i have the most wonderful friends.
i am so lucky to have some of the best brothers and sisters.
i am not sure that all of them them realise how thankful i am that they exist.
i don't deserve them, like i don't deserve a lot of things.
but He is abounding in kindness.
why, yes, sometimes i am psychotic
trying to explain depth of feeling to someone is one of the hardest things to do. trying to explain breadth of feeling to someone who doesn't understand depth of feeling is also really difficult. the two go hand-in-hand so comfortably.
it's hard to explain to someone who doesn't, at first mention, understand the discipline that it takes to not allow an internal emotion to manifest itself in an unreasonable or unnecessary physical action just because it feels like the right thing. it's harder to explain to someone that mostly though it requires no discipline at all, because if every feeling i experienced in a single day manifested itself with particular mannerisms or ways of being, i would literally be eighteen different people in twenty-four hours. that's approximately one personality every forty minutes. that just gets tiring. mostly people laugh when i tell them that, but it's true.
there is a natural dischord between my internal emotive mechanisms and the things i say and do, not because i'm pretending to be someone i'm not, but because i'm working really hard, and trusting very much that it's possible, to be someone better than i already am.
i went through a stage of really disliking that i could feel things, mostly because a lot of what i feel doesn't necessarily match up with reality. it would frustrate me that my emotions weren't responses to actual people, places or things. it seemed nonsensical that a lot of the time my mood was being held captive, by, well, nothing at all really. or a hormonal cycle. which is dumb. because maybe they're an explanation for volatility but they are hardly an excuse for being crazy and doing crazy and saying crazy things.
so, at the beginning of this year i made it my priority to start turning my emotions into prayers.
it sounds dumb. i'll take it on the chin if you're smirking.
but it seemed right to turn my frustrations into prayers.
and so far God has been nothing but patient and kind in teaching me things.
when i read proverbs 4:23, it makes complete sense to me now that we'd be told to 'above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.' more than anything, look after that thing that 'beats in your chest' and makes you feel things, because it matters, it affects your whole life.
i've had this verse of scripture quoted to me when maneuvering situations with something-but-nothing boys, almost as a warning to be distrusting, to keep to myself, to not let go of anything or give any of me away. with a focus on the guarding. and that never sat quite right with me because it seemed to miss the point of chapter four and seeking wisdom and looking to someone else for counsel, someone who knows better, rather than closing yourself up and in and trying to do all the protecting on your own. with a focus on what flows from that; everything.
it's counter intuitive to open yourself up to another's words in order to be guarded.
but that's life with yahweh for you.
(one day i'll start expecting counter intuitive things to be the case. i should be better at it by now. the gospel is so full of them, in a wonderful way.)
and i'd rather have my heart in his hands than anyone else's. and i'd rather be shaped by his words more than my own sentiments.
in understanding that notion of guarding-by-giving-away better i've realised how kind it is that God has given us things both external and internal that are out of our hands and out of our control and out of our foolish, proud, weak dominion. things both without and within that we have to ask him about, plead with him about, know that he is in control about. he doesn't just beset the land we live on with fires and floods but rains and fuels flames at the very core of who we are. whether we are set alight with anguish or drenched through with melancholy, our hearts are often fickle and fleeting in their affections and affectations at any level. we are forced to trust him with all that is intrinsic and seems most naturally to be manufactured on our own. we are forced to give him even our inmost parts and i'm so thankful. everyday he's helping me feel things that make sense in light of forever.
so, i try less to make myself feel less.
and i rejoice when i feel things that i know are righteous things to feel.
tonight i learnt a lot of things about artifical reproductive technologies that i didn't know before. especially about how many tiny, little six cell babies die all the time because people don't realise and i was glad that i was so sad about it that i almost cried in front of seventy strangers in a lecture theatre.
and, for the first time in a long while, i didn't mind that some of the the seventy strangers probably would have had no idea why i felt like crying when i could have responded in any number of 'more productive' ways.
