fact over feeling

Yesterday I was thinking about how a year and a half ago I started to investigate certain doctrinal issues more closely, namely election. As I've investigated more and more I've come to accept and appreciate it. In fact, in the last several months I've really come to find comfort in this theology that keeps God's Sovereignty at the heart of it. In difficult times, I can rest assured that God is sovereign.

Today was another crappy day. Last week was great, this week not so much. At what was probably my worst moments of the day I found these words that Job said:

He has walled up my way, so that I cannot pass,
and he has set darkness upon my paths. (Job 19:8 ESV)

The ESV Study Bible note on this verse says:

God's fence had at first kept trouble away from Job (1:10), but now it was a wall that gave Job no way of escape (cf. 3:23). The very scale of his suffering is, for Job, a sign of its divine origin.

God's Sovereignty can feel so wonderful at times and in moments of despair it can feel like a crime against me. Knowing that God allowed me to feel this, allowed me to feel disappointment after disappointment after disappointment. But I know that's the depression talking.

I guess this is just another opportunity for me to learn to love and praise him for what I intellectually know is a very very good thing but right now on this bad day doesn't feel so nice.

Beni soit le nom de Seigneur.

i wont quit, but the tiredness in me wants to

Some of you know that last week I met with a counselor to discuss her opinion on whether I was actually depressed or not. Through a tearful one hour meeting she confirmed my suspicions and uprooted some more lies I had been believing. It was a relief to have my experience labeled as something people more or less understood and are aware of the need to get better.

On bad days I don’t have any desire or care to do anything. Sometimes I don’t even want to watch TV or see no need to be online save to check my email. I don’t feel like reading or anything else. On those days, since my conversation with the counselor, I convince myself to do the things I know will contribute to my future health: have a quiet time, sleep when I’m tired, relax, exercise, talk to friends, do things I enjoy. Other days, I have no problem doing any of these things, the question is which one first.

Since Monday I’ve been pretty decent – like I was before the training days -- but after the bath I had just now I started thinking about how different I’ve been feeling compared to other people.

In the ‘old days’ people used to work to live and just dealt with the long shifts. They would go to work day after day in order to put food on the table for their families. Now, we see jobs as something we should enjoy, something we should love and look forward to, not just a means to an end. Some people have the determination to get through the tough days because there are so many things they enjoy about their job. Right now, that’s not me. Right now, my thinking is pretty sad actually (at least I recognize it!). I know I love my job under normal circumstances, but MPD isn’t exactly what I signed up for.

The thought that I will have to continue to do MPD makes me want to crawl into a hole and never come out. It’s been a war of attrition and clearly I’m not winning. I know I will go back into it because I have to in order to get to the part of my job I love so much. But I’m just so tired. So very very tired in my soul.

pensées

I've been startled to realize that even here at staff training I'm not happy. I love being surrounded by some of my favourite people, so many wise, experienced Christians who I look up to so much. But I'm not happy.

When people ask me how I'm doing, I don't know how to answer. I don't have a reason to complain, either. MPD is what it is. My life is what it is, I've accepted that. But I'm not really doing well. I'm not really loving life, nor enjoying it. I guess I'm kind of numb and I don't know why.

I was really expecting to come to this training and be really encouraged by nature of being around so many people with a shared passion for the Lord and vision for the nations, but in all honesty.... it's not really all that special.

I think I've been looking to other things to make me happy.... coming to this training, being at Winter Conference, going to Montreal. I've struggled to enjoy God. I've struggled to do anything, really.

The most concerning thing, though, is not that I'm unhappy and not that this training week isn't all that I had anticipated (yet), but my interaction with people. When they ask how I'm doing, or whenever I get into a conversation about my life as it is now - I'm constantly on the verge of tears. At home, it's easy not to think about the reality of my situation. It's just like Pascal says in his Pensées: we keep ourselves busy so that we don't have to address the issue of our deep loneliness or confusion about our place in the world. Take away the busyness and people realize their need for God. Similarly, I guess until this week I've been able to kind of distract myself from the fact that I'm not ok. I'm not feeling normal. I'm not the person I was even this spring, that I enjoyed being.

It's made me wonder... maybe I am a little tiny bit depressed.

