"but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child. I thought like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me" (1 Corinthians 13: 10 - 11).
I'm no longer a child in my Father's eye.
Oh, how I've grown and developed.
Oh, how I've put childish things behind me.
I realize I'm no longer bitter,
I'm no longer hurting for things done to me.
Freedom,
Freedom comes in like the sun.
It break the chains and
causes the darkness to quiver.
I no longer think like a child.
I've put childish things behind me.
- Saturday, Feb. 28
Saturday, March 6, 2010
"but when perfection comes, the imperfect disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child. I thought like a child. When I became a man, I put childish ways behind me" (1 Corinthians 13: 10 - 11).
I'm no longer a child in my Father's eye.
Oh, how I've grown and developed.
Oh, how I've put childish things behind me.
I realize I'm no longer bitter,
I'm no longer hurting for things done to me.
Freedom,
Freedom comes in like the sun.
It break the chains and
causes the darkness to quiver.
I no longer think like a child.
I've put childish things behind me.
I'm no longer a child in my Father's eye.
Oh, how I've grown and developed.
Oh, how I've put childish things behind me.
I realize I'm no longer bitter,
I'm no longer hurting for things done to me.
Freedom,
Freedom comes in like the sun.
It break the chains and
causes the darkness to quiver.
I no longer think like a child.
I've put childish things behind me.
This love
Thursday at Devos, my chaplain, Katie, said something that has stuck with me. She was talking about God's love. She turned the cross into something that we could better understand. She made it personal. She said, "What if Eden had died on the cross for you?" She went on to say, you know Eden, you've lived with her for a year or more. You've seen her character. And she's seen yours. She knows all the bad, good, and great things about you. By making it personal to us, we better understood what Jesus did because she turned the cross to a relationship.
After she explained it fully, I realized no wonder the apostles in Acts were so bold. They knew Jesus, they saw his character, knew everything about him and he knew everything about them - the stuff they hid, the tear they'd cried, the things they wished never happened - and he still died for them. He still died for us. He thought of you when he took every strike. He thought of you when the crown of thrones were shoved into his forehead.
Peter and the apostles were bold in Acts because they knew what had happened, and most importantly, they knew Jesus. Jesus wasn't a religion to them. He was their friend; they had a relationship with him. They were bold because everything they lived for was no longer in this place. They knew this wasn't home and they finally realized how important everything Jesus had said and did.
After she explained it fully, I realized no wonder the apostles in Acts were so bold. They knew Jesus, they saw his character, knew everything about him and he knew everything about them - the stuff they hid, the tear they'd cried, the things they wished never happened - and he still died for them. He still died for us. He thought of you when he took every strike. He thought of you when the crown of thrones were shoved into his forehead.
Peter and the apostles were bold in Acts because they knew what had happened, and most importantly, they knew Jesus. Jesus wasn't a religion to them. He was their friend; they had a relationship with him. They were bold because everything they lived for was no longer in this place. They knew this wasn't home and they finally realized how important everything Jesus had said and did.
Monday, February 15, 2010
This sweet surprise
I'm an RA at ORU. It's been a great experience...definitely! :)
But, honestly, there are times where I wish I hadn't signed up. There are numerous things people would be surprised we have to do. The one I've come to not enjoy is confrontation.
You see...at ORU we have a dresscode and it's the RA's job to address any girl who isn't in dresscode. I've had my fair share of mind blogging experiences, but I've never had a girl come up to me and apologize for the way she acted.
I'm sitting desk (another job of RAs :) and this girl who I had tried to confront about dresscode a week or so ago come up and apologized. She just said she was happy I was sitting desk here tonight because she's been feeling terrible for lying to me.
It's these times that I enjoying being an RA. Sure, it can be challenging, mind blogging, and completely sweet at the same time. Tonight's the reason I do what I do, because God worked on her heart. It was a gentle surprise that I enjoyed. I hope you see God smiling on you today. How horrible to go through a day and not see it as a blessing...no matter how bad...or good. :)
Blessings!
But, honestly, there are times where I wish I hadn't signed up. There are numerous things people would be surprised we have to do. The one I've come to not enjoy is confrontation.
You see...at ORU we have a dresscode and it's the RA's job to address any girl who isn't in dresscode. I've had my fair share of mind blogging experiences, but I've never had a girl come up to me and apologize for the way she acted.
I'm sitting desk (another job of RAs :) and this girl who I had tried to confront about dresscode a week or so ago come up and apologized. She just said she was happy I was sitting desk here tonight because she's been feeling terrible for lying to me.
It's these times that I enjoying being an RA. Sure, it can be challenging, mind blogging, and completely sweet at the same time. Tonight's the reason I do what I do, because God worked on her heart. It was a gentle surprise that I enjoyed. I hope you see God smiling on you today. How horrible to go through a day and not see it as a blessing...no matter how bad...or good. :)
Blessings!
