have looked like.

Please...

“What do you really want to do?” or, “Do you have any leads?”

I have been hearing these questions a lot from my friends lately and it has been increasingly irritating to me. I don't want to be disrespectful toward them, I know they are asking because they care deeply about me; I just don't think they are asking the right questions of me.

I know how to seek employment and what I need to do to locate job prospects. Don’t get me wrong, it is a good thing to have my friends listening for job opportunities and I do appreciate it.

I am just wondering if they want relief for themselves as much as they want relief for me. You see, I am not sure my friends are all that comfortable with my struggle. They often want to find a way out of the tension it creates by helping me find ways to fix it.

I can search for job prospects and apply, but ultimately I can’t control whether I am hired by a potential employer. It is this very thing that often leaves me spinning. I have no control of my jobless situation so I turn to things that feel like they can give me some control of my life. These are the things that no one asks about. My self-contempt over my failure to get a job twisted together with bad choices.

We talked about suffering in Bible study this week. It made me wonder: If God uses suffering in our lives to get us to turn our hearts toward him then why are we so quick trying to get our friends out of their suffering? What does it mean to walk with each other through suffering?

Sure we want things to be different; we want better health, more obedient kids, and freedom from unemployment. But don’t we want our friends to know God better in the midst of their suffering? I know that I want to know my God better in the midst of my suffering, but I am struggling to turn my face toward him on my own. We need each other to find God.

So why have I become irritated then when people ask me “What do you really want to do?” or, “Do you have any leads?” I think it is because it doesn’t speak into my true battle. I almost prefer it when people respond to my struggle with, “I don’t know what to say or what to do that would help.”

I long for people to help me find God in the middle of feeling self-contempt, rejected and unneeded. I know that I need to be willing to offer these struggles without being asked, to put words to the battle going on inside me. It is a hard thing for me to do; may God be merciful on me a sinner.

Independence

Beware of refusing to go to the funeral
of your own independence.

The Relinquished Life, Oswald Chambers

God Must Be Up There Chuckling

Sometimes I wonder if God isn't pleasantly amused by me. I woke up this morning crabby and feeling irritated. I was sitting at my computer trying to figure out how I might go about my day without talking to anyone. I had several projects I wanted to get done today so I got dressed and started on my list.

I completed half of my first task on my own but was unable to set the couch back upright without asking someone to help me. So already I had to give up the idea of a non-relational day and call upstairs to my neighbors to see if someone could help me.

After I got my livingroom back in order, I decided to go grab lunch. My first thought was to go to Big Apple Bagel but I passed someone from church that might be heading there, so I headed on toward McDonalds. I placed my order and then headed over to fill my cup with soda. It was at this point I heard my name being called; A friend had seen my van in the parking lot and had come to find me, I felt a mix of annoyance and gladness. I asked my friend if she had already eaten hoping she was on her way out, she had eaten but said she would sit with me while I ate. Ahhh!

I was surprised to find that despite my crabbiness, I actually enjoyed my time with my friend. I even felt my mood begin to shift slightly as we shared a few minutes conversation. When she left to run errands, I stayed for a while to journal and read my book.

Later as I was leaving, I saw yet another friend from church coming through the drive-thru. He stopped and we talked for a minute. After he went on his way, I headed toward my van. I couldn't help thinking that God must really think He is funny. He must be sitting up there smiling and saying, "Silly child, you can't hide from me."

I feel annoyed, enjoyed and yes even a bit thankful to be thwarted once again!

Peaceful Sunset on Winona Lake

Perspective

I dreamed a devilish little man came and stole my breath. He stepped through the door with a skin bag strung limp over his shoulder and with dispassionate efficiency crouched back and slugged me in the stomach. Such an incredulous exhale! And so complete; not a wisp of air remained. In that agonized vacuum I rolled my eyes upward and beheld the stranger tying up the bag with a leather thong. He had the opening squeezed shut in one fist and was throwing half-hitches around it and yanking them tight. Now the skin bag was stretched and seamed. It was barrel-sized and taut as a blimp. Inside it was all my breath. The little man crouched again and looked at me closely. He was a pale one, a horror... When he straightened and went out the door with the taut bag on his shoulder, I saw that my breath was gone. Anyone would panic. I thrashed and lurched and arched my back. On waking I saw Dad kneeling bedside, holding my upper arms; I heard Swede crying distantly; someone I couldn't see was thumping my back. I'd never felt such thumps; they were like car wrecks. But I got a little breath back, and with each painful thump a little more. Confused, still afraid of the man with the skin bag, I tried to tear loose; in my perplexity I thought it might be he who was socking my back. You don't emerge from these episodes thinking clearly... Dad continued to hold me in place. It was a joyous bruising that bit by bit knocked glue from my lungs. I pictured it coming away in globs...

Next morning all geography lay snowbound... Swede's bed was empty. I hollered for her even while realizing the whole house sounded empty. Crossing the hall into Dad's room I heard muffled scrapings and ran to the window. Sure enough, all three of them were out back... Dad and Roxanna were clearing a wide path to the barn. They were just finishing. Now Roxanna and Swede were heaving at the big square barn door, trying to slide it open.

"Wait" I yelled--I ran to my room, hooked my pants and shirt, ran back to the window where I could watch them while I dressed--"Wait for me!" I banged on the glass, but they couldn't hear. I shouted again: "Wait up!" What were they doing out there in the new snow without me? What a rotten deal! Then surprise, I had to lean quick on the windowsill. All that yelling had used up my air... Outside I heard the barn door screel open, and Swede's outcry of wonder and pleasure, and Roxanna laughing. I tell you no one ever felt sorrier for their sorry lot than I for mine there in that empty house. I crawled back in bed under the weight of the sun and joy and adventure happening outdoors, and I thought dangerous things to myself. Back to mind came every hurt I'd endured for my defect, every awaited thing I'd missed. It seemed that I'd been left alone here by the callousness of my family; that should the man with the skin bag return I might not fight so hard next time; that this house was so empty even God was not inside it. He was out there with the others having fun.

