welcome to your twenties.

I remember when my kid brother was born, I was ten years old. One day when I was holding him, it occurred to me that when he would be ten, I would be twenty. That was both scary and exciting. I couldn’t even imagine being twenty, much less twelve. Still, my imaginary twenty year old self was tremendously put-together. Extremely adult. Considerably glamourous. Very clever. Basically, a movie star. But I shook it off because that, of course, was a million years away. (Math has never been my strong suit.)

I turned twenty today and it has been such a good day. A quiet kind of happy, one where the blessings silently bubble over and before you know it, you’re floating in the many words and affections of all those you love who love you and you wonder how on earth you stumbled upon such a gold mine of love.  

I will admit, however, that I was a little stressed out about turning twenty because I always thought twenty meant everything suddenly had to make sense, that I needed some solid sense of direction and a formulated plan in order to be a legitimate twenty year old. I was quickly running out of time to become the glamourous, clever, and put-together movie star I thought I’d be by this age.

Then it occurred to me that I don’t need to be anything but who I already am and that any standard I’m trying to measure up to doesn’t matter. I have this tendency to put pressure on myself to be one thing or another, but I am learning to shake that habit. It’s no good. At twenty or nineteen or ninety or thirty-seven, I am still loved wildly and sweetly and fully by Jesus and my family and my friends. And so are you.

Somewhere along the line, I think we all bought into the lie that we “had to have things figured out” by a certain age. I bet the guy who started that lie was friends with the guy who told everyone that high school would be the best time of their life. What a poophead. 

I am learning that life is a lot less about doing all this stuff and being all these things and a lot more about being alive. I know we live in a culture that prioritizes academic and work successes far beyond the daily triumphs of our relationships with one another but I have this feeling that heaven will always rank people over paper. The last thing I want is to get so caught up in stuff that doesn’t even matter in the long run that I miss out on the things that do. Time stops for no one.

So today, I am twenty years old. I had a lazy morning of reading, a nice afternoon drive, helped my brother finish his latest Lego set, went to bible study to spend time with people who have known me and loved me longer than my teeth have been straight, and had my all time favorite dinner ever. I couldn’t have asked for a better welcoming to my twenties. 

I am blessed beyond belief and if I say that a lot, it’s only because it’s true. I never could have imagined being in the place I am now, even if it is not always easy. I am equal parts excited and anxious for the adventures that twenty will undoubtedly bring, but I’m as ready as I’ll ever be to take them on.

Because I know that in this journey, I do not go alone. 

home

[Originally written January 16th, 2012]

There was a surprise service for my youth pastor’s tenth anniversary at the church this weekend and it was so, so unbelievably good to be home again, to all be together again, to catch up, to simply spend time like old times.

These people, they are my tribe. I am who I am, in part, because of them. They have been my mothers and fathers and sisters and brothers when I had none or when I needed more. They have held me at my low points, cheered me on at my high points, and lived life with me through all the points in between.

And to think that this is the current reality for a kid who once saw no worth in herself, who never could have expected such blessing in a thousand lifetimes. To think that if I hurt right now it’s because my skin is stretching from all the blessing it’s trying to keep contained. If I break now, it’s because I’m about to burst with joy.

I know I am His beloved because I feel it, tonight more than ever. I feel it in their hugs, their laughter, our fused history. They are the hands and feet of God. And it’s very mysterious— all of this, the question of what would compel this beautiful group of people to take in the ragamuffin thirteen year old they met almost seven years ago and swallow her up in grace and make her one of their own.

I am branded. I am theirs.
I am branded. I am His.

the song of surrender

Music has an interesting way of uniting feeling with sound in a way that sticks long after the song is over. One of my favorite songs from Passion this year is called “White Flag.” The chorus sings like this:

We raise our white flag
We surrender all to you
All for you

We raise our white flag
The war is over 
Love has come 
Your love has won

45,000+ of us sang that song with our voices bursting through our bodies at almost every session, maybe without even a second thought. That’s not to say we didn’t mean it, but it’s easy to sing a song like that when you’re in an atmosphere of worship and praise, when everybody with you agrees, when you are constantly being encouraged. 

What happens when we leave the atmosphere of explosive worship and praise? When not everybody (or perhaps nobody) agrees? When you are being discouraged?

Total surrender, in its most basic sense, means your entire life—words, actions, wants, thoughts, dreams, relationships, etc.—is subject to the one to whom you’ve surrendered. 

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i’ll find him there

I rang in 2011 lost in the lyrics of a Snow Patrol album. I remember looking up from what I was reading and suddenly it was 12:19 am and I wondered which words quietly carried me through the fading waves of one year and the curling swell of another.

There were a few haphazard resolutions scribbled onto an old sticky note stuck to the corner of my desk that I crammed into a notebook before I left for school again the next week. But somewhere in the madness of the start of spring semester, the crumpled note fell into a drawer or a garbage can, and was lost for good. 

But I’ve never really liked New Year’s Resolutions anyways because they feel extremely overwhelming and generally impossible.

