Words striking a memory.

In reading the Word today, I both read something completely new (Ezekiel, which I began yesterday) and something that was both familiar and meaningful, because I remember it being a verse I once greatly needed.

It's no secret that I've had a difficult relationship with my parents. This is nothing new, and I daresay that it's more complicated than most parent/child relationships, which all generally have some degree of "issues."

My parents, though, have brought some of the greatest struggles to my life. I don't know that they mean to do so, and for years I've tried to figure out why. Why are they so insistent upon having their way, even now, that I am an adult? In cleaning out my emails the other day, I came across hundreds from my mother - persistent with tasks that I had to complete - concluding that I *had* to move down there so they could help me more.

Ironic, isn't it, that they are now not speaking to me - imagine if I had rearranged my life against my own will to move down there. I'd be living in an area with less support than I have up here.

Anyway, the complications and hurt of that relationship has had two effects upon my relationship with God. First and foremost, it's caused me to seek Him more earnestly, to be more cognizant of my need for Him and His *truly unconditional* love, even when I had no model of that type of love in my life.

However, it's also caused me to struggle with the image of God as Father. I don't have a difficult relationship with my father except that he usually follows the will of my mother - he has traditionally been the peacekeeper between us.

I think about all of this now because I read Psalm 27 today - familiar words - "The Lord is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear? The Lord is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" (Words I probably should have relied on a bit more last night, laying awake petrified in my own house.)

But I'd forgotten this verse - "When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me."

And then I remembered reading that for the first time.

I think I was maybe a freshman in college - but I was home for a break or something. We'd had yet another fight, and I was devastated, tired, sobbing. I had to run some sort of errand, and instead, I went to my church.

The pastor came out of his office and talked to me in the hallway, but he was a new pastor that I didn't know well, and I didn't want to talk, to be counseled.

I just wanted a respite - a sojourn away from the complications and the pain that didn't seem like they would ever end.

I went into the sanctuary, sobbing before God, asking Him when it would get easier - when I'd be allowed to be me - why my parents hated me so. I found a Bible and prayed before opening it that God would use His Words to speak to me.

I know people say the Bible is just a book by men, that it is not truly God's Words, but that will never explain how I could have immediately opened to that verse. There was no searching for it. It was just there.

"When my father and mother forsake me, then the Lord will take care of me."

And He always has. Always.

It hasn't always been easy, but that' s not God's promise. Not much comes easily to the people in the Bible. God promises that His yoke is easy, His burden is light (Matthew 11:30). Sometimes, it seems so much harder because we make it hard. We *choose* to worry. It's funny thinking about it that way - that worry is a choice we make, a sign that our faith that God will take care of us is a weak faith.

Funny, too, to realize that a struggle of almost ten years ago is still one that I have today.

On being a sinner.

Yesterday and today, I read Lamentations... I finally finished Jeremiah over the weekend, so I was eager to move onto something new.

In Lamentations, the writer mourns the consequence of the disobedience of the people - God allowed destruction to come upon the people because they would not follow Him. I really enjoyed reading Jeremiah because it showed how diligently God pursues us - how many opportunities He gives us to change our ways.

The people, though, would say that they were turning back to God - and then would continue whatever they were already doing.

I don't know where I read this or heard this recently, but someone said, "Maybe the problem is in how we think about ourselves. We picture ourselves as a godly people who sometimes do ungodly things. Maybe, instead, we should think of ourselves as ungodly people who sometimes do godly things."

I like that. Sometimes, I think people struggle with Christianity because they begin to feel like the scum of the earth. We live in a culture where we constantly need to assure ourselves of our worth - where we struggle to have self-esteem. It's interesting to me, because this didn't seem to be an issue a hundred years ago, this struggle with Self. One could posit that we didn't have the words to label the struggle, but I've read a lot of literature, and there never seemed to be this question of worth that we have today.

So, I see people reluctant to give into the idea that we are not necessarily Good people. There seems to be a fear to let go of that - a desperation - because if we aren't Good, what are we?

What I really liked about Lamentations is that nowhere does the writer blame God for the consequences. The tone isn't, "Oh, God, why are you letting this happen to us?"

Instead, he writes: "'See, O Lord, that I am in distress; my soul is troubled; my heart is overturned within me. For I have been very rebellious.'"

When we cling to the idea of being Good, I think we deny the fact that there are consequences for things that we do wrong. In 1984, Orwell writes, "The consequences of an act are included in the act itself." In teaching this concept to teenagers, I'll typically use the issue of underage drinking. Teenagers seem to think the consequences of being caught are totally separate from their decision to drink. For instance, in their minds, the drinking was fun and good, but it is bad that they were caught and are being punished.

