The Martinez Example

I have found myself at a cross-road.

The words “ but where will I go?” have become a stumbling block in my quest for advancement.

I want to get married—but where will I go?

I want to have a good job—but where will I go?

I want to go back to school—but where will I go?

I want so much—but where will I go?

Here is the Lords response to me: “So Abram went, as the Lord had told him.” (Genesis 12:4)

Isn’t it strange that He didn’t give me my own tailored answer? With my name being called out, or something that would make me over emotional like “I have you in the palm of my hand,” or the ever used verse: Jeremiah 29:11. No. Instead he directs me to a story I learned as a child. And instead of speaking to me and saying “Yes I can,” he points out a miracle he’s already performed and says “Yes I did.”

What is comical, to me, is that I ask “but where will I go?” And He asks “Why?” It becomes one of those arguments you have with your parents, where you ask them a question and they respond, or vice versa, with “none of your business.” I don’t know how many of you argue with God, but I know I do. I do it frequently. I rarely receive his tender words like a lot of people do. I often find myself being scolded. It’s His attempt to shut me up and get me to listen, because he knows soft words don’t resonate with me. So when I ask “Where?” He responds “Why?”

-“When?”

-“Why?”

-“How?”

-“Why?”

It’s a never-ending argument, but I appreciate His firm rebuke.

“As the LORD told Him.”

Sometimes I forget that I don’t know better. And even more-so—that He’s already done it. So even if I am completely blind in my endeavor, so was Abram—and God made him the father of many nations. 

There is no doubt in my mind, that even after learning all of this, I will still (absolutely) ask the same question. This time, however, I’ll only ask that he tie the blindfold tighter, so that I don’t see the cross-road.

Project Full Recovery

2008.

It still rings in my head. Every time he pulls his hand from his pocket. No one really understands the meaning of 2008. Or the overwhelming sense of panic when I hear that a loved one has to get surgery, let alone my mother.

Saturday morning, when my dad opened my door in a small panic to inform me of her injury, I was back in 2008.

We met her at the hospital--that very same hospital.

My brother felt it too. The nausea, the fear—the panic.

We prayed. And so many others did too. We all prayed.

“Surgery”

Turns out she needs surgery.

Hello, 2008.

I am trying to be faith-FULL. But I find myself in a panic.

I am so beyond fearful.

Ok, two different situations,

Two different surgeries.

Nope. Rationalizing doesn’t help.

I am still fearful.

2008 has swallowed me whole.

2008.

Undisguised

I have longed for the day when I could rip my bandages off--unashamed of the scars I bear. 

A bloody apology

I am currently sitting on a giant bean bag filled with foam in our apartment. My computer is resting on my lazy suzan coffee table with Nichole Nordeman playing in the background.

I have no desire to rest.

I am aroused with ambition and anxiety.

There is no root to my sentiments. It’s a raging concoction of emotion that will not easily subside. I have felt this way before, I imagine everyone has. But, I’m so beyond enamored by the mercy of God at this very moment. He remains faithful, even when I place Him on the back burner. When I decide to pull out that old friend, dust Him off, and respond to his beckoning, my world is transformed—by one simple thought. I sat in a class last semester where we had a guest speaker. I can’t recall her name at the moment, but she is in the process of writing a book. The premise of her book is astounding. It brings to the front a paradox to which we are unfamiliar.

Christ as an apology.

The most beautiful and humble apology I have ever given my heart to. Unrehearsed and bloody.

I have pains that constantly throb in the light of exposure. And even without it I am still wounded. I am learning, slowly but surely, that faith in mankind is null. But mankind doesn’t need us to have faith in it’s can’s and can not’s. No. Mankind needs us to have faith in God. I have absolute confidence in the fallibility of man. But I have even more confidence in the infallibility of God.

Sacrifice in its earliest form was a way of earning redemption. It was a human apology for iniquity and unrighteousness.

I do not wish to argue doctrine with pompous theologians or prideful Pharisees. My ultimate hope, my greatest desire, is that we learn to see Christ as an apology—a sacrifice for the iniquity of mankind. Coincidentally, men did not intend for Christ’s death to be a sacrifice—that was the intention of God Himself.

