Why Taylor Swift is My Girl

Say what you want, Taylor Swift is my girl.

As I entered in the scary world of high school, she made me feel like I wasn't the only one who obsessed over boys who would never like me back in Teardrops on my Guitar. 

Towards the end of high school, she inspired me to dance in the rain in my best dress, though I wasn't quite as Fearless as she proclaimed to be.

When I experienced the awkwardness of my first year of college, Tay was there, narrating my life through her album Speak Now. (I may or may not have bawled my eyes out to Dear John while at the same time mesmerized that Taylor somehow helped me deal with crap that I didn't want to deal with.)

And then, RED. My college roommate, Megan, and I skipped classes to go get it the morning it came out, and I listened to the CD all the way to King's Island with my now-husband the first time we ever hung out. She rocked my world with her pretty duets and her new beats and her deliberate lyrics. She also sang me happy birthday, which I wasn't mad about.

As if she wasn't real (and cool) enough, she then decided to make 1989, which is basically her diary of the "new style of music" that she had "woken up every day not wanting, but needing to write." She's changing and becoming the person she wants to be, and she's telling us all about it with sick (newer) beats and raw honesty in 1989. 

I'm not as weirdly obsessed with Taylor Swift as you may think based on this post. I just really like when people are honest - 

when they tell what they're doing 

and who they are 

and who they wanted to become but didn't 

and where they wanted to go and went

and of the love and joy that they desire and occasionally obtain

and of the hurt and sorrow that brings them down, reminding them of their humanness 

And she's not stopping anytime soon (or at least I hope so)

There is this one song - Out of the Woods. I didn't get it at first, but it really interested me. 

She sings: 

Are we out of the woods yet?

Are we out of the woods yet? 

Are we out of the woods yet? 

Are we out of the woods? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

Are we in the clear yet? 

In the clear yet? Good. 

I don't know Taylor, but I like to read the little note she writes on the inside of her album cover. Here is an excerpt: 

I wrote about looking back on a lost love and understanding that nothing good comes without loss and hardship and constant struggle. There is no "riding off into the sunset," like I used to imagine. We are never out of the woods, because we are always going to be fighting for something.

After about 30 listens and reading her note, I realized that she's talking about a relationship of extremes, of seasons - a relationship that goes from the exciting OH MY WORD I LOVE YOU, LET ME KISS YOUR FACE to the heartbreaking I'm leaving you because you weren't good enough to fight for. 

Even the fabulous Taylor Swift admits that we always think we have a chance at love, but we're really just "two paper airplanes flying." We think that we have the ability and potential to reach great heights, to fly in the clouds. But we're really just replicas - just paper-crafted creations. We really don't have the potential to reach anywhere but down; to fly anywhere but the carpeted floor two feet away from the take-off. We're never really out of the woods. 

Depressing. 

It is depressing. It's sad to think that our relationships, jobs, husbands, kids, dinners, cookies, brownies, bodies, grades will never measure up. They won't be what we conjured them up to be - heck, they won't even come close. We are mere replicas of what we were created to be. Taylor is yearning to be out of the woods, and so am I. So is creation. So is everybody. 

We all want to be in the clear. 

I don't know about you, but the longer I'm in these woods, the more I realize that I can't get out on my own. Even with my Katniss-like skillz, I would not be able to get out of 

We can't get out of the woods on our own. We can't make it to the clear. No matter how hard we try, we can't rid ourselves of the poverty, sex trafficking, unrealistic expectations, selfishness, gossip, complaining mouths, complaining hearts, suffering, confusion, doubt, death. 

We need a Rescuer. We need Someone willing to come in, wade through the brush,

My hope is in the fact that Jesus is going to redeem - that He will set the slaves free - that he will set the world right. He promises to, and I don't know how he's going to, and sometimes I don't trust that He will, and sometimes I just can't see how the suffering that I see and the suffering that is hidden from my eyes could be part of His plan. 

But I hope. 

Because He's been Faithful, and He'll continue to be Faithful. 

He will...lead us out of the woods (SORRY I HAD TO) 

And I want Taylor to know that. 

I want everyone to know that.

I want everyone to know Him.

Jesus.

