A Beginning

or A Manifesto,
or An Invocation,
or A Resolution for my new year

This year, I want to be myself.
Be creative.
Be alive.
Be full of joy.
This year, I will write letters by candlelight.
Remember that it's never too late to reconnect with old friends.
I will knit things that aren't scarves
and sew beautiful things as well.
I will explore this world I live in,
not cower in fear of the unknown.
I will explore myself,
map out my mind,
discover my desires and inclinations.
I will be excited
and enthusiastic
and alive.
And I will choose to trust God,
to hold onto him, and joy,
when depression and control are so much easier.
I will smile from my heart
and climb trees
and invite others into my life.
At the beginning of next year
I want to look back and marvel
at the beauty that I found,
that was given to
and shared with
and lavished on
and birthed by me.
I will do things that make me smile
and do things for others that will make them smile.
And I will suffer and sacrifice and struggle
and forget and fail and fall,
and I pray to God above that I get back up,
that I forgive and love and hope and trust in the midst of it all.
I want to be genuine and have integrity.
I want to be inspired,
not amused;
engaged,
not entertained.
I want to interact with this world I am living in,
not just react.
I want to live,
not just survive.
I want to be myself in the truest sense of the word
and the truest sense of me.
I want to be.

Taut

I am wound so tight
an overstretched guitar string
just waiting,
waiting,
for a finger to trail lightly over me
and then
I will snap.
I will break
I will release all of the things I have been holding in for so long,
the things sitting on the back of my tongue,
never sure who these words belong to
because they sure don't belong to me.
These tears want to come, gushing out
hot trails down to chapped lips
the feel of electricity in the air,
thunderstorm in my bones
fingers wrapped tightly around a tree root
like an an anchor,
the handclasp of a brave man
a dryad as my chair
and friend
and only lover.

I am tired
and the storm raging around me,
inside me,
all over me
is getting to be too much.
No more, I want to say,
but these aren't my words.
My mouth is mute
on every important matter I've eve heard of.
How can I release my words into the uncaring world?
They are my babies,
and they carry my genes
they uncode me,
lay me bare under the obstetric stares of the whole world.
I am coming undone,
falling apart at the seems and could-have-beens
pieces of decaying leaf mold I've been holding on to for far too long
littering my invisible path into the woods
the gingerbread house locked up tight
against burglars,
for the witch has learned to be cautious
about who she snares these days.

I asked you once
to tell me how to be wise.
You taught me how to instead.
I asked you to show me how to trust you.
You pushed me onto a high-flying trapeze bar.
I asked you for an earthquake,
a blacksmith's fire,
an anvil and chisel to hammer myself taut and thin and tired,
an overstretched guitar string
so I may learn reliance.
You have never let me down.

A Love Poem

Every snowflake,
every wispy cloud framed against an azure sky,
every dandelion puff I've made for you.
The hot, rich, dusty smell of petrichor,
the palpable feeling of home you feel in your mother's arms,
the delight you feel in a flower filled meadow.
A love poem to you.
And the yellow flowers,
all of the yellow flowers -
the ones that appear soon after the snow melts
and the ones that linger late into the autumn
whispering I love you.
And even though the grass withers and the flowers fade,
my word stands forever:
I love you.
I love you.

LT13 closing ceremonies

Tears and snot pour down my face as I weep, head in my hands as my Brother and Sister in Christ support me on either side, their comforting hands solid on my shaking back.  Around me - the masses of my friends, singing praises and promises to God, paying little attention to me.  I had been holding it in all evening, ducking into the bathroom to cry and hoping that my friends didn't notice my tear-stained eyes, but here where there was no chance of well-meaning but unwanted comfort I was letting it all out.

"Oh God! Why?! Why? Those arrows, aimed right for my heart, for the deepest oldest wounds. 'You are forgotten.  You are so unimportant those you look up to forget about your very presence.  You are a child.  You know nothing.' They say, they shout to the very rooftops, trumpet to the tops of mountains, proclaiming shame and fear over me. Why?"

"There is a room locked deep in your heart that you haven't given me the key to.  Your victories this summer mean nothing if that room is not unlocked and dealt with now.  Will you trust me?"

Hesitatingly, "Yes."

"Take my hand"

We approach a plain wooden door, leading to the dungeons of my heart, where all of the deep evil lives.  I hand God the key, and watch as he fits it into the lock.  It is as he turns it that I realize I had been wrong.  It isn't a door to the dungeons, but to the treasury, and rather than being plain and wooden it is made of gold and encrusted with jeweled flowers and birds.

***

'The door slid open.  A blast of grief, of the deaths of children, of crippling diseases that took beauty at once but withheld death; of unconsummated love, of love lost or twisted or grown to hate; of noble deeds that proved useless, that broke the hearts of their doers; of betrayal without reason, of guilt without penance, of all the human miseries that have ever occurred; all this struck them, like the breath of a slaughterhouse, of the blow of a murderer... just this she had feared, had half-expected; yet the reality was much worse than what her tired mind had been able to prepare for her.

'Greetings, said Maur's head.  I did not think to have the pleasure of seeing you again....

'She opened her mouth to gasp, and despair rushed in, bitter as aloes.  Tears filled her eyes, but she pushed herself away from the threshold... "This---is why---we've been---so---tired---all along."

'"Yes." The sibilant hissed in the silence like adders' tongues...

'"We must get rid of Maur's head...." She walked purposefully up to the low platform where Maur's skull lay; the shadows in the eyesockets glinted... She set her shoulder in one of the ridged hollows at the base of the skull and heaved.  Nothing happened but that Maur laughed louder; its laughter crashed in her head like thunder, and her vision was stained red...

'You shall not bully me again! Aerin said, and, almost not knowing what she did, pulled Gonturan free of her scabbard and slapped the flat of her across the base of Maur's head where once the backbone had joined.  Blue fire leaped up in sharp tongues that lit the entire vault, with its many shelves and cupboards and niches, and doors into further strongrooms.  It was a ghostly unhealthy color, but the skull shrieked, and there was a crack like a mountain splitting, and the skull fell of its pedestal to the floor....

'Maur had lost its ascendance once Gonturan had struck it, and while the skull still stank, it seemed almost an organic stench now, under the open sky; no more than the faint rotting smell of ancient carrion.'
~The Hero and the Crown, by Robin McKinley

***

Lies instead of truth, despair instead of hope, darkness instead of beauty, were in the treasure places of my heart. The dragons' heads that I put in places of honor still send out whispers of lies, but it's different now. They are losing their ascendancy in my heart as they are attacked by the Word of God, which is the sword of the spirit. And that gives me hope.