I really think that, in our culture, we've forgotten how to take the blame for things. I've seen this in some of my relationships and friendships - that if you admit to doing something wrong, you become Less. Your value decreases. Your worth is minimized. You screwed up.

No wonder we want to think of ourselves as being Good.

Maybe, though, we need to shift this thinking. We need to think about it in terms of the Whole of Christianity. We can't just think of ourselves as sinners and then stop there. I think we all innately know that we screw up a lot. But we try desperately to cover that up, because maybe then people won't love us as much - maybe then they'll know who we Really are, deep down inside.

In my grad class in the spring, I learned about the concept of "unconditional regard" in terms of teaching. This is much like "unconditional love," but I guess love is a touchy subject in the non-feeling, litigious world of education. It is the concept an educator should hold towards his or her students - that no matter what they do wrong in a day, they will still be held in unconditional regard - that when they come into the class the next day, they will be treated with the same respect that they received on the first day of class.

I think that's how God views us, with unconditional regard, respect, love. That's what I mean by the Whole of Christianity; if we stop at the idea that we do things wrong, we'll fight forever to find some shred of self-esteem. It's hard to imagine a Being in whose sight we do not lose value because we do things wrong.

There's a gorgeous worship song that Hector introduced me to a few months ago, and I just came across it again this morning while loading his CDs into iTunes. The song is directed towards God, but Hector had wondered aloud if it isn't how God speaks to us:

I need you like the rain
Come to me and sing again
I long for your love so much
I've wanted your pure touch

You are beautiful, beautiful
You're beautiful, beautiful
So beautiful, so beautiful

I need you to be here
Come to me, I can feel you near
I love you, you are my hope
You love me as your own

You are beautiful, beautiful
You're beautiful, beautiful
So beautiful, so beautiful

(And as a side note, it's kind of funny/ironic - I looked up these lyrics online, and to the side, there was an advertisement with a scantily clad woman, asking, "Looking for love?")

I don't think we humans can really grasp God's love for us. We seem to dwell on the idea that we are unlovable, but whew! Good thing some of the people in our lives haven't caught on to how undeserving of love that we really are.

But we, I think, know that God sees all, and then subconsiously we conclude that He really must not love us much after all.

But what if He is crying out to us, "You're beautiful?"

Can you imagine that?

Can you comprehend that?

Our sin does not make us unlovable. In fact, if it did, why would God care when we do something wrong? We'd be written off by the time we were six. We don't continue pursuing people we don't love anymore.

But I picture God crying out to us, "No - no - I need you, like the rain."

The author of Lamentations realizes this, even while going through terrible pain and anguish - "Through the Lord's mercies we are not consumed, because His compassions fail not. They are new every morning; great is Your faithfulness. 'The Lord is my portion,' says my soul. 'Therefore I hope in Him!'" (3:22-24)

What amazing faith that is - to accept blame for what WE have done wrong and to praise God through the most terrible of situations. To find hope in that.

It is a tremendously beautiful thing.

"Let us search out and examine our ways, and turn back to the Lord; let us lift our hearts and hands to God in heaven." (Lamentations 3:40-41)

If you find yourself questioning your worth, wondering how lovable you are, be encouraged. Have hope. Isn't it amazing that we are so desperately looking for love - and we are already loved more passionately and more deeply than we could imagine?

On how I'm getting through this.

I have to share what I read on Friday, after the "break-up talk" that gave me such hope and comfort. I've been *dying* to write about it - almost wrote about it before even explaining the break-up in the other blog.

What I have to add is that most of this - James and the Psalm - was my "regularly scheduled" reading for the day. I didn't seek it out for special guidance... I just read what I planned on reading, and it completely spoke to me. I'm also finishing up Jeremiah, and there wasn't anything in there that I felt spoke to this situation, but listen to this:

"You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand." (James 5:8)

Yes. Patience. I feel that that is so important in this situation, and I sense Hector struggling with it even more than I am. Right now, I am so grateful to just have him in my life to any degree, because when he first said, "My parents don't want me dating you," I thought that that was it, and he was gone. *That* is what I think maybe I cannot bear. But as long as he is still active in my life - I can still call him when I need him, think of him whenever there is a little reminder without that being met with awful pain - yes, I can deal with this.

Because I *know* that this cannot be it. And I don't know how long it will be before we can be together again, but I know that day will come, God-willing sooner rather than later.

"Do not grumble against one another, brethren, lest you be condemned. Behold, the Judge is standing at the door!" (James 5:9)

I thought this was really important, because I believe God has worked in my heart to give me no anger towards his family. I do not think they are right, but I am not angry. This verse really reminded me *not* to give in to any temptation to bash them or to become angry. I think that maybe that's a part of patience.

