Pits and Valleys

So, it's been a little while since I've written anything. Usually when I have these bouts of not blogging, it is because I am so wrapped up in my novel, or simply because I haven't quite put together a thought on what God's been teaching me that's straight enough to blog about. Or at least not straight enough to blog about in my preferred style, complete with examples, analogies, and stories.
But these last few weeks that has not been the case.

The thing is, I haven't been putting a lot of effort into my novel recently or even my relationship with God. That's not to say I didn't have the desire to do either, because I did. I longed for my creative highs and my peaceful mornings spent in the word. But over the last few weeks, those "peaceful mornings" have been filled with depression, distraction, and stress. While the depression would leave me once I got myself out of bed and moving, the stress and distractions would always linger through much of the day, bringing my focus levels to an all time low. With the desire to move forward, but no attention span, my motivation quickly dwindled. Every morning I would ask God, "Please, show me something. Bring me closer to you this day. I want to know you more." And while each day I found some small rarity in a passage I would never have looked in to find out anything more about my wonderful Creator, that step forward was always accompanied by several tiny steps back. The pattern left me feeling stuck. Like I was making progress, but not enough to get any forward momentum. Like a conveyor belt was moving beneath me, but my feet were strapped with lead and I could do nothing more than shuffle along just fast enough to stay exactly where I was, all while longingly staring at what I most desperately wanted at the end of the belt.

I reached a point where I was getting angry. Somewhat with myself, somewhat with God, but mostly just with this feeling of being stuck that I couldn't seem to shake. This distracted mindset that kept me from doing what I know I must do. I found myself thinking things like, "What's the point? I'm not getting anything out of this," or, "I can help people. I have before, I want to again, but how can I do that when I can't even connect to the One who gave me my heart for others?" or even, "If writing is my calling and I can't get myself to write, what am I?"
But I continued to do what I've been doing since this spring. I continued praying (Or trying to. Apparently it's very hard to pray when your mind can't stay focused on one thing for more than twenty seconds. Who knew.) and continued reading my bible every day. Even when I got to boring chapters Exodus 25, which for those who don't know, is the first of several chapters just about how to build the tabernacle and the sacred objects within it. Even on those chapters, I tried to find something to underline, something to write about, something that showed me more of human nature or God's character. But despite my efforts to find something even in these chapters, I still felt stuck. I was still plodding against the conveyor belt endlessly with no end in sight.

Then, Wednesday evening, after a morning of maximum frustration and extremely low motivation levels that led to me laying on the floor for hours with no will to move, God began showing me things that He's apparently been trying to teach me these last few weeks, but I never noticed.
It started when I went out to dinner with a new friend. I had recently asked him where his faith was in a very silly manner, and he told me it hasn't been that great in a while, but that he thinks it's getting better now. During dinner, he decided to shed a little more light on the picture, and after telling me what caused his faith to plummet in the first place, he said something that surprised me. He told me that before he started to talk to me, his relationship with God and his desire to go to church was a giant shrug. He said that if anyone ever tried to talk to him about Jesus, he would just wave it off and be over all indifferent towards it. Having already noticed some of these patterns and knowing what I had just learned about his past, I was not surprised by this confession. What surprised me was when he said, "Talking to you, things are starting to sink in more. I actually want to try to have a relationship with God again. When you invited me to come to church, instead of my normal habit of making up an excuse for why I couldn't go, I wanted to figure out a way to make it work. I wanted to try again."
I was stunned. For literally most of the time I've known him, I have felt like I was shuffling endlessly on that belt, with no way to take the weights from my feet that were slowing me down and keeping me from sprinting to the end. But despite that, God had still used me to make an impact on his life.
I was stunned, I was happy, I almost didn't believe it, but the inflection in his voice showed that he meant every word he said. I didn't know what to do with the information at first.

It wasn't until later that night, after movie night with friends was over and I was laying alone in my bed did it really settle. God used me, to touch the heart of someone who had long since shrugged Him off. I didn't do anything. How could I have, after all? I was struggling in my pursuit of my dreams and my faith. But that doesn't make a difference in God's kingdom. For God isn't just there in my mountain top experiences, where I feel Him close and see Him everywhere, but he is also in my dark valleys, where I can't see Him beside me or even feel His hand guiding me. But just because I don't feel Him or don't see Him, doesn't mean He isn't there or isn't working.