Peace Like A River, Leif Enger

This description of a nighttime asthma attack was so similar to my current struggle with being unemployed that it took me by surprise as I read it. At times it really does feel as if the wind has been knocked out of me. It gives a good description of the fear of the unknown that exists even as others come along side of me in my pain and of my feelings of aloneness or of being on the outside that I often feel as I walk this path.

I really understood how easily he twisted the genuineness of his families concern for his situation and his own revengeful thoughts toward them. It really does a great job describing many of the ways that I am feeling right now, including the fact that I often speak out of what feels like justified anger.

Really?

Knowing that He's moving at all sometimes becomes the central piece of faith we need to keep ourselves moving. The courage to not quit, to not settle for immediate pleasure that brings happiness back for only a moment, often depends on our conviction that God is moving, that we are being taken to an experience of ectasy along a path of suffering, that there is no other way to get there.

Shattered Dreams, Larry Crabb

It feels extremely hard these days for me live this way but I feel more willing than ever to live in the pain of life's circumstances for the sake of knowing my God better. Life is such a rollercoaster, one moment I am wanting desperately to find relief and the next praying that God might be found in the midst of it. Living faithfully may sound easy but sometimes it feels nearly impossible to believe that God is still actively pursueing me. I guess that is why it is called faith.

So Brave, Young & Handsome

Say what you like about melodrama, it beats confusion. The truth is we ought have a chance to say a little something when it's getting dark. We ought to have a closing scene.

So Brave, Young and Handsome, Leif Enger

A few years back several of us at church read the first novel by Leif Enger called Peace Like A River, the story of Rueben Land and his family as they embark on a cross country search for an outlaw older brother who is questionably charged with murder.

Occasionally I have looked to see if he had written a second novel. Recently I discovered that he had in fact done so. So Brave, Young and Handsome was written in 2008. It is the story of an aging train robber seeking redemption for his past choices.

The quote I wrote above is toward the end of the book. One of the characters in the book, who has lived his whole melodramatic life trying to appear a much "bigger" man than he really is, has had a stroke. It appears that he is at the end of his life. The author then states, "Say what you like about melodrama, it beats confusion. The truth is we ought have a chance to say a little something when it's getting dark. We ought to have a closing scene."

Something struck me when I read those words and at the time I wasn't really sure what it was. I remember looking at the page number and thinking that I needed to revisit those words.

I think there is a part of me that longs to be seen as successful and capable. When I don't feel either of these thing, I begin to create this melodrama around me so I can feel like it is true of me. I feel like much of my ability to look good is dying and much of that dying is being done quietly without fanfare or recognition. Much of the dying process is happening completely within my confusion.

I am crying out because I really think I should be able to get a word in edgewise, to somehow control my own fate, to actually even choose what should die. But God doesn't see it my way. He chooses what needs to die and what needs to live within me, based on a larger picture I can't see. Often I am not even sure what has been dying until after the death occurs.

I hate the confusion caused by the unknown, but it is the unknown that saves me again and again from my own melodramas. It is God bringing reality into the confusion. He is constantly at work redeeming the dead parts of my soul; dousing my confusion with mercy.

God is Good Even When I am Angry with Him

Christ offers hope, not relief, in the middle of suffering.

Finding God, Larry Crabb

I wonder how important getting out of the struggle and pain of my life is to me right now. I do know that it has been getting in the way of my finding God lately. It is apparent to me that relief has become my main goal; relief from the terrifying fears I am feeling right now.

Where is hope? Is having hope in God and having hope in finding a job soon related at all? Where is my allegiance, to what am I giving my energy? My heart?

Is my hope in God or is my hope in myself? Hope in God should bring rest to my soul, while hope in myself brings about this frantic effort to get my act together. How do I rectify the two? How do I keep faithfully looking for a job and still be faithful to only God? What if God never provides me with a job? What then?

I know deep down that God is good. I know that God is faithful to provide me with what I need to make it through today. So why is there so much doubt right now? So much fear? What is this angry fist that I am swinging at God? Am I saying that God owes me more than he is giving me? That God must somehow be holding out on me?

I am realizing that my current pain has really become a "friend" to me. My pain wrongly justifies my choices. It wrongly justifies my angry fist at God. I know that the knowledge of that should bring me to my knees pleading for God's mercy, but I am not quite there yet. I seem caught between my pain and brokenness; between my dear "friend" and God.

There is a feeling of hope as I write that, a hope that has recently felt absent to me. It is proof to me that deep down I really do believe God is good. I know He will win my heart in the end. So for the moment, I am free to live caught between pain and brokenness; free because the breaking is not something I can do even if I tried, it is the Spirit's work. I trust God to bring me to my knees.

To believe Christ (faith), to serve Christ (love), and to wait for Christ (hope): that is what it means to find God.

Finding God, Larry Crabb

They are Way Cool!

I was so excited to finally get the chance to see the bald eagles that have migrated through Winona Lake, Indiana over the past few years. I usually hear about them days after they have moved on and each year I have totally missed out on the experience. I was able to see two perched high up in a tree, although someone else from my church posted a facebook picture of three eagles earlier today.

I would have loved to have been able to see them stretch out their wings and fly but they sat there unbothered. In fact they barely responded to the flock of noisy honking geese that I irritated while I was trying to get a closer picture. It was still way cool for Indiana!

Simple Beauty of Creation