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.

Dear Perfectionist:

You come in various forms. Let me spell it out for ya.

You could be the perfectionist who gives your very best to your schoolwork.  You will stay up until 4 AM if that's what it takes to get that totally-worth-it A, and you just can't - or won't - settle for a B.

B+? You've failed

You could be the one who labors tirelessly to make sure that the house is spotless - not even the most minuscule speck of dirt can be visible.

Otherwise, you've failed.  

You could be the one who endlessly compares yourself to every other human being, striving to achieve whatever it is they have. (e.g. "Their relationship just seems so perfect." "I wish my legs looked like hers." "He reads 4 chapters of the Bible a day!!")  Since you don't have it, you've got to work for it.  You wouldn't dare live your life knowing that the way someone else did something was the "righter" way to do it, and you missed out. So, you get whatever they've got.   

If you don't get it, you've failed. 

You could be the one who wakes up in the morning thinking about how you MUST love everyone, serve everyone, invest in everyone, never (or hardly ever, close enough) sin, never mistake, pray for 10 minutes (no more, no less), and read 3 chapters of your Bible and a devotional.

If you don't remember to do these things, you've failed. 

If you've ever said, "Dang. I just should have tried harder today. I sucked in so many ways." 

or, "I am seven days behind on my Bible reading plan. Looks like King Mess-Everything-Up is at it again."

or, "I FREAKING can never NOT burn dinner. When will I ever learn how to be the perfect husband?"

If any (or all) of these apply to you, this letter is for you. 

You are not perfect. You are not going to be perfect. No matter what you do, you will come short. Even on your best day, all of your best efforts combined would still not be enough. You can work and clean and preach and witness and remember the Gospel and be a light and serve selflessly and run a marathon and bake the best meal of all time and look like a supermodel and have a fight-less relationship and get along with all of your friends and be the head of a ministry and find the cure for cancer and and write a generation-changing novel and get all of the A's in the world ...

...and you still wouldn't be perfect.

The pursuit of perfection is a selfish pursuit. In the eyes of others, you are a "great kid," "the girl who always does the right thing," or "the goody two shoes." And in your head, you tell yourself that that is enough; that "the girl who always does the right thing" is close enough to perfect. 

But it's not. And you ache. You ache for something more, for something that changes you and gets you excited and moves you forward.  You yearn for a love so deep that it knows no bounds, not even the binding of the chains of perfection that tie you down.  You seek grace that you inhale, that seeps into your lungs, gives life to your soul, overflows, forcing you to exhale that same grace to others. You desire the forgiveness and kindness where your soul can find rest and not the expectation of perfection. 

If you are a follower of Christ, stop seeking approval from the God from whom you've already received approval through our one and only source of perfection: Jesus. 

Rest in his GRACE.

Remember his STEADFAST LOVE. 

Rejoice in his SALVATION. 

Seek His GLORY and FAME. 

Break free from the bondage of PERFECTION. 

But you were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

1 Corinthians 6:11 

Love, 

A Fellow Perfectionist Seeking to Remember this Daily. 

Bastar - To Be Enough.

Nada te turbe,
nada te espante,
todo se pasa,
Dios no se muda;
la paciencia
todo lo alcanza;
quien a Dios tiene
nada le falta:
Sólo Dios basta.

Let nothing disturb you,

Let nothing scare you,

Whatever happens,

God is not moved.

Patience

is sufficient for everything

He who belongs to God

does not lack anything

God alone is enough.

I read this poem my sophomore year of college in my Introduction to Hispanic Literature class.  For some reason, that last phrase, Sólo Dios basta, has always stuck in my mind.  

I think that last word is what got me: basta, from the verb bastar. It means literally "to be enough." There isn't a one-word-equivalent in English, but it's a phrase, or an idea, that we use and think about quite a bit, even if we don't realize it. 

When I think about the word enough, I automatically think of food (if you know me, not a huge surprise there).  Almost every morning, I wake up a ravenous beast. I want to eat the largest bowl of cereal you can give me. Do you have a mixing bowl? Sure, I'll take it (okay, slight exaggeration). I, in my American way of thinking, am concerned that a small bowl of cereal won't be enough. It won't suffice. It won't satisfy my hunger. 

