I will not give in to the lies of the Enemy.
I will embrace and recognize my Worth.
I will find solace in my Lover.
I will not be brought down by this.
I will be patient, joyful, inviting, tender and alive.
I will not let this defeat me.
Am I just simply undesirable? Is there something so fundamentally wrong about me that turns people away?
That’s a horribly dramatic way to begin things today, but it’s impossible not to feel like the whole of the world has forgotten about me. Or worse, they never even knew I was here to begin with.
I don’t know what my problem is. But something inside of me lately has been crying in a horribly draining way. I feel… unseen. I hate to rehash what has already been said before, about never having had anyone be interested in me in any sort of serious, or even not so serious manner. But could things be made any more plain to me lately?
I had been sitting in Starbucks with the Rev, and then she went to play soccer with Longshanks (I’m trying out a new name for the Model, since she didn’t like her last one). We had been discussing Psalm 119, and so my Bible was out. This guy next to me started talking about my Bible, and we got to talking to Navs and all, and he asked if there was any way that he could get a number from me or anything to get more information on it and all. Now, granted, he had to be in his late 20’s, or very early 30’s, and he wasn’t even all that cute. But there is something special in being noticed. Anyway, I told him if he gave me his email address, then I could give it to our Listserve guy and he would get all the dates and times for Navs events. And then he asked me if the Rev was involved and he said, “Now, not that she would be any motivation for going or anything, but she looks like a special girl. Is she seeing anyone?” And then he asked me if I would “put in a good word for him” and maybe give her his number.
Not that this is the Rev’s way of making me feel 2 inches tall. It’s not her fault, and I’m not blaming her, I’m as far from that as could be imagined. But don’t you understand? Can you see or feel what it is liked to be seen as not the girl at the end, but the girl to go through to get to the one worth having. Is there something wrong with me? I hate to ask it, I hate to sound so adolescent and whiny, but honestly. Be honest with me, someone. Am I too quiet? Too know-it-all-ish? Too fat? Too dramatic? What what what is wrong with me?
And it’s not even just with the opposite sex. At New Leader Training this past Sunday, we were talking about mentors. And it occurred to me that a mentor is someone committed to you for the long run, they want to see progress in your walk, they want to watch you become something because they see potential in you. And I can’t help but feel that I’m just not worth someone’s time and effort like that; I can’t help but feel ignorable.
And then I start doubting and hating my little faith, because if I had any at all to start with, then I would know that in the eyes of Christ, I am the Beloved, I am the One Worth Death, I am the One to Rescue. But it doesn’t satisfy me, so I must not have the sort of faith I should, I don’t have the sort of required confidence in myself in God.
It’s like a downward spiral. Life is a mud puddle and I’m drowning in it.
Night fell,
Though I don’t remember,
And somewhere
There are stars,
But I
Have left the World,
And gone
to one almost like it.
I cannot
remember my life
Because
the dream seems so real.
But morning
Brings Home
Again.
“His anger lasts for a moment, but his favor lasts a lifetime! Weeping may go on all night, but joy comes with the morning.” -Psalm 30:5
Oh, what a glorious day!!
God is so good to me. Whenever I’m afraid, or whenever I’m doubtful, he boosts me back up again immediately!
I can’t stop writing today. It’s not anything concrete, just ideas. But it’s like God is dictating to me and I’m just writing down what he tells me to and it all makes so much sense, character-wise, plot-wise, Scripture-wise. It’s amazing. Thank You so much!
AND, guess who I ran into? LOVER BOY! That’s right, ladies and gents, I was walking back from the computer lab on campus and I was almost home, and I passed him on the sidewalk. He smiled at me and recognized me, even though I’m wearing super big sunglasses and I wasn’t even paying attention. What a fabulous surprise. I think he might have broken up with his girlfriend, because he was sporting this horrid beard that no girl would allow any boy to grow. So hooray! He knows who I am and he recognized me and we’re in love.
Sort of.
Jesus, you’ve just made today great on so many levels! Thank you so so much.
Apparently, I’m a fornicator.
Today, there was an “evangelist” on campus. To all my friends who say that public schools are lacking in godliness, well, apparently, you’re wrong. Or, according to this man, dead on.
It was horrible. A man in a pale yellow button up shirt with brown pants (bad fashion is always a major indicator of a false prophet, or so I hear) was standing in the middle of the campus green, shouting at the homosexuals, the Greek kids, the Muslims, the women who were wearing skirts, condemning them all, telling them how much God and Jesus hate them for what they do. It was blatant condemnation. He said girls wearing short skirts are really saying, “Rape me! Rape me!”, and any boy with an earring (sorry TMD) is a sissy and effeminate.
I cried. In public, in the middle of campus. How? HOW could anyone stand up and say things like that, and then come back around and say they were only preaching to show the “Good” News of Christ. His message was not Good News. His message was not that of the Gospel. The Rev and I, and a small group of other Jesus-Lovers tried to talk to him, but he yelled at us. I just kept getting angrier and angrier. The Muslims on campus were having a small, quiet, peaceful tent thingy where you could get information on Islam. And so when he started denouncing them, they brought us cookies. THAT is what love is. Love is NOT condemnation, judgment. He said he has the right to judge because he’s not a homosexual or a fornicator… there is NOTHING Biblical about that!
I should stop writing. I’m just going to get upset again. I got mad. I pulled a John. Remember when John wanted to call down fire from heaven on a town that wouldn’t welcome Jesus? Yeah… I yelled scripture at him. Matthew 7:15, talking about false prophets and the like. Because he WAS. But I’m pretty sure God told me to, and there was no apprehension while saying it. But all the same, I should learn to control my passions and put them to better use.
