more thoughts on MJ

Do you ever go on YouTube looking for something... and get completely sucked in? Yyyyyyeah. Happened to me this evening. I think I did actually start out looking for something about Michael Jackson... but it turned in to a multiple-hour long venture. I remember hearing about the trial. I remember what the accusations were. I remember thinking he was a little weird. But like I said a few days ago, I wasn't a "fan." I didn't listen to his music and I'd never looked up any interviews or anything like that. I didn't even read the news... literally all I had was word of mouth. So tonight I watched interviews. I saw his statement. I watched the special that somebody did on his life at one point. I heard what he had to say about passion and love and music and dance and making a positive impact on the world. He's known for spending time with kids... but do you know how much time he spent in hospitals simply helping and encouraging sick children? In a world where adults are obnoxious and overwhelming and accusatory of the famous, I'd want to spend my time with people who aren't as high maintenance, too! So not that it matters... but I believe him. I think he was tragically misunderstood. Maybe what he did was foolish sometimes, but that doesn't imply anything about his intentions. That sort of thing happens to me... all too often. I'm constantly doing and saying stuff that I only realize afterward how awful it sounds or comes across. But he loved music. I mean, granted, this is assuming I believe what he said... maybe I'm a sucker, but I do, so we're gonna roll with it. Some people just come across as full of bs... I dunno, he seemed too honest to me for it all to be an act. The way he talked about how he loved to dance and how he wasn't even nervous but just excited to do shows that made people happy and how it gave him such joy to see people imitating him because it showed that he gave them joy too. It makes me sad, knowing how many people who choose to assume the worst about him. In the end, regardless of his intentions, they miss out on the message he was at least verbalizing - that whatever your passion is, it's a great thing to be shared and enjoyed wholeheartedly. Especially if it's music, since it translates universally. Here's my point: he was a musical artist. He knew what he loved and he did it. Yeah, he got paid a buttload of money for it... but who's to say that's not solely because he lacked the fear to TRY that most of us have? Do you know what you love? Are you doing it? Are you reaping the benefits of seeing other people take joy in the talents that you have? I'm kinda feeling inspired. needz 2 git off compootr.

Self-Control

I think the name is misleading. To say someone needs to practice self-control in a situation with a disgruntled individual would easily be interpreted as, "Act like you're not mad." Or "Act like you're not constantly thinking about sweets." Or "Act like you really care about that person." What does that accomplish but a reinforced facade? Okay, sure, when it comes to treating other people with respect, sometimes a facade is what will serve them best. But the same Person who told us that "self-control" was a "fruit of the Spirit" was constantly emphasizing that it is our motivations that matter in what we do, and not so much the actions that we take. This idea just came to me this evening as I was driving. I don't practice road rage - honking my horn, cutting people off, flipping the finger. But I do feel it inside sometimes. I think it's good not to act on those feelings... it's a good start... but it's not a satisfying finish, y'know? So what to do? It's so much more complicated than "Don't act this way." It's not enough to act self-controlled... I don't think that's the point. You have to be prepared to love. You have to actually not idolize food. You have to already be anxious to forgive the people who treat you thoughtlessly while on the road. "You may ask, 'How did this tradition get started?' I'll tell you! ......I don't know. But it's a tradition! And because of our traditions, every one of us knows who he is and what God expects him to do." I really enjoy Fiddler on the Roof. And contrary to what my dear friend Willy will protest, the movie is just almost exactly the same as the show, so I like both the play and the film. But it's startling to think about how much of that theme of tradition runs just as strongly through Christianity as it does through Judaism. Why do you say it's wrong to play pool? Card games? Have wine at dinner? Wear shorts? Wear jeans to church? There is nothing wrong with any of those things in and of themselves. Granted, there are always exceptions, like for the sake of the weaker brother, jeans are not appropriate in some churches. And why? Because they are wrapped up in tradition. "Church" is not the people of God but a formal event. I bring that up to emphasize the fact that, in this sense, Christianity is not easy. You can't hop on for the ride and check your brain at the door. You have to be engaged. You have to think. Your mind has to be involved in order to say "God loves that person" instead of sitting pissed off in your car because they kept you from making it through the light.