I'm going to nap now before supper. I don't want my dinner conversation to make me cry

grampy

If a stranger walked into my granny & grampy's condo and looked at every painting, every wall-hanging, every book on each shelf and every photo in each frame, 4 things would be very clear about my grandfather:

He loved the ocean and he loved to be on boats in the ocean. Growing up on the west coast and in his late teens becoming a sailor, he has always had a passion for the sea. Even his testimony is related to sailing. During his younger years, after being raised in a religious home, he found himself loving the bottle far too much and searching for meaning in his life. His mother, noticing his sudden desire for something more, handed him a Bible and told him to read John. The rest is history. Grampy specifically liked tugboats, although his 20 pictures & paintings on the walls include more kinds of boats than simply tugboats. Tugboats/sailing for grampy is what pink is for me. His email address is related to boats, his password too! He has a subscription to Mariner magazine and spent many a year at sea in some way. I was telling granny that it's neat that Grampy was so passionate about something that it is so clearly connected to him -- anyone who knows him will be reminded of him whenever they see a tugboat or something.

The second thing they would notice is that he has lots of family/children/grandkids and he loved them all dearly. The only thing that outdoes the number of boat-related pictures is the number of grandchild-paraphanalia everywhere. There are pictures of us from babies to current photos, there are hockey pictures and football pictures, school pictures and grad photos. It was always very clear that Grampy loved us dearly, each and every one. I don't think anyone ever felt that he loved any one of us more or less, even though he's not my mom & aunt's biological father. Grampy loved much because he had been forgiven much.

The third thing people would be able to tell is that granny & him had a really full life together. They traveled all over the world from Hawaii to the Medeterrainian and Alaska - they've made many wonderful memories together. Sadly, they had to cancel a cruise when grampy got sick but they cannot say they didn't get to live life to the full before his sickness.

Last but not least in any way is the evidence of Grampy's deep relationship with God. Everywhere I turned (and I'm not exaggerating) is a Bible. There is a Bible in every room of this place, and in the guest room there are 10 bibles on the shelf. Not that spirituality is measured by how many Bibles one owns, but it was just such a testament to his life. At his memorial service 350 people attended and so many people shared stories of how Grampy was the reason they were a Christian. Granny said that she had no idea how many Bibles he had purchased over the years--at any spark of interest in the Lord grampy was in the store buying a Bible for them. Most people had no clue that he had affected so many people because he was such a quiet, private person. I'm looking forward to reading the tribute book my granny is putting together. She found that so many lives were changed by him that she wanted as many stories about him as possible so that everyone could read about it. I'm so thrilled that she wants me to take as many books off his bookshelf as I want. I've been through it and I've taken 20 so far. Jerry Bridges, John MacArthur, Watchman Nee & tons more.

Surrounded by these pictures of him with us grandkids is so like him. He was so lively, so animated. He was always joking around, pulling pranks on people. It's such a shock to think that he wont be walking back in that door with granny on the way back from the grocery store. It's easy to forget that he wont be telling me his latest joke. I really have no clue what heaven is like -- I know that there are no tears there. If we continue our personalities on with our spirit to heaven, then I'm sure grampy is cracking jokes with the saints.

till death do us part

Mourning is an interesting thing. It's difficult to know if you're doing it right because it's something so unique to everyone. This is a lesson my granny is learning. "What's the hardest part about grampy being gone?" I asked her. "Everything being so unexpected. I never know when a fit of tears will come; if I'll be in the grocery store or if I'll see his signature somewhere and the tears will come. I hate that."

That song-lyric turned cliché phrase is true, you don't know what you've got till it's gone. It's so easy to take for granted the little things. After having a companion for 36 years and then losing them even the little things in life are strange and absurd even. Granny and I were in the grocery store yesterday and she was getting some bacon for breakfast this morning. She stood there over the bacon and said, "Now I have to find bacon that's lean. That was always Bob's job."

How do you start living alone when you've leaned on someone for so long? when your hearts have been knitted together so tightly, when your thoughts and movements run parallel for what you thought would be for much longer. It's hard for her to see these old couples with their walkers taking evening strolls together, and now here she is a 74 year old widow.

James 1:26-27 carries new meaning for me now: Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.

"home"

Whenever I think of the concept of "home" I think of this quote from Garden State:

Largeman: You know that point in your life when you realize that the house that you grew up in isn't really your home anymore? All of the sudden even though you have some place where you can put your stuff that idea of home is gone.
Sam: I still feel at home in my house.
Largeman: You'll see when you move out it just sort of happens one day one day and it's just gone. And you can never get it back. It's like you get homesick for a place that doesn't exist. I mean it's like this rite of passage, you know. You won't have this feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, you know, for your kids, for the family you start, it's like a cycle or something. I miss the idea of it. Maybe that's all family really is. A group of people who miss the same imaginary place.

I used to really appreciate that, especially when I was super emo & brooding over my parents' separation. I guess I still agree with it in a lot of ways. Anyways, this post isn't about being emo!

