Untitled

Over the past few years I’ve fielded questions and concerns, and doubtful looks and evasive language, regarding my faith and beliefs, and I’ve largely avoided answering them because my answers feel so amorphous and unhelpful. I do think that one's beliefs are mostly a private matter, but because my beliefs were so public and so communal for such a long time, and because they served as the basis for the work and communities I chose, it felt somewhat necessary to write a brief exposé on where I am now. Well maybe not necessary, but helpful at least, for the curious.

I wrote a few years ago that I was taking a step back from concrete belief to reassess, to allow space for questions and doubts and hopefully to allow the same space for others. But that was incomplete, sort of like saying I was “taking a break from traditional housing” when all the walls in my home had fallen down—true, but by no means a full picture.

It would have been more true to say that my perception of god had gradually expanded and expanded, and expanded until it grew so large that it destroyed the house I had built for it, and then continued to grow so much larger that I began to lose the ability to perceive it at all. Like the effect of being able to see the boundaries of a continent from space, and getting closer and closer until you simply exist within the land. But the opposite. Sort of.

When the defining lines disappeared from view, I felt myself standing in a great expanse of uncertainty, a sort of white void in my mind’s eye, in which there were also two doors—one back to structured belief, and one to complete disbelief. And everything else was the expanse. And all I felt in that moment was the extreme discomfort of desperately wanting the definition of either door, but the strong sense that it would be better to resist that urge, and stay in the uncertainty. 

I remember the feeling of walking on mental and spiritual eggshells over the next few weeks and months. Like any sudden movement might shove me through one of the doors of certainty, and I must protect the void. 

The truth was that in the course of living and reading and meeting people, in hearing god described differently than I had before, as spacious and generous—not the leader of an exclusionary club but the breaker of boundaries and widener of circles, and in meeting enough people who my former communities would never fully accept but whom I experienced to be so worthy of love and unreserved acceptance…the rules and structures I’d built my beliefs on, and my confidence in them, had been eroding beneath me for a while. 

The biggest question to me was how human nature, beat down and bruised as it is, could love more generously than the god of the universe, the source of all. It doesn’t make sense that we would feel the need to constrain our impulses to love and include in order to fit in the boundaries of god’s love, love that built the universe. It only makes sense that god must be much bigger than we’ve allowed god to be. 

The final shake to my structure of beliefs was all at once allowing the bible to be what it is. Much of the bible is poetry, pure poetry of experience which cannot be described literally. Poetry where factual history would fall short of conveying the gravity of the message. Like the much weaker metaphors of houses and expanses above, if I cannot describe in literal terms this one experience in my life, how much less the creation of the world, how much less a feeling of higher calling, how much less a moment of communing with the fullness of life and creation? Allowing the words of stories so deeply ingrained in my mind and my world perspectives to expand and breathe in poetry…it was a freedom, like a floor giving out underneath.

My perception of all that is grew to a point that words like “god” and “belief” began to make me feel claustrophobic. For me they carried with them all the smallness of the former house, and all the constraints of former teachings. They were literal and definitive, they didn’t allow for the spaciousness of poetry. 

So lately, when asked what I believe, if I still believe in god, I hesitate. I could maybe say…I “believe” in “god”, because everything exists. And also, at the same time, I don’t “believe” in “god”, because the terms feel arbitrary. God is not Santa Claus to believe or not believe in, and no part of the universe is separate from itself to believe or not believe in its other parts. To express “belief” in “god” seems to me to be a separation from god. And that doesn’t seem possible.

The closest I could come to forming the statement of belief would probably be something like…

 “I __________ in _______.”  With the first blank being some sort of emotive gesture from the heart or the gut, and the second blank being some sort of gesture at everything. Or perhaps the first blank is more a look of concession or peaceful surrender. Because of course. Saying “believe” gives me the sort of feeling of saying that I believe in the universe. It is here, of course I “believe” in it, I experience it. And then the noun. “god.” Is-ness. Existence. It is. Of course it is, I also experience this. I am in and of it. 

I am a part of that which is. I think that might be my statement of faith. I am a part of all that is. I am. And so is everything and everyone else. 

It is. We are. God is all of it. And that’s where I’m at. 

Practical implications in my life are as follows:

-I am not currently attending a church, though I am pursuing meaningful, life-giving, authentic community that allows me honest expression

-I do not consider that anyone is condemned to anywhere because of their lack of belief in any one thing

-I do not feel that what I’ve expressed above minimizes or negates any of the truthfulness of the bible. I do say “truthfulness” and not “factuality”, because I think they are different things, and I think the former is more important than the latter

-I deeply affirm the lives and loves of LGBTQ+ people, and fully support their right to be protected and celebrated socially, spiritually and legally

-I believe each of us has autonomy over our own bodies, to live and love and feed and care for, to rejoice with and seek pleasure through, to celebrate and feel beautiful in, to decide when and how and with whom to bear children

-I support the pursuit of safety for all people, including those who seek refuge across borders and those who seek the safety promised within their own countries and in their own homes and neighborhoods—immigrants, refugees, and people of color should not feel less safe at the hands of those from whom they seek protection

-I acknowledge that racism, through colonialism, infused with the inherited historic notions of manifest destiny, often explicitly defended with biblical interpretations, has been woven into the core of western societies and into the fabric of our faith communities, and that it is the work of white people in those societies, in all arenas, to take responsibility for dismantling the biases and structures that sustain it

-I am working to actively curb my knee-jerk reaction judgments of other people’s lives and choices as definitively good or bad, and trying to nudge myself toward a quicker “oh? tell me more about that” type response. It has challenged me, and given me the gift of knowing people in a much more real and authentic way

I love you all, and I mean none of the above as a judgment to what you believe in this moment, but I understand disagreements and feelings of disappointment or concern for me that is based in love. I’m not interested in debating to convince or be convinced. I am always interested in hearing your own questions and thoughts on everything that is, and though I offer no answers, I make a great co-ponderer. 

I hope that you remain open, that I remain open, to all the possibilities of all that is and all that might be. I hope that you, you created in the image of god, trust the desires you feel to throw off constraints and love yourself and others wholly and without reservation. I hope I do, too.

(from the 2003 movie Nothing, which I highly recommend)

The Comfort of Nature

About a year ago I went to a park outside Los Angeles and laid under a tree. I took a deep breath and asked myself, "Why is nature so comforting?" 
The following is what I wrote to myself in reply. Coming across it again this morning, I read it and again felt comforted, so I thought I'd share. 

The entry in my journal began with this quote: 

"You can tell that it's an aspen tree because of the way it is."

     The magical thing about nature--apart from its beauty and resiliency--is the fact that it exists. It is. We did not make it, we did not begin it, though we often shape it, guide it, and ask much of it. It exists, it has existed, it will exist. 

