Tonight I’m Going to Cry

My friend died today.  I checked my phone after a meeting this morning to find 17 missed calls/texts/voicemails.  I didn’t have to wait the hour to get home to check my email to know exactly what had happened. 

She’s been battling cancer for ultimately her whole life, but rigorously for the past 4 years.  So this news was expected.  Expected maybe.  But that doesn’t make it good or right.  She was 24 years old.  There is nothing right about it.

I’ve known her the past four years.  She was the first person I every truly trusted.  I’ve known her for four years, but really only for about 2 months.  And then the brain tumor hit.  With a friend I cried out, asking God why she was on cancer round three, why two perfectly healthy people like us sat by and watched while her body was ravaged by this disease.  And there is no answer.  At least not one that is satisfying.

It’s not fair, it’s not good, and it’s not right that she died.  Some of you might say that’s me doubting God.  I’m not.  I know God is fair.  I know God is good.  I know God is right.

But it’s ok to not always try to see a silver lining in death.  It’s ok to mourn.  It is good to mourn.  It is right to mourn.  Because death is neither. 

Death is not what God intended for us and was not in the world he originally created – a place without shame, a place without fear, a place without suffering, a place without sadness, a place without cancer, a place without death. 

It is right to mourn death.  There is death because there is sin.  We should not go a day without mourning the sin that is in this world and the sin that is in our hearts.

I was on campus the other day sharing an illustration of the gospel with a sophomore USC student.  The illustration shared of a world doomed to death and eternal separation from God because of their sin and choice to turn away from God.  It shared of a good and perfect God who, because of His great love, wanted to offer a free gift of eternal life.  It shared of the death of Jesus Christ on the cross; a death that makes salvation, eternal life, and hope possible.  It shared of a resurrected Christ seated at the right hand of God, living as Lord and Savior and interceding on our behalf. 

When I finished sharing the girl thanked me for sharing what I believed and respectfully disagreed.  She then asked why I felt the need to share that message with others.  And I told her:

“I believe with every fiber of my being that this illustration is true.  That we are an imperfect people destined for an eternal life separate from God, but who have been offered redemption through believing in the risen Christ.  This free gift of eternal life and relationship with the Lord of all has been given to me.  How can I not share?”

The sting of my friend’s death is lessened knowing that she loved the Lord and knowing that her eternity is better than my present.  But that doesn’t make death ok.  That doesn’t make suffering ok. 

I wish my family knew the Lord.  I wish my coworkers knew the Lord.  I wish the people I pass on the street every day knew the Lord.  I wish the entire student population of USC knew the Lord.  I wish Los Angeles knew the Lord.  I wish South Africa knew the Lord. 

Thankfully I serve a big God who does beyond what I can imagine or even think possible.  Thankfully these wishes are more than wishes; they are prayers I can pray powerfully and boldly, knowing my God loves greater than I ever can, aches more than I ever will, and does what I have already deemed impossible. 

Death is not ok.  Tonight I’m going to cry and ache for my friend.

Tomorrow I will continue to proclaim the victory of Christ.  Death will never win.  After all, it’s already been defeated.   

Black Coffee

My grandpa used to drink about 10 cups of black coffee a day.  As a coffee drinker myself, that is something I aspire to - maybe not 10, but the ability to drink and love black coffee.  A friend of mine this summer could not understand drinking something that you had to acquire a taste to - forcing yourself to consume something you don't even like at first.  But I love it.  I love the thought of working your way up to something - even if it's acquiring a taste for coffee.  I admire people who drink their coffee black.  It's raw.  It's real.  There's literally no sugar-coating to mask the taste.  No facade.  You get what you ask for.

Life can be like that sometimes.  Sugar-coated, masked, a distraction from what is really underneath.  And sometimes it's better like that; easier to have smiling faces than painstakingly acquire a taste for the junk below.  But what is real?  This summer was raw and real; it was a time of realizing that what has been swept under the rug needs to be dealt with, that there are people willing to walk alongside me in the not-so-pretty side of life, that God is still God and still good even when I kick and scream and yell.

