"What," asked Mr. Croup, "do you want?"
"What," asked the marquis de Carabas, a little more rhetorically, "does anyone want?"
"Dead things," suggested Mr. Vandemar. "Extra teeth."
"Still," said Mr. Croup chirpily. "Can't make an omelette without killing a few people."
-Neverwhere by Neil Gaiman
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
Wednesday, January 16, 2008
Cactus or Kelp?
Sometimes I worry - all the time, I worry - that I'm too much.
It makes me sad how I always need more love. I never feel loved enough. And it's not that people don't love me. They do, and they tell me that all the time. It's just that it's never enough. I can't ever get enough of someone giving me attention, or making me feel special, or anything like that.
Sometimes I think I have enough, and then within the next minute, hour, or day, I'm hungering for attention again. You would think that I would be able to handle going without attention for at least a few days. It drives me crazy.
For example: I went out with a bunch of girls last night to a fantastic classical concert. We dressed up. We had milkshakes. We rode the Light Rail. It was so much fun. I spent at least 6 hours with a group of girls that all genuinely liked me. And yet today I find myself wishing there were someone else in my apartment beside me who would want to talk to me. Why can't my love/attention quota be filled longer?
You would think that I'd at least be able to make it one day without feeling down. I mean, my goodness. Am I that needy, that I can't go a whole day without wanting someone else around? Will I ever have enough love? I feel like a sponge, soaking it all up, but then something like evaporation occurs, and I need more. Like a plant taking in water. You can't ever finally have enough water. But goodness, shouldn't I be more like a cactus than kelp?
I remember the analogy that really grabbed me a few years ago - Carla described wounding words as things that stabbed someone, filling them with holes so that even when you poured love in, it spilled right out and they could never feel love. You had to fix the holes first. Well, I thought I fixed the holes! God fixed them. Are there more that I don't know about? Or is this just a God-made thing - are all people like this? Or is it just a Michaela thing? Am I designed this way - to be kelp, needing a love-surrounded environment to survive, while others can hoard up their love and survive like cacti in the desert? It's fine with me, if I'm meant to be like this. I'd just like to know if there's something I need to be trying to fix or not.
It makes me sad how I always need more love. I never feel loved enough. And it's not that people don't love me. They do, and they tell me that all the time. It's just that it's never enough. I can't ever get enough of someone giving me attention, or making me feel special, or anything like that.
Sometimes I think I have enough, and then within the next minute, hour, or day, I'm hungering for attention again. You would think that I would be able to handle going without attention for at least a few days. It drives me crazy.
For example: I went out with a bunch of girls last night to a fantastic classical concert. We dressed up. We had milkshakes. We rode the Light Rail. It was so much fun. I spent at least 6 hours with a group of girls that all genuinely liked me. And yet today I find myself wishing there were someone else in my apartment beside me who would want to talk to me. Why can't my love/attention quota be filled longer?
You would think that I'd at least be able to make it one day without feeling down. I mean, my goodness. Am I that needy, that I can't go a whole day without wanting someone else around? Will I ever have enough love? I feel like a sponge, soaking it all up, but then something like evaporation occurs, and I need more. Like a plant taking in water. You can't ever finally have enough water. But goodness, shouldn't I be more like a cactus than kelp?
I remember the analogy that really grabbed me a few years ago - Carla described wounding words as things that stabbed someone, filling them with holes so that even when you poured love in, it spilled right out and they could never feel love. You had to fix the holes first. Well, I thought I fixed the holes! God fixed them. Are there more that I don't know about? Or is this just a God-made thing - are all people like this? Or is it just a Michaela thing? Am I designed this way - to be kelp, needing a love-surrounded environment to survive, while others can hoard up their love and survive like cacti in the desert? It's fine with me, if I'm meant to be like this. I'd just like to know if there's something I need to be trying to fix or not.
Wednesday, January 9, 2008
Trusting God
Martin Luther once said that every Christian problem resolves itself into this simple question: "Can I or can I not trust God?"
I am not completely sure that this is true, but I've certainly found that it is the core question of my life as well as my walk with God.
At this exact moment, I'm also listening to my Theology 501 lecture and taking notes. My professor just said, "A man once told me, 'If you don't learn to trust God when you are young, you will never trust Him when you're older.' "
I'm struck by that statement. Is it true?
I don't want to find out.
So how are we supposed to learn to trust God?
I can tell you the patented Michaela Approach TM. I want Him to prove Himself faithful to me continually without me ever having to take a step outside my comfortable boundaries. Instead, like Beth Moore says in her Breaking Free study, trust in God is developed by first stepping out, throwing it all on the line, and seeing God come through in His power. We learn that He is trustworthy by letting go and taking ourselves to the limits of our weaknesses and then discovering that He has caught us.
Comfortable boundaries. People talk a lot about boundaries and comfort zones in church. Usually those words are followed along with "public testimony" and "mission trips" and "the bathroom was just a hole in the ground." Oh, for the life of a missionary. No, I know that the life of missionary would be extremely hard. I've gone on enough trips and lived that life enough times to know that it would stretch me in dimensions I didn't know existed. But I know I could do it. I can live with no hairbrush and no toilet paper. I can speak in front of 500 people who care or 10 people who don't. I don't specifically enjoy it, but I could do it.
No, stepping outside my comfort zones involves something entirely different for me at this point in my life. I shudder to think about it. For me, throwing myself off the cliffs (of Insanity!!) involves things like:
But now I think I'm learning to see that trusting God is not only an option, it is The Option.
I am not completely sure that this is true, but I've certainly found that it is the core question of my life as well as my walk with God.
At this exact moment, I'm also listening to my Theology 501 lecture and taking notes. My professor just said, "A man once told me, 'If you don't learn to trust God when you are young, you will never trust Him when you're older.' "
I'm struck by that statement. Is it true?
I don't want to find out.
So how are we supposed to learn to trust God?
I can tell you the patented Michaela Approach TM. I want Him to prove Himself faithful to me continually without me ever having to take a step outside my comfortable boundaries. Instead, like Beth Moore says in her Breaking Free study, trust in God is developed by first stepping out, throwing it all on the line, and seeing God come through in His power. We learn that He is trustworthy by letting go and taking ourselves to the limits of our weaknesses and then discovering that He has caught us.
Comfortable boundaries. People talk a lot about boundaries and comfort zones in church. Usually those words are followed along with "public testimony" and "mission trips" and "the bathroom was just a hole in the ground." Oh, for the life of a missionary. No, I know that the life of missionary would be extremely hard. I've gone on enough trips and lived that life enough times to know that it would stretch me in dimensions I didn't know existed. But I know I could do it. I can live with no hairbrush and no toilet paper. I can speak in front of 500 people who care or 10 people who don't. I don't specifically enjoy it, but I could do it.
No, stepping outside my comfort zones involves something entirely different for me at this point in my life. I shudder to think about it. For me, throwing myself off the cliffs (of Insanity!!) involves things like:
- paying bills
- paying a tithe
- calling people and asking if they'll do stuff with me in hopes they'll be my friends
- going to new churches and sitting alone during the service
- working
- sending my resume in to places where I don't know what they'll think
- scheduling interviews
- buying things I need
- living alone
But now I think I'm learning to see that trusting God is not only an option, it is The Option.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)