For I consider that the sufferings of this present time are not worthy to be compared with the glory that is to be revealed to us. For the anxious longing of the creation waits eagerly for the revealing of the sons of God.  For the creation was subjected to futility, not willingly, but because of Him who subjected it, [i]in hope that the creation itself also will be set free from its slavery to corruption into the freedom of the glory of the children of God. 22 For we know that the whole creation groans and suffers the pains of childbirth together until now. And not only this, but also we ourselves, having the first fruits of the Spirit, even we ourselves groan within ourselves, waiting eagerly for our adoption as sons,the redemption of our body. 

For in hope we have been saved, but hope that is seen is not hope; for who hopes for what he already sees?  But if we hope for what we do not see, with perseverance we wait eagerly for it.

Romans 8:18-25

Post Cedarville

Freshman Year

A wide-eyed girl from Delaware shows up in middle-of-nowhere Ohio at a tiny Christian university for who knows why except that she loved Jesus and liked softball and kind of had a thing for a guy who lived in Ohio. The Fall Bible Conference tugged her heart. Inner-city ministry tugged her heart. A boy she knew wasn't good for her tugged her heart. Tugged it and tugged it until it broke.

Sophomore Year

The wide-eyed girl from Delaware is not so wide-eyed anymore. She comes back to her school, hoping against hope that it will save her from a summer where nothing seemed to go her way. She is an RA and is leading other girls and feels the depth and the unbelievable desperation of inadequacy in her life as a people-pleaser. 

And she comes to the conclusion that Jesus is the only One she needs to please anyway, and that somehow, some way, that is enough. She finally understands that a relationship and a boy and a marriage and a family and a thousand friends who love her and care about her and look up to her is not what satisfies--it is not the answer. But she's still trying to figure it out. 

Junior Year 

The wide-eyed girl comes back from a summer of change--too much change. Her eyes are a little less wide, a little more squinty, a little more cynical, a little less hopeful. Her family moves; they don't move to Maryland. They don't move to Missouri even. They move to Wyoming. And it's 26 hours away from her. And she acts like it's not a big deal, but it is. Deep down, she knows that it is. 

She meets a boy, but she is skeptical of him. They date. She goes to Valencia, Spain on a 4-month trip to try to learn a language and live with a Spanish family and explore a different part of the world. She does. But she also finds out things about herself that she never knew--things that she hates--and spends way too much time alone and and finds out that there is more to the world than the United States and there are people that matter and there are situations she didn't know were even occurring. She continues to date the boy. She is still skeptical of him, but she likes the way he's committed and she likes his brown eyes and how he talks to her about theology. She likes him. She doesn't like him. She almost breaks up with him. She decides to stick it out. 

Senior Year

The girl comes back to Cedarville with different eyes, no longer wide at all. She spends the summer with that same boy. She falls in love with him. And she didn't know what love would feel like, but she likes it. And then, all of a sudden, the beginning of school starts. And there's the Fall Bible Conference again, and the Worship Night, and there is a barbecue at her friends' house. But it's different now. She had always read about the room spinning when people get anxious, but she didn't know it could actually happen. For the first time ever, she felt awkward talking to people. She couldn't get the words out, and she felt alone in a room full of 20 people, people she called friends. Because in a room full of same, she felt so different.

So she left that barbecue. She just walked away. She couldn't do it. She just couldn't "do life" at Cedarville University for the next four months. After what she experienced and what she saw and the hopelessness and Jesuslessness she saw in Spain, she felt sick about her life at Cedarville. She didn't know how to live for Christ in a world that was so broken, but so covered up by Christian Hipsterdom and intentional coffee and Discipleship groups and even plain old ministry. 

And from there, it got worse. 

It started by hating unauthentic Christian words. 

She hears words like "community" and "covenant" and "The Lord" and "your walk" and "prayer journal" and "obey" and she starts to fidget, unable to control her own body. She wants to punch a wall clean through. She hears it and feels the pang in her heart, and she pushes it down, and thinks: Stop thinking so negatively about this, Karly. You are better than this. You are. 

But you know what? 

I wasn't better than that. I wasn't. 

You know who is? 

Jesus is better than that. Jesus is better than the words that I hate and the people I don't understand and the Christian classes and the feeling of loneliness in a college full of 3,000 people. 

Jesus is better than me. Did I have a right to feel that way? No. Should I have felt that way? No.  

Did Jesus cover that for me? Yes. Yes yes yes yes. He did. He does.  