coffee and quiet

Like most people, I think, I go through phases of consistency with my quiet time. Three weeks on, then less consistent, then a week of lack, then back again. The last few months it's been directly related to my work schedule - when I have a full hour break in the morning, I go get coffee and have devotions. If I don't have that time, it doesn't happen. That seemed sad to me, so I set the alarm back a bit after I got back from Next so I'd have time to get out the door and walk over to the Starbucks next to The Spa for some time before going in to work. Yesterday I got a grande caffe mocha and took it outside. It had rained not too long before, so the tables outside were too wet to sit upon and I didn't want to go down to the river because it would be that much farther that I'd have to walk back = time lost. So I sat on the sizeable cement guardrail of the bridge that crosses the Reedy on Main Street. I wasn't there long. I just had my Bible, my two bags, and my coffee. Just drinking and reading. Suddenly I'm aware that there's an individual nearby, and he appears to be addressing me. Fortunately I wasn't startled... that could have been deadly! He was a kindly gentleman working with the local waste management. And he wanted to commend me for what I was doing - that you don't see many people my age reading their Bibles. He said he's a Jehovah's Witness and that he's brought his kids up reading the Bible too. Then he bid me well and went back to work. Now, I just like nature. I'd rather read outside than inside. I wasn't like, "Ooo, look at me, holier than thou, reading the Holy Word of God." Or at least I wasn't trying to be. I certainly wasn't trying to attract any attention. But this guy, driving down the street in a dump truck, saw me and recognized what I was doing and took the time to encourage me. Here's my point: People see you. People are watching when you least expect it. What are you telling them?

Ask and Receive

Went to care group tonight. I wasn't really looking forward to it because I'd had such a weird experience at Next, and I knew all we'd be talking about was the conference. It turned out to be much more enjoyable than I expected and I actually felt confirmation that my experience was actually good... just different.

Three girls in the group shared essentially identical stories about personal encounters they'd had with God at the conference - each having dealt long and hard with serious physical ailments of one type or another. They felt distinctly that He was calling them to pray for healing, and all three responded in like manner with defiance. And at first you think, good grief woman, it's just prayer. But it's a prayer they've prayed over and over for a long time, with differing degrees of faith or doubt that He will have the grace to free their bodies from the malady, always to be sent away with good things... none of them being the healing they'd asked for. This is not a simple request but an issue of "I don't want to put forth the kind of faith in You to grant my request that it will take just to ask, only to be disappointed again." His response? "This is a pride issue, this resistance to obedience. I may never heal you, but I've asked you to pray. I want you to trust that my desire is to bless you."

This is something I've struggled with as well. Not physically - God has blessed me with really a rather remarkable body. No allergies, diabetes, asthma, etc. Nothing was malformed from birth. No serious damage since birth. All five senses are in working order. My facial features are at least tolerable. My voice isn't unpleasant to listen to. I'm not unusually short or tall, skinny or fat. No chronic pain. No skin disorders or even unusually bad acne. No cancer. I'm very regular. Basically, to my knowledge, everything works the way it's supposed to. I'm finding more and more that that's really rare. If it weren't for that, I'd feel awfully unimpressive for all my normalness. Even my brain is significantly more functional than that of many people in the world. But we all find something to complain about, I guess. Yet we don't want to pray about it:

God's given me so much already. I don't really need this.
I've asked for this before, and He said no.
He knows everything; He knows I want this. Why bring it up?
I've quieted my heart to this; praying for it will only stir discontent in my heart.

This morning, I read Mark 11: 24: "Therefore, I tell you, all the things you pray and ask for - believe that you have received them, and you will have them." So you read that and you think back to Sunday school where they tell you, "Now, you can't read this and think that just because you pray for a red Camaro that God will give it to you," write it off and keep reading.

