Big gulps, eh?

This will be my last post before I head off to East Asia. Sunday will be spent running last minute errands and spending as much time as possible with my buddies so I won’t have much time to sit still.

It’s pretty surreal. I know a few of you may be thinking, “Geez, Nina, you’re only going to be gone for two weeks… heck, less than two weeks! Why so dramatic?” I have this really antsy feeling about all of this. The very fact that all the things fell into place for me to go on this mission trip is nuts. It started with a simple video at church and next thing you know I’m rolling and packing up my shirts, wondering how many times I can rewear clothes until my roommate notices.

Lots of people have commended me for my selflessness, my obedience, and I have to remind them this isn’t me. I’m a pretty selfish homebody that loves routine. There’s a big part of me that wants to jump ship. There’s lots of doubt in my head: I haven’t been on any kind of mission trip before, I’ve never really openly evangelized to strangers, I don’t think I’m as “up to par” spiritually as my teammates… This list really goes on and on.

But I can’t forget about grace. And grace enables. My Lord and Savior didn’t suffer and die on a cross so I can sit at home in fear, quietly typing on my blog about things that could’ve been. Jesus’s sacrifice and ultimately His resurrection spurred the disciples to be BOLD. Read Acts, these guys go crazy - the same guys that denied knowing Christ just a few days earlier, the same guys that never understood the parables, the same guys that started out as simple men with simple lives. My calling is no different than these guys - to be BOLD in His Name!

And so early Monday morning, four of us set out for our little adventure God has called us to. I really have no specific expectations, but I know huge things will happen. And as much as I wonder how my little life will affect the people I encounter, a friend pointed out something… At church, we had been talking about being the salt and light of the earth. How being the salt of the earth means breathing in spiritually and being transformed through Christ and His Word. As I was telling her about my fears and inadequacies, she said, “You know, this trip may be for you… to be salt.” And while I have just totally butchered what she actually said, I know what she meant. When I come back, things won’t be the same. I won’t be the same. I’m scared and excited, much like going up that first hill on the Texas Giant. (But, I promise I won’t cuss like a sailor through the trip!)

I do want to want to leave with words of thankfulness and gratitude. The Lord has shown me great love and has humbled me through His Words, my friends, and even strangers. I have been so encouraged these past few weeks when I have needed it the most. From such big things as huge financial support from my friends to little things like a bag of travel items from my new friends and clients wishing me a good and safe travel — I cannot do this alone, but the Lord equips us with just enough to get by. And He has definitely shown that.

So, on that note… “Big gulps, eh? Welp, see ya later!”

I need a kick in the pants.

For the past week or so, I’ve had to remind myself over and over again that my feelings are variables and my God is the only constant.

I feel like I’m in a brief season of numbness which I’m not sure is any better than the rollercoaster of feelings I’ve been through the past few months. It’s almost like indifference, but with angst. Is that possible?

I see people around me with PASSION for things - work, relationships, friendships, TV shows, music, self-improvement - and while I applaud (usually with jealousy) their energy and efforts, my brain thinks, “Most of these people are putting their lives into something under the sun. And someday both those people and their passions will be laid to rest.” But what have I been doing? Have I not been listening during church as Matt has been trying to get to the bottom of this problem… how come men in the Scriptures so passionately followed Jesus, wholeheartedly obeyed God, and fought tooth and nail against the flesh and for our Constant Truth? What happened to us? Why don’t we see that passion anymore? Anyway, my brain has been wanting to hibernate, but those questions still loom over my head.

Another statement that looms: Don’t let church (Christianity) be a hobby. Not to toot my own horn, but I’m a good test taker. I can soak up loads of info the night before and vomit as needed the next day. But ask me about what I soaked up a month later and chances are my peanut brain erased the info. I’m afraid that I look at my beliefs more as hobbies than truths that I am very passionate about. Am I listening to sermons just for knowledge’s sake? Am I attending church just for show? Am I talking about social issues to have others think I’m a very considerate and selfless individual? Yes, I’m aware that this is probably the devil planting seeds of doubt in my head, or maybe it’s God saying, “I don’t think you’ve picked a god. You can’t serve both. Or many. After you pick, you pursue this god with all you’ve got because what else is there to live for?” Lukewarm, He’ll spit you out of His mouth, right?

I know Derek Webb wrote “Wedding Dress” about the Church, but I feel like that whore he sings about. Like I want a relationship with Jesus with all the benefits, but without all the responsibility. I want to be able to sin it up then expect Jesus to welcome me back with open arms — but I can’t comprehend Grace. I want to love God and love others, but without all the time, effort, tears, pain, and sacrifices.