A Slice of my Life

Note: I wrote this back in December, December 13 to be exact, but I wanted to share it with those of you who read my blog. :)

*******

    I grew up in a loving Christian family.  We went to church every Sunday, were involved in many of the ministries, and even talked about God at home during the week.  I accepted Jesus Christ as my Lord and Savior when I was three years old, to a large extent because my brothers had and I wasn't going to be left behind.  I did believe in God, but he really didn't impact my life too much.  I followed the rules, was a good christian girl and as long as my behavior followed the standards I had set for myself, I felt pretty good about my life.
    However, I was incredibly lonely.  I had friends at church and school, but spent a lot of time alone, feeling left out and sad.  Especially after a few deeply wounding experiences, I didn't trust anyone, not truly.  I never told anyone anything important about my life, afraid I would be laughed at, dismissed, and betrayed again.  And I transferred these beliefs to God, not trusting his heart towards me.  Oh, I told him things, important things even, crying out to him in my pain, but I didn't believe he was out for my good.  In high school I really struggled with believing in God.  I believed he existed, but I didn't understand when he acted in ways that seemed contrary to my good and happiness.  The worst of it was that I wanted so badly to believe in him and have the kind of relationship my mom, and my older brother, and my friends seemed to have with Him.
    Everything came to a head four years ago in my senior year of high school at a youth conference.  I finally broke, sobbed my eyes out on the floor, snot dripping down my face, as I finally let go and decided to trust God with myself.  Later that evening, I even told one of my youth pastors and a few of my friends one of my most closely guarded secrets.  They listened to me and loved me.  It was incredibly freeing, and the journey since has been more beautiful and wonderful and terrible still.
    Over the past four years God has become more and more real to me, and his character has opened up to greater and greater extents.  I now have that relationship I had envied in high school, and it is beautiful.  Not everything is smooth sailing of course.  Things are, in some ways, harder than ever.  Every day I wake up having to make the decision over again - will I trust God today?  Will I let go of my own plans, my own attempts at self-righteousness and control?  Will I stop grasping at everything apart from God that promises me life, all the little indulgences and sins that my flesh hungers for, but I know don't really satisfy?
    This past year, I've been on a books and movies fast, as those are the things that I give my heart away to in return for the promise of life, my personal idol as it were.  My flesh hungers for escape from pain, and stories provide that to me, if only for a little while even as they numb my heart.  There have been so many ups and downs this year, many starts and stops to my fast, and I've been on my knees, raw and sobbing out to God more times than I can remember, because, God, I just want to be happy!  I don't want to feel all of these negative emotions!  But my purpose on this earth is not to be happy but to bring Jesus Christ glory.
    This means saying no when I want to say yes.  Allowing myself to feel when all I want is numbness.  And trusting that when God brings me to a cliff and tells me to jump, I won't crash and burn but instead mount up on wings like eagles.  And so when at Fall Retreat God asked me if I would let him break my heart, I timidly and fearfully said ok.  For Jesus Christ came to help the sick and the hurting and the dying, and restoration and healing often involve lancing the old wounds and letting the pain and anger pour out before new growth can occur.  The past few months have been a time of such deep pain, as God systematically uses the sucky things in my life to remind me of and bring me back to old festering wounds from my childhood so he can heal them.  Yes, this fall has been full of pain, but has also been a time of healing, and learning at a continually deeper level that God is good, God is trustworthy, and if I wait on and trust in him instead of trying to find life on my own, he will satisfy me.
    And this is eternal life, that they know you the only true God, and Jesus Christ whom you have sent. John 17:3
    But those who wait for the Lord [who expect, look for, and hope in Him] shall change and renew their strength and power; they shall lift their wings and mount up [close to God] as eagles [mount up to the sun]; they shall run and not be weary, they shall walk and not faint or become tired. - Isaiah 40:31 (Amplified)

Imagining Reality

I am on a battlefield, dusty and dirty and tired.  My scant armor is covered with a thin sheen of dirt and my eyes feel like I haven't rested in weeks.  Here and there on my clothing are bloodstains, dried to a crusty brown color, some of the wounds beneath them scabbed over and healing while others are still open to the noxious fumes of the battle.  I appear to be alone, dirty lukewarm fog drifting in small clouds around me, obscuring vision beyond a few yards.  Further away I hear shouts and clashes, but only my own heavy breathing echos in my own ears.  My sword arm aches with the effort of holding my weapon in a ready stance, and my other arm has given up under the relentless barrage of enemy fire (which mercifully seems to have given up for a moment) and has rested my circular buckler on the ground.  The enemies' attacks had slowed and stopped as the noxious fog rolled in, and now the tepid humidity in the air is making me cough and splutter, my eyes watering at the smell and feel of the fog.  My head becomes dizzy, and the sounds of my companions fighting their own enemies grow dim and fade away, sounding muffled and unreal.  It is now that I realize the fog is an attack of its own, but I cannot seem to muster up the energy to raise my shield, though how it could protect me I do not know.  I make an ineffective sweep of my sword around my head, but the mist continues to swirl closer.  I realize that the fog is full of whispers, so quiet and persistent that I cannot make them out individually, but which come together to make my head pound and my ears ache.  My heart has sunk in my chest, and my mind begins to make sense of the words it hears in the mist.

"You are alone. No one is here for you. Where has your brilliant general gone?"  They taunt me.
"The plan has failed. You are a failure. Why send out a green little girl like you to do a man's job?" On and on.
"You are worthless, less than worthless. You cause more damage to your own army than the enemy. No one will ever come to your aid." Still they come.
"You are cannon fodder, too unimportant even to deploy in a strategic spot. Not trusted, not worthy of trust.  Utterly useless"  I have sunk down to my knees under the barrage, my head in my hands, sword on the ground, trying to shut the whispers out.
"Utterly forgotten.  Utterly forsaken. Utterly alone."  With this the words fade away, leaving me in the deafening silence of the dirty fog which completely swallows up any noise. Utterly desolate.

As I huddle there a whisper in my heart urges me to call out to my companions in arms, saying that they will hear and come to my defense, but the voices in the fog have silenced me, my tongue lying mute in my mouth from fear. They will not come. They are surrounded by their own battles and fogs and noxious whispers. They will not know how to fight for me and even if they did, I am not worth fighting for, I am not worth defending, I am totally alone.