But something I've had going in the back of my mind... nothing like a word from the Lord, "YOU MUST PRAY FOR THIS NOW, JESSICA," but just musings, half assuming that it's just cuz it's stuff I want and I just selfishly want to ask for it...: it's still communion with God. It's still taking the time to spend time and improve the relationship through conversation. Coming to Him to have your needs and desires met. It's become increasingly difficult as I've gotten older to admit to God or myself that I have desires... in fact, I spend my days trying to forget about them for various reasons. But it's an act of faith. It forces you to exercise trust and gives you the opportunity to see Him work in a personal way.

It was already on my heart. Then three testimonies. Quiet time. Oh, and you know the name of the company I started working for on Wednesday? Take a look at the title of the post and you'll see it. Maybe this IS my word from the Lord. It's just... I have a hard time praying sincerely for stuff I know I don't NEED. (which... really, is everything ever, since I'm already saved) I don't want to put my heart in a potentially dangerous place. And quite frankly, I'm not a big fan of hope when it comes to stuff like this.

Who knows, maybe what I need is to be in a place where I'm waiting for an answer so that God can tell me "No" and I'll actually HEAR it. Then at least I'll have that answer and can move on.

What do you want to do?

I don't know. My brain feels like it's composed of frightened butterflies. A million things, a million thoughts, none of them stopping long enough to land. I write... and reread... and literally cannot decide whether what I've written is coherent or not. Those two long posts I wrote yesterday? Might be complete bs and I wouldn't know it. Please tell me, will you? Today was Easter Sunday. You're supposed to dress up for Easter Sunday. Someone said that once, and I couldn't shake the idea this morning. I ended up making a mess of my closet, trying on so many different outfits, all the while thinking, "What a horrible waste. I want to go to CCR, get my coffee, and have quiet time. It's Easter. I want to take time to remember why it's a holiday. And here I am worrying about what I'm wearing." In the end, I finally decided on something that may or may not have actually gone together, but was black and dark purple... not exactly Easter-y. I got to CCR and it was closed for the holiday, so I had to backtrack and get my drink at Starbucks. By the time I sat down, I had only half an hour... and to my horror, never could find wonder at the miracle of a God who died to save me. Wait, what? It was as though I was a small person standing at a magnificent fortress of stone. I didn't have to tear the whole thing down... I just had to find a gap. A hole big enough to crawl through. Even a peep hole would have held me over... just enough to look inside. But all my clawing did was to scrape off a few little bits of moss that had begun to grow on the surface of the wall. I've been amazed by God's grace before, but I don't know that I've ever once really tried to conjure it up - consciously and without the aid of music or a sermon, decide to look and be awed. Or if I have, never sincerely enough to get discouraged by my inability. Until today. Today I walked into church feeling like a woman coming home to her husband on their anniversary, unable even to fake an appreciation for the significance of the day. I ran away to Paris Mountain afterwards. It didn't surprise me that I was unable to do any thinking, but I convinced myself that it would be "good for my soul" to get outside. Or at least for my heart muscle. The prayers that I offered all felt like unfinished sentences, interrupted by more unfinished sentences, interrupted by silence and the heavy breathing that accompanies the exertion required to climb a mountain. After the walk, I didn't even bother with the unsettledness that had been plaguing me all day. My afternoon was filled with grocery shopping, laundry, putting new sheets on the bed, looking for job opportunities, a few games of Spider Solitaire while watching Good Will Hunting, hence the blog title, and being mildly irritated that I can keep neither my internet nor my mouse connected. I didn't even want to watch a movie, but it seemed like it might distract me enough to get something done. Not that there's anything I want to do, but I feel less guilty when I can tell myself I'm getting something done. Then I pulled up a "New Weblog Entry" and started typing. It's occurred to me, as I've been composing this text, that it's okay. It's not the end of my relationship with God just because my brain is dysfunctional. He's forgiven me in the past for not even bothering to TRY to appreciate for myself this celebration... I'm actually improving, in that sense. Maybe. But I think His love superseded my nonchalance: when I walked in the door, I don't think He looked at my blank expression, turned around in a huff, and angrily put away the beautiful dinner He'd prepared in honor of the day. In the midst of my scattered brain and tears and shame, I'm pretty sure we still ate together. I kind of picked at my food and was generally a mess of distraction, but we ate together. He is risen. And to this day, He is yet living... AND active. He is good.