by God's unnecessary grace, i am, more and more, shamelessly sentient.
it's hard to explain to someone who doesn't, at first mention, understand the discipline that it takes to not allow an internal emotion to manifest itself in an unreasonable or unnecessary physical action just because it feels like the right thing. it's harder to explain to someone that mostly though it requires no discipline at all, because if every feeling i experienced in a single day manifested itself with particular mannerisms or ways of being, i would literally be eighteen different people in twenty-four hours. that's approximately one personality every forty minutes. that just gets tiring. mostly people laugh when i tell them that, but it's true.
there is a natural dischord between my internal emotive mechanisms and the things i say and do, not because i'm pretending to be someone i'm not, but because i'm working really hard, and trusting very much that it's possible, to be someone better than i already am.
i went through a stage of really disliking that i could feel things, mostly because a lot of what i feel doesn't necessarily match up with reality. it would frustrate me that my emotions weren't responses to actual people, places or things. it seemed nonsensical that a lot of the time my mood was being held captive, by, well, nothing at all really. or a hormonal cycle. which is dumb. because maybe they're an explanation for volatility but they are hardly an excuse for being crazy and doing crazy and saying crazy things.
so, at the beginning of this year i made it my priority to start turning my emotions into prayers.
it sounds dumb. i'll take it on the chin if you're smirking.
but it seemed right to turn my frustrations into prayers.
and so far God has been nothing but patient and kind in teaching me things.
when i read proverbs 4:23, it makes complete sense to me now that we'd be told to 'above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.' more than anything, look after that thing that 'beats in your chest' and makes you feel things, because it matters, it affects your whole life.
i've had this verse of scripture quoted to me when maneuvering situations with something-but-nothing boys, almost as a warning to be distrusting, to keep to myself, to not let go of anything or give any of me away. with a focus on the guarding. and that never sat quite right with me because it seemed to miss the point of chapter four and seeking wisdom and looking to someone else for counsel, someone who knows better, rather than closing yourself up and in and trying to do all the protecting on your own. with a focus on what flows from that; everything.
it's counter intuitive to open yourself up to another's words in order to be guarded.
but that's life with yahweh for you.
(one day i'll start expecting counter intuitive things to be the case. i should be better at it by now. the gospel is so full of them, in a wonderful way.)
and i'd rather have my heart in his hands than anyone else's. and i'd rather be shaped by his words more than my own sentiments.
in understanding that notion of guarding-by-giving-away better i've realised how kind it is that God has given us things both external and internal that are out of our hands and out of our control and out of our foolish, proud, weak dominion. things both without and within that we have to ask him about, plead with him about, know that he is in control about. he doesn't just beset the land we live on with fires and floods but rains and fuels flames at the very core of who we are. whether we are set alight with anguish or drenched through with melancholy, our hearts are often fickle and fleeting in their affections and affectations at any level. we are forced to trust him with all that is intrinsic and seems most naturally to be manufactured on our own. we are forced to give him even our inmost parts and i'm so thankful. everyday he's helping me feel things that make sense in light of forever.
so, i try less to make myself feel less.
and i rejoice when i feel things that i know are righteous things to feel.
tonight i learnt a lot of things about artifical reproductive technologies that i didn't know before. especially about how many tiny, little six cell babies die all the time because people don't realise and i was glad that i was so sad about it that i almost cried in front of seventy strangers in a lecture theatre.
and, for the first time in a long while, i didn't mind that some of the the seventy strangers probably would have had no idea why i felt like crying when i could have responded in any number of 'more productive' ways.
by God's unnecessary grace, i am, more and more, shamelessly sentient.
an exercise in egotism
'future you will thank you,' is what my friend, michelle, would say to me in that rare situation where i say no to eating yet another chocolate digestive or finishing off the remaining three quarters of a wheel of cheese. tonight though, this future-self-thanking-my-past-self is actually happening fo realz.