"Indeed, we count them blessed who endure. You have heard of the perseverance of Job and seen the end intended by the Lord - that the Lord is very compassionate and merciful." (James 5:11)

Again, this just goes along with the patience bit, but it was a good reminder that God wants what is His best for me, and that that is what I'm waiting on.

"Is anyone among you suffering? Let him pray. Is anyone cheerful? Let him sing psalms." (James 5:13)

I found myself repeating this verse yesterday in my mind - several times. Driving home from my family, after stopping for water ice, I put in a worship mix CD and turned it up, and Hector and I both completely lost ourselves in worship. That's never happened to us before, but it was so, so cool - it drew us so close together. And it was neat, too, because it was the second half of this verse. We'd had a great day together - so much fun - and we were cheerful, and there we were, praising God for that.

I am excited to see what God is going to do in our hearts through this. Don't get me wrong - this is not a situation that I would choose for myself, by any means. But since we are in it, I really trust that it will be used for good since we are trusting in God and His will.

"The effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man avails much." (James 5:16b)

I really trust in that.

Then I read Psalm 16 - over and over - praying through it, even -

"Preserve me, O God, for in You I put my trust.
O my soul, you have said to the Lord, 'You are my Lord, my goodness is nothing apart from You. As for the saints who are on the earth, they are the excellent ones, in whom is all my delight.'

Their sorrows shall be multiplied who hasten after another god;
Their drink offerings of blood I will not offer,
Nor take up their names on my lips.

O Lord, You are the portion of my inheritance and my cup;
You maintain my lot.
The lines have fallen to me in pleasant places;
Yes, I have a good inheritance.

I will bless the Lord who has given me counsel;
My heart also instructs me in the night seasons.
I have set the Lord always before me;
Because He is at my right hand I shall not be moved.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices;
My flesh also will rest in hope.
For You will not leave my soul in Sheol,
Nor will You allow Your Holy One to see corruption.
You will show me that path of life;
In Your presence is fullness of joy;
At Your right hand are pleasures forevermore."

I also sought out 1 Corinthians 13, the love chapter, for a reminder of what love truly is. This verse struck me: "[Love] bears all things, believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things."

Yesterday morning, I really prayed about this. I think that's why I did so much cleaning - I had trouble getting myself to *stop* praying. But I came to some conclusions in this. I am going to trust and follow Hector's lead, for a few reasons. I don't know what this thing called Friendship with him looks like. I don't know what is permissible and what is not. I cannot ask him to disobey his parents and sever that relationship, particularly when I have parents who are uninvolved in my life and know how difficult that is. But I also know that we both feel that God has led us together for a purpose.

Not sure what else I wanted to say about this, and I sense that I'm about to begin repeating myself, so I'll stop now. Time to read for today and see what else there is to learn.

Tangled.

"The nations have sunk down in the pit which they made; in the net which they hid, their own foot is caught. The Lord is known by the judgment he executes; the wicked is snared in the work of his own hands." - Psalm 9:15-16

I work at a ropes course in the spring and fall. I've done it for years, and, I suppose, as weekend jobs go, it's pretty rewarding. I get to see kids overcome what they thought they couldn't do and all of that.

Over the winter, one of the trees attached to the course fell in a windstorm, compromising the integrity of our climbing tower, so we rebuilt a new course. It's pretty spiffy. One of the new features is a 30 foot cargo net that the kids can climb to get to the top of the tower, instead of "rock climbing" their way up.

I've noticed something really interesting about the cargo net, though. When a kid gets tired, he succumbs to gravity, and his body droops down. When that happens, though, his foot becomes "tangled" in the net.

I put tangled in quotation marks because really, the kid isn't caught at all. If he were to pull himself up with his arms and put weight on the foot, he'd be fine. But since he isn't resisting gravity and his body is level with that foot, it makes him feel tangled.

The kid tends to panic, yelling, "I'm caught! I'm caught!" and it's usually something of a challenge for the staff to get the kid calm enough to tell him the "simple" fix that is just going to take a bit of muscle.

When I read this verse in Psalms today, I immediately got a visual of this, and I realized how much our spiritual lives are like the cargo net. When we are looking heavenward, we can progress onward without a problem.

As soon as we stop to contemplate the world, we succumb to gravity, and "in the net which they hid, their own foot is caught." It's so funny, because then we flounder in our faith and cry, "Woe is me! Where is God now?" when really, all we need to do is to stand back up, fix our eyes on the Lord and keep going.

Instead, we allow our foot to remain caught, and we thrash about in the net.

The net is probably something different for each of us. Perhaps it's a sin that we don't want to relinquish. Maybe it's simply not setting aside time each day to pursue the Lord.