     When the political and economic climate are chaos and stress, when NPR has an endless selection of interviews from war-torn, poverty-stricken nations, when the business of making coffee is stressful, when the car needs to be cleaned and the dishes are piling up...still nature is.

     These trees that have stood for twenty, fifty years, are standing. These hills, pushed up from the earth millennia ago, are unmoved, steady.

     The earth rotates, the seasons change, the moon follows its course. The sun sits: a star in a vast universe, having found an unsolicited fan-base, whose predecessors left the very fabric of life. And people come and go. Tragedies, triumphs, settlements, wars; epochs of great hope, epochs of great fear. 

     All the while, the earth spins, and nature speaks to us truth: there is existence beyond your existence, many things carry on but nothing stays forever, every tide that rises falls, forest fires are essential, every living thing needs every other living thing.

Every spring, no matter who is president or who is at war, the birds will make their nests and prepare for new life. 

Every winter, no matter what victories have been won or ground gained, the leaves will fall, the flowers will cease to bloom. 

     "All will be well" is the message of the wind in the leaves, the message the birds chirp and the squirrels hide away; the message of buzzing bees and lines of ants. Falling leaves, fallen trees now hosting a new kind of life, lizards playing in dying grass and new trees sprouting wherever they choose, for no particular reason; mosquitos biting lawyer and beggar, pesky equally to all they encounter. The cool breeze kind to all who stand in it, the eclipse amazing to all who watch it. 

Nature is, has been, will be. 

Sit in a park and watch the insects for a while. Notice how they don't care about your quarter-life crisis, notice how unmoved they are by your break-up, your promotion. Notice how the fly buzzes in your face even though your hair looks great and some good looking guy smiled at you.

And then breathe deep. And notice how the invisible movements around you sustain your very life. How the trees breathe out the very air that you need to breathe in, and are fed by every exhale of every human and animal. Notice how the earth holds you--strong enough that you will not float away, light enough that you can run, dance, jump. Notice how even in the shade the sun nourishes you, how even in the waste the ground nourishes the trees.

Imperceptibly, water is evaporating into the air, working its way to the atmosphere, to form clouds, to rain down whenever it has gathered to bursting, in an ecological global redistribution of resources.

     You exist because all of this around you exists, you cannot exist apart from it, though it exists apart from you.

     This air you breathe has been breathed for generations, and will be breathed for generations after you are gone. 

May we find peace in knowing that whatever spheres we move in, whatever small worlds we depend on or depend on us, whatever it is we hope for or fear, all of this envelopes all of that. 

Lay on a patch of ground, feel the weight of your body against the mass of the earth, feel the security that lies in the history of this place. 

Everything will be okay.

Everything will be.

Bridging the Liberal Elite/Aloof Conservative Divide

Recently I stood in a block-circling line for a liberal news media event. Surrounded by liberals, all of whom were aware that they, too, were surrounded by liberals--it’s just about as close to a literal political echo chamber as one can get. There is something deeply instinctual in the human psyche that is emboldened by this type of setting. Opinions are stated as obvious facts, views that might be hotly debated in other circles are here voiced with no parsing of words, no measured phrases or cautious clarifications. The assumption here is that at large this group agrees with me. We may debate, but only for intellectual stimulation; at the end of the day, we are all on the same team--go team! 

Honestly it makes me smile for just a moment, but a mild nausea quickly follows. This reminds me of a similar setting on another end of the spectrum. This reminds me of church. Much of my adolescence was spent in conservative Christian church settings--the weekday youth group, weekend retreats, summer camps and Sunday church. In a church lobby it is known that God is good, that Jesus saves, that we’re all sinners saved by grace. It is also known that we are “in”, and, necessarily, many others are “out”. There are jokes and judgments and knowing looks that only someone who is “in” will get. Every word you hear in a church lobby assumes that it will be met with agreement. 

At first these settings are comforting, they feel a little like home, like you’ve found your people, your tribe. It feels good to be agreed with, to say what you believe and hear “yes!” and “exactly!”. But camaraderie tends to very quickly focus us inward. This is where my feeling of nausea came from. There is an arrogance that comes with an echo chamber. You begin with the assumption that everyone here agrees with you, which gives you a feeling of freedom to say whatever you want, no one challenges your opinion in part because many people here do agree with you and in part because group think is extraordinarily powerful and silently shuts down dissent, and there you are, left with the assurance that you and this large crowd agree. You, who are in, are right, “they” who are out are wrong. 

So here you are, in a line full of liberals whose standpoint writ large is defend the poor and oppressed, making jokes about the daily news about the idiot conservatives, walking past a man who’s asking for spare change without saying a single word to him, and not ten seconds later making a joke about how the MC at this event is probably pumping up the crowd FFC style with chants of “cut taxes for the poor!” and “medicare for everyone!”. 

Alternatively, there you are, in a crowd of Christians whose namesake stood above all else for defense of the poor, oppressed and marginalized, making quiet remarks about the "questionably dressed" woman at church and avoiding eye contact with the guy sleeping on the sidewalk, having nodded in impassioned agreement not five minutes earlier when the pastor preached about doing “unto the least of these” and judging not lest you be judged.

Bunch of arrogant jerks all around, really. 

Now, I personally do not understand where the connection between Republican and Christian ideology came to be. I mean, I guess I can see it from the perspective of a Christianity and a Republicanism I do not agree with in any way. But the religion that Jesus talked about--the politics that Jesus talked about--looks so much more like the marginalized-saving message on the liberal side of aisle. But I think it’s a bit of Jesus-ish-perspecitve that the Democrats need to push their message beyond the insular walls of their self-righteous echo chamber and into the ears of the folks who would benefit from their policies, and help tip the electorate. 

The burning question among forward-focused Democrats and non-enfranchised liberals these days is “how do we reach people?” How, in 2018 and 2020, do we reach the people that we missed in 2016. It’s widely understood that the Democratic message missed “Middle America” somehow, failed to win over swing states, and even missed in states they had won easily in 2008 and 2012. “Reaching people” is what Christians are all about, in theory, and their (unfortunate) strong tie to the Republican party I think has carried that connection factor with it. Christians are good at “we” messaging that makes many feel right at home--Republicans piggyback off this message and carry a large portion of our population with them. Democrats are better at “they” messaging, which leaves a lot of people feeling decidedly shut out: they’re backwards, behind the times, all the same.

Clearly Democrats consider their views and policies to be better--better for Americans individually and better for the country as a whole--and yet they have failed, quite spectacularly, to convey that message convincingly to an electorate majority of voters.