sitting in the comfort of the present, on my très en vogue aubergine lounge, i am sending a big 'thank you', in capital letters, to eighteen-months-ago-me for writing something that is a reminder tonight of lots of things i stopped articulating for a number of reasons. growing up and being busy and being afraid are probably the main culprits.
i found this clearing out my hard drive. i wrote it for a boy (something new and different!) to try and explain my head to him (something new and different!).
yes and no are black and white concepts. you can’t have a half yes or a half no; they’re just maybes.
and 'yes, but wait' and 'no, but wait' are also maybes.
and maybes are unclear and don’t make sense and just create dangerous situations. there are no rules and guidelines for maybe. you’re just in limbo and it’s impossible to navigate.
the logical extension of no for now then, has to be no for always.
you can’t have tentative no.
you can have yes now, and it’s on.
but because it’s not yes now, it has to be no now, and therefore no always.
otherwise it’s messy.
and expectations are made and broken all over the place.
it’s all about timing.
which can suck sometimes.
but God has plans and His timing. so, i’m ok to trust that.
in terms of why it’s no now; my head is in a mess.
there are a lot of things at play.
i haven’t thought practically about the purpose of relationships and practically what they look like.
i know a lot about what they shouldn’t be like.
but that’s super reactive. and not at all constructive.
the one thing in my head that is clear is the need for transparency.
so that’s something practical, but it’s not enough. and i figure at some point i’ll think about it more or someone will make me think about it more; but that point is not right now and that person is not you.
but that’s super reactive. and not at all constructive.
the one thing in my head that is clear is the need for transparency.
so that’s something practical, but it’s not enough. and i figure at some point i’ll think about it more or someone will make me think about it more; but that point is not right now and that person is not you.
and i just don’t want to settle.
i want someone who’s going to fight for me, but i want to want them to fight for me.
i don’t know why someone being an objectively great person with a character and qualities and personality traits that i can objectively observe as godly and growing and generally lovely and fun isn’t enough.
but it’s not. it seems like settling.
i just feel like it should be cataclysmic and unstoppable, like you’ll just know. and maybe that’s just my naïveté and idealism charging ahead. but I guess, while I’m young, i’m ok for that to be the case.
and if that’s immature of me, i’m praying that God will grow my understanding. maybe someone objectively being great is enough, and i just need time to realise.
but i’m not quite convinced yet and it just feels deceitful and like lying to someone to say ‘i recognise you as objectively good and so i will give this a go’. and no one wants that to be said to them. everyone wants someone who wants to give them more than just a go.
i want to give someone more than rational consideration.
i want to want to give them everything and have to stop myself and live in that tension, and in all of that miraculously point them to Jesus.
gosh darn, i could treat this like an english text and analyse it for hours.
i want someone who’s going to fight for me, but i want to want them to fight for me.
i don’t know why someone being an objectively great person with a character and qualities and personality traits that i can objectively observe as godly and growing and generally lovely and fun isn’t enough.
but it’s not. it seems like settling.
i just feel like it should be cataclysmic and unstoppable, like you’ll just know. and maybe that’s just my naïveté and idealism charging ahead. but I guess, while I’m young, i’m ok for that to be the case.
and if that’s immature of me, i’m praying that God will grow my understanding. maybe someone objectively being great is enough, and i just need time to realise.
but i’m not quite convinced yet and it just feels deceitful and like lying to someone to say ‘i recognise you as objectively good and so i will give this a go’. and no one wants that to be said to them. everyone wants someone who wants to give them more than just a go.
i want to give someone more than rational consideration.
i want to want to give them everything and have to stop myself and live in that tension, and in all of that miraculously point them to Jesus.
gosh darn, i could treat this like an english text and analyse it for hours.
ascension to egotism complete: tick.
it's less a note for one particular boy than it is a reflection to anyone of particular attitudes and thoughts. there are lots of things i wrote that i disagree with now. but lots of helpful things i'd forgotten that i'd already worked out.