Ramble, ramble, ramble. I need a vacation. And I want God to make Himself known to me in such a way that I’ll be excited to get back from my vacation and get busy living.

Perfection.

Just wanted to point out something from my RSS feeds, specifically from Anne’s blog who took it from her friend Sarah’s blog. No, I know neither of these people, but Anne Jackson has written several articles for Relevant that I happened to stumble upon. Then I stumbled upon her blog. I enjoy her posts because she definitely sounds like someone I’d love to have coffee with over conversations on design, the world wide web, and life in general. Anyway, here’s the quote:

My perfectionism creates a demand for the unattainable. This perpetuates my self-hate and tendency to isolate - because if I can’t be perfect, no one will accept or love me, of course. Our society demands perfection. Everyone I encounter is “puttin’ on airs,” as my dad would say. (Southern for pretending to be something you’re not). Image is everything. I loathe my imperfection. I wish I was pious enough to embrace it as a reminder of the abundant Grace which covers my imperfection. But I can’t claim to be anything of the sort. Imperfection to me spells disaster. On the one hand, I do seek to be transparent in some areas. What an oxymoron. Partially transparent.

I don’t know what to say about it right now, but it hit a chord in me so I thought I’d make note here.

As far as life has been, it’s been busy. A good busy though, as a few of us have been celebrating a friend’s birthday all weekend long. It left a bittersweet taste in my mouth though as I’ve realized our times together are definitely numbered. I mean, yes, duh, my days on earth are numbered, but I’m guessing the chances of all of us getting together again could be counted on my hands. People are picking up and moving out. It’s strange.

Today I just felt resistance to growing up. Strong resistance. Because growing up means letting go and there’s just some stuff that I don’t want to let go of, you know? In due time, I suppose. I just think back to the circles I used to run in and I don’t remember when the circles changed. I think back at all of my closest friends and how I barely know them anymore. (Except for one or two!) But schools change, classes change, jobs change, locations change, and hearts change.

Personally, I don’t think I’ve ever get used to it. I still think about all my best friends from junior high, high school ,and college and wonder what went wrong. But, in most cases, I’m sure nothing went wrong. That’s just how life works. People walk in and out. No wonder people yearn for something solid to stand on.

Penance.

I grew up going to Catholic church and there was this seemingly strange set of actions we would do on occasions - we would go to a small room, lay out all our wrongdoings to the mystery man behind the screen, then go back to the sanctuary and then go through our penance. I came to know this routine fairly well (as our church was full of routines) and no matter what I would say, I knew my penance would be the same: five “Our Fathers” aka “The Lord’s Prayer.”

This process never jived with me because I was still ridden with guilt and shame, but on the surface level, I liked it. I liked that I could screw up big time, just confess it to the mystery man (who was usually our priest, duh, we only had one), say a prayer five times and be clean again.

But now I know different. I know it’s not about what I do or could ever do. Now when I screw up, I have to rely on faith and grace to cover that up. It jives with me more than my legalistic upbringing, but every day I forget. I forget that when I screw up, there’s nothing I can do to ultimately rectify what I did. I could apologize and perform acts of kindness ’til I’m blue in the face, but what I screwed up happened and there’s no going back.

This is where I have to let go. I have to realize there is no penance and that God’s grace covers all my muckups, even the ones I refuse to forgive myself for. It’s almost like I want to hold on to my darkness until there’s something I can do about it. But I can’t. There’s been no human being that was able to fix all of their problems (which really renders self-help books and American psychology useless) so why do I insist I can do this?

I don’t think Jesus died on the cross so I could be held prisoner by my own guilt and shame.

As Martin Luther said (as retold by Derek Webb in explaining his song, “Nobody Loves Me“):

Luther was once asked at his church why, week after week, all he preached was the Gospel. Luther’s reponse was, “Well, because week after week you forget it. Until you walk in here looking like people who are truly liberated by the truth of the Gospel, I’m going to keep on preaching it to you.”

Legalism’s a bitch.

The baptism went extremely well - I had so much support, so much love flowing into me, that when it came time to share my testimony in front of the church, I just felt love flow out. Thanks to everyone who came out and thanks to those who couldn’t, but sent their words of congrats.

I definitely hit a spiritual high, but knew that to every high, there is a low. It’s in the valley where things grow, so although it’s been a trying time, I know I am just being refined.

I grew up in the Catholic church and got the notion in my head that for every bad thing I did, it was a notch — The more notches, the more certain I knew I’d go to Hell for what I’ve done. However, I could go to confession, spill my guts, and the priest would give me penance. Penance was usually the same - Ten Holy Marys and one One Father. After my prayers, my notches were supposed to be wiped clean. But, even in my young age, I had a feeling there was more to life than this.

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