And this is where Jesus comes in. Not literally, mind you, at least not literally for everyone. But in action, in love. The great thing about Jesus--whether seen as savior, historic figure, or myth--is that what Jesus talked about, he did. He talked about loving the poor and the oppressed, and he loved  them. He talked about bringing in the marginalized, and he brought them in. He talked about tearing down the tyranny of the rich and did just that, not by putting his money where his mouth was, but by putting his poverty there. Jesus was hugely politically subversive, and no one ever called him a coastal elite, no one ever said he was out of touch with their experience. The rich and powerful feared him, the poor, oppressed and marginalized saw hope in him. 

So why is the Left, with its people-loving policies, not reaching people, while the Right, with its corporation-loving policies, is--and with an 88% approval rating among its base?

I think, policies aside, that those folks feel loved there. When they hear things like “America first”, they think “yeah that’s me, ‘America first’ means me first,” even when the policies don’t fully translate. Because the Party’s message is “we are here for you, you’re one of us, we feel your pain”. Somehow the Democratic message always feels like it’s talking about someone else, or just plainly against whomever.

The Republican base claims to be the Christian base, and I think it’s time for liberals to beat them at their own game. Love the hell out of people. Serve the hell out of people. Be with people where they are at, hear their stories, feel their pain, and work along side them to bring them into a better future. The whole magic of the story of Jesus is that the high and mighty God, the coastal elite of deity, decided to step down into the fray and figure out what all the fuss was about--by actually experiencing it. Jesus was incarnate--there in the flesh--and I think it’s time for liberals to quit merely touting high ideologies and do the same. 

Neither side is perfect, and a multi-party system is imperative to a thriving democracy, but I think it’s time for Democrats to breach the divide to show hurting Americans that they are seen, and show Christians that what they’re looking for might be a little more blue than they thought.

doubt

"The opposite of faith is not doubt, it's certainty."

-attributed to Anne Lamott

The first time I really doubted God was a number of years ago, shortly after a friend had died.

I was standing in a room full of people who knew him, who had prayed for his safe return, his miraculous survival, and we were singing in worship. To God. Who had not answered our prayers.

I had been wrestling with it for a few days, first with, "if God doesn't fix this I don't know how I feel about God." and then with, "He didn't fix it. What does that say about God?" 

And then we're standing there telling God, "You're worthy of all of our praise."

And just didn't know if I could do it. 

I crossed my arms.

A few years later a lot of things happened all at once and I felt abandoned, neglected, ignored. My friends and family were great, but I felt like God couldn't care less. For quite some time. 

From what I understood about God, he was apparently always interested in my life and always wanting to show me the next place to go, lead me in his beautiful plan. And suddenly I felt like there was no plan and I had to figure life out on my own. 

Improvisation is not my passion.

My journal, once flooded with prayers and revelations, thanksgiving and outpouring of heart, was now sparsely decorated with questions, uncertainties and frustrations. Where is God? did I ever really know him? was I wrong?

I've spent a lot of time over the years being very certain about a lot of things. But I've also spent a good deal of time being very uncertain about a lot of things, and I feel like it's time to fess up.

I've been pondering a lot of things lately, asking a lot of questions and reflecting on a lot of past "certainties." Things I have known. Things I have not asked questions about. 

And in all of the muddle of questions floating around my brain, one thing was very clear: 

I have never been honest about my doubt.

I have perhaps told one trusted friend, maybe two, frequently none at all. Mostly I have continued on under a charade and acted as if there was no real doubt. 

...Sure, things are hard right now, but doubt? Of course not...

...No I don't understand, but at the end of the day of course I believe. Who am I, Judas?

It struck me what an extreme disservice that charade is, to myself and to everyone else.

Am I the only person who's ever doubted God? Certainly not.

But where is the space for questions?

The Church at large, with the help of many of its subscribers, has created an environment of cut and dry, in or out. 

You're with us or you're against us. 

You're not sure? We'll pray for you.

You think maybe you'll vote for what? That's not Christian.

You don't agree? Well God's ways are higher than ours...

You feel distant? Well God doesn't distance himself, you need some self-reflection.

Remember what God said to Job: who are you to question your maker?

But woah woah woah. Take a step back and read the psalms: David is the golden child of Bible characters and he questions the HECK out of God. The Heck.

Maybe we've been trying to create our own rock-on-which-we-stand, so that when all of life is uncertain, we can stand strong in what we believe. And we've talked the good talk like that rock is God. and not just religion.

What we've done, I'm afraid, is create a chasm between absolute certainty and absolute disbelief: 

there is no middle ground, pick a side.

And there are a lot of people who aren't comfortable with being all in. So they choose all out. 

And there are people who are pondering, but clearly can't participate until they believe, like a televangelist shouting from the rooftops, so they keep a safe distance. 

Because if they test the waters we all try to quickly save them from their terrible dangerous place of doubt.

We try to baptize them like Nacho Libre and Esqueleto.

So let me tell you: I'm occupying some middle ground right now. And no I don't need to be rescued from it. I don't need a sneaky baptism. And yes I plan to make room for some questioners along side me. I don't plan to lure them. Just welcome them.

Maybe a comfy chair. Perhaps a cup of tea. 

I do not believe that faith is a knowing, a math equation, a proven scientific formula. 

I believe faith is hope and fear, desperation and gratitude and questions, elated epiphanies and feeling like the floor just gave out underneath you. 

Faith is saying in the face of circumstance, "I will praise God anyway."

And faith is saying in the face of circumstance, "I'm not sure I can do this today."

Faith is not a subscription to a certain set of rules, or an approved list of acquaintances or political perspectives, it's not a vote or an allegiance to this or that group of people. 

We do not know God like we know Pythagoras's Theorem. 

Really, we know God more like we know science: we are in a continual searching--sometimes discovering how little we have known, often discovering how little we know still, testing theories by applying them in real life situations and standing by them until they are disproved, or better understood. Some concepts we know to be incomplete, like gravity, but not yet having a better understanding, we use the terms to loosely define the experience. 

If this is true we ought to, as scientists do, welcome questions, applaud new ideas, appreciate other perspectives. We ought to discuss with candor our disagreements, questions and ideas. 

The universe exists as it does, and no amount of us being wrong or uncertain about it will change it. 

God exists as he/she/all-encompassing-pronoun does. Let's give each other space to explore, and stop building walls around our certainties in order to protect them from other people's doubts. It's irrational, and it's unloving.

To everyone who has not been sure about things, who is not sure about things, I apologize for my facade of certainty. It was self-protective, unloving, and unfair.

I intend to live life a little more honestly now, with less walls and more space for questions.

That is all.