Wednesday, February 10, 2010
This precious promise
"His divine power has given us everything we need for life and godliness through our knowledge of him who called us by his own glory and goodness. Through these he has given us his very great and precious promises.... For if you possess these qualities in increasing measure, they will keep you from being ineffective and unproductive in your knowledge of our Lord Jesus Christ.... Therefore, my brothers, be all the more eager to make your calling and election sure. For if you do these things, you will never fall" - 2 Peter 1:3-4,8,10
Thursday, February 4, 2010
This passion
I'm sitting here realizing I don't know what my passion is. I'm a senior in college. I'll be graduating in May. I used to have a passion. I used to write with my entire being. Writing consumed my life. I poured everything into it. I studied. I laughed, cried, and bled writing. I'm a print journalism major, but I've come to realize that I don't even like it.
It's come to the point that the things that intrigued me about my talent and my ability to understand what people needed in media just sickens me. To think that I'm going to be leaving ORU soon with loans for a major that I've come to not enjoy is startling.
I'm not someone who picks up one thing, uses it up, and then dumps it when she's finished with it. I drain the life out of it. I allow that passion to drain the life out of me. And maybe that's where I've come. I've drained myself dry. I know that God allows seasons to come into life all the time, but this is crazy. I'm in my last semester.
As I started writing this, one of the girls on my floor came into my room and I told her this unbelievable revelation that I have been experiencing. I explained that I don't like the process of getting everything together for a story. I love talking to people. I love informing. It's just not my passion. As I was explaining to her how I was feeling. She asked me a question.
What makes you angry?
I spoke before I even thought it through. The cause of abused children makes me angry. The fact that parents, family members, friends, and complete strangers take advantage of them emotionally, verbally, physically, and sexually makes my face blotch and my blood boil. It may have something to do with my personal experience with abuse. Thankfully I've been blessed and protected from the worst, but I know the impact that kind of imprisonment can have on an individual, and it's not pretty.
I realized that what I want to do I haven't even heard of. I know graduating with a print journalism major is what I'm supposed to do. God made that SUPER clear. It's just I don't see the roads connecting. I feel like I'm off skipping in some meadow, forgetting life.
Honestly, I want to be involved in missions. I want to get involved with various organizations. I want to do what they do, walk in their shoes, talk to the people they help, sit down and talk to the minds that kept the organization running and than I want to walk away with the information. I want to return and tell the people who support them the things that I discovered. As the girl said, review that organization. I've always heard people say "well, I don't know if I can support that charity/organization/church because I don't know if I can trust them with my time/money/children/whatever."
And to me, that's sad. It's sad, but it's so true. And this is where I've fallen. I thought I was walking from these 3 1/2 years of an extremely wintry time in my life, but I'm still trying to figure out the snowshoes I have on.
It's annoying. Irritating. And it feels really good to get all this bottled up crap off my chest.
It's come to the point that the things that intrigued me about my talent and my ability to understand what people needed in media just sickens me. To think that I'm going to be leaving ORU soon with loans for a major that I've come to not enjoy is startling.
I'm not someone who picks up one thing, uses it up, and then dumps it when she's finished with it. I drain the life out of it. I allow that passion to drain the life out of me. And maybe that's where I've come. I've drained myself dry. I know that God allows seasons to come into life all the time, but this is crazy. I'm in my last semester.
As I started writing this, one of the girls on my floor came into my room and I told her this unbelievable revelation that I have been experiencing. I explained that I don't like the process of getting everything together for a story. I love talking to people. I love informing. It's just not my passion. As I was explaining to her how I was feeling. She asked me a question.
What makes you angry?
I spoke before I even thought it through. The cause of abused children makes me angry. The fact that parents, family members, friends, and complete strangers take advantage of them emotionally, verbally, physically, and sexually makes my face blotch and my blood boil. It may have something to do with my personal experience with abuse. Thankfully I've been blessed and protected from the worst, but I know the impact that kind of imprisonment can have on an individual, and it's not pretty.
I realized that what I want to do I haven't even heard of. I know graduating with a print journalism major is what I'm supposed to do. God made that SUPER clear. It's just I don't see the roads connecting. I feel like I'm off skipping in some meadow, forgetting life.
Honestly, I want to be involved in missions. I want to get involved with various organizations. I want to do what they do, walk in their shoes, talk to the people they help, sit down and talk to the minds that kept the organization running and than I want to walk away with the information. I want to return and tell the people who support them the things that I discovered. As the girl said, review that organization. I've always heard people say "well, I don't know if I can support that charity/organization/church because I don't know if I can trust them with my time/money/children/whatever."
And to me, that's sad. It's sad, but it's so true. And this is where I've fallen. I thought I was walking from these 3 1/2 years of an extremely wintry time in my life, but I'm still trying to figure out the snowshoes I have on.
It's annoying. Irritating. And it feels really good to get all this bottled up crap off my chest.
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