don't worry baby

if i were to write a letter to forgiveness, i think i would say:

Dear forgiveness,
you b......,
i'm not sure i like you.
maybe because i don't really know you.
and to be honest, i don't want to.
it feels counter-intuitive to even consider you.
so i've removed you from my address book,
and taken you off the back burner. 
i'll let people without pain invite you over for coffee.

this has been my approach lately. i've rationalized it by concluding that you can't really forgive someone unless they repent. maybe you can be in a place where your heart is ready to forgive someone, but honestly i haven't really cared about pursuing even that.

i have said all of this in complete transparency before the Lord. I've even said, "hey God, i'm asking that you stop loving so-and-so." do i think this grieves his heart? of course. do i think my pain also grieves his heart? yes. i don't think God questions my reasoning. however, i do think it saddens him to see me stuck in that emotion. i think i could probably choose to live in that level of pain for the rest of my life, and not be struck dead due to the wrath of God. i see people all around me who have chosen to stay in the pain. i see them existing in God's grace...

but i don't see them living.

and don't i believe that the glory of God is man fully alive?
yes. i do.

the other day i said to God, "i can not carry this around anymore," ["this" meaning an undefined, heavy burden of shame/pain/resentment]. and i'm pretty sure He replied, "you don't have to." in other words, get rid of the burden by forgiving.

ok well, i don't really feel like forgiving anyone. i would love for so-and-so to be held accountable. i would love for so-and-so to suffer. i would love for so-and-so to be banished to relational time-out so they have to be alone forever and ever and ever... and ever. and be really sad. and feel punished. and pay for what they did.

in the midst of my tantrum, God says, "leigh anne, you don't have to achieve ultimate forgiveness over what has happened. what you have to do is surrender your list of grievances to ME- let ME be the judge- let me take care of the wrongs- let me take care of the responsible parties. you don't have to come up with forgiveness on your own. you can't. what you have to do is defer to my forgiveness that i have already accomplished."

what a relief! forgiveness is God's job! my job is surrender.
and then... i have another thought: i don't want God to forgive so-and-so. i want so-and-so to pay. i want so-and-so to suffer. [hi. my name is Jonah.]

and yet again, another thought:
so-and-so's suffering is also my suffering.
so-and-so's deserved punishment, is also my deserved punishment.
if so-and-so is horrid, so am i.

i can already sense my prayers changing. i am asking God to root me in the knowledge that He has forgiven me. maybe if i can get that, even just a little bit more profoundly, my heart will start to be able to channel forgiveness out into the world. as my heart gains the capacity to receive forgiveness for me, it has the capacity to extend forgiveness to others.

God's forgiveness is not letting something go un-punished, it's stepping in to take on the deserved punishment. My forgiveness is deferring to that which only God can do. It is trusting God to be the judge, as well as savior.

this is tricky stuff to articulate in writing- because it is kind of complex, and also because i am in class.

so

over and out.

love and pride can't occupy the same spaces baby, only one makes you free

I am so struck with this line from a Sara Groves song I listened to this morning. Actually, I've been softened by every word of every Sara Groves I've listened to today. Something about that lady... it's like we're having a conversation through her words. I think a secret wish of mine is to sit down with her for a cup of coffee and ask her to tell me her story. It's obvious from her music that she has one. 

Loving a person just the way they are, it's no small thing
It takes some time to see things through
Sometimes things change, sometimes we're waiting
We need grace either way

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

There's a lot of pain in reaching out and trying
It's a vulnerable place to be
Love and pride can't occupy the same spaces baby
Only one makes you free

Hold on to me
I'll hold on to you
Let's find out the beauty of seeing things through

If we go looking for offense
We're going to find it
If we go looking for real love
We're going to find it 


Loving a person just the way they are, that's no small thing
That's the whole thing
Loving me just the way I am, it's no small thing
Takes some time, takes some time, takes some time, takes some time 


Yes, yes, yes, yes, and yes. And amen. 


What is it about this song that gets at me? What is it pressing in on? What does it teach me about the human condition? What does it reveal to me about Father God? 


To answer question #1, I think it's the honesty about pain put in relationship with loving surrender, mutual commitment, and hope. How can that be? How can one be faced with the throbbing pain of life and still want to intimately know another human being? Doesn't it seem like running into the same brick wall over and over again, expecting to not get hurt? Isn't that a picture of insanity? That seems to be the message of the world; either that or "pain? What pain? Get over yourself." Something different is presented here... it completely messes with my paradigm of relationships. This leads into the answer to #2- these words press in on my "rules" that I subconsciously live by: i.e. loving deeply is stupid insanity, lasting devotion does not exist outside of blood relatives, give 'till it hurts because that's what good Christians girls do but don't you dare ask for anything in return. Yeesh. That is... um... quite defeating. 


