Sitting with the Pardon

I love Good Friday. From what I gather, I'm in a small minority. I've received a lot of negative reactions for this sentiment. I've heard the arguments that if we've been saved, why should we reawaken guilt; doesn't being sad on Good Friday crucify Jesus all over again? My answer is no. It's different than that; it's more than that, and it's certainly not reapplying guilt.

Much of the last year and of the journey of my faith in general, God has been redefining what I think about some concepts I thought I well-understood. One of the many things it's led me to believe is that I will forever be learning, absorbing, and rediscovering all of what defines my faith and, if you will, God. For as much as I am a feelings person, I'm equal in needing to think. And in all honesty, I can go too long without really thinking about the cross. Then sometimes when I do, I feel like I don't really get it. After all, it is a thing fierce and confounding:
A God who spares Himself for the sake of the undeserved to be able to come close to Him, by taking on their due judgment and thus pardoning the unholiness that is their sin! An unearthly definition that is: Grace. Without God and this story, this concept of Grace doesn't exist. It's part of why the story is so unbelievable; Grace such as this seems out of the realm of possibility.

So there's something good for us in taking one day - if only one - to be somber and sit with the idea of the Great Pardon that was bestowed to us. To contemplate the weight of such a death, and to revel in the bearing of all the brokenness of this world on one man, who was also God. If there is only one day to just feel whatever the intentional musing on the cross makes you feel, there is immense importance in allowing that.

The resurrection can only have full meaning when you take into account the death that led to it. In that one moment, the sinless Christ took on the guilt of many, and as I've heard it preached, the devil was sure he won. And many others never thought Jesus was the Messiah, especially after death. It was the best plot twist. No one expected it, and it's unfathomable; that's the beauty.

So I'm done arguing the importance and the good grit of Good Friday, because the entire thing is bittersweet and I don't think as a Christian you can ever escape that - but it's not something I want to. Living in that tension compels me toward striving to know God more and show the incomprehensible grace I was so kindly shown.

"We always carry around in our body the death of Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body." 2 Corinthians 4:10

Good Gossip

So I have this thing about affirmation; God's highlighted to me that it is important and, especially in the culture in which we live, as an opposition to the norm of mocking criticism. (In YWAM, they obsessively refer to that as "going in the opposite spirit".)

In the last year or so opportunities to affirm have popped out at me, reminding me of the importance of intentional recognition of identity and gifts. A lot of people, I think, worry about coming off as kiss-butts or as not being genuine. Most of the time, that doesn't bother me, as I know I mean it and expect that to come through.

I also want to tout people to others, something I've coined (as far as I know), Good Gossip. This mainly consists of talking with someone about the good or great things about someone else, then often using that later to tell them you were talking about them...in only good ways.

This might already exist in your life but you don't know it yet. It did in mine as I was on the receiving end and it caught me off guard! It's happened a few times here and there, and by some strange effect, it always makes me feel better than if the person had come directly to me and said it. There's a different kind of something in knowing that people are out there talking good about you; it kind of breaks down that insecurity that, whether we admit it or not, we all face; wondering, what do people think of me? And you have to know it's not just flattery, if someone's saying those things about you to someone else.

It excites me to think about the positive effect of building this admittedly basic concept of Good Gossip into our culture, as Christians or well-meaning people of whatever religious stance. If nothing else, the world needs more positivity to break the cycle of brokenness and misunderstanding.

What would it mean for your life to speak well of people when they're not around?
(I usually don't insert videos, but it's too perfect)

Time & Again

In a strange way, I think I love you.
Surely, I must.
This the pattern of my thought
leads me to trust.
Truth
is that it stings,
but still I can't let go.
And daily I fear
that I'll never know.
I've done this to myself
time and again,
but never remember a time when,
the time and more went by,
and left me aching to know why,
What all the pieces of the puzzle mean,
or if there's a bigger picture to it,
maybe I'm meant to see through it,
- maybe time and again I blew it
And to you it - it seemed
it wasn't of you I dreamed,
Because I hid,
Silent,
From anxiety inside violent.
So I rest in knowing
that I no longer pine,
yet spend my days wishing
you were mine.

The Tired

I think it is full-fledged exhaustion that's set in. My first real day is tomorrow. I have to be back up in six hours, my shower is covered in bleach. My living room is half painted its cheery, lovely blue, while half repulsing me with its former peachy beige. I'm sleeping on a couch for the second night. My room seems to be wall-to-wall clothes; the space feeling mildly claustrophobic after my 500+ sq ft mustard haven. It took me a good half an hour to vacuum that haven once it was empty. My boxes of belongings riddle our new abode like grass in the forest. I'm pretty sure next time I'll just burn it all and start over; no moving. I do know I'm not allowed to buy any more books til I read all the ones I own.

My muscles may never be the same.

I do wonder what I'll eat for breakfast, and what I'll eat it off of...or with. Guess I'll finish cleaning the shower when I shower in the morning.