Speaking of pursuit of God, in reading Jeremiah, I've really been struck about how diligently God pursues us. "'And the Lord has sent to you all His servants the prophets, rising early and sending them, but you have not listened nor inclined your ear to hear." (25:4) This kind of goes along with what I was writing yesterday. The issue isn't that God isn't speaking; it's that we aren't listening.

In my grad class a few weeks ago, my professor pointed out the difference between hearing and listening. "Hearing," he said, "is a biological process. Listening is cognitive." In other words, provided that all is well with our ears, we can't help but to hear. Right now, I hear the trees rustling outside, the hum of my computer, the click of the computer keys, the birds outside, the cars down on the road. Listening, though, is cognitive - a mental process - because we have to engage our mind in order to decide what to listen to. Most of the time, I can filter out all of those sounds without paying them any attention. Listening is where we *think* about what we're hearing, and we decide to engage with it. (This is why kids fail my tests... I said the information, and they heard me say it, but they weren't listening.)

Anyway, God is speaking to us. He is speaking to you, right now. I firmly believe this. The issue comes with us listening, because - like I wrote yesterday - it takes a different kind of listening. James 1:19 says, "So then, my beloved bethren, let every man be swift to hear, slow to speak, slow to wrath."

You know what's so interesting about the verse that I started today's writing with? It truly ends with this: "Meditation. Selah."

And that fits so perfectly, because if we are to continue climbing the "cargo net of faith," without getting caught up in our own issues, we have to be listening to God, and the verse even tells us how - meditation.

How often - and seriously, answer this for yourself, because I, too, am answering it for me - how often do you stop to listen for God? I think that culture have confused the word "meditate." When I think of meditation, I picture that Tic-Tac commercial from a year or two ago - remember? The one where the yoga class is sitting in the lotus position, and they're all doing the breathing exercises and smiling because they have a Tic-Tac or something like that? That's how we picture meditation. We think it is "clearing our minds" - "emptying them."

Nah. The trick isn't to "empty" our minds; it's to set aside our own thoughts to listen for God's words.

I'm reading Conversations with God: Book One right now (among countless other things, which means my progress in it is slow). It's not a Christian book by any means, but I like reading things that are not necessarily Christian because I find that it deepens my faith - it requires me to look into the Bible to see what is Truth.

Anyway, the premise of Conversations with God is that the author feels that he began a dialogue with God - basically on the spur of a moment, over the course of a year or two - and then he published that dialogue, almost like a new Bible.

My point is this: very early in the book, he writes that God says, "I talk to everyone. All the time. The question is not to whom do I talk, but who listens?" (Walsch 3).

This I believe to be true. We see it all throughout the Bible - in the Old Testament, where the people are "stiff-necked" and refuse to listen - and the New. God speaks; we don't listen. We snare ourselves in the cargo net instead.

I don't want to give a list of "how to listen to God." I don't believe in formulaic faith. It limits God. No, wait, let me correct that. It limits US in how we interact with God.

I will say this, though. If you truly want to listen to God, you must make time for it. *I* must make time for it. For me, I'm getting pretty good about reading the Word each day. Prayer is more difficult for me. My mind wanders. I go through my Christmas list of things that I want: more love for Hector, resolution in the divorce, a restored relationship with my family, for God to work in friendships, to know God more. I'll even pray: "Lord, let me hear Your voice" - but then I don't stop to listen.

I have a book downstairs on the Christian section of my bookshelves that I've never read, but I love the title of it: Practice of the Presence of God. I love that - that we need to practice listening to God.

Sometimes, it's good to know that we don't necessarily need to have it all figured out yet. After all, we aren't at the top of the cargo net.

For Nancy, again.

Strangely enough, Nance, I was doing my daily reading in James just now, and don't you know that I came across the verse that I couldn't find when I was searching yesterday.

Here's the verse I was referring to two days ago:

"For whoever shall keep the whole law, and yet stumble in one point, he is guilty of all." (James 2:10)

A perhaps inadequate answer.

Nancy asked:

"This may sound stupid but... "But somewhere in the Word, it says that all sins are alike in God's eyes.".... Really?? So God sees my Gluttony (That's a big sin right?) as "bad" as all the 'worst' ones in my mind, like killing people ?"

I'm glad you challenged me on this because, well, I was being lazy yesterday by not looking up the verse. I really try not to do that, because I think if we're going to claim that something is in the Word, we really need to show that it's in there.

But before doing that, I want to respond to this from what I know to be true, which is the rationale behind the verse.

See, here's the thing about sin. If we do even the slightest thing wrong ONCE in our lives, it means that we aren't perfect. God, however, is. Therefore, to be accepted into His presence, we need to be made to be perfect. In the past, this was achieved through the sacrifice of animals or of grain or a burnt offering (see Exodus 29 or basically all of Leviticus). I'll be honest - I'm not Jewish. I don't really understand how that can work, but I understand the concept that we need some sort of cleansing. There is a disparity between our imperfection and God's perfection - the two cannot mesh.