Question #3: Maybe this is a human dilemma. Our souls are created for this kind of loving commitment that Mrs. Groves has written about. We long for someone to say, "I love you just the way you are. I want to life with you, and experience the deep blessing of seeing things through... with YOU." Any evangelical *** will tell you that God is the only one that can fill this longing. Well, of course. But is it really supposed to end there? If so, why would God have designed relationship? Why not just create Adam? Why would Jesus pursue people during his time on earth? Why would he call disciples? Why would he have an inner circle? Why would he establish the Church? Why would Peter and Paul call Jew and Gentile to get together and work out their differences to worship together? Because there is something about human relationships that is key- it is designed by God with purpose and intent. We long for authentic human connection because we were made for it. Covenant human love is exactly the sign of the Kingdom- loving people, as they are- big messes. That is something the world can not accomplish. It is only accomplished on the foundation of Jesus Christ. That leads into the answer of #4. My God calls me into covenant relationship with him where he loves me just the way I am. He is patient with me while I figure it out, and actively engages my heart. Furthermore, he has designed me, as well as sends me, to live out this relationship with those in my sphere of influence. The more I grow, the more I realize that this is not an option for my life- it is a calling. Where and with whom is still up for grabs. But those are just details. 


What does Sara sing at the end?
"Takes some time, takes some time, takes some time, takes some time." 




*** beep beep beep. this just in. word on the street (in an email from my dad) is that this could be misunderstood. There tend to be phrases or concepts that are limited to certain groups within Christianity. Psychosocially speaking, semantics is part of culture/subculture. Within the Global Church, I would say that evangelicals more than others use concepts like "God is the only one who can fill the void" to hide from true, hard, complex community. 

"not swallowed in the sea"

I've been thinking about stories a lot lately. Probably because I have been very irritated with the way that mine is being written. That thought usually leads to me being irritated with being irritated. Why can't i be one of those hearts that stands with arms open wide saying, "come on world."

I think we tend to plan our stories word for word and fight to live a life of connect the dots. I'd like to talk to the few people who die having followed the specific course they mapped out for themselves and ask them if it was worth it, or as satisfying as they anticipated. Then i'd like to talk to authors that make my soul feel at home. I would ask if they map out their writing word for word before ink ever touches paper... or if they let their writing be a process. I'd ask them how alive the writing process makes them feel.

I'm not trying to say humans don't have control over how life turns out. We most definitely engage the world around us, we engage our stories, we engage with God- our loving father who sees us better than anyone else... our God who created, understands, and delights in our delicacies, passions, and dreams. It's as if God is the page we write upon. [Side note: I have a love/hate relationship with analogies. They can be a wonderful way of expression, but are very easily misunderstood. Every analogy breaks down somewhere. Boo. And yet I can't give them up.]

Lately I've been craving the book of Exodus. I wake up some days and think, "Lord... give me my exodus." My guess is that every sane and integrated human being will at least at one time in their life long for their exodus... for God to tell them, "I will fight for you; you need only to be still." There's something comforting about the story of Israel- there's something relatable about them. I question God's love and sovereignty over their enslavement.... and my own captivity. The only thing I have come up with is the fact that God continually reminds them of their story- not to shame them, not to glorify them, but to remind them of who He is.

I'm working with recovering male addicts at an inpatient facility doing individual and group therapy. I am fascinated by their stories, yet I have encountered a problem: so many of them cope with the pain of their story by forgetting it. One man even told me, "I've shut the old me back off in a cave. He will never get out." I get where he is coming from- at some point we have to tell our old selves to get with the program. But I wonder if there is something to be said about seeking redemption in the pain of our stories rather than shutting it off... because shutting it off is really shutting off a piece of our soul.

Tonight I was driving home and a Coldplay song popped up on my iPod. I don't presume to know the actual intended meaning, I can only say what I felt. The theme phrase is, "you belong with me, not swallowed in the sea." This is someone telling another someone, "You have a story, I want to know it, I want to merge with it, it's too important to be blurred out and lost amidst a sea of lost stories." Ahhh. A rare experience: lyricist and genius in one.

What I'm contemplating is this: stories are written in process and require imperfection, layering, reflection, adaptation, contrast. We must engage them, we must remember them, we must refer to them.

buongiorno principessa

ink a bink a bottle of (k)ink