Daycare Grace

After 2 months of no job, no routine, no income, and wayyyyyyyyy too much time for an extrovert to be alone in a house, I have a job! I am working at a daycare. Has it been what I expected it to be? Not in the slightest.

From the looks of this picture, daycare may seem to be a time where the children have the opportunity to play with puzzles, answer questions, play outside, read stories, and ultimately prepare for kindergarten. 

Nope.

Daycare is absolute chaos. Even in the midst of structure, there is chaos. I will be trying to read a story while one precious little girl kicks and screams, a charming chubby-cheeked boy climbs on the shelves, and a dirty Disney-princess-boot wearing little beauty is rummaging through the toys, pretending that they are fruits and vegetables and cookies and if you move them the world will most certainly end. Some of the problem is the lack of routine. Some of it is home lives and the lack of attention these kids get. And still some is just the fact that they are 3 years old. 

I had to stop and realize this week that my "schedule" and "plan" for getting the kids to listen cannot and will not work. I had to realize that it was not only silly of me, but also selfish of me, to expect that these children would be well-behaved and follow the rules and give me their undivided attention when I read them a story or do a silly dance for them. It's just that my brain always goes to "If this...then that." 

If I dance with them, they will get all their energy out and settle down. 

If I show them love for two minutes when they're being good, they'll be good for the rest of the day. 

If I introduce this new discipline tactic, they will behave. 

My Ifs and my Thens have not worked in the daycare world I live in 10-6 M-F. They have not worked and that kind of pisses me off. 

Because there are theories! I learned about these theories! They say that kids just need _______________ and that ______________________ is best for them.

After I got angry about the theories not working, I got mad at the kids' behavior. And then I became angry about their parents and their home lives and thought what the heck is going on at home? Why are they being taught that this is okay?

And then, something happened.

It was the busiest time of the day - the time when all of the kids first awake from their naps and they have that adorable "Where am I?" look on their faces. Some of them cry and some of them run around like crazy hooligans. We try to get them all to go to the bathroom and sit down for snack. It usually feels like trying to herd all of the animals that needed to board Noah's ark without God's help.

Autumn* - precious Autumn. She is a three-year-old foster care child and came to daycare wearing a diaper and I had to change it. She wanted another diaper; the only thing available was a pull-up. She screamed. She stomped. She tried to open the door and said, "I want everyone to see me." She laughed because she thought going against my directions was funny and entertaining. She wiggled. It wasn't that she didn't want to wear her pretty pink pants. It was that she wanted to defy me, to basically spit in my face and tell me that I am not worth listening to. Her three-year-old body was almost strong enough to escape my protecting arms, but not quite. I held onto her firmly.

As I was holding onto her, time seemed to slow down and I thought how this - this kicking and screaming and stomping and wiggling away and trying to get away at all costs - this is me. This is me defying God and spitting in His face. This is me seeing his hurt and pain on the cross and kicking Him anyway. This is me trying to open the door and shame myself by saying "LOOK AT ME" and getting mad and screaming at God when he doesn't let me go. Or blaming Him if he does.

I repeated to her over and over what she needed to be doing in a gentle tone and kindly asked her to stop and told her that she was beautiful. On the inside, I was raging anger, but somehow the grace of God burned up that anger and from the ashes flowed circumstance-defying love toward this defiant little one. 

And through this small, mundane, usual situation at the Daycare, I can see the good, good News - the Gospel - the Jesus Story - the Cross. And this only skims the top of His Love and only sheds light on a fraction of my rebellion. 

This love. This love is a love worth pursuing. This love is a love that changes, that transforms, that changes my sinful anger into God-given grace.

Paul explains in Romans 5 that the epitome of that love is seen at the Cross. I'll let him do the explaining: 

You see, at just the right time, when we were still powerless, Christ died for the ungodly. Very rarely will anyone die for a righteous person, though for a good person someone might possibly dare to die. But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: while we were still sinners Christ died for us. 

Now I know why my Ifs and Thens aren't working. I know because the answer needs to be Christ, and Christ alone. There really aren't any answers. These kids are sinful, their parents are sinful, and I'm sinful. 

And we all need Jesus.

For the first time, I am starting to understand what it truly means to be a Christian - to be a little Christ - to live out a Christian worldview. It's hard. It's hard, but it's worth it. It's hard, but it's beautiful. It's hard, but it's real. 