Because of this - that one teeny-tiny thing that you've done wrong - you need a sacrifice to make you acceptable before God. We think about this in terms of heaven, that we cannot get into heaven on our own merit. Really, no matter how Good you've been in your life, it can't be Good enough, because we're not perfect. Even if it's that one teeny-tiny thing, it's still not perfection.

That is the essence of Christianity, that God sent a piece of Himself, a part of the Trinity, His Son - flawless and perfect - to be the Ultimate sacrifice so that our imperfection can be reconciled in order for us to abide in His presence.

This is why gluttony, murder, a lie - all are alike in God's eyes - because each and every thing we do wrong just confirms our imperfection.

Does that make sense?

I just spent about ten minutes looking for the verse and didn't come across it, but I'll continue looking. In the meantime, Romans is a fantastic book of the Bible to read for explanations of all of this stuff, in greater detail than I just began to.

Mindfulness.

It's surprising to me how Psalms is really speaking to me in a new way lately.

I can't say that I've ever attempted to read the book of Psalms straight through, though, and I think that's why I underestimated its words. Psalms always seemed like the book to go to when going through a rough spot in life - the Red Bull of faith, so to speak.

I always thought that this verse in Hebrews was talking about Psalms: "For though by this time you ought to be teachers, you need someone to teach you again the first principles of the oracles of God; and you have come to need milk and not solid food. For everyone who partakes only of milk is unskilled in the word of righteousness, for he is a babe. But solid food belongs to those who are of full age, that is, those who by reason of use have their senses exercised to discern both good and evil." (Hebrews 5:12-14)

Psalms certainly seemed like milk. I mean, I perceived it to have one, simple, foundational theme: "God's really, really Good. Praise Him. Amen."

When I was really "walking" back in college, I think I internally scoffed at Psalms. "Pshaw," I would think, "Psalms is a great filler, but it's certainly not something worthy of in-depth study. *I* am beyond that in my faith. No milk for me. No sirree Bob, only solid food here. Bring on the "real" books."

Yeah. Let's not get into all of the verses about pride.

But this time, I'm coming to a new understanding of Psalms, even though I'm only eight chapters in. See, I think that Psalms can be milk and solid food - it totally depends on how you read it. Yes, it's a great book for worshipping God, for being reminded of God's faithfulness. But in reading straight through, it's also tremendously revealing about God's personality - and is of itself a prophecy to Christ.

Today, I took note of this verse, one that I think is pretty well-known among Christians: "What is man that You are mindful of him, and the son of man that You visit him?" (8:4)

What surprised me about this is that it's exactly what I struggled with in the few years where I'd fallen away from Christianity.

Well, really, there were two things, but the second will just have to wait for another blog.

But first is the part that relates to this verse. I think that I've always believed in God. Honestly, I think that once a person has reconciled him or herself to His existence, it's impossible to shake that belief. It's like learning something. You can't really "unlearn" it.

What I didn't know if I believed in is God's presence in our lives. I had no problem accepting His omnipotence, His omniscience. It was the omnipresence that I really struggled with.

"What is man, that You are mindful of him?"

Or.

"Who am I, that You pay any kind of attention to me?"

There comes a point in our lives when we realize how very small we are in relation to the world - not just the world of today, but the world of ages.

There comes a point where we seem to accept our place in that world. As children, we have - or maybe I should just speak for myself here - I had illusions of grandeur. I thought, for sure, that I would save the world, that I would be doing remarkable things, that I'd publish my first book before I could drive.

I remember having this thought when I was pretty young - in elementary school - and every time I think about it, it bugs me out - but it's terribly hard for me to explain. I feel sometimes like I am the only "I" in the world. In some ways, I guess it's egocentric, because it seems like I must be something special, because I'm seeing the world through *my* eyes. Does that make sense? I don't mean that everyone else is automated, just going through the world in a predestined way. I just mean that I know how I control my actions - as it says in Julius Caesar, "men at some times are masters of their own fates."

I guess I've just always thought that because I am me, I need to do something with that, that I have as much opportunity as anyone else to really effect change in the world.

But. Like I was saying before that tangent, there comes a point where we seem to accept our place in the world and to settle into that. This makes sense with Erikson's stages of psychosocial development, because there is a stage called productivity vs. stagnation, and honestly, I think most of us adults become complacent in the stagnation phase. We've accepted that this is what our life is to be, that this is our purpose, and we stop seeking a Greater purpose like we did when we were kids.

Again, I don't know how much of this anyone else thinks. I only know what is true by my experience. See, there's that issue with *I* again.