******

This is me.  This has been the last two weeks.  This is how I've been, relentlessly hammered down by an invisible force that keeps changing tactics until I have very little heart left and stand mute and fearful.

Will you stand with me, with us?  Will you fight side by side with me?  Will you ask me how I am and really mean it?  Will you pray fiercely for me?  Will you be willing to speak on my behalf, to risk much for me, and for your other brothers and sisters?  Will you?

You

This is grace.

A free fall, leaping voluntarily from the platform into the unknown.
This is faith.
Burning the faulty bridges before new ones have been built.
This is life.
Falling and soaring, all senses on high alert.
This is wisdom.
Walking day by day with eyes fixed upon your face.
This is trust.
Hoping in good gifts though you, for apart from you they are nothing.
This is love.
Passionate. Pursuit.
This is You.
You are love, and in you I will place my hope.

Here I Am

Here we are.  Here I am.  Unfiltered, and unedited (mostly).  This is going to be raw and unpolished and might come out wrong, but that's okay.  Honesty is sometimes much more important than all of that.  And I want to be honest with you.  I want to be messy and vulnerable and unpolished and offer you little pieces of my heart whispering "Please be careful with this."  But I still offer it to you to do with what you will.  It is a gift, and offering out of the hope that you will enjoy, you will resonate, you will understand me, and yourself, perhaps, as well, a little bit better.  And so I begin.

As usual, I hardly know where the beginning of everything is, and will have to try in my imperfect way to find a good starting spot.

Pain.  Let's start here.  I don't like pain.  I don't like feeling hurt, feeling emotional pain, sadness, anger, frustration, rage.  And so I run.  I hide, and tunnel deep into myself, or into other things so I won't have to feel that hurt.  And so I ran, this spring.  From pain.  From my aunt's diagnosis of cancer, from the pain of recognizing and acknowledging my desires and seeing them go unmet day after day after week after week after month after month, from a profound loneliness, from feelings of abandonment, from frustrations with myself for not living up to my own standards of perfection.  From others, and from myself.  I was numb, except for the self-loathing I experienced after I fell, again, and sinned, again in the ways I had sworn to myself I would not do again.  I ran and I ran and I ran.  I hid from God (whom I was angry at, because I felt wounded by him, after I did not receive a thing it seemed like he had promised me, a thing I only kind of wanted, but had put a lot of myself out there for because I believed he wanted me to and that his provision would come through).  I was vulnerable (sometimes) and shared (sometimes) and felt tired and lonely and unwanted (a lot of the time).  I was in battle, and it sure felt like I was losing, with no one fighting for me.  Not God, not my friends, not even me, sometimes.

I was in battle, a mother lioness with no cubs to fight for, no mate to fight for me, nothing and no one except myself and the enemy.  And I was tired.  So very tired.  A lot of pain, a lot of negative things.  This isn't to say that I didn't have good times, didn't feel joy and happiness sometimes, but the underlying emotion was anger and disgust.

And I still feel so very lonely sometimes, all alone with no one to fight for me.  All alone, with no champion on my side.  This was one thing I realized this past week during the LT kickoff retreat.  There was one point, where it was announced that the women were going to pray out loud for the men, and the men were going to pray out loud for the women.  And my heart leapt in my chest, a deep deep wordless longing welling up, fear and hesitation mixed in with it.  "Oh, is this for me?  It can't be for me because I want it so much.  Can it?"  I have felt rejected and abandoned by my sisters in christ, by my brothers in christ.  I have felt so much pain, so much anger, so much hurt, so much indifference from those I have looked to for friendship, for companionship, for affirmation from God flowing through them.  Having men of God praying out loud for me, for my sisters and I, was such an amazing feeling.  There were many, many tears shed by me, by my sisters.  My desire for masculine love runs so deep.  I desire feminine love as well, but I have so much more of that already in my life.  I have so many heart's sisters, women I love and am open with, whom I share my life intensely with.  I have few heart's brothers, few men whom I trust enough to open up my heart and share vulnerably with as a sister.  I have few men whom I trust will fight for me, even a little bit.  I feel alone and vulnerable, and so fight for myself.  I am fierce and protective of myself, of those I love.  And the story plays out again and again in the lives of my sisters, fighting for themselves and their sisters because no brother does.  There are so many tears here, so much longing for how things should be, how God created us to function.  So much desire for heaven, for the way God intended us to interact.

I am not blameless.  I have wounded and hurt others, cut them to the quick.  I have sinned against them, against my brothers and sisters, and I have so much regret for that, so much sorrow for the pain I have caused others.  I have not loved others as I was called to do so, have not loved God with an abandon that made his love overflow into my relationships with others.  I have sinned against others, against God, against myself.  I struggle with pride, with perfectionism, with legalism, with choosing aloneness over connection for fear of greater pain.  I have lied, and stolen, and taken the Lord's name in vain.  I have coveted, and committed adultery in my heart.  I have dishonored my parents, I have been angry and desired death for others in my mind.  I have not kept the Sabbath, I have made idols, and I have put these other "gods" before God.

I have failed.  I fail.  I will fail.  I do not measure up to the standards I set for myself.  I do not measure up to the standards of the Law, no matter how hard I try.  And so, I'm coming back to Grace.  I'm coming back to sitting at Jesus's feet sobbing, saying "forgive me, I need you more than ever, I need you because I have no one left.  I have been adulterous, and all of my false lovers have left me more alone and desolate than ever.  Nothing has any meaning except for you.  Everything is meaningless, empty, and shallow.  I will wait on you.  I will quiet my soul and wait on you, for you have promised redemption, which I eagerly hunger for.  I will wait on you, for the things you have promised, but so much more than that, for you.  Because you are worth it.  You are worth everything my frail broken heart could ever give you.  You are the only thing that matters in this world, in this universe."

And you answer "Here I Am."

Creative reflections on the personal meaning of Easter

I'm a young girl, and I'm awake.  I'm walking through the hallways of the palace, even though it's past my bedtime.  I should be asleep and I know it, but I was scared, and so I'm seeking out the thing that says security and comfort to me - my father.  I open the door to his study, which is dark and deserted.  He's not there.  I go to the throne room - sometimes he likes to sit there late at night.  I slowly crack open the side door (for caution, but also because the throne room doors are large and I am small).  He's there, sitting on the foot of the dais, but hasn't noticed me yet.  I creep in, still afraid (I am out of bed when I shouldn't be, after all) until he looks up and sees me.  And without thought I run into his arms, slippers flying and nightgown flopping.  He holds me tightly, securely, as I take some gasping breaths, afraid I might cry, but they subside, and I look up into my daddy, the king's face.  There is such a look of tenderness and love and concern and gentleness on his face that I know no one can ever harm me, for my daddy will protect me.

