photograph

It’s hard to look through photographs and not smile. It could be the awkward middle school days, of weird clothing, glasses, and braces. Or maybe it’s that picture with your dad, his strong and comforting arms waiting for your arrival down the slide at the park. Pictures evoke emotion, memories, and nostalgia. Often times, I have found this emotion to be unprecedented, like a tidal wave has overcome me with feelings I didn’t know I had.

Over break I went through lots and lots of pictures. I have always been a “picture person”, keeping pictures of everything all over my room. I decided it was time to clear through the mess and find the pictures that I really loved. There was one picture in particular that I found that I had never seen before. I remember the park pretty clearly in my mind, or at least I used to. From the beginnings of my preschool days I would have sworn to you that the park was called “Heather’s Park.” This was not in labor to sound conceded or stuck up, literally my daddy told me the park was named for me, and as silly as it seems now, I believed him. I believed him because I believe everything he says. He is my dad, and in some ways I have always had this unyielding adoration for him. In this picture, we are at “Heather’s Park” and if I close my eyes I can almost take myself back there. The sweet scent of grass after it has just been perfectly manicured, the scratchy and itchy feeling of the sand against my small bare feet, the chirping of the birds, chirping as though they are singing about the beauty of cool Colorado summers. I remember it all. My dad has his typical shorts and tee and a baseball cap on, as for myself, I was wearing one of many colorful flowery outfits that I loved as a child. I am coming down the slide. I’m guessing I was going pretty fast—I was a pretty adventurous child, and I can’t imagine myself not wanting to go down the slide at a ridiculous speed for a tiny 40 lb. child. I have a grin on my face—one of those grins where you can see everything, even the tiny gaps from missing teeth that the tooth fairy has already come to fetch. I am truly happy, and when I look at that picture I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of love from my dad. I went and showed him the photo after I found it and he chuckled to himself. “Those were the days,” he slowly remarked with a sly grin, “the days where you were even crazier than you are now.” I laughed and we embraced, and I couldn’t remember when I had ever loved my father more than in that moment.

Everything changes. This is a good thing. Without change, we could not grow, and without change, God could not work in our lives. Complacency is appropriate at times, but I think when it comes to living you can only be complacent to a point. It’s important to be satisfied for what you have, because God puts everything in our lives for a reason. But I think there is also a point where you recognize that things will not be the same forever, and you have to enjoy that moment for what it is, cherish it, and embrace the future. Photographs, I think sometimes bring me back to the past and I long for what once was. Yet, things cannot be the exact same as they were before. I want photographs to be representative of beautiful times in my life, and allow me to realize the great blessings I have had, but I don’t want them to be tools for me to avoid living in the now. I think sometimes when you are brought back to the past, you can scrape off the edges. Your past and memories can be remembered in a better light because the days and days and years and years slowly wipe away at the emotions you don’t want to remember. I cant tell you this first hand. I vaguely remember the tough times, and when I think of them, I quickly put them out of sight. I take out a photograph of my family that was once together and I try and remember what that was like. Before we were broken. Reflection is a wonderful thing. A needed thing. But, when I think back on the past I want it to be because I am embracing the future, not because I am living a life of regret for what did or did not happen. Everyone says it. Live for today. But words are just words until they are put into action.

I love photographs, that much is clear. Come to my dorm room and look at the 6 x 6 wall of photos I have hanging up. Come to both of my homes in Colorado and you will find pictures all over the house. Heck, go to my facebook and you’ll see that I have well over a 1,000 pictures online. I love photographs because there is something beautiful about snapping a memory. I love photographs because you can reminisce about the crazy times you once had, or look back and remember when you get to a point that remembering isn’t as easy as it once was.

Because when I look at the picture of my dad and I, I remember. I remember his arms catching me as I came down the slide, enveloping me into a great big bear hug, and his words ringing softly into my tiny ear, “I love you.” That is the beauty of photographs. Being able to tell a story of emotions that will never be forgotten. I love you. I love you. I love you. That is unforgettable.

spiritual autobiography: climbing the mountain of faith

I wrote a spiritual autobiography over a month ago. I deeply enjoyed writing it; it challenged me, and also allowed me to really see how God has been working in my life. It may not be best work to date, but I loved the experience. Dr. McDaniel simply said to write about our spiritual or religious experiences in our lives. This is what I came up with.