I'm at my mom's place now. The move was decent - there was no fighting (at least between me & mom or me & kevin) and my stuff all fit in the trailer ok. Although it has been sitting in the trailer all day today in the rain. There was a tarp covering it -- I really hope that my stuff kept dry. The reason it stayed in the trailer was because my stuff is going to my dad's place and we couldn't drop it off yesterday or today.

So here I sit, in my mom's house - wearing the same clothes as yesterday because all my clothes are in the trailer, under the tarp. I guess this is a taste of having only the clothes on your back. And an iBook. and a cell phone. and an uncashed GST check. anyways... i'm blabbering.

I had a good few final days in Kingston. I will post more about that later. As it turns out, people in general all across the board appreciate 3 things about me. I will write about this later.

2007 in review

2007 was a really great year for me I really got to experience all areas of life this year. While I faced a lot of exciting things I never expected to this young, I also walked through experiences I never would have anticipated in my lifetime. I never thought I would actually have to endure my mother's wedding. Intellectually I knew it was coming, but I could barely even believe it even when I was bawling in the bathroom listening to Leslie distract me with stories of her cousin's sketchy Facebook photos (thanks les!). I also never ever thought I would have the discussions I had with a friend this past year; I never anticipated ever asking my friend if I could have the pills with which she had planned to kill herself. And if that wasn't crazy enough, Margaret's parents insist that I saved their daughter's life when I took her to the hospital.

After a painful wedding I had the opportunity to truly celebrate the joyful marriage of my very close friend Amanda and Jordan. This was a huge growing-up experience for me, being the Maid of Honour. You really realize you're no longer a child when your friends start committing their lives to each other for FOREVER. And after the seeming-near-death experience with my friend, Amanda and Jordan a few months after their wedding announced they were expecting!

There were a lot more less-intense firsts I had the privilege of experiencing this year: my first vermin infestation, and learning about life and God from a homeless man. I remember hanging out with Brittany in City Park every Sunday this summer and the crazy 7am Servant Team meetings. I remember Kathryn and Alison pulling too many all-nighters and losing their sanity regularly to our amusement. I remember the excitement I felt and happiness I had/have for Mel who got engaged this past fall! I remember my housemates moving out and the loneliness that followed, and watching Angela fundraise to go to North Africa while Lydia fundraised to go to Montreal and all the crazy cool stories of that process. I remember the hours of agonizing readings that I loathed so deeply this past semester and the physical pain of endurance that I felt at times. I remember feeling so surprised when my friend Alison was recounting her feelings in her parents separation, as if she was telling me my own story back to me. I remember spending hours thinking about what I would do after I graduate this spring, and changing my mind 8 different times until I settled on joining Staff with Campus for Christ. I remember my first Rockstar, the hours I spent in Mac-Corry Cafeteria, eating pizza every day. I remember how I let down a lot of people in being so self-absorbed. I remember how much Transformers the movie rocked my world.

And there's one last sentence that I really want to end with, but I can't because it will reveal how I'm still unable to control my heart. Bittersweet.

normaler

So, things are better. Not normal, but better than before. Tonight at the weekly C4C meeting I shared my testimony, in all its awkward-for-the-guys-ness. I was really challenged by God to be completely honest about everything that has happened in my life because he has healed me and changed me. This is how I started it off:

We’ve just heard some pretty amazing stories of how God has been working in these people’s lives. It’s something that I’ve been thinking about a lot recently, especially in the last few weeks. This semester has been so weird for me. Usually I love my program – I’m studying Global Development Studies – as depressing as the program is, I usually enjoy it. But I’ve been here struggling through the semester, hating my classes, wanting my degree to be over and done with, just trying to get through each day. God kept exhorting me to press on, to persevere, to be steadfast. But day after day as I had to force myself to do readings about things that seem like such a waste of my existence (remind me WHY we’re questioning if child prostitution is wrong?); day after day doing things I love like discipling my girls, leading my DG, going to Servant Team meetings, coming here and hanging out with you guys; day after day, wondering when I’d be able to relax, have real fun. In some ways I lived for those hours on Sunday afternoon when Brittany would be discipling me and when I would not have to be a leader, I wouldn’t have to represent C4C, when I could just be me, my totally obnoxious, weird, mom-joke-telling self.

In the last few weeks everything has come to halt and I’ve had to ask myself, why am I doing this again? Why am I going to all ends of my sanity to build into people, to share my life, to make hard decisions, to risk my friendships with people for the sake of the truth, and to see my marks seriously suffer. As I reflected on this I knew exactly why: because God has done a hugely amazing transformative mind-blowing, i-can’t-believe-its-not-butter work in my life.

