A Gift for the Soul

Last night I dreamed about fall.

Sometimes when we dream about certain things all we see are images that flash before our eyes. It's as if we aren't a part of the dream at all, but an external force watching - observing it all play out but not really experiencing the dream first hand.

This is usually the form that my dreams take... but not this time. Last night I walked through glorious seas of oranges, yellows and reds. I don't even remember where I was or who I was with. I just remember being completely speechless by the sight of the trees overhead, in awe of the colors that they had become since I last saw them. I remember begging my companions to stop and marvel for a little while with me, trying to convince them of the beauty surrounding us.

Oh how I miss fall. I miss watching nature change all around me, sometimes going through the miraculous change in a matter of days without anyone noticing.

"Since when has that tree been bright orange?"

Sigh. What an incredible reminder that our God is a God who orchestrates change. Through His own constancy, He keeps the promise that He will never leave us the same, that He will "continue the good work He began in us and bring it to completion until the day of Christ Jesus."

I know the same is true of my own heart. Though I can get easily frustrated with the familiarity of sin, of darkness and of pain, I can place my hope in the fact that the Lord is indeed changing me, though I don't notice the slow, day-to-day changes.

And then one day I will wake up and realize that I am not the same person I once was. That my heart which was once riddled with sin is now a little more like Jesus'... much like the gorgeous tree of oranges and reds, more glorious and more beautiful than it ever was.

The Point of the Matter.

What quantifies a "good and successful life?" Is it working a fun, high-paying job? Is it having a loving family and tons of friends? Is it having a good body and capturing the attention of all members of the opposite sex? Is it that you have never experienced the pain of death or loss?

What does it mean to have a "bad and unsuccessful life?" Is your life "unsuccessful" if you're materially poor? If you struggle making friends? If you wear a size 16 instead of a size 4?

And, for that matter, if your life is "bad," how do you make it "good"? Is that even really in your power? If you just lost those extra 40 pounds or got a new job in New York City would that mean that you are (or should be) happy?

I have really been thinking a lot about this concept of chasing a "better life" lately. It seems that everyone I talk to is trying to do just that (myself included):

"If only I could get that internship... I would love to be married... I have been saving up for that new car"

Now, are desiring these things in and of themselves bad? Not in the slightest (well, sometimes... we should probably not desire someone to drop dead). That being said, I really think that we're not giving these things their due credit as it relates to our self-worth or our security.

What are we really saying when we state our profound hatred for our present stage of life and our desire for something different? We're hoping that we'll waltz right in on our first day of that new job and feel... like we have arrived. Like that's what happiness is supposed to feel like. Like finally we can breathe a deep sigh of relief and allow ourselves to enjoy life. Finally.

But here's the thing: I have started many a new job. I have traveled the globe. I have lost (and gained) those however many pounds and I can tell you that I am starting to agree more and more with the wise words of Solomon:

"Everything (we are chasing) is meaningless..."

The point is that no matter where we go or what we do, there will always be hard things to life and things that we desire. I will never stop wanting more out of my experience here. If it's not one thing it's another... If I get married I will just want a kid. If I have that kid I will just want a bigger house to put that kid (and husband) in. If I get that big house I will just want to leave said house and go on a massive trip around the world. If I go on that trip I will undoubtably hate it after awhile and want to come back home, only to begin planning my next trip to Australia or Africa for the next year...

I think you get the point.

Don't get me wrong, I struggle with this concept on a daily basis. I swear my name should be "Lauren 'always wanting the next thing' Januzik." That being said, the truth that I have had it all wrong is starting to sink in...

This is the truth that we will never be satisfied with this life because we weren't ever supposed to be. Everything in this life is supposed to remind us that we were created for something more. We don't belong here. For those who are in Christ, we are called "strangers and aliens in this world." It's no accident things this side of Heaven don't (and can't) satisfy. We were created with a longing that can ONLY (and I do mean only) be satisfied by our Savior.

At the end of the day, it doesn't matter if I get everything I want or if I don't. I don't ever want to stop being reminded of the hope I have in that day of redemption... that day when I will gaze upon the face of my Father and fall to my knees knowing that it was all worth the sufferings of my former life.

The point, my friends, is that we need Jesus. Life is hard... there is death and suffering and deep, deep pain. The point to life is not to have a "good one." The point is that this life is a reminder that by the grace of our Lord Jesus Christ, we can live knowing that after we leave this world, we will never shed another tear of sadness or live with an unfulfilled longing. On that day we will live truly free from pain, content just praising the name of our Father for eternity.

What an incredible day that will be.

Proof.

There have been so many times in life when all I have wanted was "proof." Proof that God exists, proof that He is who He says He is, proof that I have a purpose, proof that I am loved, proof that I am even worth loving.

My feeble human heart demands proof, but what exactly do I expect that to look like? Do I expect for some giant man to float down from the sky and say, "Lauren, here is proof. I am God and I exist." That event would no doubt give me a heart attack and make me wonder what drugs I was on.

