Annoyed by...

 I was annoyed.

(Lately it seems whenever I confess to someone that I was annoyed, they do a double-take and with shock in their tone say, “You get annoyed?”  To set the records of my reputation straight—Yes, Ariana gets annoyed by others like all normal human beings. Similarly, I am at times annoyed without being able to explain the reason why.) 

Last week was strange. My cousin was visiting for several days and I normally would have enjoyed every second of his company. Not only is he a cousin who I care for (as I cherish all my cousins), but he is a cousin with whom I have shared poignant spiritual conversations and experiences.

  

However, this time a vague annoyance would steal over me whenever he entered the room. He knew I was determined to finish some work projects and so he would mostly come into my room just to lie on the mattress and read a book. But just knowing he was in the room annoyed me. I couldn´t explain my annoyance except to say that I felt he was somehow silently expecting something of me.  If he happened to come up to my computer desk and ventured to ask “Whatcha doing?”  (a question that to me had all too obvious of an answer), I would have to take a deep breath in order to give a minimally polite response. This was not a passing case of annoyance. It was full-blown.I hid my annoyance fairly well and hoped it would pass. I was too busy to think or pray about it for too long. 

One afternoon we decided to stop and talk to God at a favorite bridge of mine on the way home. The day was brilliant and filled with wind. As we shared our spiritual contemplations with each other and with God, I felt all trace of annoyance with my cousin disappear.

Getting in the car and driving away, it hit me. I knew why I had been so annoyed.  My cousin´s expectations were impossible to avoid.  He expected me to have new spiritual insight. He expected continuation of conversations about God´s Love. He expected the spontaneous prayer times we both reveled in. He expected the excitement in my voice. He expected the intense seeking after God in my daily living. Without saying anything out loud, he was looking for all these things in me and I reacted negatively to the pressure of these expectations.

My cousin was not the only expectant one. Nor was he the only one I was inwardly annoyed at. God was likewise expectant. Truthfully, I was annoyed by God—by His expectations. How could He expect above-average performance from an average girl? How could He expect a totally transformed life? How could He expect my hand to cling tenaciously to His? How could He expect more sacrifice? How could He expect ceaseless passion from a girl who gets tired and has work deadlines?

But then again, how could He not? He has said I am His and He is mine…thus making ALL things attainable and ALL things a joy through His Love. (Lesson learned). 

Quiet Love

It creeps up so silently…catching me off guard every time.

I am overtaken.

I stop surrendered in mid-stride.

I turn around slowly to confront my conqueror.

I find only the sun as it ascends over the treetops, or a tiny flower posing near my feet, or my niece smiling up at me, or the twinkling of the first star, or the tune of my sister´s whistle, or the wind touching my brow, or the echo of a Psalm written centuries ago.

It is then I remember that the truest Love is the quietest kind that does not demand attention or require noisy evidences. It is, in fact, easily passed by…often ignored and misunderstood.

It surrounds us. Yet we walk on without a nod towards the invisible.

For some reason (pure grace most likely), I am occasionally awoken by a subtle tap on my heart. The Love of my God steals over me; I cannot resist it. I fall captive to His quiet Love. 

I don´t believe you

It was a sinking and momentarily devastating feeling. No one had ever told me that they seriously doubted my sincerity. Two things made the admission worse—the fact that it came from a friend and the fact that their disbelief concerned an experience that was extremely beautiful to my heart.

I listened...too crushed to say much. I did my best to understand. Tears surfaced. (To think, I had evoked mistrust and doubt in a friend´s mind by how I had lived or spoken or acted.) I immediately wanted to identify where I had gone wrong. Was I truly as insincere as I had been perceived? Were my words perhaps not trustworthy at all? I thanked my friend for their honesty. Our friendship grew after that conversation, but I cannot completely forget the feeling it gave me—to not be trusted, to not be believed. 

Over the months a growing realization is that it is me who, after years of “belief in God,” has never TRULY believed half of what God has spoken and done in Love towards me. Unlike me, God´s heart is infinitely sincere. I prance around His miracles and enjoy the light of His pursuing Love while holding on to partial, superficial belief in Him. With a lifetime of outward belief on my résumé (church goer, scripture memorizer, hymn singer, etc.), where is the absolute belief that would seep into my every day and tinge my every conscious thought? Where is the radical faith that would make my eyes glow with peace and Love beyond measure? Having whispered the words “I love You” to God, can I make decisions that shout “But I only half-believe most of what You say?” Can I doubt the sincerity of One who wordlessly died to give me life?

We have believed in enough counterfeits, have we not? We try to prove ourselves or our ideas worthy of belief. We have believed in things…the power of prayer, the necessity of belief itself, our denominational doctrines, the Christian virtues. Our belief must become deeper and simpler. God seeks one who will simply believe in His Name. His Name is Love. Love cannot lie. Love keeps its promises. With our wavering hearts, we fall short of absolute belief in this life-changing Love. We doubt syllables, phrases, and entire sentences of His truth. Oh God, help thou our unbelief.

Waking Up

Sleepy eyes. Time to get up. Unmotivated.

I don´t want to think about the school and work assignments that await me.

The horizon is just beginning to turn light. My window frames a piece of the changing sky. In my drowsiness a wave of nostalgia hits me—I guess if I´m honest I actually must say a wave of sadness.

I miss Him. The clouds have still not rolled back as a scroll. His glory has not yet broken through the atmosphere, making everything right again. Another morning without seeing His face. It´s almost too much to bear at 5:50 a.m.    