and truly, in practice, i should probably take heed of a lot more of my own logic.
it's less a note for one particular boy than it is a reflection to anyone of particular attitudes and thoughts. there are lots of things i wrote that i disagree with now. but lots of helpful things i'd forgotten that i'd already worked out.
and truly, in practice, i should probably take heed of a lot more of my own logic.
it's funny to see how much more jaded and less wistful i've become in just a short year and a half.
i am a whole lot more fearless now though.
you win some, you lose some.
tulip/paris, 1950, robert frank
 | ||
all that we know and see and touch, all that is tangible,
it's all in a constant state of disrepair.
but there are moments in time that sometimes get captured that seem to articulate just the opposite and seem to hint at the fact that that's not necessarily the case and that maybe things can tend toward the idyllic.
i was in new york almost two years ago and i saw robert frank's photographs for the first time at an exhibit at the met.
it feels as though most of his photographs capture those sorts of moments.
and this is my favourite one.
i like it because paris in winter is grey.
but this man has, hidden in his hand, a fresh flower.
and i don't think it's for no one.
wait until you can't not
i wish i could write lyrics the way that some people do.
i wish i had the ability to filter the significance of a single moment in time into one line.
maybe i'm uplifting lyricists to a pedestal that is not theirs because i attach emotional significance to words without thought and manufacturing sentiment is part of my daily routine.
but there is something about words and music that gets under your skin, that moves you or make you want to move. the other day i found out that my friend who doesn't like dancing doesn't like dancing because he feels no inclination to move to music; an entirely foreign concept. i am by no means in coordinated command of any of my limbs, but i don't know how your natural inclination isn't just to move at least a little bit to the sound of a beat.
yesterday was wednesday. i started a new job. i went to an evening class. i was out of my house for eleven hours and after being out for eleven hours i came home and cooked dinner and went for a walk. and then i sat on the couch with my housemate and she fed me oreos because that's her way of saying 'i'm here to look after you'. and then i went to sleep.
and every portion of my day had a distinct taste to it. i listened to music most of the time that i was alone. and even when i was around people i had lyrics sitting in my head.
on the way to work, josh pyke's 'forever song' started to play as i walked out of town hall station and down park street. four years ago that was the song that was playing when i logged onto the uac website to check my uai, to see what number would come to represent the year that was my hsc. it was sweet that it played yesterday, kind of God to remind me how far he's brought me. if you had asked me four years ago where i thought i'd be now i probably wouldn't have got any of the details of my current life right. i'm not sure where i thought i would have been, but it certainly wouldn't have been here. i know i've been incredibly blessed though, my life is great. and not in a a stiff upper lip way. genuinely so, where i know i've had bestowed on me all sorts of unnecessarily lovely and easy and fun and sweet things that make life good in a way that is more than objective.
in light of a half day of change and learning new words and acronyms and all sorts of things, i was walking across a footbridge to my evening class and track sixteen started to play from an old mix cd. in a day where a lot had shifted already, it was nice to listen to an old easy sad song about unchanging sentiment.
there's only four seasons, but these feelings are always here.
and then i had class, and it was how class always is. people who are far more enthusiastic about publishing than me talking about publishing. don't get me wrong, i love my degree. i care about what i learn. but the fire in my belly just isn't for class. and i think i spent most of the day yesterday waiting for particular words and trying to be patient for them. and on the way to the train home i got fyfe dangerfield in my ear.
these things are fathomlessly out of our hands.
chopping sweet potato into small enough pieces to cook quickly in a frying pan was then more time consuming than anticipated, but i cooked with lots of butter and that always makes me happy because it makes things taste so good. we had no carbs with dinner and i think that was helpful before going on a walk. there were lots of words then and they played like the lyrics of lots of songs and i realised that it's hard to believe lyrics when you don't believe the tune that they're sung to. so, i sat on the sidewalk outside my building for a long while staring at clouds smeared across a half-mooned, starry sky until i remembered listening earlier in the day to the instrumental 'your hands are cold' because mine actually were. and i finally came inside, resolutely.