Suggested listening:

-The Liturgists Podcast-

-This conversation-

(I highly recommend the unedited version)

-The new Gungor album-

giving thanks

I took a little stroll around my neighborhood today, and smelled everyone's delicious dinners, and smiled at the houses that were clearly hosting dinner--driveways packed, windows cracked to relieve the heat of so much cooking and so many people. And the houses that have seen better days, and possibly shelter families who have seen better days, I prayed for joy, for gratitude. And over all of them I prayed blessings. And then I thought of all of Los Angeles...gathering together, giving thanks.

I was struck by how incredible it is that for this one holy day, Americans everywhere--even overseas--are setting aside a moment to give thanks. In a country founded in capitalism, largely fuelled by discontent and covetousness, for one moment across the nation nearly all hearts are set in gratitude. Regardless of religion or creed, political stance or social status...there is one moment, a solitary second in time, when every heart is confronted with gratitude. Many may choose to go no further than the question, "What am I grateful for?" But even still there is, I think, something holy in the asking. A turning of one's heart upward, outward.

Even if the day is hectic, stressful, and full of awkward moments with family members you rarely see, even if you burnt your casserole, there you are. Breaking bread together and giving thanks.
Even if the day is entirely uneventful, spent mostly alone, and you eat the same thing you always eat, there you are. Breaking bread and giving thanks.

I just think it's magical. And I think it blesses the heart of God--maybe even more than egg hunts and gift giving.

Yes we momentarily ignore the atrocities of white men against native Americans, and true the ugliness of Black Friday is looming over us ready to pounce, and no we aren't solving world hunger or becoming a more "godly nation"...but we're gathering together, and we're collectively giving thanks.
And I'm convinced there's immense power in that.

I am thankful for...
...scarf and cardigan weather, after so many months of crazy heat
...cups of coffee in favorite mugs
...crunching leaves underfoot while holding coffee and wearing a scarf and sweater--a nearly Oregon experience
...my delightful friends, in a hundred places around the world
...my beautiful family, a little scattered along the west coast, but always my heart's home
...extraordinary grace
...sweet potatoes

May gratitude be the fodder and fruit of my life.

Amen.

thanksgiving sunset on Woodley Ave.

LA: one year and counting

Oops, I haven't blogged in almost a year. Here's a little update.

I was reading the other day, in Psalms, in the bible, and for whatever reason I read Psalm 76.

"God is known in Judah; 

His name is great in Israel.

And His tabernacle is in Salem,

His dwelling place is also in Zion.

There He broke the flaming arrows, 

the shield, and the sword,

and the weapons of war."

That line, "His tabernacle is in Salem," it just warms my heart. And it made me reflect back on my four years in Salem (in Oregon, not Jerusalem, which is what the above "Salem" is referring to). 

I know I read this verse, and others like it, during my time in Salem, when all I wanted was to go somewhere else. And I know I sighed deeply, many times, because the only direction I felt like I was getting was, "Shh shh, just be here."

But as I read that verse again, more than one year out of Salem, I was able for the first time to really appreciate my time there. And not just talk myself through the "this is probably good," but actually deep down in my heart feel grateful for it. Grateful to the Lord for Salem, and for giving me four years there, even if it didn't need to be four years and it just turned into four years because of my stubbornness and fear and indecision. But back to the psalm.

Verse three says, 

"There He broke the flaming arrows, the shield, and the sword, and the weapons of war." 

And maybe that was the first time I really saw it, but that's exactly it. 

I left Australia and returned to the northwest with defenses high and lies buried deep. I was angry and hurt and confused, and I felt rejected and embarrassed and ashamed. For years I barely held on to hope that God would redeem any of it...beauty from ashes, joy from mourning...how? when?

God is very sneaky, I think, at least with me. He moves quietly, slowly, and lifts things off of me like dew evaporating...almost imperceptible, but steady and unrelenting. 

Somehow, in the midst of everything, he broke the flaming arrows and the weapons of war. I think of the "flaming missiles of the evil one" that Ephesians talks about, telling us to take up the shield of faith which can extinguish them. And to me that has always seemed like a bold move by a bold person, taking up their valiant shield of faith. But looking back, for me it has been a quiet stance. More of a sit, really. A hunkering down behind all the faith I could muster, weak as it was, and begging to be rescued. But that was enough. Because God is more than enough. Because all the while--with little holly hunkered behind her little faith and feeling like everything hinged on its strength--all the while, He was the one. It was Him, breaking the flaming arrows, the weapons of war.
He fought for me.

"The Lord will fight for you, you have only to be still."

-Exodus 14:14

And He believed for me. For a hope and a future. How magnificent, and humbling. 

Trembling little Holly, and giant powerful God, just waiting for her, shielding, extinguishing arrows, until she's ready.

- - - - -

Halloween was my one year anniversary of living in Los Angeles, which is all at once pretty crazy and totally believable. It feels like a year. It just doesn't feel like, "WOW! What a YEAR!" Maybe a little more like, "whew, what a year."

This was my basic plan in moving down here:
1-Move down at the end of October.
2-Be jobless for a month or two while I figured things out and explored.
3-Get a really fabulous job at the perfect place at the perfect time.
4-Get super plugged in to a great church community.
5-Change the world.

Easy peasy, yes?

This is what happened:
1-Move down at the end of October. (win!)
2-Be jobless for a week, maybe two. (I rarely do things faster than planned, so what the heck: win.)
3-Interview for and sort of accidentally accept a job while simultaneously hearing about other opportunities that also sounded neat but who am I to turn down a job? (win?)
4-Find a church I'm a big fan of but cannot attend regularly due to work schedule. (partial win?)
5a-Decide this job is perfect--it's local, it's coffee, it's plugged into the entertainment industry.
5b-Realize that wearing a tie and suspenders is not, in fact, the only thing I hate about this job.
5c-haaaaaaaate thiiiiiiiis joooooob
5d-Interview elsewhere and eventually switch over: DREAM JOB
5e-okay, good job? yes. dream job? no. is there a dream job? who knows.
5f-Come to the realization that moving to Los Angeles by yourself with no clear plan is basically like moving to a new country by yourself with no clear plan, and that it's okay that not everything got figured out in under a year, and it's okay that Los Angeles is not yet a utopian society as per Holly's influence, and that maybe it's good enough that you know really good people, and can at the very least livestream a really good church, and find your way from the 405 to the 118 to the 210 for work, or the 405 to the 101 to the 134 if traffic is good. And gosh darn it, you know where the closest Trader Joe's is. (emphatic WIN.)

Did we expect the clear plan to magically reveal itself once we arrived? No. Hoped, maybe, but did not expect. So I think it's been a year well spent. I don't have super exciting stories of how I've been used as God's chosen instrument to singlehandedly change the entertainment industry for the better, and I'm not sure I've made all the right choices to properly position myself to be said instrument.
But hey, God didn't say, "Move to LA and figure it all out! Don't. Mess. Up."
I think God just said, "Come, follow me."
Done. (win.)
Aim to keep doing. (future win.)