This summer was raw and real.  I got to journey alongside girls as they came to understand their identity and process through guilt and shame, I got to ask hard questions about the meaning of life to people who don't know/believe the gospel, I saw people cry and got to cry along with them, I had a years worth of junk in my life uprooted, I got to love and be loved, I got to speak to coworkers about love and forgiveness, I was reminded what it looks like to thrive.  It was hard, but it was good.

Life can be hard.  It can be one huge mountain that you feel like you'll never get to the top of.  It can be a huge glass box that you feel is constantly being hammered.  It can be struggles.  But one thing I learned this summer is I'll take the struggle, the climb, the fight any day over coasting through life.  Because it's raw, and it's real.

As Ke$ha says, "I don't wanna think about what's gonna be after this, I wanna just live right now." And that's what we did this summer - we lived.

In other news, I enjoyed my first cup of black coffee this summer :)

A Cali Girl in the South

I'm not sure how to begin, exactly what to say, or even how to direct this post.  As of tomorrow, I have been in Tennessee for exactly 4 weeks, which means a lot has happened and there is much that could be said. 

Things I’ve learned:
-       Pigeon Forge has been dubbed as “the Las Vegas of Tennessee” [confirmed by the giant King Kong and Mount Rushmore right down the street from our hotel]

-       It rains at least a few times a week here, and by “rains” I mean it pours, lightnings, and thunders [“I’m not brining rainboots, it’s not going to rain.” – me packing for this summer]

-       Most of my stereotypes about the south have proved to be true [not necessarily in a bad way though]

-       My spatial awareness of the south is grossly distorted [“Wait, Tennessee touches Mississippi??” – map struggles]

-       I’m not as bad with names as I claim to be – out of 130 ish people here, I think I'm down to not knowing the names of 5? Although let’s be honest, the number who actually know my name in return is probably 5 -__-

-       Sharing my faith is a privilege: something I get to do as opposed to just something I should do

-       Life is messy, but God is good and God is faithful and God is God

-       I love fireflies [aka lightning bugs]

Things I love:

-       Tennessee - one of the greenest places I’ve ever been [not environmentally friendly “green” but actually naturey green] – while I love cities, the beautiful, rolling countryside is a nice change of pace

-       The group of team leaders I serve alongside - it has been a blessing to work alongside a group of women and men who love God and find joy in serving Him and who desperately want to fight for the hearts and souls of those around them

-       The team leader women I serve alongside - there is an incredible beauty in being able to admit that there are times where we have no idea what is going on or what we are doing and have it be ok, remembering we are not here to have all the answers, we are here to serve God

-       My team – LOVE these girls; love getting to share life with them, pray with them, challenge them, learn from them, rejoice with them, adventure with them, and laugh with them

-       Wise women and men – we have an incredible staff teaming serving and leading us this summer; there is so much wisdom and vibrancy in the staff making this summer possible

-       Working at Dollywood – I work in parking, driving the trams and acting as the tram conductor alongside fellow team leaders and coworkers 60+ years in age full of their own puns, sass, and life

Things that have been good but a challenge:

-       Choosing to be outgoing when shy and awkward is doing its best to entice me into my shell

-       Realizing God is working in my heart and bringing up things I have been avoiding [and continuing to fight to avoid]

-       Remembering that God is working to make me complete in Him and that’s not always easy but it is always good

God is good and God is moving and working.  I am blessed to be here.  Excited that Pigeon Forge is slowly but surely being added to my list of homes around the world :)

We’ll hate what we’ve lost but we’ll love what we find

Airports are interesting places.  A spectrum of emotions all encompassed in one location.  Excitement.  Fear.  Joy.  Sadness.  Anticipation.  Anxiety.  Never knowing exactly what you are going to think or feel when you’re there or what exactly your destination holds.

I have been to the airport many times this past year, in many different places.  Sometimes merely dropping off, sometimes going, sometimes coming back. 

My times of going have been times of trepidation of the unknown, the ache of leaving behind people I love, jubilation knowing in some ways my destination would make my heart that much more complete, excitement to see family, nervousness at the prospect of making new acquaintances and wanting to be loved and accepted.

My times of returning have been times of leaving behind people and places that would always be dear to my heart, leaving behind things that would never be dear to me again, grief knowing that as I flew away I was leaving my heart behind, peace and comfort knowing that I would be reunited with people I love, uncertainty over when I would return, blessing because of all I have had the opportunity to love. 