and i hold you close in the back of my mind.
my housemate, martha, and i are very different but both very stubborn. so when i sat down on the couch with my cup of tea and she looked at me expectantly for a recount of the day but didn't actually ask me anything, i said i wouldn't say anything unless she asked. and so we were just silent for a time being a a bit annoyed and a bit sad at our difference. eventually she went and got some oreos, the peacemakers, and i talked and she asked. i can't remember which happened first though; we are funny creatures. and i played her a weighty song named after pretty, little, white flowers, and i felt the weight of it. and despite it's weight, even today, i am glad that i am at a point in my life where i am not afraid to fight for the good in people. even if it's hard and costly and sometimes makes you cry.
and then i went to bed, and i prayed for some things and for some people and for the peace of Christ to rule my heart.
and as i prayed for sara, i realised that i really miss her on the other side of the world.
and i fell asleep wondering how she is doing in montenegro.
darling, darling, that dam's gonna give.
and in all the lyrics of a long day, the ones i loved the most were from the last chapter of one john; words from a song whose depth i don't yet know, whose weight i have not fully grasped, whose story is mine. the lyrical reality of scripture, the song that my very kind Lord sings by his word, always makes all the difference. and i read them in the morning and in the evening and on trains and on benches and by the light of my lounge room lamp throughout the day so that their sweetness made my whole day sweeter than it would have been without them.
for this is what love for God is: to keep His commands.
now His commands are not a burden,
because whatever has been born of God conquers the world.
this is the victory that has conquered the world:
our faith.
what a wonderful song.
i wish i had the ability to filter the significance of a single moment in time into one line.
maybe i'm uplifting lyricists to a pedestal that is not theirs because i attach emotional significance to words without thought and manufacturing sentiment is part of my daily routine.
but there is something about words and music that gets under your skin, that moves you or make you want to move. the other day i found out that my friend who doesn't like dancing doesn't like dancing because he feels no inclination to move to music; an entirely foreign concept. i am by no means in coordinated command of any of my limbs, but i don't know how your natural inclination isn't just to move at least a little bit to the sound of a beat.
yesterday was wednesday. i started a new job. i went to an evening class. i was out of my house for eleven hours and after being out for eleven hours i came home and cooked dinner and went for a walk. and then i sat on the couch with my housemate and she fed me oreos because that's her way of saying 'i'm here to look after you'. and then i went to sleep.
and every portion of my day had a distinct taste to it. i listened to music most of the time that i was alone. and even when i was around people i had lyrics sitting in my head.
on the way to work, josh pyke's 'forever song' started to play as i walked out of town hall station and down park street. four years ago that was the song that was playing when i logged onto the uac website to check my uai, to see what number would come to represent the year that was my hsc. it was sweet that it played yesterday, kind of God to remind me how far he's brought me. if you had asked me four years ago where i thought i'd be now i probably wouldn't have got any of the details of my current life right. i'm not sure where i thought i would have been, but it certainly wouldn't have been here. i know i've been incredibly blessed though, my life is great. and not in a a stiff upper lip way. genuinely so, where i know i've had bestowed on me all sorts of unnecessarily lovely and easy and fun and sweet things that make life good in a way that is more than objective.
in light of a half day of change and learning new words and acronyms and all sorts of things, i was walking across a footbridge to my evening class and track sixteen started to play from an old mix cd. in a day where a lot had shifted already, it was nice to listen to an old easy sad song about unchanging sentiment.
there's only four seasons, but these feelings are always here.
and then i had class, and it was how class always is. people who are far more enthusiastic about publishing than me talking about publishing. don't get me wrong, i love my degree. i care about what i learn. but the fire in my belly just isn't for class. and i think i spent most of the day yesterday waiting for particular words and trying to be patient for them. and on the way to the train home i got fyfe dangerfield in my ear.