It's been 385 days, and it's been a little crazy, but it's the best.
I mean, not like Oregon "the best." like it's own little kind of best. but still. we can't all be oregon, can we.

God promised a long time ago, that after some sucky stuff, "...the God of all grace, who called you to His eternal glory in Jesus Christ, will Himself perfect, confirm, strengthen and establish you." (1 Peter 5)
[A little Greek study for you:

"perfect"--repair, mend, prepare, restore.

"confirm"--turn resolutely in a certain direction, strengthen.

"strengthen"--in bodily vigor, or figuratively in spiritual knowledge and power. 

"establish"--lay the foundation, settle, ground.]

And I feel it. I'm confused about how He's moving now, but to look back on a period of time that felt like literally nothing was happening and nothing would ever change, and be absolutely certain that God was working, very actively, for me...it helps me take a deep breath and believe that He's doing the same now. In all the mysteries and uncertainties of this last year, I can look back and say that I feel more of all of those things...restored, strengthened, settled. A little bit miraculous, I suppose.

And I'm excited for every unknown thing that's coming. It's gonna be great.

Jesus loves me. God loves these people. Holy Spirit come move in Los Angeles.

Amen.

the beauty of redemption in the nativity story

[truly, this post is nothing more than reflections on spurgeon's christmas morning devotional, which i have either not read in the three years of owning the book, or which i simply did not see in years past the way i saw it this year.
regardless, i was astounded and filled with gratitude.]

the thought uses only two sentences on the page, but it struck me more than all the rest:

"The first promise ran thus, "The seed of the woman,"
not the offspring of the man.  Since venturous woman led the way
in the sin which brought forth Paradise lost, 

she, and she alone, ushers in the Regainer of Paradise."
-charles spurgeon

baby Jesus would grow up to become our Redeemer, but the very prelude to his birth had already begun redemption's work.
here is woman, here is man, invited once again into the co-creation of life on earth, and the endless life abandoned in the garden. 

in the beginning God created man and woman, in his image, to be his co-creators, givers and cultivators of life on earth. a beautiful relationship, and a single act destroyed it.

the first woman had ushered sin into the world by her quiet disobedience, 

while the first man stood by complicit. 

the perfection of God's created world shattered.

spurgeon's quote regarding the seed of woman is, i assume, referencing Genesis 3:15 --very shortly after the first fall, the first act of rebellion, this is the first whisper of redemption.

because of the sovereign choice of God leading to the birth of Christ,

a woman now ushered salvation in to the world by her quiet obedience,

while man stood bravely and honourably beside her.

redemption in the very fabric, the very threads, of the grand story.
the great tapestry of the nativity.

being fully aware that man and woman are prone to fall,

God graciously allowed woman another chance to choose well, 

allowed man another chance to choose courage.

was this his plan from the very beginning? 

God, ever gracious; Christ, ever humble. 

to invite us back into the story, over and over again, though we'd fallen so far,

he calls us back and offers us one more chance (always another) to choose him.

He has always been merciful. 

may we as women continue to courageously choose faith in His word, obedience.

may we declare in the face of all who lie to us--that God is holding out on us, that things would be better if we'd just take control--"the Mighty one has done great things for me; and holy is His name." (Luke 1:49)

may the Lord's men continue to stand strong, unswayed by popular opinion and current culture, obedient.

in the face of fear and circumstance, may they rise and do as the Lord has commanded. (Matt. 1:24)

neither seeking self-glorification, neither walking in fear of man. 

with eyes and hearts set on the Lord;

attentive enough to listen, quiet enough to hear.

this is not the image of a weak and subservient woman, 

this is the image of a strong, faith-filled, courageous, attentive, obedient, scripture-filled, and humble woman. a woman who said yes when there was no guarantee of anyone to stand beside her.

she chose obedience knowing it could lead to isolation, rejection, and even death; she accepted motherhood without the promise of a husband to parent alongside, to raise the son of God.

nor is this the image of a weak or subservient man.

this is a gracious, compassionate, just, merciful, righteous, attentive, obedient, faith-filled, honouring, humble, bold, and courageous man. a man who gave up his pride and reputation for the glory of God.

he stood beside an obedient but vulnerable woman with bold courage and protected her; he provided for her as she carried and delivered a child, he tenderly raised a son he hadn't fathered, teaching him skill and character.

may we emulate the mother and father of Jesus, who, despite their own weakness, ushered life and redemption into the world--or rather, the Lord ushered it in, and they humbly and courageously nurtured and stewarded it.

amen.

Suggested Reading and Viewing:

-Genesis 2 and 3: creation and fall of man

-Luke 1: Mary's story

-Matthew 1: Joseph's story
-The Nativity Story (2006): this movie has
given me a deep appreciation for the sacrifice
and courage of Mary and Joseph 

arrived

well, i have lived in los angeles county for nine days, and i like it.

there have been a few moments where my brain says to me, "WHAT THE HECK?!" but they're only moments, and they are quickly replaced by pure joy and excitement at the sight of palm-tree-lined streets.
i honestly wouldn't have thought palm trees could make me that happy, but apparently they do.

i feel honoured and blessed to be here. i know that it will be a challenge, i know that there is smog and traffic and five terrible streets for every lovely one, but it feels like a gift of a challenge, like how putting together ikea furniture is a challenge but then you have fun ikea furniture. only this is better than ikea furniture, though probably equally as uncomfortable.

i drove to redding last wednesday, after a trip to target with my mom, and one last tea from ike box. my beautiful friend chantel drove with me from redding to san jose to van nuys, which is where i actually live. she put up with my tired self and blessed me with prayers and the occasional "woo hoo!" as well as the occasional reminder, "holly, you live in l.a.!"
i've said the same thing to myself a few times over the last week, just to make sure i actually understand it: holly, you live in l.a.!

crazy.

the drive down was lovely, as lovely as a sixteen foot budget truck can be (let's face it though, the awesomeness of driving a truck that large mostly outweighs the trampoline-like feel and the 6-10mpg...six to ten?! who even knew that was possible).
i-5 goes through a lot of nothing in the midsection of california, and then a lot of beautiful hills, and then a lot of hills that you know will be so much more beautiful when the rain comes. and it'll come, i've been praying for it. it actually rained the day we arrived, which was glorious.

that's really all there is to report. i found the closest target and trader joes, so everything is going to be okay.

there's a lot to pray into, a lot to listen for, a lot of people to meet, and a lot of places to discover. there are also a thousand restaurants and coffee shops that need to be visited. and beaches that need to be sat on. i'm excited for all of it. so many adventures to be had.