Oh, whoever reads this, pray for Cincinnati. Luckily, almost everyone in the huge crowd around him was yelling things like “You’re lying!” and “Jesus never said that,” so at least they know that it’s NOT truth what he was saying. All the same, though. My spirit hurts. My heart is aching, and I feel so… pained. Wounded. And almost useless. Lord, I wish my faith were stronger.
I got a call tonight. A friend asked me to speak, just for a few minutes, at our next large-group-worship party on Friday. The question was something along the lines of: “How is your relationship with God growing?”
Ha. Good question, no? I was a bit puzzled for a moment, and I was drawing a complete blank. But, of course, that’s what roommates are for, and so here’s a bit of what I came up with:
What’s my Standard?
Over and over, what’s your standard, Stella? You want adventure and danger in My Name, but what are you doing to get that? What kind of heroine will you be?
My life is an example to many, because you have been my strength and protection. That is why I can never stop praising you; I declare your glory all day long. -Psalm 71:7-8
That is the standard.
This summer, as we all know, I’m going to be working at a camp, living with 12-year-old girls. It will test my character, my patience, my faith. But in it all, my Abba is raising my standard of love. I no longer want to love just the people I deem worthy of my love. God has told me to love girls that I haven’t met yet, girls who will probably (who will, let’s be honest) have bratty days, some of whom might not even like me that much. But I will love.
Because of this, my standard of prayer has been raised up a few notches. Weak, vague, timid prayer has no place with the life that God is calling me to. With bold prayer comes outlandish, childlike Faith, a gentle tongue, an active, passionate Spirit.
God says, “Take up your cross and your sword, Stella! Use it! Turn those fairy-tales into reality. Go out, take risks, slay dragons, speak words of power, work my miracles. Live the life you always knew you were meant for.”
I hope I’m up for it. Writing this here and speaking it in a few days makes it all so much more real. And that scares me because it means accountability; it means no more being lazy. And I like being lazy- it’s easy and I’m good at it. The risk to my own personal comfort terrifies me, but laziness doesn’t have any place on this level. Lazy is boring, and I am not satisfied with that.
God is calling me to a new standard, a life that is an example to many because of the joy and the love that God has given me. He is giving me the chance to live my dream, to take part in a Beautiful Love Story, to be his Princess and his Heroine. And oh, I want it. Oh, oh, my soul wants it.
I’m at home again. Tonight, I was with the Old Gang. And it was… oh, I don’t even know what it was.
It was weird. But it was nice. I got to talk and see and listen and observe. And I feel so strange right now. I want to go back. I want to spend hours talking and catching up and letting our lives pool out before us so we can look and see and learn about one another.
I wrote a poem tonight while I was there. It’s not quite finished yet, but I’ve never written a poem before, so I’m not really sure how to finish it. I’m very proud of my efforts though (not quite because it’s very good, but because it’s a poem and I never write those), and so once editing takes place, you can be sure you will read it here.
I’m sorry my thoughts aren’t more coherant. I don’t really understand them myself. It’s like I want to cling so badly to this life I have, and yet at the same time, I’m so desperate to run away from it. I don’t know what that means.
A new season, a new look. Like it? Let me know.
I have been so incredibly JOYFUL lately. I don’t know why. Not just happy, but joyful. Whenever I pray, I can’t help but have this huge, cheesing grin on my face. God excites me. I read through a lot of the Psalms since Spring Break and I am just amazed at the poetry, the beauty, everything.
My writing… well, that could use some work. But I’m not letting it get me down. I had a stretch of a few pages that I really like. And I figure that maybe this time around I’ll try sticking it out and just writing. Getting rid of all the stuff I don’t like is what editing is for, and no one ever finished anything by deleting the whole manuscript every six weeks.
Not much else to report on at this time. My room is clean. The sun is beautiful. Cincinnati was a balmy 84 today and I went to the park with the Beauty, Mr. Perfect and Snow White. It was fabulous, except for all the birds. I’m not a big fan of birds.
I get to go home for Easter, too. I plan on hanging out with my mom (which will most likely/hopefully consist of a bit of shopping), taking my brother to dinner and a movie, and then going to my Church at home for the first time in probably about 9 months. It’ll be a good time.
Today is a very windy day in Cincinnati. And probably not the best day to wear a wrap around skirt.
We’ll see how many lucky people get a flash of what Stella’s really hiding…
I feel like my heart is broken straight through the center, and there is a large crack where blood can’t help to pour from.
I just got off the phone with my Daddy, and he had news about my brother. He’s ineligible to play football next year, he lied to my dad to his face about his grades, and supposedly, he’s started smoking. And all I can do is sit here and cry from 250 miles away, heartbroken because my little brother, my baby brother is falling and falling into this dark, dark place.
And I feel like it’s my fault. If only, if only… A million if only’s are running through my head. If only I knew how to love him better, if only I could change the past, if only if only if only I could help. I don’t know what to do. He lies to everyone, it’s like he’s afraid of the truth. I don’t know what to do. I don’t know what to do.
I love him so much. I’m in tears, and I don’t know what to do. If only I were a better sister. If only I had shown him how much I loved him for all the years we did have together. If only I were a better sister, if only I were a better lover of his soul, if only I were a better Christian, if only I were a million things. Then maybe my daddy wouldn’t have cried today when my brother lied to him. Maybe my mother would be happy. Maybe my brother would know how much I love him, how much I love him.
I feel like a part of my heart just won’t stop bleeding. I don’t know what to do.
