the mystery of forbearance.

i suppose you could say that i do and don't struggle with patience.
but patience has always sounded like a diluted word.
endeavoring should be the term.
bearing.
then, it suggests a burden.
in a way, it is also tolerance.
enduring ill-treatment without anger.
this multifaceted thing coined patience has never bugged me so much.

i have a weird ability to permit circumstances to affect me. there is a should-i-be-freaking-out-right-now checklist that everything i encounter must pass through. after the checklist, there is an approximate three minutes of rambling and fast-paced punching demonstrations that occur in my head. all this followed by the reassuring embrace of the Holy Spirit.

God has never ceased to show up and turn the burner down. there is beauty in "let patience have its perfect work." looking at history, it's nothing but a story of God's patience, His loving striving with the heart of mankind. it's a romantic comedy of a wooing Lover.

i guess i'm the beloved.
the impatient beloved.
there, i admitted it.

i'm having one of those days. it's one of those days that after every song you listen to you are inspired.

now, don't mistake these days with those other days that you listen to songs and you get frustrated because you can never write like that, so you go on a neurotic-writing phase hoping that one of the sixty songwriting attempts will turn out decent.

but, no. not one of those days. today, you want to write because someone else proved that it's possible to write how you've always dreamed to write.

white as snow.

i find the process of sanctification humbling, the grip of denial loose, the nature of man wretched, the embrace of forgiveness healing, and the depth of love immeasurable.

the Lord supernaturally intervened today. there was an ache in my head and a pang in my heart from the screaming, jealous Spirit within me. this time, He arose victorious as He raised me from the dead yet again. the gentle hand of mercy tilted my chin to the heavens and i raised my voice and wept. just as i asked, He restored unto me the joy of my salvation.

victory at last.

oh, praise the One who paid my debt
and raised this life up from the dead!

poppa chuck and baby names.

chuck smith is coming down today. that's exciting. i would love to turn to my children when driving them to school and say, "you know kids, i met chuck smith when i went to bible college." woah, mom! that would be nice.

i cannot say that i have not thought about names for my kids. you know, i am a woman with an inherent tendency to have my wedding planned out by the age of seven. of course i would have names for my kids. after experiencing high school, i had already established in my mind that i do not want any daughters. why? girls are stupid. then again, that would automatically rule out the purpose of liking the name madeline [mad-eh-line] and the nickname maddie. okay, Lord... maybe ONE daughter.

this is not a focused blog.
and i have to go to romans class to turn in a project and take my final.

*cue abrupt ending*

begone, ye wretched high school spirit.

it troubles me a bit to think that a body called to unity can be so quietly disobedient to that call. perhaps it's wrong of me to take the example of one and magnify it enough to blanket everyone else. but what can you expect if you are expected to be a representative of the student body. your fault.

you can ask what brought me to this uneasy notion. i suppose you can say that i had a weird experience of backwards nostalgia today at lunch.

i cannot remember the last time someone pulled an extra chair to their table just as i was approaching it... to find these words repel me: "oh, sorry... [someone] is going to sit there." i look around. this [someone] isn't there. i make a silent protest by sitting on the table immediately next to it about-faced. i almost felt more rude than they were. thank goodness for witnesses of this heinous chair circumstance, i was rescued from a deepening pit of "righteous anger."

(of course i'm exagerrating. let's not forget that i'm giving you a nice glimpse from the perspective of the cynical part of my brain.)

just when i thought i left high school, i found that not very many people did.

as the best friend knows the phrase "wow, rude" resonates around every corner as a common expression on the lips of every bible college student to the point that it's almost a sign of endearment. it's funny how i'd like to use that word for what it really means.

Lord, save me.
I'm doing it again.

i should stop this entry before it gets any worse.
before i start raising the old cynic from the dead.
and she would like that very much.

hey, girl-who-couldn't-spare-a-seat.
girl-who-must-humble-herself wants to say sorry.

that's me.

saturated skies.

i don't think i have ever been a fan of grey days until recently. now that i think about it, i like rain when i'm not in it. i like to see the beauty in mirroring asphalt and prismed windows. the swaying of trees with violent leaves. desperate people huddling under an umbrella. i like seeing stuff like that.

i read about charlie a few days ago. someone told him that he needed to participate more. whatever that means. i guess it means that i need to be less of a loser and participate more.

i guess it's nice to be a spectator.
could it possbily be better to be a part of the production?

when can i know?
my planners kind of full this week.

semester two.

here comes another semester at the bible college. and to think that i almost couldn't pay for this semester. it just goes to show that if God wants something done, He'll bring us to our point of faith/desperation (emptying our bank accounts) to leave room for Him to do it. sometimes we get in the way. i can attest to that.

i was an alien. i once did not belong to any promise. but because of the blood of Christ, i was bought. adopted. grafted. now i'm a broken vessel. i am His workmanship, poema: His masterpiece. and a poem must reflect the Poet with beauty and grace. as more is written, more is added. here comes more beauty and grace. guided solely by His skillfull hand, i am being perfected. a fixed vessel. something He can live in, live through.

i am a child. i live according to His promise.
and because of the blood of christ, i have Hope.
i am Loved.
and there's nothing i can do to make Him love me any more or any less.

i can attest to that.