I don't recommend moving from one upstairs place to another right before starting a new job. The tired.

Disorienting Dis-location

With my tenth move underway, I can safely say that relocation is a strange and disorienting thing. It's both refreshing and incredibly exhausting. The first move is exciting; I was a spring chicken, long-ready to fly the coop. It was so great starting to acquire things like...dishes and furniture. Which now, again, on my tenth move in [laughably] just over five years, I am annoyed to have acquired so much, namely because I have to carry it from one place to the next what averages to be every six months.

Each time, I've either been naive or optimistic - given the context I can never tell which - about a variety of factors. It seems my track record has proved me wrong either way many a time, and something has caused me to only stick out one full-year lease since leaving the nest. To be fair, various things.

The first few moves were exciting, but the older I get and the more I move, I hate moving.

Now it's disorienting. Even any of the times where it was a bad situation worth leaving, moving has still been hard. It may just be that I'm wildly sentimental, but I also think that there's something to be said for the comfort of the familiar. When I started really packing yesterday, I was anxious at the thought of the overwhelming process. Once I'd gotten over the hump and the room was all boxed-up sans furniture, I felt relieved; on to a new chapter. On to the new place, I felt overwhelmed thinking about putting it all together again. I thought about making this place feel like home. Learning the fastest way to get to my usual destinations.

Even if this place hasn't been comfortable for weeks, when I have the choice of my new place, or the place where all of my things have lived for the last seven months: I am not at my new place. It's comfortable here, even if only in its familiarity.

But after many address changes, among the myriad valuable things I've learned is the importance and necessity for my home to be a safe, peaceful place of respite. And so I remind myself that I can find that anywhere, it just takes some time.

Maybe this time I really won't move again until I get married or keel over.

Rants of the Day

So, who are these magical people who can drink coconut water? I think it is the grossest thing I've ever put in my mouth - and I tried a dog biscuit once, I've eaten beef with hairs on it, and plenty of food off the floor of various coffee shops! It's supposed to be really good for hydration, and turns out Naked makes a Lychee version - yum, right? WRONG. Blech, still disgusting. Disappointment and dehydration, colliiiiiiide (music reference anyone?).

The Rainbow I live by is the worst. I always claim that the reason I grocery shop at midnight is because no one's there. While that's true, it implies that somehow the trip goes faster; that it does not. Somehow the cashiers are still slow as molasses, and appear to be completely unaware of this fact. Grocery shopping has in fact turned into a test of patience, who knew? And then there was that coconut water...

I was inquiring of a friend the other day, why a post-education adult would bother to get tested for ADD (you know, out of curiosity). She said it can help understand some of the reasons one does the things they do, for example interrupting. Which sounds a little familiar. Lately, I've noticed that sometimes in conversation if one is taking too long to formulate a thought, I try to finish their sentence. That must drive everyone mad! I mean, I've noticed it before but forgot; probably got distracted. If I've ever done that to you, I don't mean to be rude, I'm actually just really excited for you to get to the point.

Speaking of ADD, I just got distracted Pinning Dave Grohl, because.

Which leaves the standings at Pinterest: 1,633 Alicia: 0.

Today, while imbibing some mud along with a donut, I thought to myself: I should've been a cop! I love kicking ass and taking names (though I've never actually done it), coffee and donuts, and speeding. Suffice it to say, I missed my calling.

Dear Navy, I'm Over It

This weekend was the first time that I was really over the Navy. I told myself, Okay, I'm over it; it can be done now. When Joe left, I thought I got out all the crying I needed to in that one day, and figured I'd be fine because I am most certainly not the 16-year-old I was when he was last deployed. Sometimes I am so utterly wrong. Or maybe it's "wildly optimistic".

The military is an interesting concept, it's something I'm neither here nor there about. It puts people through incredibly difficult things that will mark them forever, it dictates their lives, but it also protects our country. It's also a choice.

When I was younger and much more aimless, I was very patriotic (mostly because that's how I was raised). I still am patriotic, but I also see a decline in our country in way I doubt it will ever bounce back. That's a whole other story. Now, as an adult formulating my own ideas about things based on how I see the world before my own eyes, I love where I was born and am very grateful for that, but also don't always love what we do.

All this to say, it's a bittersweet thing to appreciate and respect, when it makes life hard in a way that wouldn't otherwise exist. And a part of that is that I'm ignorant of strategic politics and warfare; I think, can we just be done now?

Saturday, some poo hit the fan - there's no better way to say it - and I was headed to a family gathering. I thought, Right now is about when I could really use a big bear hug from my big brother. And it became hard again.

I don't even know what the point of writing this is. I certainly don't want to guilt-trip him, or anyone else. It's just such a thing; it is such an inexplicable, unimaginable thing to deal with. It's not my choice, and I don't even have it the hardest. If my brother was here instead of training, I still wouldn't see him every day. Then there are those times, when you would see them, and you know what it would be like to get that hug you need...and it's just hard.