Without a word, he stands, shifting my weight so he's cradling me in his arms, and walks back to my room.  I am content to lie there, hear the beat of his heart (even and strong, it says safe. safe. safe.) and look at his face.  If I were older, I would call it noble, the face of a just ruler, but now I can only think that he has a face I trust.  We get to my room, and he lays me in bed carefully, like I am a precious thing to him, and tucks the blankets in around me.  I snuggle in, happy, as he picks up the storybook from the table besides my bed and begins to read to me, his strong, even voice comforting.  I drift off to sleep, knowing I am safe and secure and loved beyond measure.

Learning to be okay with being Broken

Why hello there lovely people!  It's time for your regularly scheduled blog post. :D  This past week has been pretty great.  I got back from spring break, and the things that I loved about it continued to happen.  Community, and kingdom talk, and love, and God, and good things like that.  And my schoolwork didn't suck my time up a whole ton, like it often does.  In fact, I think that I spent more time on other people, and more time on schoolwork as well, and I was happier than I have been in the past.  Normally when I spend more time with people than I do normally, I'm okay for a little while and then I crash and can't deal with people for several days.  But I've been going hard socially for two weeks, and while I needed a little me time yesterday, it was nowhere near the level of withdrawal I normally experience.  It turns out that spending time with my family in Christ is way less draining of my people energy than spending time with other people. :D  Also, at least some of that socialization came from a place of "How can I serve my brothers and sisters in Christ?"  Loving motivation (versus a purely selfish motivation) and wanting to give to others makes a huge difference.  So yeah, that's been pretty great.

I signed up for LT (YAY! :D) so now I need to start figuring out my summer and all of that stuff.  It would be overwhelming, but I know that God has good things for me, and so I am trusting him.  I need to figure out housing, a job, how I am paying for LT and housing in advance of having a job and the money to pay for it.  That sounds overwhelming, but I am at peace about it.  I don't need to tackle all of it at once, either, as long as I take the little steps that God wants me to take.  A little at a time, relying on God's strength instead of my own.  Life is so much easier when I do that.  Who would have thought it?  So that's good and exciting!

In other matters, though, this past week God has been bringing up my deep contempt and disgust with myself when I fail to achieve the things that I think I can achieve.  I know that other people don't feel that towards me when I fail, and I know that God doesn't either, but I think that it's okay for me to.  I have such incredibly high standards for myself, and on one hand that's good, but on the other hand, it's bad when I fail to live up to them.  Linda said something in life group this week that really made me think.  She said that often contempt is a mask for shame.  And so I'm wondering if I underneath my contempt for myself when I fail, when I sin, is a deep deep shame.  Shame for not being perfect, although no one but myself expects me to.  I am slowly learning that I don't have to be perfect, but it's hard.  I grew up as the baby of the family, the academic one who achieved good grades, a model christian teenager who was excited to go to church every Sunday and never drank or went to parties.  I was the golden child, and others had high expectations for me.  My teachers expected a lot from me, my principle as well (do you have any idea how annoying that was?).  My brothers, multiple times, have communicated how proud they are of how I am working hard in school, how I have things figured out and they wish they had things figured out when they were my age.  My friends - no, I have projected expectations of myself on my friends.  My friends are great.  My parents, bless them, have always communicated that they only want me to do my best, they don't expect more from me.  That they love me regardless of my grades and my life decisions.  But I expect myself to be perfect, and feel ashamed when I do not achieve that.  I want to be strong, and capable.  I want to be productive, and efficient, and loving.  But... I am weak.  I am incapable so much of the time.  I consume rather than produce.  I am inefficient, and selfish so much of the time.  I sin, I am faithless, I don't trust, hope, or love.  I'm broken.  I am a human being.  And slowly, I am starting to learn that it's okay to be broken.  It's good to be broken in front of God, because that's when he can really transform things.  When I am weak, he is strong.  I'm learning that the love of others, and most especially of God, is not dependent on my decisions, on my ability to get things done, or on my actions.  It is unmerited, irrevocable, and unfathomable.  I know that God loves me, and will always love me.  And when others let me down, as they inevitably will, God is there to catch me, and so I will keep loving others, and trusting in their love for me.

Regarding Spring Break

So.  Spring Break.  Basically, it was freaking amazing!  Like, oh my word so incredible and fantastic and God is so good.  There is so much that I could say, so much that I could tell, but I only have so much time, and I don't want to overburden you guys with pages and pages of stuff.  So I'll try to keep it on the shorter side.

To begin with, I was put into a vehicle with two people whose names I knew, and someone I had never met before, and it turned out to be so awesome.  In fact, I think that one of the moments during the trip when I felt the most alive was on that first eight hour car ride to Knoxville.  We got coffee from one of the few Tim Hortons in Ohio, and then preceded to refer to ourselves as the caffeine car.  There were many shenanigans in the vehicle, and it was just so much fun, so much community.  Also, this trip has fostered in me an appreciation and - dare I say it - a liking for country music (out of the approximate 40 hours in a vehicle, we listened to country for 30 hours).  The remaining twelve (actually more like fourteen) hours in the car the next day were good as well, with more silliness as well as more personal conversations, kingdom talk, if you will.  Friendship bracelets were made and exchanged between some members of our caravan, and it was a great trip, despite the two hour detour for a brushfire once we actually got to Florida.  Also, I had my first Chick-fil-A, which was tasty, but I did not appreciate the sweet tea.  I don't know.  Tea should be bitter, like coffee (I drink it black, when I do drink it).

The next six days were freaking amazing.  Extended time on the beach was good.  I often had trouble focusing, and I much prefer to talk to God about whatever I have on my mind than go through a plan someone else has put together, but I still got good things out of it.  I think that God wanted me to rest with him, and so even when I had trouble with letting my thoughts fuzz and fade out, I didn't fight it too hard, and was just content to sit on the beach with Him, enjoying the weather and the scenery in front of me.

The talks were good as well, and even when they were about things that I had heard before, or things that I already had internalized, I still got good things out of them about my new reality.  But the focus of the trip, at least for me, and for pretty much everyone else as well, based on things people were saying, was the community.  One of the last talks was on the Church as family, and it was so good.  So so good.  And the whole rest of the trip was basically everyone acting that out in beautiful and touching ways.

