did someone move the finish line?

i like to turn most things in life into analogies. my mind just understands things better like that. lucky for me, writers like paul liked analogies, too. needless to say, get ready for one...

on saturday, my friend and i ran the country music half-marathon (http://cmmarathon.com) in nashville. we did this same one last year, but maybe last year i felt more trained and more prepared for the big day. going into this year's race, i was genuinely nervous and honestly thought i wouldn't make it. i was telling myself it was okay if i had to stop and walk, i just wanted to finish.

likewise, last week i started feeling incredibly overwhelmed one night. i just have this reccuring thought that there's no possible way i'm going to make it through these next couple of weeks. perhaps that sounds dramatic, but i'm just being honest. i know every graduating senior starts to freak out over the end and the new beginnings, but in my life all of those fears of transition are just thrown in with all the other fears and uncertainties that come along with grief. about 14 months ago, my life underwent a huge change, so in my mind, i associate dramatic life changes with pain and heartache.

i can't help but hurt when i think about Dad's absence at graduation. i want him to be standing around the grill with all of my roommates' dads at our party the night before. i want him to be getting so frustrated and yelling things like "dad-gummit" during the infamous moving out process. i want him to be so proud to have 3 college graduates and so happy to not be sending all of his money to a university he had no interest in only a few years ago.

but back to the marathon. we had a blast and the run actually felt really good. i even finished with a faster time than i had last year, which doesn't really make any sense in light of my lack of training. that's not to say that there weren't a few times i questioned my decision to run 13.1 miles. around mile 3, i found myself wondering if i was really going to be able to run 10 more miles. around mile 10, my body was really starting to feel it, but at that point i had already reached double digits, so i wasn't about to quit. the last mile felt the longest, and i laughed when someone ran by me wearing a tank-top that said "did someone move the finish line?"

unfortunately, in my life right now i don't see a "finish line," but i'm told in hebrews 12 to "run with endurance the race that is set before [me], looking to Jesus, the founder and perfecter of [my] faith..." in the marathon, when i wasn't sure if i would make it, i was too stubborn to give up. at 10 miles, if i had made it that far, i certainly could finish. maybe it's okay for me to feel stubborn in my faith. although it rarely makes sense to me, i'm not about to throw in the towel. although the next few years, months, weeks, days, even hours seem almost impossible to bear, i can look back on the last 14 months and see that i've made it this far without falling apart, so there's no need to bail on my faith now. isaiah 40 claims that "those who hope in the Lord will renew their strength...they will run and not grow weary, they will walk and not be faint." why? because "He does not faint or grow weary; his understanding is unsearchable."

sometimes i want to scream at the top of my lungs, "DID SOMEONE MOVE THE FINISH LINE?!" in other words, when do i get the finisher's medal? is this ever going to end? that's when i feel like paul screams right back at me through his words in 1 corinthians 9. i like it from the message version: "everyone runs; one wins. run to win. all good athletes train hard. they do it for a gold medal that tarnishes and fades. you're after one that's gold eternally. i don't know about you, but i'm running hard for the finish line. i'm giving it everything i've got."

i don't know what all of this really looks like in those overwhelming moments when the pain literally takes my breath away, but i do know that i'm too stubborn to give up. i must persevere, fixing my eyes on Jesus, the One who will perfect this clumsy faith of mine.

o me of little faith.

if asked about God's love, i would without a doubt tell you that God loves you unconditionally. however, i've realized recently that when all else is stripped away, i'm not sure if i believe this for me.

and here's where it gets confusing. if God knows i have a hard time understanding His love for me, why would He make it any harder? if He knew that Dad loved me so well and showed me God's love so beautifully, why would He take that away?! that doesn't seem very loving.

in my mind, this is what it's like: here's a great idea...i know you feel unbelievably loved and secure in your dad, and i know he helps you know Me better, but i'm gonna take him away and leave a gaping wound there. unfortunately, there's no real replacement, so surgery doesn't seem like an option. in fact, not a whole lot can make it much better, but you can just hope for stitches that will maybe hold it together...but those will only be found if you've got faith, which clearly you're kinda struggling with right now...so i'm not really sure where that leaves you...probably just with a lousy bandaid that will start to stick, then get ripped off over and over again. lovely.

so i've been thinking about this passage recently--matthew 14.26-33--the classic story of peter walking on water. the disciples fear, jesus invites, peter doubts and cries for help, jesus calls him out then controls the storm, then everyone worships Him. jesus speaks three times in this story. the gentle assurance of "take heart; it is i. do not be afraid." the beautiful simplicity of "come." or probably His favorite line with me, "o you of little faith, why did you doubt?" at this point, i need peter to push the envelope a little further like he tends to do. i would have responded with "why did i doubt?! well maybe because this storm is out of control and i thought i could trust you, but clearly i just ended up sinking." i guess that's when jesus would have said, "what storm?! oh you mean the one that just obeyed my command? quit looking at the waves and keep your eyes on me." great answer, but maybe a little easier said than done...?

going into encounter tonight with all of these thoughts, i was silenced when we sang crowder's song, "never let go." simple but powerful lyrics:

when clouds veil sun and disaster comes
oh my soul...
when waters rise and hope takes flight
oh my soul...

ever faithful, ever true
you i know
you never let go...

when clouds brought rain and disaster came
oh my soul...
when waters rose and hope had flown
oh my soul...

oh my soul overflows
oh what love, oh what love
oh my soul fills with hope
perfect love that never lets go

oh what love, oh what love...
in joy and pain, in sun and rain
you're the same
oh, you never let go

what if i lived truly knowing and living in this perfect love for me that refuses to let me go?! what if my soul hoped in His consistency rather than being overwhelmed by changing and challenging circumstances?