It's true, though. God has changed me through and through. I was able to talk about sketchy things in my deep past as if it was someone else's story, because in a way it is no longer my story; the old has gone the new has come. This past week, in a way, has been good for me to reflect on how amazing God is, and how good he is to me, no matter what I go through.

this is part of my conclusion:

This is why I go out. This is why I spend my time doing what I do. Because God loves me and he went to extreme lengths to save me in my wretchedness. I go out and risk and sacrifice because I was one of those people, I still am one of those people who needs God so desperately. I go out because I love my God and he has been so good to me. I go out because people need to hear this beautiful news, this story of love, of compassion, of sacrifice, of freedom, of redemption, of mercy, of grace, of joy and life to its full.... I just can’t explain to you in words how good God has been to me and how much I love him. How much his word is so true and I see it working out in my life. It’s why my life verse is 1 Thessalonians 2:8: We loved you so much that we were delighted to share with you not only the gospel of God but our lives as well, because you had become so dear to us.

I have nothing to brag about, except for Christ’s work in me. So I go out knowing only this: that I was so dead in my sin, but now I’m so very alive in Christ.

Hmm, so yeah. God is good to me!

my pride is killing me

I realized this morning I have a lot of healing to do. The Lord gave me his Joy this weekend which covered over my hurt, but I knew that I still had things to process. Now that I've finished my last paper and have a few days mental break to process this stuff, the floodgates have opened.

I got call last night from Marilyn saying I've been accepted to staff. Before you congratulate me, I need to explain to you the reasons I've asked her to put my acceptance on hold. I was honest with her about my recent bout of cynicism, and she said Ginny had mentioned to her about some other issues I was working through earlier in the year. I ended up talking to Marilyn about a lot of the difficulties that we've been having at C4C this year and how I need to process them before I accept. Right now I'm not in the right place to make the decision. In fact, the last few weeks - before I was even in this cynical state - I felt like God was starting to change my direction a bit. I felt like he was showing me that I have more of a heart for francophonie than C4C. He's showing me that I may not know what else to do, but there's this whole other world out there and it will be such an adventure that He'll take me on no matter where I go. I just need to trust.

This morning, I've been thinking about this stuff. I've been crying essentially the whole morning thinking about the things I need to process and do. Praise the Lord for him putting people in my life who can relate, who have solid enough theology to be able to point to me and tell me I'm living a gospel that says Christ's work is insufficient. It IS sufficient. God loves us so much and we can never add to His love by the things we do.

So, in my thinking, crying, processing, I've realized that I do have so many wounds that I've been too proud to deal with. I have so many semesters of debatable self-violence in the name of ministry that I need to be done with. I need some serious gospel truth... it's the only thing that heals me. Praise God for taking care of me though. Without him I'd be surely dead. I know I sound really sketchy and depressed right now. I'm just in it right now (reference to Garden State, anyone?) The Lord is my shepherd and I am not in want. He has taken me to this place, time and time again, but I have been to proud to admit that I need help. I'm admitting that I need help. Marilyn tipped Ginny off to my need to talk, and so Ginny and I are going to have a phone date... probably a very tearful one at that.

So, please pray for me as I process this. I know its really vague, and for some of you I will elaborate if you would like, just email me (Ang & Lyd). This has a lot of implications on the decision I make about my future and so it's actually something I need to take seriously, even if people don't think its serious. As a new friend has told me over and over again this past week, I need to take care of myself.

fall & homecoming

Fall is here. I know not because the leaves are turning mesmerizing colours and crunching under my feet. I know not because it became crisp and cool all of a sudden; not because its midterm season or homecoming is here. I know because I can feel it in my spirit - it's hovering over kingston. It feels lonely and sick. I am happy; I love fall, but I always forget that it feels like this. I know I'm not crazy cause I mentioned this to my housemate today and she totally understood. I'm dealing ok with things now. I'm managing. Midterms are coming and will probably kick my ass, but I will pass and it will be ok.

It's homecoming weekend and the football game was a lot of fun as per usual. I went despite feelings of guilt, knowing I should be studying. But there's something about the half-time show, with graduates from '37 driving by in golf carts that really gets me! Tonight is the 'famous' Aberdeen street party and when I walked by it at 7:30 it was already covered in cops. It was ridiculous. I've never seen so many officers ever in my life. If I didn't know better, I would think we were being occupied by another country, or something reminiscent of FLQ-styles sketchiness. It's really sad how our student population treats the community and the police. They're trying to keep things safe and we call them pigs. People are stupid.

