this little struggle of mine

I have been struggling for a little while.

A minute struggle, a struggle that in the grand scheme of things doesn't even show a blip on the map.
There's a lot of hurt in the world. A lot of pain. And a lot of tears.
And so maybe, I know that this little struggle is just that--a little struggle.
I've faced harder things, that's for sure.
I've dealt with heavier things, no question.
But this problem--this wall--has crumbled down.
And it's nice. I feel like I can breathe again. I feel like I can just be me, all pretenses to the side. I feel like I'm home.

I couldn't talk to God.

Progressively, over the course of days and weeks, closing my eyes to pray was a lot like trying to eat when you aren't hungry. When you try to run and you havn't had any water. And when you take a test without studying.
It felt forced.
It felt strange.
It felt fake.

I couldn't talk to God because I was holding back. Or rather, I couldn't bring myself to just let it all go.
And the funny thing is, there wasn't really anything in particular to let go. It was just me. Me, my guilt, my emotions, my thoughts, my dreams, my pain, my happiness, my laughter, my tears, all of it.
I was keeping it inside.
Maybe I was scared what I would find if I just put it all out there.
As if God didn't know.
As if I didn't lay it all out before anyway.
But for a few weeks there, it was kind of scary. Uncomfortable. Stifling.

And worst of all, lonely.

It was like being surronded by complete beauty, and then being utterly unaware. I had to force myself to see something beautiful, and when that happens you know something just isn't right. Beauty shouldn't be that hard--not when I am around incredible people, wonderful scenery, and I get to bear witness to the love of humanity everyday.
But.
Beauty was hard.

I can't really explain what happened. And, I can't say I am one hundred percent cured! Aha! Praise God!

No, no. I am not back to where I started. But guess what? I don't think I want to be.

I think this little struggle of mine was a chance to grow, a chance to endure. Faith and God just can't be easy all of the time. And even though life in every sense was wonderful, I didn't have it together with my heart, and my faith.

So, now.

Where am I?

I don't really know. I don't know about the status of my journey.

AND THAT'S OKAY.

I don't find it healthy to identify my spiritual journey in terms of where I am. Instead, right now, I feel wonderful talking to God. I feel honored, I feel loved, and I feel right. Even if I'm sad, scared, worried, at least the words are there. At least, in the very least, I am still somehow manuvering through life with God right there with me. That's all I can really say. But from here on out, there can't be any "status" on how I'm doing with God. The ups, the downs, that's real. It's okay to fall away, even if just for a short while, because coming back makes it so much more worth it.

Here I am, God.
Here I am.
I don't do it right most of the time.
I screw up. I'm mean. I'm rude. I make mistakes. I hurt people. I lie. I am selfish.
But God you give me the opportunity to be a lot more.
And I'm so thankful for that.
This little struggle of mine is small. It's barely caused a ripple in the sea. But You've helped me all the same. Help me find my way home again.
Help me breathe.
Help me just inhale the fresh air of this world, really just take it all in, and then love.
Love, love, love.

Sweetly Broken

When you go through rough times in life, they always say there are stages you go through, stages that you progress through, as your attitudes, emotions, and the situation itself changes.

Last year, my sophomore year, I spent some of those months and weeks angry and mad. I remember feeling lost, confused, mad, and pissed. Pissed to the point where in the midst of crying in a Starbucks bathroom, trying to read the face of my best friend, and trying to sort out of all the feelings I had after our meeting with that man, that I couldn't find any other word other than a bad one to say. I tearfully spatted, "What the fuck?"

And that pretty much summarizes how Michelle and I were feeling.

I was in a hole. A hole, that I wasn't sure I could get out of.

We were lost.

I was lost.

Christianity, and God, and what was being done right in front of me, was just not making any sense. Beliefs that I had maintained were being challenged, and I was being turned off from a brand of Christianity that brought me to a breaking point.

Thank God, I kept praying. Thank God, He gave me such supportive and wonderful friends. And thank God, He brought us to Greenbriar. Greenbriar isn't perfect; nothing manmade on this beautiful Earth really can be. But it was what I needed. It was what I was looking for you. And though I had lingering questions, my faith was not so much of a stumbling block, as much as it was like an ocean reaching land, just wanting to get a taste of something real.

God helped me get through the muck. The confusion. And now, have I figured it all out?

Oh no, oh no. But that's not really the point.

My love for God, and the recognition of His love for me has become even more real, more than ever before. God is big. He is more than what us humans can even comprehend. And He knows that I've been to a dark place, that I've had my moments, that I've almost walked away, and that I've had a struggle. A big one. And yet, through it all, I've always felt loved. Never alone. I really, truly believe He has been with me the entire time because only His grace, only His love could get me through the hard times.

And it's not as if the hard times are over. Because believing something, having faith, it just isn't easy.

And you know what? It shouldn't be.

Just this summer I've had to see, witness things that made me want God to fix, and that even made me frusturated with being faithful.

I've wished God would bring more resources to my friends in Vietnam--a better bathroom, an accessible way for the children to receive education, and an awareness among the world of the extent of poverty.

I've wanted God to find a way to protect the women at The Gathering Place. I've wanted him to just provide, because ultimately, isn't that what our gracious God does?

And then I've relalized--sometimes slowly, sometimes right in the moment--God is with us. He is with the children in Vietnam just like He is with the children in Denver at The Gathering Place and just like He is with me. I can't even begin to understand How big his love is for them. In Vietnam, despite lacking in some resources, an abundance of love was in all of the people we met--we were welcomed with graciousness into their communities. And at the Gathering Place, despite women living in projects or on the street, many women exude faithfulness unparalled by many; I have sat at a table with a women and her 3 children and prayed with them, as her child asked for blessings for the hungry and the strength to get through the week.

And that is God.

God knows the need.

God knows the world--and He is with them.

And, when I looked over at Thelma this morning, I was reminded that it is important to care for each other, and to pray for each other, but that it is equally important to trust that it's in God's hands too. With Him, change will come. And I was reminded of this from Thelma because of everything she reflected.

Thelma can be immediately spotted when you walk into the massive sanctuary at church.

Maybe it's because she's a loud woman.

Maybe it's because she's a big, black woman.

Maybe it's more so because she's the only loud, big, black woman at church.

But also, because of the way Thelma comes to God.

Today, as I carefully walked in the middle of the congregation, I glanced at her. And right before I nudged my mom to tell her that my angel, Thelma, was in attendance today I saw her weeping. She took out a kleenex, removed her big ole glasses and wiped her tears away. Putting the tissue down slowly, she then raised her hands, high and with gusto, and sang the worship sonds LOUD and with the some serious soul power. Seriously. She seemed to be struggling, but I saw her give that to God. I couldn't believe I has just witnessed something so purely genuine, and beautiful. What an incredible, moving testimony to faith.

Through all my frustrations, anger, and doubt, there came a point where I could simply embrace God and just that. And deal with the implications, the doctrinal sensibility, and understand what makes sense as I move forward with my spiritual life and my relationship with God. In church this morning, I didn't focus on the words being uttered that would my spark my critique. I tried hard not to judge the message too quickly. And I avoided being angry at the call for evangelical unity. You see, I have spiritually diverged significantly away from Fellowship Community Church, but at the end of the day, I just wanted God. And singing, from the very deep rooted love in my heart, with my eyes shut for God to paint a picture, I felt that today. And that, was just what I needed. Sweetly broken I may be, but I am just so in love with God. And so joyful that even through tribulation, love can overcome anything. Love really can move mountains.

"Though our feelings come and go, God's love for us does not."

--C.S. Lewis

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.