i plan to blog about things God is teaching me, things i'm pondering, etc, as i always (intermittently) have. i plan to not blog a lot about ventures in l.a., outside of the occasional anecdote. i know that may sound weird, but i have my reasons. i plan to form a little email group of people who would like to stay informed about the "l.a. ventures" side of things for the purpose of prayer, a bit like a cheer squad, but without pom-poms, and with no need to ever chant anything...not really anything like a cheer squad.
okay, fine, i'll tell you my reason.
everything that i hope to pursue here is relational. it's all about building relationships, knowing people deeply, loving people well. hopefully forming community out of that. hopefully building a coffee shop for that. but it's all about people. and i don't want any of those people to feel weirded out or unloved or like projects because there's a blog on the internet chronicling our friendship. that's just weird, it's not normal friendship. and it seems a little exploitative.

so.

if you would like to support me in prayer, or help me cover the county of los angeles in prayer, or join together with what God is up to in los angeles (same/same/same), please let me know and i will put you on a delightful little list in a fantastic little program that helps me email groups with finesse, and sends me pictures of high fives when i send emails successfully.

you all are the best, thank you for your encouragement, and your cautionary tales of southern california, i appreciate them all equally.

a little life update

a year ago today (purely by coincidence as far as this update goes) i took an uncertain trip to hawaii, by myself, for a week and a bit. it was glorious. weird. but glorious.

six months ago, i wrote a blog about it, which alluded to the new hope and life that is born from the death of surrender. ("death" and "surrender" were, oddly, the main themes of my trip).

"new hope and life," in this particular instance, came in the form of vision for the future, which had been lacking in my life.

so i'm moving to los angeles. in a week and a bit.

i started to write this update when it was still hypothetical, about a month ago, but left it as a draft for some reason i don't recall.
probably because i don't like writing things until they're certain.
i like writing after i've learned things, once i have perspective, when i get it.

well i don't get it, really, if we're being honest, but i figure you can't up and move to l.a. without at least writing a blog about it.

in my month-ago draft, i wrote about the ebb and flow of walking with God. how there are times of activity and excitement, vision and passion, dreams and daring...
and there are times of waiting and watching, praying and uncertainty, hope and holding on.
the ebb and flow is necessary, i think, as are tides and seasons.
waiting and watching can't go on forever, just like cold and winter can't go on forever (as learned from Frozen).
activity and excitement can't go on unceasingly, just like sun and heat must give reprieve (shout out Lion King).

anyway, the last few years have been a time of waiting and watching. maybe it shouldn't have lasted as long as it did, maybe i was stubborn, but here we are. about to embark on action and excitement.
or action, at the very least.

so why los angeles?
i wrote a little about the moment that l.a. came into focus for me in my stories from hawaii, but without much detail, since i wasn't sure how it would all pan out.

[brief overview: in hawaii, total surrender, asked about vision, scoffed at being asked about vision, opened heart--ever so briefly--upward, and in a whisper: 
los angeles. coffee shop.
really?
really?

but of course! here are two things, quietly hidden in my heart, like treasures sunk deep in the sand under turbulent tides, two things which i had nearly abandoned, but God had never forgotten. 
my precious heavenly father...just waiting to whisper them to me again...

remember? there are things you care deeply about.

there are things your heart aches for,

comes alive at the thought of. 

and You know about them? care about them? the desires of my heart?

too good.]

over the years my heart has ached consistently for so many in the entertainment industry who seem to have very little grounding, very few people in life to remind them who they are, why they are, that they are enough. i think this is pretty prevalent in all circles, but it's made rather public in hollywood.

regardless of our place in society, our identities can get so easily entangled in outward things, things that are constantly shifting, things that could disappear in a moment. 

and if all of your little identity tentacles are wrapped around one moveable and uncontrollable thing and your feet rest on unstable ground...what happens when that thing leaves, when that ground shakes or crumbles? 

if all of your self-worth is found in numbers and accolades, 

what happens when the numbers don't add up and the accolades don't come in?

could you end up spending your entire life becoming a person that everyone else wants? that everyone else defines? a commodity? 

and after a while, could you realize that you're not sure who you really are, and you have no idea how to tell when you're enough? 

the phrase "die trying" comes to mind. 

my hope, in the broadest of terms, is to be available as a truth-speaking friend, a grounding voice, in a city that has become a hub of false proclamations, forged identities, and counterfeit values. 

if everyone else is telling you that you're worth nothing unless you can produce something, i would like to be there to tell you they're wrong.

i would like to be there to tell you that there is an unquantifiable and irrevocable value in the core of who you are; one that is unchanged by tides or opinions, unmoved by the strongest storm.

(like mufasa to simba--so many life lessons in that movie...though we may not all be "the one true king.")

so i'm moving to l.a. 

and this is my briefest explanation of why. 

and i know, i could do that anywhere, my mother agrees. but i'm going to head to l.a. and do it there for a while, and see how it goes.

feel free to stop by and say hi.

source

life and death and hawaii--the end, and the beginning

laying down all things to death was one of the more terrifying things i've ever done.
over a period of days, i went from confusion to uncertain acceptance to joy and complete agreement to fear and demanding answers before any decisions were made...and then finally, to surrender.

there's a man in the bible who was told he would die soon, and who begged for life, which was given to him: 15 more years.
in those years, he made a terrible decision which resulted in harm for the nation of israel, and had a son who turned israel away from the Lord.
there are many lessons to take from this series of stories, but the primary one in my mind is that Jesus had it right: our underlying, overarching, all-invasive prayer should be "not my will but Thine."

let Your will be done, God, and give me grace to accept it.


as i was laying on the floor, face down, praying for the strength and grace to surrender all, a friend asked if i had vision for the future.
i did not.
and God was asking me to lay down my life.
i felt like vision for the future was beside the point.

but, as i had done all i could to lay my heart down in absolute surrender, i turned my heart heavenward and opened it up, just the tiniest bit, in case He might have something to say about the future.
and He did.
things that were already in my heart, dormant, pushed aside, disconnected, and written off as "not now."

and where moments before there had been the emptiness of surrender,
there was now a resurgence of life, hope, and possibility.

death is necessary, but it is not the end.

it has been six months since my wonderful, odd, sacred, terrifying trip to hawaii, and i'm finally finishing writing about it today: Easter.

today we celebrate and declare that victory has been won.
not simply so we can brush off our mistakes and come clean. not only for the magnificent hope of heaven. and certainly not so we can eat chocolate and hunt for easter eggs.
we celebrate because death is not the end.
it is not victorious.
death is only part of the vast and necessary process of life.

when lazarus walked down the streets in his younger years, nobody pointed and said, "hey look at that alive guy!"
but when lazarus died.
when lazarus was raised to life again...people talked.
someone surely said, "hey, that guy was dead and now he's alive!"
someone surely glorified God.

and if that's what we're after, the glory of God, we've got to be a people who see the power and importance of more than Christmas, more than the birth.
yes, God became flesh and dwelt among us, as a man. it's amazing.
but the power and importance of good friday,
when the King of all creation laid down his life,
gave himself over to death,
and said with divine wisdom, "it is better for you that I go."
and the power of today, when he rose again. when death was swallowed up in victory.