Baby Birds & Leviticus

“...God's grace and forgiveness, while free to the 

recipient, are always costly for the Giver.... From 

the earliest parts of the Bible, it was 

understood that God could not forgive 

without sacrifice." - Tim Keller 

About a week ago, we had a little incident at the grand Granny House. One of the many wonderful aspects of living in this house is that there are huge windows in the living room that allow us to view the beautiful, icy backyard from the warmness of our cozy living room. However lovely this may sound, there is one major downfall: little birdies don't know that it's a window. That's right, folks. A precious bird zoomed her poor little body right into our window; BANG. 

Of course, it being winter and we twenty-somethings being bored out of our minds, this seemed like a perfect opportunity for some kind of adventure to be had. So my brave friend and roommate, Carly, went out to check on the bird. She brought in the wretched thing, and we all cooed at it, wondering how in the world to save her from her obvious misery.  The rest of them quickly decided that killing it swiftly was the best option, while I sat there, saddened and panicked at the state of this poor creature. I proceeded to have a mental breakdown, feel sick to my stomach, and beg that they not talk of the bird anymore.

Side-note: This sometimes happens to me.  I'm not sure where it comes from. Maybe my attention-seeking childhood? Maybe fear? Both?

Whatever the reason, I'm dramatic and I know it. I usually exaggerate for the purpose of humor. But this time was different. I actually felt sick about the death of this bird and I couldn't figure out why. Carly says it was my tender heart for animals, which could, in part, be true, but I think it was more than that. I think it had something to do with the innocence of the bird - how she didn't deserve death and I, in some manner, participated in the end of her life.

I turned the pages of my Bible to the book of Leviticus this morning, following my daily check-off list to my "Read the Bible: One Year Plan."  This morning, I was designated the first 4 chapters.  I skimmed the headings of the chapters, which resulted in hesitation and a little bit of disappointment before I started reading.

"Ugh. Fellowship Offering, Sin Offering, Burnt Offering, Grain Offering; lamb, goats, no defect, no fat, only-this-kind-of-grain, 'when a leader sins,' 'when a member sins,' 'when a community sins,' ... when will I get to something that's at least in the 18th century...?" 

But then I read something that caused my stomach to churn every time an animal offering was to be made: "He is to lay his hand on the goat's head and slaughter it..."

The Bird. I thought of that precious bird. I imagined all of the sin I committed in the last week - the selfishness, the gossip, the unforgiving spirit, the put-downs I dished out. I pictured having to take the life of that innocent bird, the one who (at least in my eyes) had no defect for my sin. I cringed at the thought of bringing her to the altar, putting my rebellious, idol and self-worshiping hand on her shaky head and breathing beak, and slaughtering her - shortening her breath till it stopped, depriving her of life. My heart sank as I tried to think of ways that I wouldn't have to witness it - the unfairness of it all, but I couldn't. In order to effectively slaughter this bird as my sacrifice, I'd have to intentionally cut the veins that gave her life. I'd have to look at her and reject her life. And I wouldn't be able to stop crying; the tears would not cease to flow. They poured out of my eyes, knowing that it was my rebellion that caused this death and outpouring of blood for this little animal.

If I remembered that the death of this bird was the cost of my sin, would I think more the next time I was tempted? 

"In this way, the priest will make atonement for him for the sin he has committed, and he will be forgiven..." Leviticus 4:35b

And then, I remember Jesus.

I think of his perfection, his resistance to temptation, his selfless love, his outpouring of grace, his sleepless nights given to prayer, his dedication to his disciples, his innocence.

And how God intentionally sacrificed Him, cut the veins that gave Him life, and rejected Him for us.

Our grossness, our dirtiness, our shame, our blatant rebellion, our unintentional sin, our selfish motives.

Just because I don't have to lay down the life of a poor, precious animal anymore doesn't mean that my sin didn't cost something. 

It cost God his Son's life.

It cost Jesus His Father's love.

And it cost me nothing. 

If I remembered that the death of Jesus Christ was the cost of my sin, would I think more the next time I was tempted? 