Climbing the Mountain of Faith

"The King will reply, 'I tell you the truth, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me’.” – Matthew 25:40

I grew up in a place where love was easy. There was the unrequited love from my dysfunctional, yet somehow perfect family, the adoring, unyielding love from my dog, and the “I love you no matter how weird you are” love from my friends. Yet, love in my life extended well beyond relationships. My whole existence, from the earliest moments of youth, to the rebellious days of being a teen, had one important continuity: my love for the outdoors. As a 10 year old wanting to prove my acquisition of independence, I would ride my bike down the shady sidewalks of suburbia and would feel the cool Colorado air against my face. I felt free. My countless trips to the Rocky Mountains helped me realize the passion for nature’s splendor that I have always had. The smell of mountain rivers and the serenity of small mountain towns has fascinated me since I was young. My brother and I would run unreservedly and barefoot along the river bank in Frisco, Colorado and I would glance up and become mesmerized by the magnificent mountain encompassed by the pure blue sky. I experienced moments of awe; I was in the presence of something much bigger than myself. Of course, there were the soccer fields too. I could never forget how my dad would yell for me, “the bulldog”, as I aggressively pushed through the swarms of girls trying to get to the ball. The grass stains were notorious in the Newell household; we loved “being one” with nature at every possible opportunity, even if it meant falling face first in the grass. All of this love made growing up so fun and meaningful. It is a major part of who I was as a child, who I am today, who I am becoming. Yet, it was not until the later stage of my crazy teen years that I actually came to form my own worldview. It was not until my teen years that I fell in love with Jesus Christ.
It seems weird looking back now. How could I have grown up with so much love in my life, and not realize how deeply love was intertwined into my existence? I only went to church on the important days, like Christmas and Easter, during the years when I was younger. Though I had the belief of a supreme being instilled in my mind, I had no idea what that meant. To me, Jesus and God seemed like very cool ideas. Like, about as cool as getting ice cream from the ice cream truck. It was all so hypothetical to me. Most of my religious experiences did not provide all of the roots that I would really need to grasp the idea of God.
This all changed my freshman year of high school. My family experienced a divorce, I had a minimal sense of identity, and became lost among the social norms of high school and teenhood. Soon after though, I found myself in the warm, hospitable presence of something divine and extraordinary. We started going to church regularly, and at the Christmas Eve midnight candlelight service my heart opened. I finally let God in. It wasn’t Him that had been missing my whole life; He had been there the whole time. Before, even with all the love surrounding me, I never felt apart of something so remarkable. I didn’t sense or feel God—God ruled from above, and to me, the separation was distinct. As I sang that night, I felt differently, and I knew that Jesus was my Savior. My whole existence—physical, emotional, spiritual, mental—was flooded with indescribable emotion. My notion of love amplified to the biggest degree imaginable; this was more than just the love of family, the love of nature, or even the love of others, this was the love of Jesus. For once, love could not be boxed in or defined, it was simply just there.
Once I became a believer, it wasn’t as though I transformed overnight. Believe it or not, I didn’t become a healer for the sick, I didn’t have further revelations of the good news, and I certainly didn’t behave any better. In fact, coming to understand what being a follower of Jesus entails has taken much longer. Slowly though, I did begin to develop perceptions of the world, and how I wanted to live my life. The most inspirational part of Christianity, to me, is how Jesus lived his life. He saw no social constructs; he saw no “other”. His ministry revolved around loving all people. I have found great inspiration from this because the Bible tells us, “Now there are diversities of gifts, but the same Spirit” (1 Corinthians 12:4). Through life experiences, I have found that my spiritual gifts are to serve and develop relationships with others. Specifically, I have found my calling in loving the less fortunate and building relationships with those who often times have been rejected from society. I feel strongly this calling exists because when I am with the homeless and the poor I sometimes struggle to find the right words to say. Somehow though, God provides and the words flow.
I remember having a conversation with a woman I met in Birmingham. I was with a group from Hendrix, and we were helping serve breakfast as apart of a church’s homeless ministry. She walked into the room with such radiance. Her smile was electrifying and she lit up the entire room. She sat down at a table to eat breakfast, and I felt compelled to join her. This woman, Rosalyn, spoke to me about her journey through life and conversely wanted to know mine. God was there in that moment. He blessed that conversation, and I think back on that experience as validation for what the rest of my life could look like. I feel like in these moments I am genuinely living from the center and experiencing a moment of what Buddhists might call karma yoga. By extending my heart outwards to those around me, I feel complete. The doing of selfless action helps me grow closer to not just that individual, but to God as well. By serving others I am inherently serving God. I feel that when I am in service, I am closest to sympathetically conforming to the mind of Christ.