But I think it's significant that The Purpose Driven Life became a best-seller, more than, perhaps, that Rick Warren is a compelling writer, more than that a bunch of people told their friends, "You have to read this book". (By the way, I haven't read it, nor do I plan to.) I think we realize that there is something more for our lives, that there is something more we can be. And I'm not implying that we aren't doing significant things in our friendships, in our careers, in our marriages, in our families. Those things are important, essential, foundational. I just think too often we conclude that "this is all I should be."

And so, we accept our small part in the universe.

And then, what is man - what are we - that God would be involved with us?

Indeed, we are His creation, and I believe that He delights in us. I think we grieve His heart with some of the choices that we make, but I think He is ultimately pleased with us. Think about something you've created. Don't you get a bit of satisfaction from it? Sure, you notice the flaws more keenly than anyone else possibly could, but there is still a pride attached to that item: "*I* made that." And if that project were to go up in flames, there would be a sense of loss, a grief. Imagine how much more so that would be true if we were Perfect creators.

But I believe God is relational. Don Miller really gets into this idea in Searching for God Knows What, which I *highly* recommend to anyone who is struggling with Who God is and what role He takes in our lives.

I think we tend to forget that God is relational - or even not to believe that He's relational - because it's a different relationship than we're used to. If I want to talk to Hector, I call him, and if he doesn't respond in words, there's an issue. And it's different when he's right here with me - I know he is present through my sight.

But God requires a different kind of perception. It begins with faith: "the substance of things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen." (Hebrews 11:1). A relationship we cannot see is certainly different. Without that sight, we question God's presence in our lives. "The god I was renouncing was more an idea than a person. The god I used to know was a system of beliefs that made me feel right, not a living an active Being" (Miller 38). "...If the gospel of Jesus is just some formula I obey in order to get taken off the naughty list and put on a nice list, then it doesn't meet the deep need of the human condition, it doesn't interact with the great desire of my soul, and it has nothing to do with the hidden (or, rather, obvious) language we all are speaking" (Miller 45).

That language is the need for a relationship. And that is what God is to be in our lives - a relationship. We as humans are designed to need relationships. Our relationships are what give our lives purpose - they are most important to us. This is why religion in and of itself fails people. We don't need religion - a "rulebook," so to speak. We need a relationship. We need something - sorry, someOne - to give our lives purpose and direction and love.

What is God, that He is mindful of us? I've come to learn that this mindfulness of us is an even more important belief than mere belief in God's existence. We are surrounded with the evidence of God - as Geoff Moore sings, it's in every mountain, every valley, every sunrise. That is not the unseen that requires faith.

The relationship? That's a different story.

And if we want purpose, we have to seek out that purpose through the relationship, through learning to listen in a different way. That's faith. But we can't get anywhere with that until we accept that God, indeed, is mindful of us, that He is present in our lives, that we only have to choose to engage in the relationship to activate it. And then He is ready to provide that purpose that is so much greater than we could design for our own lives.

Wicked.

I was just reading the Word, thinking about what I should write in here today.

I think it's important to find something to write about each time I earnestly seek the Word, because the things I write are the things that imprint themselves on my heart - the things that I truly learn. It's too easy to read the Word, and then close the Book and move on with my day. But each time I read, I want to walk away with something indelible, and by searching for something to write about, I'm looking for that long-term lesson.

I finished Hebrews today. Chapter 13. I enjoyed that reading of it. I'm not sure which New Testament book I should start tomorrow. I liked this verse: "Do not forget to entertain strangers, for by so doing some have unwittingly entertained angels" (13:2). It reminds me of the Newsboys song "Entertaining Angels," and that country song of a few years back "What If She's an Angel." Yeah.

But I didn't really want to write about that. I read two chapters of Jeremiah, and nothing particularly stuck out to me in that today. I read chapters 34 and 35, and it talked about this group of sons that were totally obedient to what their father had commanded them, and then God told them to drink wine, which went against their father's commands, so they wouldn't do it (this is turning into a run-on), but God asked them whose commandments were more important.

Finally, I read two more chapters of Psalms (6 and 7). When I came back to this verse (7:9-10), I knew it was what I should write about.

"Oh, let the wickedness of the wicked come to an end, but establish the just; for the righteous God tests the hearts and minds. My defense is of God, who saves the upright in heart."

Everything I read about God's justness (or whatever word that should be) makes me think of D, of how unfair he's been and how maybe God will "get him back."

Today, I thought of D, like usual, but I really dwelled on the concept of wickedness. D certainly doesn't think of himself of wicked - and who really does? Does the child molester think, "Man, I'm evil"? Does the embezzler think, "Yipes, how crooked I'm being"? Does the woman who is cheating on her husband think, "This is really wicked of me"?