it's not supposed to be like this.

last wednesday night, american idol did their annual "idol gives back" show where they bring in all kinds of celebrities and artists to raise money and awareness for people in need around the world. they had daughtry in uganda, bono in south africa, alicia keys somewhere else in africa, another famous person in new orleans, and the list goes on...

typically, i'm not one to cry much, especially when it would be an expected response, so the fact that this show brought me to tears should be shocking to those of you that really know me. i cried myself to sleep that night thinking about the pain i had seen on the show and the pain i've experienced in my own life, and the only thought i had was "it's not supposed to be like this."

i guess it's not as much an issue of right and wrong as much as it is a matter of SURELY God doesn't want us to hurt this badly. surely there's a better way. basically, i just found myself incredibly overwhelmed by the brokenness of this world and wondering where God fit in to all of it.

i finally finished that book, the shack, this weekend. i want to share another part of it, and honestly, this probabaly won't be the last time i refer to it. in chapter 11, the main character, mack, is asking why his daughter had to die. here's the response he gets from sophia, the personification of wisdom:

"He doesn't stop a lot of things that cause him pain. Your world is severely broken. You demanded your independence, and now you are angry with the one who loved you enough to give it to you. Nothing is as it should be, as Papa desires it to be, and as it will be one day. Right now your world is lost in darkness and chaos, and horrible things happen to those that he is especially fond of...Give up being his judge and know Papa for who he is. Then you will be able to embrace his love in the midst of your pain, instead of pushing him away with your self-centered perception of how you think the universe should be."

in chapter 13, mack's in a similar conversation with Papa (God) and this is one of the responses He gives:

"Mack, just because I work incredible good out of unspeakable tragedies doesn't mean I orchestrate the tragedies. Don't ever assume that my using something means I caused it or that I need it to accomplish my purposes. That will only lead you to false notions about me. Grace doesn't depend on suffering to exist, but where there is suffering you will find grace in many facets and colors."

a good friend recently reminded me that God isn't trading baseball cards in my life. it's not like He's saying, "i'll trade this bad circumstance for this good one." confession: romans 8.28 can sound like that to me sometimes, but i have to believe that isn't the God i know.

so who is the God that i know? i've never thought about the fact that i'm deeming myself a superior judge when i tell Him that this isn't the way my life is supposed to look and that it's not right for people to be hurting all over the world and basically that i think He's going about a lot of things in the wrong way.

it's in these moments that i realize i don't really understand God's love for me, and if i do, i certainly don't act or live or think like it. when my focus is on brokenness, my perspective of God is far from good, gracious, and loving...but if i believe Him to be those things, and turn my focus there, my perspective on brokenness should change, right?

sorry i don't have a good ending thought to pull this all together and end on a good note, but i'm striving for honesty here...so this is where i am this afternoon. these are my thoughts.

anchored.

my roommate recently asked me about this blog and about why/when i do it: do you blog everyday?—nope.—do you blog once a week?—eh, not really.—do you blog when you feel crazy?—um, yeah basically.

so for the two of you that read this, you’ve been warned. ha!

a paraplegic man came and spoke to my health psychology class last week. he was in a wheelchair and essentially paralyzed from the neck down. at one point he made the comment that if given the chance to go back to normal walking he wouldn’t take it. WHAT?! i would love to think that at some point in my life i would be mature enough to have the same attitude, but i don’t really think it’s human. i’m thankful for certain things that have come from the last year of grieving, but i’m not sure that i’ll ever see it as a fair trade…but what is “fair” really?! i act like God owes me something, as if i really deserve anything. or maybe it’s not that mindset as much as it is a certain expectation of what so-called “unconditional love” should look like.

a friend (well, she’s more than that…a mentor? God-send?) sent me this book of daily readings called Streams in the Desert. here’s an excerpt from april 1 that i thought was pretty good:

“An old seaman once said, ‘In fierce storms we must do one thing, for there is only one way to survive: we must put the ship in a certain position and keep her there.’ Sometimes, like Paul, you cannot see the sun or the stars to help you navigate when the storm is bearing down on you. This is when you can do only one thing, for there is only one way. Reason cannot help you, past experiences will shed no light, and even prayer will bring you no consolation. Only one course remains: you must put your soul in one position and keep it there. You must anchor yourself steadfastly upon the Lord.”

oh to know that place of trust! oh how i desire to anchor myself upon Him when reason, past experiences, and prayer too often leave me wanting. how is that even possible?

“we who have fled to him for refuge can have great confidence as we hold to the hope that lies before us. this hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. it leads us through the curtain into God's inner sanctuary."–hebrews 6.18-19 (nlt)

HOPE.

ten of us went to my roommate’s mountain house in cashiers, nc this weekend. when we went hiking in the rain on saturday, we had a great time, but the view from the top was fog. we were literally in a rain cloud. as we looked into complete gray, my roommate described for us the usual beautiful scenic view from the top.

when we woke up this morning, it was sunny and pretty, so of course we went for another hike. this time, the view of the blue ridge mountains was breathtaking. i didn’t have to envision the view. i didn’t have to merely hope that the mountains were out there. i didn’t have to take someone else’s word for it. i could see it for myself.

the last verse of the hymn “it is well” came to mind: “and Lord, haste the day when my faith shall be sight/the clouds be rolled back as a scroll/the trump shall resound and the Lord shall descend/even so, it is well with my soul.”

i can’t imagine the end of this wrestling match of faith, when faith will become sight. meanwhile, i will hope and anchor myself in faith upon Him, even when nothing makes sense. and maybe at some point in my life, though not today, i will be able to sing those last words, “it is well with my soul.”