The older I get [granted I'm only 21], the more I experience, and the more places I go, the more and more my heart grows and the more it loses little pieces as bits of it stay behind, waiting for my return.  But once the ache of what has come and gone passes, what is left is the knowledge that my heart is more complete because of these places, because of these people, because of these aches.

In French, the word “la bougeotte” translate to  “wanderlust” and in German, the word is “fernweh” which translates to “an ache for the distance.” 

I will always find myself caught in the tension that I see fully encapsulated [word choice?] in airports – this desire and yearning to go and live and experience coupled with the hurt of what is being left behind. 

I drove away from the airport today and looked out across a crazy beautiful view of LA.  While LA will always be my home, as I go far and wide across this world, searching the distance for places that will inevitably steal bits of my heart, a piece of me will find its home in every new place I go.

But that ache, that ache is good.  It reminds me that I'm real, that I love and miss and experience joy and hurt.  It reminds me that I have been blessed with homes that span the globe, each waiting for my return one day.

So bring on the ache.  

Purposeful Conqueror

          I have been back from South Africa for two and a half months. If I could describe these past 75 days in one word, I would say purposeless. I have gone from class to class, event to event, location to location, item to item on my to-do list – the whole time asking “What in the world am I doing here? Where do I fit here?” I went from an entire year feeling so intensely purposeful to a sudden shift to zero purpose. Where am I needed? Where should I pour my time and energy? Where am I useful?

          I’ve been ruminating on this sense of uselessness and lack of necessity. It’s been weighing me down; this feeling that I don’t know why I’m doing what I’m doing; this feeling that my life is being guided and dictated by a to-do list. That’s not a flourishing or thriving way to live. That’s not even a good way to live. That’s not even an ok way to live. That’s a purposeless way to live.

           The other day I was reminded of a time about 4 years ago; a time when my life shifted from old to new. One of my favorite questions to ask people is “What first drew you to God?” It points directly to the specificity of God in that He calls people in the exact way they need to be called. For me? What first drew me to God was that He gave me purpose. Ironic huh? Four years ago as the first semester of my junior year of high school came to a close, God instilled my life with purpose. He gave me a life and a mission greater than myself – living for something far beyond and far bigger than anything I was living for. He gave my life an eternal purpose.

           In a moment my life became purposeful apart from what I did; apart from what I said; apart from my grades, activities, interactions. But because of who I live for and because of why I live.

           So here I have been, living these past weeks stuck in this feeling of no purpose, and yesterday God reminded me, “Chels, remember how I drew you in. I gave your life meaning. Your grades didn’t do that. Your interactions didn’t do that. Your personality didn’t do that. But I did. I gave your life purpose.”

How silly it is that what enticed me about a life of faith was something I was so quick to forget.

           When anyone has asked me how I’ve been, my response has been something along the lines of “Struggles. ” I was talking with a friend the other day about identity. I have been so quick to define myself as a struggler; so quick to don the identity of weakness and failure, yet so incredibly slow to wear the identity of who I actually am. “Struggles”defines me by what I do, not by who I am. Yet the identity that is momentary and based on my own ability [or lack thereof] is the first to come to my lips. That is so backwards. And such a lie.

           I struggle, but I am not a struggler. I have struggles, but I am not defined by them. I am strong. I am valued. I am a conqueror. Not because I struggle, but because God has equipped me and is equipping me to fight and to overcome. I sin, but I am not defined by my sin. I am defined by who God has made me to be and by who God is making me to be.

          Will I struggle? Of course. I’m not perfect. Jesus struggled. But He defined Himself by who His Father was and by His purpose in this world.

I am a purposeful conqueror. And the beauty of it is, not because I say so.

Amazing grace

How sweet the sound

That saved a wretch like me.

I once was lost, but now am found.

Fifth-of-a-life crisis

The title of this post is kind of the story of my life...it sort of is and it sort of isn't. I have this weird thing where most of the time I'm easy going, carefree, everything-will-work-out. But occasionally I'll have bursts of "whats going on in my life?!"