No.

They all have a rationale in mind. They feel that they are entitled to something, that they deserve it. They've worked it out in their mind. Likewise, D had a rationale for leaving me (remember? I was the terrible, horrible, inconsiderate, self-esteem-bashing wife.) the way that he did.

And so, they can all live with what they've done.

Part of the problem, I think, is that we're confused about what "wicked" is. I blame The Wizard of Oz. I'm very happy to do so, because I really despise that movie. That and Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. Double ugh. That's a different story, though.

We picture "wicked" now as this terrible, nasty witch who deliberately seeks to bring misery to others.

That's a pretty limited picture of wickedness, in my opinion.

I think wickedness happens each time that we put our desires before others, instead of balancing the two (which is another important concept, because we shouldn't just put others' desires before ourselves, either, but that's not really relevant to the point that I'm making). The child molester obviously puts his own sexual desires before the needs of the child. Wicked. The embezzler puts his own greed before anything else. Wicked. The adultering woman doesn't consider her husband or her family before seeking sexual (and - more likely - emotional) gratification. Wicked.

The point is that we all have the potential to be wicked. None of us want to think of ourselves in this way. We want to think, "Sheesh, well, I'm not a molester, and I don't embezzle, and I certainly wouldn't cheat on my spouse."

Fine.

I'll buy that.

But somewhere in the Word, it says that all sins are alike in God's eyes. In other words, there is no ranking system. Which means that the lie that you told last week, or the cheating that you did on your taxes, or the fact that you're probably not loving your spouse as unselfishly as maybe you should - that's all wicked too.

See? Your desires are before someone else's in each of those situations.

And don't lie. We all have them.

So how do we change? I certainly don't want to be wicked.

I think change happens when two things occur. First of all, it definitely happens when we're seeking God and desiring to live a life that's pleasing to Him. And it happens when we acknowledge that we aren't perfect, that we do things that are wrong, and that we genuinely desire to change.

I honestly think that's pretty easy to do, but think about the people we have no problem calling
"wicked" - the molester and whatnot. They don't think they're doing anything wrong. D didn't think he was doing or did anything wrong.

See the danger in that? When we don't keep ourselves in check, we open ourselves up to become more and more wicked.

Right now, the title for this blog couldn't be more apropos. We *all* need to seek refinement, whether you're a believer in Christianity or not. The more you tell yourself that you'll all right and that you're a good person, the more that you open yourself up to the potential for wickedness.

Because, really, who wants to say, "I'm not a good person?" Therein lies the conflict, and - I believe - therein lies the root of the majority of the problems in the world today.

Restoration.

It's always interesting, when I spend time in the Word, to see connections among the different books that I'm reading. I've been generally doing two chapters of Jeremiah, one of Hebrews, and I just added in a Psalm or two.

Today's theme?

Sleep and restoration of the soul.

I never quite realized how much is in the Word about sleep. Since I tend to like sleep, this was rather interesting to me.

"Meditate within your heart on your bed, and be still... I will both lie down in peace, and sleep; for You alone, O Lord, make me dwell in safety." (Psalm 4:4, 8)

"I lay down and slept; I awoke, for the Lord sustained me. I will not be afraid of ten thousands of people who have set themselves against me all around." (Psalm 3:5)

I like how both of these address fear and safety - and peace, even - in regards to sleep. It just seems so relevant to what's going on in my life.

And then in Jeremiah - "'For I have satiated the weary soul, and I have replenished every sorrowful soul'" (31:25) - thank You, Lord.

I can't say I have any deep thoughts about this, but I know, indeed, that my soul has been weary of late, and I feel that weariness affecting my life in so many areas. It affects my mood; it affects my relationships and my capacity to expend love.

I believe that a restored soul is a loving soul. It makes me think of those champagne "fountains" that they have on cruise ships and weddings and the like... where they pour the champagne into the top glass, and from there, it trickles down the pyramid, filling each glass to overflowing. That's God's golden love - and that's the effect it can have in our hearts when we allow Him to restore us to peace.

There were two verses today that really stuck out as ones I'd like to memorize:

"They shall be My people, and I will be their God; then I will give them one heart and one way, that they may fear Me forever, for the good of them and their children after them." (Jeremiah 32:38-39).

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom which cannot be shaken, let us have grace, by which we may serve God acceptably with reverence and godly fear. For our God is a consuming fire." (Hebrews 12:25-26)

A day's prayer.

"Thus speaks the Lord God of Israel, saying, 'Write in a book for yourself all the words that I have spoken to you.'" (Jeremiah 30:2)

---

"Lord, all my desire is before You;
And my sighing is not hidden from You.
My heart pants, my strength fails me;
As for the light of my eyes, it also has gone from me.