Jesus lived in the infinite, and then in the flesh, and then passing through death brought the infinite life to the flesh.

it's incredible.

it's our blueprint for life.

"That which you sow does not come to life unless it dies...

It is sown a perishable body,

it is raised an imperishable body;

it is sown in dishonour,

it is raised in glory;

it is sown in weakness,

it is raised in power;

it is sown a natural body,

it is raised a spiritual body."

(1 corinthians 15)

that which you sow does not come to life unless it dies. 

amen.

life and death and hawaii

a few years ago, about four actually, through a series of circumstances and nudges and whispers and loud statements, God made it clear that i was being benched.
"no hard feelings, hols, but i'm pullin you out of the game for a bit."

no hard feelings? yeah right, my feelings were definitely hurt. i was ticked.

my first thought was that we were taking a little breather, before something huge and amazing and wonderful. that thought was quickly followed by complete disbelief, because all of the amazing and huge and wonderful things i wanted, and felt God had spoken, had just been left behind. quite abruptly.

flash forward a year or so, when i finally started to get it: what it is to rest, to breathe deeply, to accomplish little outwardly and believe that much is being accomplished inwardly. and to be okay with that. thankful, even. maybe joyful. sometimes.
flash forward a month or so, when a friend said, "i still believe in the things God put on your heart."
no. that's silly. stop that. you're ruining my rest.
believe? for the future?
I THOUGHT WE WERE LAYING EVERYTHING DOWN. i am benched,  God won't let me do the things i wanted, or be where i wanted to be, how can i possibly believe for the future. no.
no.

before the benching, i was out there, on the field, doing my thing. let's say i was an outfielder, i don't think it matters which one. i felt effective there. i felt like i understood my contribution to the team. and i felt like that contribution was important. quiet, maybe, but important.
while i sat on the bench, of the kingdom of God, i had my eye on that patch of grass: that beautiful outfield. and i waited for it. i stared at it and tried to surrender it all at once.
when i felt like it was a no, no we're not going back to that piece of grass, then i didn't know what to do, so i stared at the ground in the dugout.
i don't like any other positions, and i don't know how to play any other positions, and i don't want to learn. i will learn to love my spot on the bench. i will be the best bencher ever. and i will be hospitable to all else who become benched.

after a while, God started bugging me about things...making me care about things. started prodding me to care about the team again. all of the positions still sounded stupid, but i started to really care about the whole team again. i wanted people in positions that suited them, and i wanted the team to win.
i wanted the kingdom of God to bust a move and be victorious.
i was like the team manager in little league...i wasn't allowed to play, but i was a cheerer and an encourager and an exhorter and a "get back out there and give it all you got!!"-er.
somebody else was playing my outfield position. whatever. take it. i'm on the bench. i'm being awesome on the bench.

then came hawaii and whispers of death and total confusion because there isn't anything left to die to! everything is dead! and then, "no, holly, death."

the questions lay before me:

do you want to see the kingdom come, 

to see Me glorified, 

so badly that you are willing to play whatever 
position i ask you to to see that happen?

 are you willing, even, to be on the heaven side of the team 
rather than the earth side of the team 

if it means the most growth of the kingdom on earth, 

and the most glory given to Me? 

are you going to sit on the bench and wait for the position of your dreams, 

the one you've always wanted, 

and close your ears and eyes and heart to the possibility of anything else, 

even if it means that My kingdom is suffering? 

will you demand to be put back on the field, on your coveted patch of grass, 

even if it means the team is weakened 

and you are less satisfied and ultimately less fruitful because of it?

basically, are you looking for the glory of God? 
or the happiness of your own circumstances.

if you aren't willing to lay everything down, life itself, are you really willing to lay anything down at all? or are all of your lay downs just partial, just conditional?
"sure i'll lay this down, because you must have something better for me."
"when one door closes another one always opens!"

we are confronted by Jesus, are we not?
Jesus who said yes to the laying down of His rightful place. yes to the laying down of His deserved glory and honour. yes to laying down the right to be worshiped and venerated.
yes to laying down His life.

and so, in fear and trembling, i said yes. yes, Lord, whatever you want from me, it's yours. take my life, literally if you will. you know what is best, and it's all for your glory anyway.
i cannot call him "Lord" and also lay out conditions, hold to provisions.
he's either Lord, or he's not.

i laid my body down on the floor, my heart bare before a Father, my life in the hands of a King...

and the strangest thing happened:
new life. 

"For I know the plans I have for you," 

declares the Lord,

"plans for welfare and not calamity

to give you a future and a hope."

-Jeremiah 29:11

life and death and hawaii (the long version)

over the last few years, i've felt this quiet but consistent nudging about hawaii...
hawaiian bumper stickers...hawaiian license plates...shirts from hawaii...808 everywhere.

it was so out of the blue and so frequent that i started praying about it: should i go to hawaii?
i felt like i should. i don't recall if i had a date in mind at first, but i know that over time there were a few dates that went through my head, "go on this day." and i'd think about it, and think no...such and such is happening then, or that's right before _______.

after a few of these excuse parties, the whole hawaii thing quieted down for a bit. but it wasn't the peaceful kind of quiet...it was like the quiet that follows the pestering of a small child, who finally relents and leaves the room: you become suspicious of the quiet the moment you notice it.

so i said to God, "if you still want me to go to hawaii, bring it up again, pester me again, and give me a date."

so there it was, october 17th. the open invitation, with no stipulations....not even a particular island.
so i finally made the move, requested the time off, bought the ticket, reserved a room at ywam kona, took a deep breath, and went to hawaii.

i was nervous. nervous that nothing would happen, that it would all end up looking ridiculous, like a waste of time and money, like a person who wanted time off and so claimed that "God said to go to hawaii." i was nervous that i might meet someone i wanted to marry. i was nervous that i might not meet someone i wanted to marry. i was nervous that i would be too nervous to quiet down and hear God. i was nervous that i WOULD hear him and that what he said would be too much!

o me of little faith...

on the third day i finally sat quietly before the Lord, on my knees in my room.

these times are precious...

they drip with gold, and i understand what it means to sing, 

"Your name is like honey on my lips, your Spirit like water to my soul..."

these times are terrifying...

when your mind is quiet and your heart is trusting and you really allow God to say whatever he wants...

he says whatever he wants. 

and, in my experience, he often trusts us with
more than we'd like to be responsible for. 

like being entrusted with a secret, a piece of someone's deepest truest self,
and immediately feeling unable to bear it. 

in these times he has shown me the weight of his sacrifice for me

he has asked what i will offer in return

he has invited me to move across the earth

he has shown me the depths of his heart for a nation

he has asked me to lay down everything i wanted

he has shown me that his love does not always look how i want it to

that he trusts me more than i wish to be trusted

that he will be my refuge, and that means leaving every other shanty behind

he has asked me to live my life for his glory, and not my comfort

and now, in hawaii,
with humidity hugging me and warm sun shining outside my window,

he spoke to me of death.