I would like to take this one step further and remind you that God works in mysterious ways. He doesn't only use those who are trying to follow Him (even those in a spiritual funk, as I have been) to further His kingdom, but even those who either don't realize He's there or don't see Him working.
A good friend of mine has recently been learning what it looks like to love unconditionally. To love someone just for being a person, not because of how they perform, treat you, or meet up to expectations. She's been learning what it means to let go of hurt and act instead out of love, rather than holding onto that hurt and letting it effect the way she treats others.

The other day, she and I had a bit of a dispute about the friend mentioned in my previous story. In a nut shell, she thought I was being too nonjudgmental, while I thought she was being too judgmental. A very unneededly long story short, she texts me after movie night and shares several realizations about how God is with her not only as support in her hard times, but also in her good times. After sharing this epiphany, she says, "I did realize though, that he's a person God loves, and that I haven't been very loving."

We, as people, tend to do whatever we want, but that doesn't mean God can't use us or our circumstances wherever we are and whatever they happen to be to bring about something beautiful.
Hardship doesn't need to be just that. It can be more. God can use it in ways we wouldn't imagine. After all, He used my friend with the decade old, half abandoned faith to teach my bestie what it means to love. If God can use me in my spiritual blah, or him and all the things that went into his turning away from the faith to impact the lives of others, can't He also use the poor circumstances in your life for something bigger, something you never will see coming?

The Language Of the Soul

Not so long ago, maybe a month or so, a few of my fellow fiction writers made a proposition to me. It went something like this, "Hey! We're going to start role playing characters from our books so we can get to know them better. Want to join?"


My head basically exploded.

Whether you know me or not, you probably don't know about my role playing addiction unless you were one of my role play partners in the past. But it really is no less than an addiction. So when I was invited to join them on this, excitement immediately filled me. I had a hard time containing it.
I knew the purpose of the sequence we were creating was to get to know characters better that we don't know very well, but I chose my most familiar character even though the character in my current work in progress could really use a lot of developing.
"Why?" might be your first question asked.
Well, it's because like role play, which I hadn't participated in in over a year, it had also been some time since I had written fantasy.
Fantasy's my jam. Fantasy's my passion. I eat, sleep, and breathe fantasy!
So even just the two short months I've spent writing something outside the genre has been killer for me.
So choosing Behmyn seemed like a no-brainer.

Now let me give you a little background on Behmyn before I get to want I really want to talk about.
Behmyn is a thinker. Behmyn is deep. He is broken. He has experienced many hurts in his past and has a poor tendency to blame himself for things he couldn't really have helped or stopped. But he is also loyal and protective. He tried to protect himself from getting hurt again, but he loves people too much to distance himself from them completely. He also loves animals and being outdoors. He is a hunter. He is also going blind.
Behmyn has been in my head for upwards end of seven years. First he was forming slowly. He didn't have a name, he didn't really have a form, but he was there. Then in September of 2010, I breathed him to life. He started as a character I role played online. After three and a half years really forming him into what he is now, I stopped role playing and moved him to a story I was writing. A trilogy. The first book of which is in my editor's hands.

All that being said, I didn't expect to learn anything from or about Behmyn in this little game we'd come up with. I would tell people we were doing it so they could get to know their characters better, except for me, because I was just doing it for fun.
Then he surprised me several nights ago with a speech about beauty.
Behmyn, like I, believes beauty is everywhere. In all honesty, I'm not entirely sure who believed it first. I'd like to say it was him, but maybe it was there in me, just buried where I couldn't see it until he brought it out. But through experimenting with a character who loves beauty, but can no longer see, I learned so much more about what beauty is and isn't than I ever did before Behmyn happened.
His view on beauty is the very core of his being. Without it, he does not exist, yet in all my years getting to know him, I have never viewed his passion in such a raw sense as he did in this speech.