My loved ones and my friends stand aloof from my plague,
And my relatives stand afar off.
Those also who seek my life lay snares for me;
Those who seek my hurt speak of destruction,
And plan deception all the day long.

But I, like a deaf man, do not hear;
And I am like a mute who does not open his mouth.
Thus I am like a man who does not hear,
And in whose mouth is no response.

For in You, O Lord, I hope;
You will hear, O Lord my God.
For I said, "Hear me, lest they rejoice over me,
Lest, when my foot slips, they exalt themselves against me."

For I am ready to fall,
And my sorrow is continuously before me.
For I will declare my iniquity;
I will be in anguish over my sin.
But my enemies are vigorous, and they are strong;
And those who hate me wrongfully have multiplied.
Those also who render evil for good,
They are my adversaries, because I follow what is good.

Do not forsake me, O Lord;
O my God, be not far from me!
Make haste to help me,
O Lord, my salvation!"
(Psalm 38:9-22)

Last night, I was moaning to Hector about the exhaustion I feel in my soul over this divorce, over the fear that I blogged about yesterday. He reminded me to "cast my cares upon the Lord" and rejoice because "My yoke is easy; My burden is light." He read to me from Proverbs: "Trust in the Lord with all your heart; lean not on your own understanding. In all your ways, acknowledge Him..." and from Matthew, about how God has considered the needs of the sparrow, and how much more will He consider our needs.

In other words, trust God, and don't worry.

It didn't seem enough to have those reminders last night, because I *have* been praying about this. I *have* been trying to trust in God, but I began to feel like I didn't quite know how to do that anymore. I even have prayed to God to show me how to trust Him.

Hector's suggestion was that when I sensed worry and fear creeping up on me, to counter it with Scripture, just like Jesus did when confronted by Satan.

Now, this I can do.

It makes me think of 1 John - "Perfect love casts out fear." That verse has been on my heart quite a bit in the past few months, particularly since Hector and I have been dating, because it's helped me trust him.

But today, it has a different meaning - a reminder of God's supreme love for me, and His ability to remove my fear.

I prepared myself this morning - after doing my daily "scheduled" reading in Jeremiah and Hebrews (which, by the way, was the chapter on faith today (11), and how Good and timely that was) - by seeking out Scriptures to pray today. Instead of allowing myself to travel down the Path of What If when the worry pops up, I'll immediately start praying through these verses, like the passage from Psalms that I started with.

How that passage spoke to my heart. Yesterday's blog really showed how I feel like "I am ready to fall," and how tired I've been of "follow[ing] what is good" when I feel like that enables D to have power over me. But I know, too, that he is one who "render[s] evil for good."

Today, I choose to rest assured in this: "Make haste to help me, O Lord, my salvation!"

And I have faith, that mysterious belief in things hoped for, the evidence of things not seen, that He will be faithful to answer, as He has been through the ages.

When it's time to stop.

God has really been convicting me about my busyness, particularly in regards to this grad class that I'm taking.

It's a bit strange, because I believe fully that I should be in *this* grad class, but - at the same time - it's very clear that I shouldn't take another presession class again. (Presession runs the three weeks before school lets out for the summer, meeting every night of the school week for four hours, and I've taken a presession class for the past three years.)

I've realized that there's a difference between what I can do and what God wants me to do.

I have a really high tolerance for having a lot of things on my plate at once, and I can usually manage to excel in most areas of my life while it's all going on.

But some things - usually those of God - fall by the wayside.

Isn't it funny how I can stand in church each Sunday, worshipping God, professing to Him that "forever I'll stand" and that I'll be faithful and "every day I'll praise Him" - and by Monday I've gotten too busy to do any of that?

It would be one thing if I didn't sense God in my life after I'd spent time with Him. But I know how He changes my mind, thoughts and actions every time I truly seek Him. I know how it shapes my relationship with Hector - how much more patience and love I have.

I worry sometimes that God is going to ask something big of me, and I feel myself holding back. I'm afraid of what He'll ask, of what it'll take from me. When I was reading Jeremiah, I came across this verse (19:5) - "...they have also built the high places of Baal, to burn their sons with fire for burnt offerings to Baal, which I did not command or speak, nor did it come into My mind." That verse has stuck with me ever since I read it - these men sacrificed their sons - their children - and God hadn't asked that of them. How much do we give up, thinking it's for God, without truly seeking His heart?

I think that's also stuck with me because it reminds me that God does seek big things from us. He seeks the heart willing to sacrifice. And we need to remember that there are things more important to Him than sacrifice - "For I desire mercy, not sacrifice" (Hosea 6:6, quoted twice in Matthew). But still, I know that I haven't really given Him my "life" if I can't give Him each day.