Happy fall! Don't get SAD.

just me and the mice

I'm a very strange person when I don't have enough sleep. I can't believe that some things from my past can still come back and haunt me (almost literally) when I've dealt with them. I thought I was so over that. Great is the power of darkness, but greater yet is the power of Christ in me.

and then I went to Shoppers Drugmart just so I could be around people.

can I just say that I saw enough rancid old freezer-burnt food and gross mouse poo today than I ever would like to see in my life. I can't believe the state the house is in right now. It's possible that it hasn't had a good cleaning since.... 2003? gross. totally gross

i don't know why you say goodbye, i say hello!

I just sent Angela off in a taxi with all her stuff. She shipped 700 lbs of stuff to Calgary yesterday and now she is officially moved out of Chateau William. I am now alone in my house. My whole house has moved on to bigger and better things, to a new stage of life: to Med school in australia, to marriage, to post-undergrad-to-be-determined-until-she-gets-accepted-into-med-school-next-year, and to a year of ministry in north africa. I remember in January being sad that I'd only have a few more months with these awesome women, but I didn't know then how close I would grow with them. How many inside jokes we would have, how we would pray together, minister together, minister to each other. How we would laugh so much, and fight so little by the grace God provided us. It's so amazing to see how these relationships have formed. This time last year I barely knew Angela and Rachel, even Tanya and Amanda I knew, but not nearly as well as I do now. This time last year I was still in Montreal working and processing project.

This year I've matured in so many ways. I've experienced things I hope no one ever has to experience, I've dealt with problems and seen friends deal with problems that are truly heartbreaking. I've become more considerate in the way I speak, although I still have to go a very long long way before I will no longer hurt people when I open my mouth.

God has opened a new door for me. Starting in two weeks my new housemates will move in. Four more wonderful women of God will begin to share their lives with me and I mine with them. I never thought I would be so nervous. I'm usually so 'whatever, get over it, it'll be just fine.' But I've seen how easily I hurt people, I've seen how much grace it requires to live with me, to be friends with me. I wonder if these women really know what they're getting themselves into. I wonder if they have the grace it will require. I wonder if I am prepared enough for the trials I will face this upcoming year.

I'm so unused to this territory; the ground I walk on is no less steady than any other time, but this time I have less faith and I don't know why. This time, because I have a heightened sense of my own wretchedness, rather than rejoicing in God's strength, sovereignty, and divine love and grace that has and will cover me, this time I have to admit.... eww thinking of what I was just going to write made me realize just how crazy I am. I was going to say 'i have to admit, I wonder if His love, grace, and strength are enough to cover over my mistakes.' Bad Jess! Really, really really bad jess! God's grace is sufficient for me. Always. I will trust that.

twenty is a scary place to be

Sometimes I’m so emo. I get all quiet and like to reflect a lot. I enjoy deep conversation, but the right people are rarely around to facilitate that. Instead I blog. Therefore, I apologize in advance for the train-wreck that will follow this sentence.

I feel like I’m growing up. I don’t really know how I feel about feeling that, though. I’m getting closer to graduating and that’s scary. It’s scary to think I have no plan for my life either. That I just sort of assume there will be a way to make money, to pay rent, to pay my OSAP loans back. I just have faith. Call me crazy, but thinking that far in advance is just not going to help me now.

The older I get, the more comfortable I become with where I am geographically. When we moved here I hated it. I had lived in Saskatoon for most of my life up until that point, so living in the country wasn’t so amazing. Sure, at first there were some fun things about it - like playing outside, building forts in the bush ‘next-door’, catching frogs. Then as I got older I started noticing things about the area that I hated. A lot of the locals were pretty pigheaded and ignorant about the world, and mostly racist. Not exactly my cup of tea. Neither was country music, or talking about cows. I thought I was a city-girl and to an extent I was.

But now I’m noticing more and more just how much I value growing up in the country and just how much its become a part of who I am. Being in Montreal all summer, I think I would have gone crazy if I didn’t have four weekends away from the city and back either here in the Ottawa Valley, or in the country surrounding Montreal. For so long I’ve been totally snobby about this place, but it’s starting to grow on me a bit. I’d never want to live here or raise a family here, but it’s not a bad place to bring your kids to visit Grandpa and Grandma.

And as much as I absolutely hate to admit it. I guess there is some sort of feeling of “home” here. After moving so much in my first few years of life, my roots have finally been established here. I’ll be happy to move away because the people in the area irritate me just that much, but I’m making progress little by little. I’m growing up.