Really, I've Been Learning How to Die

"The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding." - Psalm 111:10

At summer camp, God opened me up to this verse and I chewed on the thought for a good while. I'd become a little fixated with the idea of wisdom before camp. If only I were wise...
I thought of all the weight that could be lifted from my shoulders, all the peace I could be given from simply being wise.

So where was I supposed to start?

Well, God just flat out said to me on a chalky cliff above the creek as I baked under that Colorado sun that I had to fear Him first. To begin with, I thought, "Oh, sweet. Thanks, God." However, on my walk back to camp, I started to really think about it. What in the world did fearing Him even look like anyway? I spent the rest of the day bouncing ideas around in what suddenly felt like an empty space in my head.

It wasn't until I came home that I started to obtain some sort of grasp on what God was trying to tell me. First of all, fearing God has nothing to do with "what [is] in the world"-- the very opposite, in fact. Fearing God, as He is showing me, has everything to do with reminding myself every day, every hour, every second that my soul - my very spirit - is not at all a part of this world. It's part of "something bigger," which sounds so cliche, but really... it is. Sometimes I think about what it must feel like to go day to day and believe so concretely that this is it. This world and all its disappointment is all there is. Well anyway, I've been wrestling with that lately. I've had a difficult time grasping the fact that fearing God is standing in reverence of God, loving God as my Father, and loving God is... well, hard. Because loving God is denying myself, denying everything my body tells me I want to be. And that's hard.

Since I got back from camp, I've been so much more aware of the way I waste away on a daily basis. I've been counting every opportunity to grow that I pass up, paying close attention to the useless things that I pour myself into, and all the ways that I see how I can bless my Father go to waste. And, THAT IS WHAT I'M HERE FOR. In this awareness, I see every moment that I live for myself more clearly. I hate it. The same verse just plays on an on-going reel in my head: "For to me, to live is Christ and to die is gain." I spend a lot of time thinking about how to die so He can live more in me.

If fearing God is standing in true awe before Him, I have to learn how to stop finding ways to glorify myself. And to quit glorifying myself, I have to learn how to die to myself. Thank you, Jon Foreman.

We'll See Where It Takes Us

"Writing has always been like second nature to me. I've heard that during a tornado, a door frame is a practical safe-zone. If the building has a strong foundation, the frame of the door will support the surrounding areas. Writing is my door frame, a chosen place of refuge in chaos. I don't show my writing to anyone. It's personal; it's me. I like having that "safe-zone" where it's alright to show everything, even my imperfections. Well, especially my imperfections. In my family, if I wasn't my sister (the strength), or my brother (the absent), I was at least dependable; responsible; perfect. I've always felt somewhere caught in the middle. I've never known it all, but I've known enough. And everything I know, I write."

I was admitted to Carthage with that essay.

The idea of a blog freaks me out a little bit. 1)Because I am so busy these days, I hate to make a commitment I might not be able to keep. And 2) because, like I said, I don't show my writing to anyone. Sometimes, when I write, I let it come as fast as my fingers can punch it out on my beat-up little laptop, then shut the thing even faster than I wrote it because I'm scared of what comes out of my head. Sometimes I never read an entry in my laptop journal twice because I don't even want to admit it came from this brain.

But then I thought about the fall, about college, and everything BIG that is changing in my life, and I wanted my sister to be a part of it-- if only, because she's a part of me.

So here it is: our baby being born, Big Sister. This one's for you. We'll see where it takes us.