Do I expect to hear some voice telling me that I am loved or to get a love letter signed, "I love you. P.S. I am God"?

If I did, would I even believe it? Probably not. And, just because I am told those three words - I love you - doesn't mean my sin will allow me to take those words to heart, to believe them. In fact, more often than not, I have chosen not to believe them... at least about God. I have a hard enough time wrapping my brain around the fact that He is alive, let alone that He is personal and that He loves me.

But, the fact of the matter is, I have already gotten proof. I have just chosen to forget it.

No, it hasn't come in the form I would expect (giant man + love letters), but somehow my proof has gone deeper. The fact that I can see other people's brokenness is proof. The fact that I understand my own need for a Savior is proof. My suffering is proof. My joy is proof. The fact that I am no longer the person I once was is proof...

...In reality, my life has been split into two parts. A life of death and a life of the opposite. It's hard to believe that I once thought that my pain would never end - an endless cycle of sin, of darkness, of the hardships of life - with no hope for anything more.

My freshman year of college was my last year on earth in "Life part 1". I remember that I was 18 and hostile toward pretty much everyone in my life. That year, my beloved cousin had died. I felt abandoned by my friends. My family didn't understand me. I was literally drowning in sin. I couldn't breathe when I looked at myself in the mirror - hating everything about myself, from the inside out. I was experiencing the very definition of darkness and I was in it alone - fighting a battle I knew deep down that I would eventually lose.

And yet, I was pursued. I was sought after. I couldn't do it alone and after a time, I finally understood why. I knew that I was doomed from the start, not able to do it alone because I wasn't created to. I was created to be cared for, to be loved, to be guided.

If I stop and think about it, "Life part 2" is my proof. If I really stopped and remembered all that the Lord has done for me as the Bible calls us to do time and time again, I would feel stupid for ever desiring a giant man floating down from the sky or a booming voice. Of course God exists and of course He loves me. How could I ever forget how He brought me out of a deep, dark pit and set my feet high upon a rock? How could I ever forget the indescribable joy I felt the first time I realized that I would never, ever have to walk through life alone again?

And how could I ever forget what it was like to see for the first time - to see this world as He does... to love this world as He does... to understand that I was not created for this place, but for somewhere different entirely.

The truth is, as a child of God, I am called to have faith and believe no matter how much human "proof" I am lacking. God calls for us to believe what He says without proof, no matter the cost.

Even so, out of His mercy and grace, He gives it to us anyway.


- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Amazing Grace, how sweet the sound,

that saved a wretch like me.


I once was lost, but now I am found 


....was blind but now I see.

Seasons

Somewhere in the last two weeks, things have started to make sense again. The sun in the sky warms the deepest parts of my heart and soul, chasing away the chill that has been inside my bones for the last year. The mountains are so beautiful that they take my breath away. I believe the right things again. I know without a doubt that my God loves me.

This last year with Christ has consisted of the hardest season I have had with Him to date. I have experienced deep pain and fear, yet at the same time, numbness and emptiness. Never have I experienced so many instances in which I wait expectantly for my heart to be stirred, only to be profoundly disappointed by my own body's lack of response. Gnawing thoughts have filled my head about how much has changed in my walk with Him.

"I used to be moved by this. I used to believe this."

Profound confusion about God's character and promises bombarded my heart and mind day in and day out,  making me believe lies about our Savior - that He isn't good, that He doesn't care, that He isn't faithful. All of this only perpetuated more death, more confusion, more lies.

Yes, this last season was harder than my feeble human heart can really comprehend, yet I can fully and confidently say that I wouldn't take it back for anything. I love believing Truth again as if it is the first time I have heard it. I love learning new things, believing new things about the One who created and loves me so much - about the One who died for me. I love knowing who I am and who He is. I love believing what He did for me. I love seeing Him in my dear brothers and sisters here in Colombia. I love hearing him in each worship song we sing during chapel.

In some ways, I feel like a marathon runner after a race. I feel exhausted and worn out, completely and utterly perplexed as to what just happened to me - an out of body experience.

Was that even me running? It couldn't have been.

Oh, but it was. Paul wasn't kidding when He called this thing a race. It is an uphill battle of good and bad seasons, joy and pain.

Even though Colombia has no physical seasons to remind me of this cycle of life, I love that God has showed me the hope and growth that comes after a long winter in a different way - in my own heart. Before Christ,  I experienced death. Yet in that same heart, I can now experience Life. For it is because He saw my brokenness and took the risk of insterting Himself right into the middle of it... in order for me to Live and know Him.

It is the seasons of our walk with Him that remind us of this. How else will we be reminded that there is Light without darkness first? How else will we know that His love for us is real, unless we know without a shadow of a doubt that He was the same God in the seasons of pain that He is in the seasons of joy?

And as this Psalm of Ascent describes so perfectly, if anything else, these "seasons" remind us where we should look:

"I lift up my eyes to you, to you whose throne is in heaven.
As the eyes of slaves look to the hand of their master,
as the eyes of the maid look to the hand of her mistress,
so our eyes look to the Lord our God till He shows us mercy."