Brothers and sisters were a major theme of the week, and there was so much fraternal love.  The girls were sharing clothes, hair-products, straighteners, air mattresses, sunscreen, everything.  The men (I'm making a conscious effort to refer to the males of my acquaintance here at college as men instead of guys or boys in an attempt to honor them), while I can't say much about how they interacted among themselves in the absence of us females, were so great around us.  They served us and each other, doing extra work in the kitchen to serve and clear away food, volunteering to do slightly less desirable tasks, sacrificing things like their shower and one of their bathrooms for four hours in the morning so we girls could shower.  They respected the modesty guidelines on the beach, keeping their shirts on when in the presence of us females and not in the water (we did the same, wearing one-pieces, tankinis, or tank-tops over bikinis when in their presence).  They served us dinner on Thursday, escorting us, giving us roses, decorating, and just generally being super considerate and loving.  They were willing to be open and vulnerable in group settings.  Basically, they were freaking awesome and loved us women so well, and I was so honored to spend a week with them and call them brothers.  God also brought up some stuff with one of my actual brothers... (actual brother, blood brother, real brother... genetic brother? I need a good term to differentiate this.  Or maybe I don't.  Maybe that's the whole point of it, you know?)  So I have that to process with God now.

This isn't to say that everything was great and that negative or painful things never came up.  There was at least one point where I was basically crying and wrestling with God for an hour in the midst of everyone else rejoicing, but even that was good.  That hurt was necessary for God to get me to let go of something I didn't want to let go of.  We were having a time of affirmation, a lovefest if you will, where people said the things they saw in others.  I volunteered to go first, because no one else was (it ended up only being two of us volunteering before the leader running it just started picking people to go).  That decision was what precipitated the intense emotional reaction I experienced.  See, people were still adjusting to the idea of what we were going to do, and that led to fewer people coming up to give me words of affirmation, especially from the male population.  Only two men said things to me, and they were two people I did not especially expect to do that.  What they did say was beautiful and impacted me, and what the girls said was lovely and loving as well.  But still.  I have such a deep desire for masculine love, not even romantic love, but just masculine love, brotherly love.  A strong, protective kind of love.  And I know that I will never be satisfied completely in this life.  I know that.  But I always desire more. And so I cried out to God, in between going up and giving words of affirmation to my brothers and sisters, and just gave him my pain, my desires.  I acknowledged that he could fill the part of my heart that hungered for love, that if I depended upon him, hungered for him in the way I hungered for my brothers' love, then I would be satisfied.  That isn't to say that I don't need the love from my brothers and sisters, but rather that shouldn't be my first priority, shouldn't be the thing that I am dependent upon.  So yes, it was intensely painful.  I was dealing with a part of my heart that was so deep, and so deeply hurt by this world.  A lot of you know a lot of my story, and much of that story involves emotional hurt and fear of connection with my brothers and sisters.  But even in that pain, it was good.  God was good.  He was pursuing me, and loving me, and freeing me.  And then, after that time was over and we collected our belongings again, I found that I had a text from someone I am proud to call a brother asking how I was.  You have no idea how much that impacted me, and how much I was praising God for His goodness at that.  Thank you, Elijah. :)

And then the ride back was wonderful and great.  We were encouraged to switch vehicles to facilitate greater bonding with everyone, but our vehicle stayed the same the entire ride.  We talked a lot of kingdom talk, shared a lot of vulnerable and personal things, and just loved on each other.  I taught the sole male in our vehicle how to make friendship bracelets, and he made one for all of the women in our caravan and two of the men as well.  One of the vehicles had a flat tire, so there was some frustration and annoyance over that, but it ended up leading to a time of greater vulnerability afterwards in our kingdom talk, so I can't regret that it happened.

All in all, it was an amazing week of friendship, fun, and God.  Of family and love.  Of joy and sunburn and dance parties.  It was an amazing experience, and I am so glad that I said yes to God, even when I wanted to do something else originally.  I got to see the church as a family, in a deeper and more concrete way.  I got to see and celebrate two baptisms.  I got to see people change over the week, see them trusting God more and finding peace in difficult situations.  I'm so glad I went, so glad I got to know everyone, so glad for the community (and unity) that occurred.  God is good.

[all photo credits go to Lexie, Alyssa, and Karen. :) Love you!]

Another Sunday, Another Blogpost

I honestly don't have much to say this evening, don't have much to offer.   On one hand, I'm feeling a lot less lonely than I did last week. (Thanks to everyone who reached out and communicated with me this past week.  It meant a lot.)  But I'm still dealing with loneliness, with engaging God in this issue in my life.  I'm still struggling to give up on my own attempts to make myself happy, even though I know that it doesn't work, and it ends up making me sad and lonely.  I'm trying not to isolate myself when I get tired and depleted of energy, even though being alone and by myself gives me energy.  Being alone is not the same as isolation.  I guess I'm just tired.  I'm tired of how hard (or maybe consistent) things are sometimes, and tired of dealing (or not) with my emotions all the time, and tired of life being blah too much of the time.  I'm tired of being in control in my life, but I can't seem to let go even so.  I'm tired of trying to lose myself in stories, and of failing to achieve my resolutions and goals.  I want rest and community.  Luckily, next week is spring break and I'm going on an amazing trip with some people whom I really respect and like.

I want so much, and sometimes I wonder if I ever will get it.

Loneliness and Community

Satan tends to wound us in our area of greatest strength, right?  Like if God created you to be an amazing musician and touch others through that gifting, the deepest emotional wounds you will receive will be to your musical ability or how others see your musical ability.  It only makes sense.  Well, all of my deepest wounds were given to how I interact with others.  The messages of those wounds - "You will never fall in love and have what your parents have" "Do not touch others, especially boys" "No one will ever like you" "Your friends will betray you and tell your deepest secrets to everyone" "No one understands you" "No one loves you"  "If you express how you feel to others, they will laugh and be embarrassed" "You will always be alone".  I've made some progress with refuting some of these lies (I know that they are lies at a mental level, but at an emotional level they feel so true).