"death to rights or self or something?" a friend asked.

"no, that's the thing, just death. death itself." i replied nervously.

it's funny, looking back, that everything the Lord had said up until that point, every verse, every piece from books i was reading that had stood out, all of it was so reassuring.

rest in the Lord

wait on the Lord

trust in the Lord

commit your way to the Lord, and he will do it

blessed is the one who takes refuge in the Lord

all the paths of the Lord are lovingkindness

so very affirming that God is in control, that he will do what he needs to when he needs to, and that my only job is to fix my eyes on him, and allow my heart and spirit to rest in him. relax into him. like floating on water. 

and yet here he speaks something i am uncertain about, and my immediate response is "what? what do you mean? what does that mean? WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!"

i waited and hoped for an area of sin, or the unveiling of something that needs to be surrendered. death to _______ (insert something that needs to die metaphorically).

nothing. 

death itself. that was all that hung. 

the songs playing, the pieces of scripture that i felt to read, it all centred on this idea of surrendering life, actual life, back to the giver of life. 

take the world, but give me Jesus...

though there are many things on earth that i hope for, would i lay it all down to find my satisfaction in him alone?

be Jesus my glory, my soul satisfied...

if i was told i would soon die, would i fight desperately for more of life, like hezekiah? or would i pray as Christ, "if it possible, may this cup be taken from me. yet not as i will, but as you will."?

so i said yes. a little stunned, a lot uncertain, but yes. yes of course. 

Lord, to whom shall we go?

it took me off-guard, and i didn't know where to go from there...so i went about my day.

everything i had been contemplating, about the preparation of a bride and the giving back "the life i owe, that in Thine ocean depths its flow may richer fuller be"...everything now seemed to meld into this theme of death. real, actual, death. 

all of these things i had read before, songs i had sung before, things that had brought hope, and yes surrender, but surrender of life, all of it seemed now to speak of death. 

it is true, of course, that lasting life only comes through death, that nothing can be resurrected for eternity which has not first been laid down unto death...that we are to bear our crosses and follow Christ's example of surrender.
but we in western christianity read that as giving money, living without internet, fasting for lent...ending a relationship.
we see it as the giving up of comforts we've come to expect, and rarely consider the possibility of giving up our lives for the call of Christ. we may use the phrase, but i think its weight eludes us.

before i had read these truths with a certain amount of arrogance...

one thing i have asked from the Lord, that i shall seek:

that i may dwell in the house of the Lord

behold, Thou hast made my days as handbreadths,

and my lifetime as nothing in Thy sight,

surely every man at his best is a mere breath

sure...but

  the Lord is the defense of my life; whom shall i dread?

right?

now i read them with trembling, reverence, and a slowly increasing fear...what exactly is God saying?

at a certain point, after pages and pages of lyrics from my shuffling ipod and verses that came one after another, of thoughts and fears and questions and prayers, moments of bold declarations, lapses into fearful pleas...there came a quietness. i did not at all feel resolved, but my time certainly felt over. and worship was about to start, which i knew was an absolute necessity.

worship time, every song, was all about surrender. thanks for nothing, worship.

that afternoon i picked up my henri nouwen book, life of the beloved, which was nearing the end.

henri was discussing his thoughts on death. thanks, henri.

it was actually incredibly encouraging, and made me really, strangely, excited about the prospect of death...that it was our final becoming, transformed into his likeness, made our truest selves...

"...dying is the greatest act of love,

the act that leads me into the eternal embrace of my God

where love is everlasting."

the next day, themes of death did not abate as i had hoped they would...feeling that maybe all i needed was to understand that death is our glorious new life, etc, etc, and that would be that. 

it wasn't.

i wrote heartfelt notes to people who mean the world to me, i prayed for every person and place on my heart, not wanting to miss my chances here, on this planet, able to speak life. 

i fought hard to gain a heroic and mature outlook on death, wanting so much to gladly surrender. 

it took me hours to fall asleep that night.

i woke up the next morning.
i was a little surprised. no death...alright, one more day.

i read things and got coffee and tried to quiet my mind and listen to whatever the Lord would say...tried to make sure that my fearful mind wasn't just going to bring up death again and get stuck there. 

it worked for a while, but not for terribly long. 

as night approached, i realized i couldn't do it again, lay in bed for hours and wonder if i would wake up the next morning, wondering who would tell my parents, my friends...

i hadn't talked to anyone about my ponderings of mortality, i was sort of waiting for someone a little bit neutral to process it with...someone who wouldn't really mind if i died...who wouldn't be heartbroken and therefore could listen to me and speak without much bias. 

it was nearly time for bed, and i had not found that neutral person. so i called one of my dearest friends, one who was least likely to speak out of fear and most likely to help me listen to God no matter how shocking such a phone call might be. i also sent a text to a few others, asking for prayers for peace. 

my dearest friend listened as i cried out all of my fears...and i waited for her to say "i think the Lord is saying ________(insert less intense thing, or death metaphor, or comforting thing)." 

she did not fill in the blank how i had hoped. she confirmed everything. she said yep, that's right, we have to be completely prepared to lay down our lives. our lives. not just our "lives". she said she planned her funeral at 15, when she first felt the Lord call her to missions. 

and she prayed for peace. so at least she said one thing i wanted her to.

we hung up and i got on the floor, on my face, and cried, and surrendered my life. 

i told God to have his way, i told him he knows best, that i want what's best for his kingdom, and that if what's best for his kingdom is holly lewis being in heaven rather than on earth, then who am i to stand in the way. all of my pleas for the great things i wanted to accomplish, for the people i wanted to save, for the revolutions i wanted to be part of, i hushed all of them.

i give you back the life i owe

that in Thine ocean depths its flow may

richer, fuller be.

...my life is not my own, i know, it's yours...

i asked for help to surrender, help to live in the present moment and trust him with every future moment. i declared him Lord, over and over again. i cried.

in Thy book there were all written,

the days that were ordained for me...