Psalm 123

Home.

Today is just one of those days when I have a hard time understanding. I have a hard time understanding my life, understanding my own heart, understanding my joy, understanding my pain, understanding my God and most of all, understanding my purpose.

Today, more so than most days, my heart goes out to the nomads of the world. My heart goes out to the missionaries in the deepest jungles of Africa or in the deserts of Sudan. My heart goes out to the soldiers fighting for their country 3,000 miles away. My heart goes out to those who have spent the last 2, 5, 10, 20, 50 years away from their home, undoubtedly missing their brothers, sisters, parents, and friends every single day. My heart goes out to those who, for whatever reason, the Lord has called away from the place that they call home.

My heart goes out to those people today because I am one of them.

I wish I could say that I weren't so homesick I can't breathe sometimes, but I can't. I wish I could say that I am an expert at dealing with this kind of pain, but I'm not. And, more than anything, I wish I could say that I didn't know very many people whose hearts bear the same painful marks of homesickness as mine, but I do - far, far too many.

As I sat in the park in Mirandela yesterday with a dear friend of mine (who happens to be a fellow nomad), I found myself trying to process with her sitting beside me why on earth being away from home is so painful. More than that, I also began wondering why it is that some of the people who probably love home the most are called away from it - sometimes for a couple of years and sometimes for a lifetime. While I don't yet know which of these two categories I fit into, I am convinced that the hurt is the same.

"God can use anybody on this continent, in this country to minister to these people... why use us?"

"I think it's not just for them. I think it's for us too."

As this dear friend of mine tearfully reminded me, this idea of God calling His children away from home to do His work is no new concept. This "nomadic family" has been made up of members such as Moses, Joseph, Daniel and even Jesus. Yes, even my savior Himself was ripped from His heavenly home in order to walk this desolate earth among us for 33 years - in order to save us.

"You know what?" she said, "I think He missed home too."

Perhaps God does something to us "nomads" during the time we are away from home in order for us to cling to Him more, love Him more. Perhaps He wants us to be reminded that He was thorough in becoming like us, in experiencing everything we experience so that we may feel safer in His arms, knowing that He has been where we are.

Or maybe, just maybe, He wants us to learn an even bigger truth:

"Home" is not here. It's not in Colombia and it's not in America. It's not on the gorgeous beaches or in the humble farmlands. You can sweep this entire planet and not find a place that is really, truly "home," because we weren't created for this planet in the first place. We were created for a place flowing with Light and Life. We belong in a place with music, celebrations, and dancing. We weren't created for sorrow, we weren't created for pain. We belong in a place where all we will do is live in the Glorious Light of the Lord, praising Him for eternity.

"It is there, Lauren, where we will never have to say goodbye ever again - no more sterile airport goodbyes and no more dread in leaving our families and friends behind. It is there where we will finally be home and we won't remember the pain we feel now - and we will never have to leave again."

And so, at the end of the day and despite all of the hurt and the pain, I know that it is in THAT place where I truly, deeply, long to be.

Thoughts on Life (Original, I know)

Somehow reading deep things always makes me want to write deep things. Perhaps it's the fact that I, as the imperfect human that I am, need the reminder that life goes deeper than the mundane. Life means more than my routine, than my friends, than my family, than the fact that I can't for the life of me find any American candy in this country. My heart is more complicated than that, Praise the Lord!

It's times like these that I am thankful for the reminder that I am not a hollow, empty shell just going throughout life. I am created to think deeply, to feel deeply. I feel deep sorrow. I feel deep joy. I feel deep love. I feel deep excitement. I feel deep dread. This "deep feeling" might be the very thing I hate the most about myself, but also the thing I love the most. Usually, being the typical girl (woman?) that I am, my tear ducts are directly linked to the fact that I feel deeply. Thus, if you have known me at all in the last couple of years, you know that I am a cryer. 99% of the time I am deeply (there I go again) embarassed by this fact. Today, I find myself dwelling in that remaining 1%. That measly percent is the place where I feel the most free, the most alive, the most touched. I feel Jesus more powerfully than ever when I am content to just let it all out and cry until I have no tears left.

And yet, in the last couple of months, my heart has not operated this way. Perhaps it's the fact that I have been living in a new place, what with having graduated from college, and doing something that is completely out of the ordinary. Nothing about my life now even slightly resembles what it used to. Perhaps I just need to find things in this new life that can make me feel again. Back in Champaign, every time I heard prayer in a foreign language I would be moved to tears. Every time I heard a song of praise sung by over 20 people I would bawl my eyes out. Perhaps here, the Lord is teaching me that I can feel deep joy and love in a new place, with new people, doing new things.

Perhaps He's trying to teach me that HE, out of all of the possible things that can pull my heart strings, is unchanging. He is the same God in Colombia, Africa, and China that He is in the United States. Every time I open my Bible, His word says the same thing. He loves me the same way, and He wants me to praise Him and follow Him despite the fact that I live on a rollar coaster of these deep emotions.