I just finished my last final which means a few things: my semester abroad is officially done, I am officially a senior in college, life has officially started rushing at me. I apologize to whomever is reading this and can't help but think, "get over yourself 20 year old." And you'd be right, to an extent...I'm actually 21 now. But seriously. Here I am. With life in front of me and not really knowing where to go from here. I get to stay in Cape Town for 6 more weeks - way to think ahead last semester me when I bought a later return ticket - and I can't imagine having to leave right now - it'd feel very unfinished, at least for me. I know plenty of people I studied abroad with that were quite ready for the semester to be done [sorry if you're reading this and are part of the wanting-to-stay-longer group].

So here I am. With nothing to do for at least 3 weeks. I can't remember the last time I had time like this. It's incredible and a little daunting. I hate looking back on time and seeing it wasted. But I have time. Time to think and pray and continue exploring this heart-breakingly beautiful place and its people and time to figure out my life. Or not figure it out. I don't actually need a plan. I tend to do better without a plan anyway. I tend to be a play-it-by-ear kind of girl.

I'm back at my flat so here's where I end [I may or may not have typed this as a draft on my phone as I walked home...yep]. I have the most beautiful view of the mountain [Table Mountain/Devil's Peak] from my flat and as I stand here looking at this crazy incredible creation, I'm reminded that Cape Town, and life for that matter, is my oyster [although not really because I hate that phrase slash don't really understand what it means]. So here's to my next two months - planless, purposeful,  and wonderful :)

Have a heart

I love fire. Everything about it. It fascinates me, enthralls me, baffles me, entices me, makes me think and wonder, mesmerizes me. I am a pyromaniac at heart. I have been fascinated with fire since I was a kid. We had a fireplace in our house and a loveseat in front of it. I would sit for hours, and usually fall asleep in front of our fireplace, transfixed by the flames. I can’t wrap my mind around this thing before me, these flames I can very much see and very much feel but can’t touch or hold; flames that are there one minute and gone the next – on to a new location only to appear and disappear all over again. Yet at least two of my senses point to the existence of this fire, so I know it’s there. I love fire.

My blog today is titled “Have a heart,” so why am I talking about fire? Last night I was thinking about accepting the existence of something when you can’t understand it with all of your senses. Namely, the existence of emotion.

The heart plays a central role in emotion. Rather, it seemingly plays a central role. You would never tell someone, “I love you will all my amygdalae.” Super romantic…But really that’s what it is. Compassion, love, tenderness, desire, anger, joy – feelings all attributed to the heart but actually formed in the brain. Can I merely write off human emotion as a chemical reaction or a transmission of neurons in the brain? Or is there something more exquisite, more intricate, more beautiful, and far less explainable at work here? A man may jump in front of a bullet for his wife, a mother may sacrifice her life for her child. Can something like that – a self sacrificial display of love – be categorized as merely adrenaline?

Last night I was taking a bath. I put my ears under the water and could hear my heart beat. I felt my chest – no heart beat. Felt my neck – no pulse. Felt my arm and wrist – no pulse. Yet I could hear it. Like fire, my heart was something only one of my senses was registering. I didn’t doubt it was there though, holding to what I knew to be true despite lacking the “evidence” behind it.

In a way, love follows the same guidelines. You can’t see it, hear it, smell it, taste it, or feel it – in the straightforward sense of all of these. Instead, we believe love exist because of the manifestations we see – a kind gesture, a gift, an act of service, a verbal voicing, a hug – all expressions of some kind of love but not the actual love itself. People show that they love by _______ [fill in the blank]. But you can’t see it. Because it’s not tangible. Only the expressions and results of love are tangible. So how do you know if it’s real? How do you know that the expressions of love that point to its existence aren’t merely habit, routine, something that’s been ingrained in you from a young age – similar to the idea that we should treat others kindly. What if the chemicals in my brain that produce “love” are different than the chemicals in your brain that do so and in terms of feelings, we’re on entirely different pages but because we have all learned the same expressions of love, we are seemingly on the same page?

Or what if my mindless ramble of fire, hearts, and love has gone on for too long and you’re wondering why you’re still reading? Being in South Africa, surrounded by entirely new and different people has led me to a place of wanting to understand people’s motivation behind their actions and the differences that exist between individuals and their motivations. So this is me, thinking and trying to understand and ending with more questions than I started with, but for now I suppose that’s acceptable :)