I have the same problem when I go to a restaurant. Being a girl, and knowing the enormous amounts of calories in many of the meals offered at restaurants, I often go for the "Under 500 Calorie Meal" or the "Healthy Choice," though I'd rather eat a giant bacon cheeseburger with a side of fries (sometimes I cave).   I'm never really concerned if the food will be good, just if it will be enough to satisfy my hunger.

But that question of satisfaction stretches to other areas of my life as well...

Am I pretty enough? 

Skinny enough? 

Spiritual enough? 

Smart enough? 

Good enough? 

AM I ENOUGH?  

No, I am not.

But for the first time ever in my life, I am finding joy in this truth. I cannot satisfy my deep desire for God. I cannot satisfy his requirement of perfection. I am too weak, too emotional, too doubtful, too sinful, too full of sin. I am resting in the truth that God says to me, when I am fearing my ability to accomplish His will, "You are NOT, but I AM." God, and God alone, is enough to satisfy. He covers my SIN through the BLOOD of His precious Son, Jesus. And through His blood, through Jesus, I find that I don't need anything else in the world except the presence of my God. 

HE ALONE IS ENOUGH. 

Sólo Dios basta.

God has said, 

"Never will I leave you; 

Never will I forsake you."

Hebrews 13:5b



Understanding with your Heart

Understanding. 

It is a word that has different meanings. First, in a literal sense, it means knowing the meaning of words, comprehending their significance, and applying them to your situation. This kind of understanding occurs in your brain.

There also, though, is a more figurative sense of the word, as portrayed by the rebellious teenage child when she screams at her mother:

You do NOT understand me!!! No one understands what I am going through!!!

This meaning of understanding has to do more with sympathy. It is caring. It is knowing where someone is and loving them where they are, despite how it affects you. This kind of understanding occurs in your heart.

(Are you happy that I gave you a 1st-grade lesson on the meaning of the word understanding? Don´t worry...it has significance. Keep reading please :)

Both types of understanding have been absolutely essential for my growth during my time in Spain, especially in regards to my host family.

Obviously, I have had to work really hard to understand completely what my host family and other Spaniards are saying to me.  Sometimes, I honestly cannot understand what they are trying to ask me or tell me, so I awkwardly come up with some kind of answer, knowing that many times, it is the answer to a completely different question. I have been so exasperated at times that I just settle for this type of interaction instead of truly trying to comprehend their question. Showing effort in even minute, simple details proves that you care about what they are saying.

It is only when I intently listen that I can see where they are coming from, sympathize with their feelings, and give them a hug to let them know you care.  It is only then that I can understand with my heart.

When I have given my host mom my absolute undivided attention, I have been able to understand her points of view and see things in a new light, even if I do not necessarily agree with her. I have been able to understand her words, though in a different language, and through her words I have been able to see her beautiful heart.

But I first have to understand her words in order to understand her heart. 

...Profound, huh?

But it is so incredibly true. Think about it. How many times have you been at dinner with somebody, but only half listened because you were too occupied with the number of notifications you had on Facebook? How many times have you neglected to hear your little sister request to go for a walk or play barbies because you were too busy reading a book, watching TV, or checking your email? I certainly know I am guilty of it.

People always say things like:

I totally understand. That must be so hard. 
I definitely know what you are going through. 
I cannot imagine being where you are. 

Yes, these kind phrases can be helpful. But did that person take the time to truly listen - to truly understand- what exactly they are thinking, feeling, and going through? Or did they simply listen to the problem half-heartedly, not asking any deeper questions, and skipping straight to the easy-to-say, cliche maxims that anyone on the planet could say to the person undergoing a dilemma.

My experience has been different, of course, because of the language barrier. Although it is more true in a foreign setting, I still believe that intently listening is something I have neglected greatly in my life.  But it is only when I truly listen and ask deeper questions that I can understand what they are saying. Then, I can understand with my heart.

Then, I can love.