I imagine the framed piece of the sky being a door to heaven. Maybe if I stare at it long enough. Maybe if I relentlessly look up it will swing open and I will see the joyous and tearful face of my God rushing to let me feel His arms for the first time.

But I am still on this side of the door…and He on the other. Could it be He is more anxious than I, with His scarred hand expectantly hovering near the door handle? Heart beating fast? Longing to end His millennia of loneliness…waiting to fling aside the separation and take away earth´s pain forever.

 

A lonely yet lovely tune reaches my ears. I´m not imagining it. The bird sings on and I know it is God´s chosen musician. Dawning realization is that, despite everything, this morning has been anointed by Love—my feeble love for Him and His aching Love for me.  All becomes bearable…because I have heard the Love song.    

More.

I struggle with believing. I know so very little. I am, however, convinced of the following.

There is more.

(People don´t remind me of this enough. And so I become adjusted to the self-righteous status quo and satisfied with a slightly above-average level of good deeds and efforts. I do just enough and achieve just enough to consider myself completely happy…most of the time.)

There is more to life, more to God, more to true Love…more than has ever met your eye or entered your imagination.

(Most people don´t look for the “more.” And so I don´t look either because such a search wouldn´t be applauded or understood. I fear the risk of pursuing something Intangible, because what if it´s actually not there?)

Whether you are smiling or crying, brimming with faith or full of doubt, in love with the world or in love with Jesus, indifferent or intrigued, a redeemed sinner or a hollow saint, or anywhere in between…please take a moment to consider—there is MORE.

(People like me gloss over their emptiness and others are overwhelmed by it. Either way finds us wasting away our days and years acquiring more things, debts, pride, experiences, blessings, human knowledge…but missing out on the “more” we were destined for.)

If you have glimpsed a Love of a different order—there is more to be experienced. If you have been disillusioned by people you trusted or ideologies you believed—there is more to life. If you have inherited a blurry or contradictory picture of God´s character—there is more to God. If you think you know what real love is—there is more to true Love. There is more in the limitless heart of God. Undeniable Love? Breath-taking depths? Safe places? Yes, there is more.  

The Gentleman

“Here, let me get the door for you.”

The fact that it was a car door threw me off. No one had ever intentionally quickened their step in order to open a car door for me. Weren´t things like that usually done for ladies in formal dresses on special occasions, not for girls in mud-covered hiking boots on ordinary days? It felt strange and—being rendered temporarily speechless—I got into the car without even a word of thanks.  

Controversial discussions on gender dynamics aside, I have a growing respect for sincere gentlemanly behavior. Such behavior is truly an above-average blend of respect, honor, and humility, and should never be considered antiquated unless somehow we no longer find those three traits meaningful. Interestingly enough, the same three traits also characterize a dying mode of behavior among women—ladylikeness.

Flashback to the first days of 2014. The wind was biting cold and I was openly shivering as my sister, two cousins, and a friendly middle-aged couple stood waiting for the bus to pick us up from outreach at GYC-Orlando. I was not dressed warmly, I admit…but who would have expected such freezing weather in Florida? We chatted with the couple and the gentleman calmly took off his thick, flannel-lined coat. With one confident movement he placed it around my shoulders while saying, “Could you hold this for me?” I was not speechless that time and gave him my sincerest smile and thanks.

These instances have left an impression on my heart. They bring to mind another gentleman I´ve been privileged to know. He takes His own robe and covers my rags, all the while being sensitive to make me feel like I´m doing Him a favor by accepting His gift. He is not too proud to give me more chances than I deserve when I despise His Love and grace. He offers to carry my burdens. He willingly forgives. He is valiantly protective of me and yet always gives me the right to choose. He offers a strong arm whenever I am weary. He hurries to open doors for me and yet knocks patiently at the door of my heart instead of demanding entrance. He leaves spring flowers where He knows I will find them and be delighted (which makes Him more than just a gentleman, but a romantic gentleman at that).

It feels strange…being the recipient of such behavior…but it melts me every time. What can one do with such a God—such a Gentleman—but Love, serve, and be devoted to Him forever?      

 

This heart is home

Three porch steps before bursting into the house with a whirl of spring night air. I untie my green shoelaces and toss my shoes by the door. In a matter of seconds my coat is hanging in its usual place and my hands are catching warmth from the woodstove.

Being outdoors is amazing, but what is inside these particular walls is home.

 
I hear the voices of my dad and sister talking upstairs. I have no idea what they´re saying…but I know it is a pleasant exchange of words.

I head up to the room I call mine. My fingers automatically find the oddly-located light switch behind the door. The book is where I left it. Papers and miscellaneous objects still cover my desk haphazardly. I lie down on the carpet and begin to read.

I realize that one reason I am happy in this house is because no one questions my presence here. No one has ever told me I didn´t belong here. When I leave, no one has required me to go elsewhere. When I return, no one says that my place has been filled by someone else.

The peace of knowing this structure exists (…that I can come back to it, dwell in it, sleep in it, play the piano in it, be quiet in it, feel safe in it, and play Battleship with my nephew in it) is striking.

I wonder if Jesus could ever find such a peaceful and assured dwelling place in my heart. Can Jesus confidently stride into my heart without knocking, kick off His shoes, and be warmed by my love? Or does He still feel just like a guest? Could Jesus ever softly say, “The splendor of my Universe is amazing, but what is inside this particular heart is home. I am safe in this heart. I am happy in this heart…because no one questions my Presence here.”

“But will God in very deed dwell with men on the earth? Behold, heaven and the heaven of heavens cannot contain thee; how much less this house which I have built!” II Chronicles 6:18