He was talking with a young woman who was very deeply effected by the rules and standards of her society. A society that put people down and tried to keep them from feeling like they could express who they really are. After a while, she shared with him that she had never heard someone speak so openly about their inner thoughts before. She said that she, along with many others, were taught that beauty is dangerous and must be hidden at all costs.

Behmyn, and I along with him, ached deep within our souls. Because even though this was a fictitious event my friend and I were typing out, her character's words deeply reflected our own society.
We have taught young people in your society that beauty is not who you are. Who you are is scary, weird, or probably unlikable in some way, so you should hide yourself behind a pretty painted mask rather than showing your true heart and soul to people. It is something I notice every day. I have coworkers who are compulsive liars, making up stuff about their lives to try to make themselves seem, cooler, funnier, more interesting, etc. I hear people complain about them constantly, "And she told you this? You know she lies about everything, right?"
But while they see an attention whore, I see a broken spirit who's bought into the lies this society has fed them. Someone desperately wanting to be loved and accepted, but terrified that who they really are isn't good enough for acceptance.

So, when Behmyn, distressed over hearing people being taught to live like this, began his speech, it resonated deep with me, as with the rest of my friends.
The first thing he said was, "You can't hide beauty without damaging that which holds the beauty."
When I typed that sentence, I didn't even think about it. It just made so much sense. It perfectly described his distress over the situation and his inner passion about beauty. But in my time thinking about it since, I realize just how true his words are.

I mean think about it. Those people taught to hide themselves, the inner beauty of their hearts and souls, behind a mask soon become so damaged by the fear that comes with putting that mask on that they don't even really know who they are anymore. All they have is the mask, tied on by fear. Fear that someone will notice they're hiding. Fear that if their mask is disliked even after all their effort, that they could never love the person beneath the mask. Fear even when people approve of the mask, for the person underneath knows that the mask is a lie.
Pretty soon, even if they wanted to take off the mask, they couldn't. For unreasonable fear has replaced any desire of showing who they really are and crushed any hope of acceptance.

You see, beauty is not skin deep. I am deeply sad for whoever said so.
Beauty isn't something you see with your eyes or understand with your mind, but you feel with your soul. It is everywhere.
It's not just what you can see, but it can be heard and felt. For even with people like the one I just described, I can see glimpses of their beauty shining through the mask. I can see flashes of their passion, joy, humor, and heart. It's in their eyes, it's in their subtle doubts and fears that they don't know I've noticed. There is beauty even in their brokenness. Because out of their brokenness I see one thing, a soul longing to be seen, really seen, and loved deeply. And that is beautiful.

So like I said, I don't know who saw it first, but beauty is something I will always fight for. And hopefully in my own exploration of beauty through Behmyn's story and my own life, I will help others to learn this wonderful language of the soul called Beauty.




Note: I have been praying through Behmyn's story that it will touch those who read it in a special way. That they won't be the same after reading it. But before it can get into the hands of those who are meant to read it, it must be published. Like I said in my post, my manuscript is in the hands of my editor right now. 
But now I would like your prayers and support as I continue on this road of trying to get published. If you could pray for God's hand of guidance on this project and His perfect peace and insight on my current WIP, that would mean a lot to me.

God vs Scars - How Big Is Your God? (Part 2)

Last week I addressed the common phenomenon of doubts and how they can destroy our prayer lives if left unattended to. Many of us have these problems, or have had these problems. Other times, the situation is very different. We can honestly say our God is infinite and his power has no limit, yet something still feels void. We can't seem to pray for very long, because we honestly don't know what it's like to pray with the absolute certain belief that God is bigger than our problems and wants us to prosper, or we don't read our bibles very much, because we don't usually get anything out of it. If you've never experienced this, it will sound like I've just contradicted myself. I mean, I basically just said that sometimes we believe, but don't believe. How does that make sense?

Well, if you're like me, this makes perfect sense. You see, there's two different forms of belief. There's the belief where you accept in your head that something is true based on firm logic and understanding and sometimes even a strong explanation from a trusted source. Then there's core belief. Minds can be changed, opinions can be swayed, but when you know something to be truth with the very core of your being, nothing can change that.