When Doing Good Doesn't Feel Good

I don't know about you (no, I'm not going to quote Taylor Swift), but these awesome graphics with inspiring quotes from great people really motivate me.  I am not being sarcastic. I will scroll through Pinterest, see one of these quotes, and legitimately be inspired to "do something good today" or "be the change I want to see in the world" or "love like there's no tomorrow." Sometimes, that will be enough to encourage me to write encouraging notes or make more of an effort to call my Grandpa or give someone a gift. Sometimes, my "good deed" for the day is telling one of my friends how much they mean to me, and the way that I "love like there's no tomorrow" is by texting the girl who lives by herself and doesn't seem to have many friends to ask her to dinner. After I do these deeds, I feel that I have done my good deed, and I have loved, and I get this warm, fuzzy, fulfilled feeling that I did something today to show someone else Jesus. 

Sometimes, though, this warm, fuzzy, fulfilled feeling does not fulfill because those "nice" things are not the only thing that I am called to do. I am not in any way downplaying good deeds. They are needed.

But Jesus calls us to do some things that don't necessarily provide that warm, fuzzy, fulfilled feeling. 

He showed us how to be humble and selfless (Philippians 2). Those words sound so pretty until you're faced with a situation with your relentlessly argumentative brother or your nagging wife or your needy friend or your ungrateful daughter.  Being humble and selfless doesn't feel warm and fuzzy. It is draining and exhausting; it brings you to your knees and forces you to rely on your muscle-giving Savior for strength.

I know that, in my life, I will be "selfless" in ways that don't require too much of me. I will do "good" for other people when it's something that I enjoy, or when I know that I will receive a "thank you so much, you're so sweet!"  

But when it's hard, when I don't want to, when I'm not recognized, when I've just had a hard day, and just need to focus on myself....

....WHEN I HAVE THE PERFECT OPPORTUNITY TO SERVE SELFLESSLY...

...I don't. 

I think about MYself and MY problems and MY relationships, and I just don't have time for you if I'm not going to get something in return. 

WRONG.

That is when I can honor and glorify my God. When I've hit rock bottom, when I don't know where I'm going, when I see no way out, when I feel downright exhausted and run-down and hurt, and I do what I don't want to do for God's glory and someone else's benefit. 

When my "good deed" doesn't feel good at all, when I don't receive anything in return...

When I remember the cross and the agony and tears and rejection and hurt that Jesus experienced because of the love that He had for us...

When I remember that the pride, the gossip, the self-righteousness, the sin that began in my heart and trickled into my veins and controlled my every breath, every step, every word, is now being replaced by injected grace...

...it is then that I remember that the grace and love that Jesus gives isn't cheap, which means that the grace and love I give to others isn't cheap. It's hard, it can be monotonous, it can feel "bad." 

But it definitely brings joy.

And forces us to remember the price - the rejection of the Father and the pain of suffering an undeserved death - that Jesus paid for us.

This price was infinitely more than the choice to not respond in anger, or to stay up late doing the dishes that aren't yours when you have an 8 AM, or not buying 3 cups a coffee a month so that you can give that money to someone else, or even giving up our lives as missionaries, living simply, suffering persecution for our faith, admitting a wrong when the other person's wrong was bigger.

ISAIAH 53:2-10

He grew up before him like a tender shoot,
    and like a root out of dry ground.
He had no beauty or majesty to attract us to him,
    nothing in his appearance that we should desire him.

He was despised and rejected by mankind,    
a man of suffering, and familiar with pain.
Like one from whom people hide their faces
    he was despised, and we held him in low esteem.

Surely he took up our pain

  and bore our suffering,

yet we considered him punished by God,

 stricken by him, and afflicted.

But he was pierced for our transgressions,
    he was crushed for our iniquities;
the punishment that brought us peace was on him,
    and by his wounds we are healed.

We all, like sheep, have gone astray,
    each of us has turned to our own way;
and the Lord has laid on him
    the iniquity of us all.

He was oppressed and afflicted,
    yet he did not open his mouth;
he was led like a lamb to the slaughter,
    and as a sheep before its shearers is silent,
    so he did not open his mouth.

By oppression[a] and judgment he was taken away.
    Yet who of his generation protested?
For he was cut off from the land of the living;
    for the transgression of my people he was punished.[b]

He was assigned a grave with the wicked,
    and with the rich in his death,
though he had done no violence,
    nor was any deceit in his mouth.

Yet it was the Lord’s will to crush him and cause him to suffer

  and though the Lord makes[c] his life an offering for sin,

he will see his offspring and prolong his days,

  and the will of the Lord will prosper in his hand.

He paid the ultimate price.
The prices we pay to love and to serve and to do good are small.