You mean I’m supposed to go to the gym more, study harder, love more, judge less, join more clubs AND be more compassionate all at the same time starting tomorrow?

Which is why my laundry list of resolutions usually becomes a gum wrapper.

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and i wept with him

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what jesus looks like

He had baggy jeans and dreadlocked hair that went down to the backs of his knees. Sneakers and a soft smile were what brought him to front of the stage. He took a seat.

He hadn’t said a word in the microphone at this point. He was just opening up his water bottle and whispering to the guy next to him. And yet…

I could see Jesus in him. 

I was amazed. No words, but I could see it. And it wasn’t just me. Later, my friend said the same thing with a bright smile. We wondered at the mystery of it.

I was at an open forum about a month ago at my university with my favorite non-profit organization, To Write Love on Her Arms. The founder told the story, a band played some great music, and then there was Q & A to wrap up the night. The makeshift panel consisted of the founder, a counselor who works with To Write Love, and a close friend of the founder’s who had been 6 years sober.

When it was his turn to talk, he told the audience a “vignette of his life,” as he called it; a tale of hopeless addiction and hopeful redemption. He spoke grace and its role in his journey in becoming the man he is now. A student asked how his faith influenced his personal life and path to recovery. His answer was really good, but I don’t remember it. All I can remember was the way he said “Jesus.” He just said it once, but once was enough.

Jesus.

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one in the same

I used to think the disciple Peter was a chump. I couldn’t understand why he ended up being such a key player in the history of the early church when he messed up so many times in his earlier days with Jesus. 

Because really, Peter? You’re going to try to tell Jesus what he’s talking about? (Mark 8:32)

Jesus is going to take you and James and John up to the mountain for the transfiguration and when Elijah and Moses appear, all you can say is “We should totally make you guys some memorials or something”? (Mark 9:2-6)

You’re going to chop off an officer’s ear when Jesus is arrested, and then flee the scene when he is taken away? (Mark 14:46, 50)

Oh, and then you’re going to deny him three separate times over the course of a few hours (Mark 14:66-72) just after promising him that you never would? (Mark 14:29)

Well, you’re certainly a keeper, aren’t you?

But after some time, I began to realize something.

Peter didn’t receive the role he did because he deserved it. We can certainly see he did not, but that doesn’t mean that it could have been earned anyways.

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a little bit of faith

I don’t always know what faith consists of. In fact, most of the time I don’t even know what faith looks like.

There’s a story found in Mark 5 where this high priest named Jairus begs Jesus to come to his house because his young daughter is dying. “Please come and lay your hands on her; heal her so she can live,” he asks. Jesus agrees to come and on their way there some messengers from the priest’s house catch up to them and tell him not to bother, that his young daughter is already dead. 

I imagine this is when Jairus begins to have an emotional breakdown. His baby girl is dead. And yet, Jesus says something to him that I find really interesting. “Don’t be afraid,” he simply says, “Just have faith.” Another translation reads, “Do not fear, only believe.” 

As if belief were the easiest thing in the world at this point. 

I can see Jairus now. “Wait, what? You’re telling me to relax even though my daughter was just pronounced dead? You’re telling me to trust you with this, even though we just met?”

Yup. That’s exactly it.

So it begs the question that if Jesus knows us, why would he ask us to “just have faith” like it can be so simply done? 

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a crisis of calling

I went with one of my friends to a function for business majors last week. It was advertised as a fashion show from Kohl’s but ended up being an hour long seminar on the many ways to market yourself in the post-graduation job world. Oh, and then in the last six minutes four business students dressed in neatly pressed business clothes walked across the stage with a strained smile on their face and a frighteningly rigid posture.

It was informative. And hilarious.

That being said, it was good to get a taste of what the grown-up world is like outside of the university campus. I finally know the difference between business casual and business formal. I know to practice a good handshake before an interview. I know my résumé can keep me from getting the job if done poorly.

They talked about interviews, internships, applications of all sorts, competition, moving up the corporate ladder, and anything else even slightly related to the business world.

My friend is a management major, so she hears about this stuff all the time. It is apparently not a big deal.

But I am a literature major. We never talk about this. 

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the gift that no one wants

It usually goes like this.

“Hello, it’s so great to see you! How are you? How is college?” Hug, hug. Kiss, kiss. 
“Oh, it’s really good. Thanks for asking.”
[Insert a few more small talk questions about classes, the big city, and my family.]

And then it comes, like clockwork.

“So, have you met anyone special yet?” A raise of the eyebrows and a coy smile.
“No. Not yet.” I smile politely.
“Well,” they say slowly, “don’t you worry.” Pause. Eyebrows furrow. Smile.

I actually wasn’t worried, but thank you…I think.

And then there’s that nice pat on the shoulder and the classic, “just bless your heart.” Which is, of course, exactly what I want—another person to bless my heart out of pity.

Whenever people say this or a variation of this, it’s always with a tight lip and a hopeful smile, almost as though they have to convince themselves of what they’re saying, too. 

But I’m a step ahead of you. I get it. Singleness is totally a gift. 

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