This weekend, Satan has been hammering "You are alone" message at me, and though I know that it is not true, it feels true, it felt true yesterday.  One example (keeping in mind this is the third or fourth thing yesterday that made me feel like this), we had a service (Core) yesterday for the core group of students at my church, the ones who come to small group, team, church regularly and who are involved in the church.  I got there a few minutes early, as I had been a few doors down at the prayer room and left for Core ten minutes early.  And no one from my team was there, and neither was anyone from my sister team.  I sat there for eight minutes, all alone in an empty row, waiting for my friends to arrive and watching the rows in front of me fill with talking, laughing people.  And when some of them did arrive, a minute before Core started, they all sat in the row behind me.  I felt so alone.  After another three or four minutes, a couple of people from our sister team arrived and sat in front of their friends and next to me.  That helped a bit, but I was still hurting a lot.  Now some of this was excessive emotionalism (stupid hormones) but it's really an intensification of what I normally feel at church here at school.  Most of my friends, most of my team, are Meyers-Briggs Ps, or at least, nowhere near the level of J that I am.  I like things organized, punctual, and planned.  Ps are impulsive, roll with whatever comes up, and not super on time to things.  I am a J, to the extent that if someone has told me a plan and I have invested some time and effort into it, and then at the last minute things change, even if it's to shift the event to later in the day, I am upset.  I get anxious if I am going somewhere with someone and they cause us to be late.  I am rarely late to anything, often arriving exactly on time, or more usually, early.  I think of it as a matter of respect to show up before things begin.  And so when others don't respect my need to be on time, I feel very alone, and hurt.  And this happens often.  So I felt very alone and hurt yesterday because of this, in addition to the several other things that made me feel isolated from others.

That isn't to say that people didn't reach out to me yesterday at all.  One of the guys on my team whom I look up to and respect thanked me for sharing something vulnerable with the entire team a few weeks ago.  One of my friends on my sister team gave me a hug (granted, I had asked her for it) and then later in the day, asked on facebook if I was doing okay.  One of the leaders of the sister team came up and asked me how I was doing and really listened to my answer.  One of the guys on my sister team offered Alyssa and I a ride home in the snow, but we chose to walk because it was pretty out.  Gwen messaged me a great story of what happened at Ignition to her.  So people did reach out to me.  But it wasn't enough to fill the holes left by the things that made me feel so alone.  It wasn't enough to stop the loneliness.  And I think that if I'm honest with myself, I feel lonely more often than I admit, even to myself.  So often, I feel like I'm the strong one, the one holding others together, the one reaching out to my friends, the one encouraging and loving on others.  And even though I know it's not true, it feels like no one does it to me.  There are people who reach out and love me, encourage me, and it means more to me than they probably know.  But it's not enough to satisfy my longing for love and connection.  I'm not saying that I don't rely on God to satisfy my need for love, because I do, but I am also hardwired to need human love and connection, to need community.

I guess what I'm saying is that I need others, I need you, to encourage me right now.  Because I feel so alone.  And I feel really vulnerable needing others and asking them to meet my need.  (That's a whole other story, one that you are probably familiar with in your own life.)

The Vision

By Pete Greig

So this guy comes up to me and says "what's the vision? What's the big idea?" I open my mouth and words come out like this… The vision?
The vision is JESUS – obsessively, dangerously, undeniably Jesus.
The vision is an army of young people.
You see bones? I see an army. And they are FREE from materialism.
They laugh at 9-5 little prisons. They could eat caviar on Monday and crusts on Tuesday. They wouldn't even notice. They know the meaning of the Matrix, the way the west was won. They are mobile like the wind, they belong to the nations. They need no passport.. People write their addresses in pencil and wonder at their strange existence. They are free yet they are slaves of the hurting and dirty and dying. What is the vision ? The vision is holiness that hurts the eyes. It makes children laugh and adults angry. It gave up the game of minimum integrity long ago to reach for the stars. It scorns the good and strains for the best. It is dangerously pure.
Light flickers from every secret motive, every private conversation. It loves people away from their suicide leaps, their Satan games. This is an army that will lay down its life for the cause. A million times a day its soldiers
choose to lose that they might one day win the great 'Well done' of faithful sons and daughters.
Such heroes are as radical on Monday morning as Sunday night. They don't need fame from names. Instead they grin quietly upwards and hear the crowds chanting again and again: "COME ON!"
And this is the sound of the underground The whisper of history in the making Foundations shaking Revolutionaries dreaming once again Mystery is scheming in whispers Conspiracy is breathing… This is the sound of the underground
And the army is discipl(in)ed.
Young people who beat their bodies into submission.
Every soldier would take a bullet for his comrade at arms. The tattoo on their back boasts "for me to live is Christ and to die is gain".
Sacrifice fuels the fire of victory in their upward eyes. Winners. Martyrs. Who can stop them ? Can hormones hold them back? Can failure succeed? Can fear scare them or death kill them ?
And the generation prays
like a dying man with groans beyond talking, with warrior cries, sulphuric tears and with great barrow loads of laughter! Waiting. Watching: 24 – 7 – 365.
Whatever it takes they will give: Breaking the rules. Shaking mediocrity from its cosy little hide. Laying down their rights and their precious little wrongs, laughing at labels, fasting essentials. The advertisers cannot mould them. Hollywood cannot hold them. Peer-pressure is powerless to shake their resolve at late night parties before the cockerel cries.
They are incredibly cool, dangerously attractive
inside.
On the outside? They hardly care. They wear clothes like costumes to communicate and celebrate but never to hide. Would they surrender their image or their popularity? They would lay down their very lives - swap seats with the man on death row - guilty as hell. A throne for an electric chair.
With blood and sweat and many tears, with sleepless nights and fruitless days,
they pray as if it all depends on God and live as if it all depends on them.
Their DNA chooses JESUS. (He breathes out, they breathe in.) Their subconscious sings. They had a blood transfusion with Jesus. Their words make demons scream in shopping centres. Don't you hear them coming? Herald the weirdo's! Summon the losers and the freaks. Here come the frightened and forgotten with fire in their eyes. They walk tall and trees applaud, skyscrapers bow, mountains are dwarfed by these children of another dimension. Their prayers summon the hounds of heaven and invoke the ancient dream of Eden.
And this vision will be. It will come to pass; it will come easily; it will come soon. How do I know? Because this is the longing of creation itself, the groaning of the Spirit, the very dream of God. My tomorrow is his today. My distant hope is his 3D. And my feeble, whispered, faithless prayer invokes a thunderous, resounding, bone-shaking great 'Amen!' from countless angels, from hero's of the faith, from Christ himself. And he is the original dreamer, the ultimate winner.
Guaranteed.