these things are fathomlessly out of our hands.
chopping sweet potato into small enough pieces to cook quickly in a frying pan was then more time consuming than anticipated, but i cooked with lots of butter and that always makes me happy because it makes things taste so good. we had no carbs with dinner and i think that was helpful before going on a walk. there were lots of words then and they played like the lyrics of lots of songs and i realised that it's hard to believe lyrics when you don't believe the tune that they're sung to. so, i sat on the sidewalk outside my building for a long while staring at clouds smeared across a half-mooned, starry sky until i remembered listening earlier in the day to the instrumental 'your hands are cold' because mine actually were. and i finally came inside, resolutely.
and i hold you close in the back of my mind.
my housemate, martha, and i are very different but both very stubborn. so when i sat down on the couch with my cup of tea and she looked at me expectantly for a recount of the day but didn't actually ask me anything, i said i wouldn't say anything unless she asked. and so we were just silent for a time being a a bit annoyed and a bit sad at our difference. eventually she went and got some oreos, the peacemakers, and i talked and she asked. i can't remember which happened first though; we are funny creatures. and i played her a weighty song named after pretty, little, white flowers, and i felt the weight of it. and despite it's weight, even today, i am glad that i am at a point in my life where i am not afraid to fight for the good in people. even if it's hard and costly and sometimes makes you cry.
and then i went to bed, and i prayed for some things and for some people and for the peace of Christ to rule my heart.
and as i prayed for sara, i realised that i really miss her on the other side of the world.
and i fell asleep wondering how she is doing in montenegro.
darling, darling, that dam's gonna give.
and in all the lyrics of a long day, the ones i loved the most were from the last chapter of one john; words from a song whose depth i don't yet know, whose weight i have not fully grasped, whose story is mine. the lyrical reality of scripture, the song that my very kind Lord sings by his word, always makes all the difference. and i read them in the morning and in the evening and on trains and on benches and by the light of my lounge room lamp throughout the day so that their sweetness made my whole day sweeter than it would have been without them.
for this is what love for God is: to keep His commands.
now His commands are not a burden,
because whatever has been born of God conquers the world.
this is the victory that has conquered the world:
our faith.
what a wonderful song.
good news is the best news
my treasure is with jesus.
and there was nothing more exciting this week than giving two bibles to two girls who want to know jesus better. it was just the best thing handing over God's word to them knowing that he is going to help them love him better and serve him better and give everything to him better and live for him alone, in him alone, better.
and when i see him draw little lambs close to him, i am sweetly reminded that he is just the kindest God.
and i just got to talk to one of the beautiful girls i lead in youth group who is in canada on exchange. and she got so excited about telling me about telling her host sister about jesus.
and that just made me want to cry, joyfully.
and she got even more excited telling me that her host sister is excited about coming to church.
and that she wants to know more about giving her life to jesus.
and then i did cry, joyfully.
i can't imagine what i did before knowing Your goodness.
i could sing Your praises forever.
and one day, i will.
uninterrupted.
please, hurry the day.
and thank you for mercy.
and there was nothing more exciting this week than giving two bibles to two girls who want to know jesus better. it was just the best thing handing over God's word to them knowing that he is going to help them love him better and serve him better and give everything to him better and live for him alone, in him alone, better.
and when i see him draw little lambs close to him, i am sweetly reminded that he is just the kindest God.
and i just got to talk to one of the beautiful girls i lead in youth group who is in canada on exchange. and she got so excited about telling me about telling her host sister about jesus.
and that just made me want to cry, joyfully.
and she got even more excited telling me that her host sister is excited about coming to church.
and that she wants to know more about giving her life to jesus.
and then i did cry, joyfully.
i can't imagine what i did before knowing Your goodness.
i could sing Your praises forever.
and one day, i will.
uninterrupted.
please, hurry the day.
and thank you for mercy.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)