One notion that I have come to experience through the grace of God is the mystery of his ubiquity. When I first started exploring my relationship with God, I thought I had God all figured out. Of course, in delving deeper into a spiritual communion with God, this could not be the furthest from the truth. I have come to acknowledge that God is infinite, while the world is finite. I cannot put the power or love of God into a few measly sentences. God is much bigger than we can even know. This has become the stepping stone to giving meaning to my worldview and life; because God is everywhere, everything is apart of Him. I recognize God in people, in things, in nature, and throughout the hustle and bustle of everyday life. This has allowed me to grow more intimately with Him because I know He is with me at all times, through the good and the bad. I trust that He has provided the people and situations in my life because He has a plan for me. It’s overwhelming, astounding, and filled with His loving hand of grace, and it makes me fall in love with Him all over again everyday. Because I can feel God in most anything, I have developed more of an inner peace. Little things do not bother me so much, and I can be myself. I am happier. I am kinder. I am more grateful. And even when life feels unbearable, I know He is with me every step of the way.
Wu wei, a Daoist term, oddly enough can describe a lot of how I feel in the presence of God. When I am praying, singing, or even just living in the moment, I feel an incredible burst of spontaneity. Not spontaneous in the sense where you might randomly go on a two- hour road trip, but in the sense that my self-desire falls away and I am just living—it is when I am genuinely, wholly me. When nothing is calculated, and I am just as I am. This past summer I made the decision to be baptized. I felt it was a necessary step for me in my journey of faith; I was ready to make an outward commitment to God. As the words of my proclamation flowed out of my mouth to the congregation looking on, my pastor unhurriedly dipped me in the water. It felt like the most natural thing in the entire world. Just me and God. I hold that moment dear to my heart because it was one of the most intimate moments I have ever had with God.
One of my favorite passages in the Bible is from Psalm 23: “the Lord is my shepherd, I shall not be in want. He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet waters, He restores my soul.” I love that God restores my soul. I have felt renewal and restoration many times in my life. One point of restoration has come more recently, particularly in regards to my notion of Christianity. My perception of Christianity has always been apart of the exclusivist approach. I was under the impression that heaven was a glorious place reserved for Christians. For only Christians. I didn’t consider the value of other religions. I thought that my path in believing in God was the truth, the only truth. I began to be exposed to people different from me. People who lived life so beautifully and yet they weren’t Christians. Or maybe they were Christians but were considered “radical Christians”. Apparently you can be Christian and a Democrat. Or maybe they didn’t even profess a religion. Whatever they were, they were different. How could I reconcile this beauty with my belief that Christianity was the only way? God is bigger than Christianity. I began to question how my worldview actually fits in with the world, and this discovery has led me to believe that there are many paths up the steep mountain to God. Christianity cannot be the only way. God loves all of creation. Jesus is one way to the Father, I just happen to think that there are many ways. I love that Jesus is my way. I wouldn’t trade anything in the world for it.
I don’t have all the answers. After growing with God for the past six years I have not only recognized this, but have accepted this. Still, I believe I have begun to tap into the magnificence of faith. I have found that my faith is not only having faith in God and His love for the world, but also having faith in people. My grandma, Genevra Rose Newell, demonstrates to me what having faith in people is all about through how she lives her life. She treats everyone she meets with fierce compassion, and she would do anything for the people she loves. Every Wednesday when I was young, we would walk hand in hand around the park to feed the geese with wonderbread. It was a spiritual experience for her; she valued spending time with loved ones more than anything in the world, and being able to do this outside in nature brought the most heartwarming smile to her face. Her smile was like her heart being projected to the outside world, vulnerable and yet unwaveringly passionate. She would talk to me about anything and everything. I remember her telling me about life and all the great things I could encounter. She believed in me, and told me I could do anything as long as my heart was in the right place. I think she was talking about God. I think she wanted me to find Him. Now that I have, I am eager to grow in my relationship with God and discover and experience the plan He has for me. The journey has been long, rough, and difficult at times. But it is my life, and the glory of God always wins. He is taking me somewhere inconceivable, so really, the spiritual journey has just begun.