Ownership

There are three levels of ownership recognized in most societies (we tend to only think of one, but in reality, it's all three of them combined for us.)  There is Ownership (the ultimate legal right to the thing.  It is yours.), Possession (You have the thing with you, you have legal access to the thing), and Usufruct (you have legal rights to use the thing.  You do not own it, nor is it your possession, but you can use it.).  I was thinking about this today, and I realized that in Christianity, we are God's bondservants, his slaves.  He has ownership of us, but we have possession and usufruct.  And I thought that was pretty cool.

Steps, forward and backward

Oh hey.  It's blog post time again.  And I... well, I honestly don't feel like writing much tonight, so we'll just see how this goes, all right?

Sometimes, with God it feels like I take two steps forward and then one step back, or maybe even one step forward and then one slightly smaller step back.  I end up closer to him, but only a little bit at a time, after advancing a large amount in a short amount of time.  Which is frustrating.  I will admit that I have this problem in pretty much every relationship I have though, so it's not really a surprise after all.  It's frustrating with everyone else as well, by the way.

I think that it is because I'm scared?  I'm not entirely sure what I'm scared of, though I do have some ideas.  Maybe because I have this intense dislike of being radical, or zealous, or fully into anything.  And I mean anything.  I cannot think of a single thing that I am fully invested in, or really have ever been fully invested in.  I am always holding something back, and even if you are in my circle of closest friends, there are secrets about my life that I have probably never told you.  It's not because I don't trust you, it's just that... it's mine, you know.  And to have more people knowing... means more people could hurt me.  I know that you wouldn't, not on purpose, but a lot of hurt happens on accident.  And honestly, my deepest darkest secret?  I've only told two people, ever, and their identities would surprise you.  And in communities that I am a part of?  As much as it looks like I am all in, there is usually a small part of me that is reserved, outside of it all.  The things that I believe?  I always reserve the right to secretly criticize things, and it is very hard for me to completely trust the facts and opinions of another person.  The notable exception to this being my father.  And so I am scared of being all in.

I'm scared of not being in control.  Let me rephrase that.  I am so freaking terrified of not being in control - of my life, my feelings, my desires, my actions.  I am really terrified of what could happen if I let all of my carefully placed controls slip down.  I'm terrified that I would get hurt, again, like I was not too long ago.  I'm terrified that I would hurt others.  Or that they wouldn't accept completely open and honest and impulsive Hannah.  And at the same time, I am scared about being in control of my life, with my decisions and responsibilities sitting squarely on my shoulders. (Never mind the fact that I know that my parents would be okay if I screwed things up a bit, if I got a lower grade in school than I'm used to, or made some other not-super wise decision.  But I wouldn't be okay with myself.)  I am coming to terms with the fact that I am an adult, though, and my decisions do have weight to them.

And this week, it's just felt like God is waiting so patiently for me to go all in, and I keep dancing closer and closer to that line, and it keeps resolving into a clearer and clearer distinction between all in, and partly in.  It all comes down to trust, I suppose.  And I know that I will cross that line at some point, but my natural hesitation is still operating.

Sorry about the weird mix of vagueness and honesty... I don't even know.  Anyway, I love all of you reading this, probably more than you know. :)

I was just eating brunch, and overheard a girl telling her friend about a party she went to this weekend.  And honestly, it made me want to cry.  Oh God, let me and the other Christians and Christian groups on campus be a light in the party culture that is pervasive across campus.  Oh my heart.

Reality

I am so very tired right now, so I don't know how long this post is going to be.  It's been a long several weeks of not getting enough sleep for stupid reasons, and lots of emotions (good and bad) and thoughts.  And today I learned that one of my friends (someone I've known for 16 years) is going to have a little baby boy in the next several weeks.  I am currently still trying to process that fact, and I kind of really wish that I could see her and make her something cute for the baby.  I mean, I'm going to make something cute for the baby anyway, but I wish I had been keeping in better contact the past few years.  So that's the big thing that happened today.

Yesterday and Friday I went on a retreat with my church here at school, and it was really, really, really good.  Like mmmhm so good.  Worship on Friday night was beautiful, with Ria and Alyssa and I dancing on the side of the sanctuary, and then one of my friends from my New Life Team shared his testimony, and even though I've heard it before, it was still beautiful and amazing and full of so many reasons to rejoice (also he just got engaged!).  I got to spend some time with some ladies that I absolutely love and don't see very often, and the talks were all really good.  The last talk on Saturday made a big impact on me.  I don't even think that it was something that the speaker explicitly said, but it was something that popped into my head.  What would my life look like, if rather than wanting to be happy in my life, my goal was to follow God?  And I know that I've heard that lots of times, but it really hit home yesterday.  Like, what visions would come to fruition then?  What dreams would be reality?  How much would God use me and move through me if my sole goal in life was to follow him, to run after him and his desires rather than the things that I think will make me happy?  How beautiful would my life be then?  And so, I kind of rededicated my life to God yesterday.  Another, deeper vow of trying my hardest to go after him, of giving him my weakness and my strength, of continual surrender and living sacrifice.  Another, deeper stubborn decision to follow Him as Lord of my life, no matter what.

And so I'm giving up.  I'm giving up my selfish desires, my attempts to make me happy.  My attempts to keep my moods stable and my emotions in check.  I'm giving up control of my life, more and more areas in my heart are willingly surrendering their desires and angers, their bitterness and grudges.  Come in, Lord.  This is yours.  And the things that I thought would hurt so much to let go of, are such a relief.  The burdens that I feel/felt like I carried, in the face of God and His amazing power, are not sliding off, but rather shrinking to their actual size, and I hardly feel them now.  A new reality in my life.

Which brings me to another big thing from this weekend.  My biggest tendency, my greatest temptation, is to reject the reality that I see in favor of a different one in my imagination.  All of my life, I ingested books, movies, stories.  In these stories I could substitute myself in as the narrator, as the one having the adventures, living the friendships, and falling in love.  I was creating a fantasy world in which I lived, pretending that it was satisfactory, rather than having my own adventures, forming deeper and deeper friendships, and falling in love with God.  And I'm so sick of it.  Which is why I'm fasting books and movies, fasting stories, fasting those other realities that I am so fond of living in.  Because I'm sick of not being fully committed to my Lord and Savior.  I know that there are parts in my heart that are still hiding, still stubbornly clinging to their defenses, but I also know that God is inexorably bringing them into the light and gently prompting me to begin renovation.