So many of us, though, know something to be true in our heads, but haven't quite fully grasped it in our hearts and spirits. Why is that?
I think it comes down to scars.

Everyone has scars, both emotional and physical. Scars have this funny habit of fading, which is fine and dandy when they're physical (unless, like me, you think scars are kind of cool). I have a scar on my left knee that I got when I was twelve. I crashed my scooter and landed on my face, having to get stitches in my chin (that scar is gone now). I left with a scar on my knee, a little bigger than a nickle. It was pink and weird looking, and when the weather got cold, it turned purple. Now, eight years later, its faded to about the size of a penny and is no longer pink, but a shade just paler than my fair skin. If I didn't point out the slight discoloration, you wouldn't even notice it. It looks like just a part of my skin.
Like physical scars, emotional scars can fade as well, changing to look like who we are, when they were never meant to be there. They can be caused by anything. A falsehood you came to believe about yourself as a child, a poor relationship with a family member or friend, a bad breakup, or any other form of heartbreak. These wounds, like any wound, will scar if they don't heal properly. Like any scar, emotional scars may fade to look like you, but they don't work like you, at least, not how you worked before you were hurt.

Physical scar tissue doesn't stretch and react the way normal skin or muscle tissue is designed to react. I sprained my right knee a few summers ago and didn't let it heal properly. Though I can't see inside my knee, I'm certain all the walking I did on it caused its healing to go too slow and scar tissue to form in my body's attempt to repair itself. Most of the time my knee feels fine, I walk without pain. But once in a while, it hurts, usually when a storm is coming in or seasons are changing or there's any other reason for the atmospheric pressure to change and affect my joints. Nothing else has a problem during those times, just me knee, because my knee doesn't have all it's original tissue, tissue that's designed to expand and flex with the pressure changes. Because scar tissue doesn't stretch, my knee hurts. But until my environment changes to affect my scar, I don't even know it's there, it's become such a part of me.

Emotional scars do the same thing. They block the connection between mind and spirit, but usually we don't notice this block. It's not until we hear or experience something that resonates with us in such a way that we feel the block. We notice that we don't feel the connection while our head is accepting the logic. We understand and agree with what the preacher/teacher/author/artist is saying, but we still have trouble really seeing God in this new understanding, because the scar acts as a dam that blocks the river's flow, a wall that blocks our line of sight, a chain that holds us back.

But what if I told you God sees all your scars and all your deepest wounds and loves you despite the fact that they prevent you from loving Him to your full extent? There is healing for every wound and every scar, no mater how old, deep, or painful. All you must do is identify those scars and the lie that caused them, and lay it at his feet.

The Truth

Today, my daily bible-prayer time brought me to Mark 14. Telling of the events leading up to Jesus arrest and crucifixion, this is one of the longest chapters in Mark. Seeing the length of it this morning was a little surprising, especially since I spend all of my bible-prayer time sitting on a concrete floor:

My Prayer Circle

But today, I knew it would be good somehow. And it was. I found one verse, a verse I've known forever, but never thought much about, that God decided to speak to me through. Let me give you some background first, though.

Jesus and the disciples had just finished celebrating Passover, and had gone to the garden to pray. While those who were set to keep watch dozed rather than staying alert and praying, Judas left to get the high priests who planned on capturing Jesus. Judas returned with a crowd of armed men and gave them his signal as to which one Jesus was.
Then, in verse 48, Jesus said something that stood out to me. He said, "Am I leading a rebellion that you have to come out with swords and clubs to capture me?"
When I came back to look at all the verses I had underlined in the chapter and start writing notes on each one, I looked at that one and my first thought was, "Do the men with the swords and clubs even pose a threat to Jesus?"
Before I had time to write the question down in my journal, God began giving me an answer, that I had to write down immediately before forgetting.

The Truth cannot be destroyed by hatred and violent acts.
The Truth stands, silent.
In the face of opposition, It remains the same.
It does not waver.
It does not falter.
It stands firm.
The Truth never changes
But changes people.
The Truth lives.