The saddest part of my addiction to stories, to other realities, is that they are a substitute for real relationships, real adventures.  And I know, so so so deeply that God has amazing adventures for me.  I know that one of my purposes in this life is to be a unifier of people, to bring them together, to love communities into being, to facilitate bonding.  It's who I am, even though I have been ignorant of it for so very long.  And when I am wrapped up in fiction, I cannot play the role that my Creator has set out for me in reality.

I don't really have a good way to wrap this up, and I'm absolutely sure that more things happened this week that I could write about, but I think I'm done with this post.  One last thing, though.  I signed up for a Spring Break trip with my church without looking at the focus of it, just knowing that it was the one that a lot of my team is going on.  Turns out that the subject of the week is "A New Reality."  Oh God, you are awesome.

Frustrations and fears

You know those days when everything goes wrong, and you don't get anything done that you planned to, and you spend your time in useless, wasteful ways?  Well, that's been my week, basically.  And it's all so frustrating!  Just... yeah.  I was reading this book on fasting and it talked about how when you start cutting harmless pleasures out of your life because you are dependent on (you worship) them instead of God, there is a gap between giving them up, and when God meets your needs and desires that you have been fulfilling with harmless pleasures.  And so sometimes you go back to the harmless pleasures, and you find that they no longer fulfill whatever it is inside of you that was once dependent on them.  And so you are stuck somewhere in the middle, entirely dependent on God.  So that's kind of where I am right now.  And oh-my-word is it frustrating.  I never knew that trusting God and being dependent on Him would be frustrating, but now that I think about it, it makes perfect sense, as it entails actively frustrating all of my plans and attempts at living my life on my own.

And I guess that I'm discouraged right now.  Actually, I'm probably more disappointed in myself that discouraged.  But it's like, I am unable to do all of the little things that I expect of myself, so how in the world am I going to do the big things?  And the answer is that all things are possible through Christ, but it is so hard to translate that into everyday living, you know?

That isn't to say that this past week didn't have amazing God moments, because that is a patent falsehood.  I fasted on Tuesday, which was good, and I think that I'm going to make it a regular thing.  It was like, oh this hungry feeling is strangely familiar; I know how to live my life ignoring my stomach, thanks to last spring when I was stress-not-eating.  And it made me realize just how much of last spring's mental fogginess was due to the fact that I was not eating properly, which was a huge part of the whole situation.

On Thursday at Connect, my Team leader was talking about listening to God, and hearing his voice, which was so encouraging to me.  I often feel like the listening to God/following the Holy Spirit aspects of my faith are minimized in favor of doing ministry and reaching out to others and sharing the gospel with them at my church here at school.  And so when Mikey talks about the Holy Spirit, or listening to God and being open to his voice, it blesses me.  Especially because I'm not entirely sure the backgrounds of all of my friends at Team, and I don't know where they fall on the Charismatic scale, and I'm afraid that they would look at me like I'm a freak because I speak in tongues sometimes (actually, it's becoming something of a regular occurrence), etc.  Oh look, fear again.  And typing this out, I'm realizing how kind of stupid it sounds.  But it's still something I need to work through.

And then, afterwards we went ice skating, and on Friday I played in the snow and then went to tea with some friends from my dorm, people whom I've spent many meals talking to, but not done much else with.  But now we're actually friends, which is awesome.  They're all freshmen, and they're all Christians, on the non-Charismatic end of the scale (Catholic, Presbyterian, Romanian Baptist, etc), and I think that for all of them, their faith is really important to them, which is encouraging to me.

Friday evening I had a share-your-life-story-and-deepest-darkest-secrets night with one of my good friends here at school (whom I've known for two and a half years, but we've never gotten around to having that conversation, probably because as much as we love each other, we push each other's buttons on a regular basis, because we are very similar in many, many ways, a fact that stood out clearly in our conversation).

There's more, but I don't think that I'm ready to talk about it yet.  I need more time to think, and put words to the thoughts inside of me.  The gist of it, though, is that God is good. :)

Of Prayer and Redemption

Wow.  It's already been a week.  Crazyness.  It's been a full week, with class and my long(ish) list of Things To Do This (And Every) Week.  And overall, it's been a good week.  I've been happy.  Which, if you didn't know, is something that I was for a very long constant period growing up, even if sometimes I was very lonely and sad, I was primarily happy for 18 years of my life.  And then I went to college, and things were hard, and for the past two and a half years, my primary emotion has probably been fear and confusion and stress.  Which has not been very fun, not at all.  But I've been consistently happy for a month or so now.  Which is so very nice.

I've been doing my Bible reading consistently (Woo!), and got something pretty rich out of it this week.  I was going through Leviticus and Numbers and Deuteronomy and in one of them God kept giving all of these rules about the redemption of clean and unclean animals, the redemption of land, and redemption of people.  And I was just struck with a deeper/new understanding of just what Jesus did for us.  People, when they went into debt, would sometimes sell themselves and become like, indentured servants.  They (or their kinsman-redeemer) could redeem themselves by paying their master the money that they sold themselves for.  And like, Jesus is our redeemer.  He pays for the debts we have incurred and cannot pay, because we don't have the currency.  And the firstborn of every clean animal either had to be redeemed by paying a certain sum or by substituting a different kind of animal for sacrifice, or it had to be sacrificed to God, because they were his by right, because he killed all the of the firstborns of Egypt, but spared those of Israel.  And Jesus kind of redeemed us in that way as well, because he shed his blood for us, and so redeemed our lives, setting us apart.  I don't know if that all makes sense, or even if it's all factually accurate (I don't really want to go back and check as it's a little tedious.) but it's just been impacting me more and more how much Jesus has done for us.  Like woah.

Now, prayer.  So we're currently in the 40 days of Prayer that PrayUM does every year leading up to the International Day of Prayer (I think that's what it is).  And on Friday was the kickoff, which was great.  So much of His presence and Spirit was in the church, and I had a really great prayer session with a complete stranger.  And then Ria and I went and opened the Prayer Room.  I'm planning on spending a decent chunk of time there over the next 38 days, praying, worshipping, journalling, and soaking.  I'm also planning on doing at least one 24 hour session in early February.  I was in there yesterday, and it was good to just spend time with God, moving around the room and praying out loud for whatever came into my head.  It's just... I want to know Him more.  I want to want him more.  I long for greater Longing.  Because I'm gaining a deeper and deeper understanding of how much I need him, and how he is everything I need, and is actually everything that fulfills my deepest desires.  My deepest desires match up with who He is.  Which is really easy to say and really hard to internalize and know.  But as I am understanding it, it's blowing my mind.