Perhaps Christ’s death would become the redeeming factor that we all lack within our humanity. Perhaps it was God saying “I’m sorry.”

I’m sorry she hurt you.

I’m sorry he left you.

I’m sorry they lied.

I’m sorry he’s abusive.

I’m sorry she cheated.

I’m sorry you lost your mother.

I’m sorry that you lived that way.

I’m sorry the drugs had such a hold on you.

I’m sorry for each and every wound,

and if you wont let me bandage each one individually then I’ll wash them all clean with the blood of my beloved.

Christ as an apology is the greatest act of mercy. It propels us into a greater capability that we don’t posses without it. We are now capable of forgiveness. Because he/she/them may never apologize—but that does not excuse us from forgiving them. Because of Christ’s apology we are now obligated to forgive. At some point in our lives we were no better than the people we despise. I am so thankful for an apology from someone who actually means it. Someone who's blood stands as a signature and a closing. Someone who remains faithful, even when they've been charred by my spiritual harlotry.

I am forgiven.

Now I can forgive.

A reflection of James 3

I am a fountain. Guzzling and spewing. I take from a source that is tainted and overflow tainted waters. My water is bitter and abundant in salt.

How did I get to this place?

What has changed the course of my flow so drastically?

I have been rebellious with my tongue. I have allowed it to utter bitter expressions and then carry itself into the presence of God.

Shame.

My salty utterances have left me strung and I am drowning in my wasteful words, every letter rises up to lodge itself into my lungs until all that’s left of me is just that—words.

How can we begin to tame our tongues? How or where do we begin with our nature and ourselves?

I struggle with changing my mindset. I’ve never been one to self motivate or even heed the motivation of others. But lately I find myself with an extreme desire to seek all things holy. I am learning that there is no satisfaction in an unbridled tongue. Perhaps that is where our transformation from salt to fresh water begins—in our simple dissatisfaction with ourselves, in our complete disgust at our current current.

You and you alone have the power to change your mind. You can decide your mood. You can decide whether or not to speak ill of another. You decide how far you’re willing to go to fulfill the purpose of God in your life.

But alas, we must first begin with a question, the evaluation of your motives and your heart.

Change the way you speak.

Change your confessions—and your destiny will follow suit.

Lets be cliche together

I hate these blogs. 

You know the ones where we gauge our wording because of the nearing holidays. But I give in this time.

***

Ah, the smell of turkey and ham. The rice, beans, potato salads, casseroles, and baked goods. 

Another good 'ol American holiday. 

Our fireplace has fake leaves on it. I'm not sure why my mother decides to decorate our house with such tom foolery. Really, its very....cliche. But, living away from home has made me that much more appreciative of every fool I've come to love throughout the years. 

My family, who have held my hand through difficult times.

My boyfriend, who's held my heart through my brokenness. 

My friends: Gab, Jess, and Ro, who have carried my weight, figuratively and literally, through my weakness. 

Fools. All of them. 

Fools for staying so close for so long. 

I love each and every one of you with everything that I have.

And tomorrow I'll be thanking God, the one who's held my life for 23 years, for you guys more than anything. 

aut Caesar aut nihil

I can only pray that my transparency goes over well. 

Im quite sure it will turn some heads and crick some necks.

All in good faith--I'll share my heart.

I have learned how to pray. I've learned how to enter into the presence of the Lord with fear and trembling. I've learned how to be bold. I've learned how to be strong. I've developed thick skin.

 I've learned humility. I've learned honor. I've learned how to be faithful, truthful, discerning, grateful, loving, submissive, creative, trustworthy, outspoken, zealous, giving, and more.

I learned to pray like a warrior in battle and travail like a laboring woman.

I've learned that the presence of the Lord is picky, so be afraid. 

I've learned to be bold in the face of adversity, but only if the adversity is directed toward you and your folk. 

I've developed thick skin through years of criticism. 

I've learned to be humble because someone else is always better than you, God can always choose someone else.

I've learned to honor those in charge, not those to whom its due.

I've learned to be faithful to the church.

I've learned to be truthful and have had a lot of "truth" spoken to me.

Ive learned to "discern" the atmosphere and do things according to those inclinations.

I've learned to be grateful for what you're given. Its all you may ever get, no matter how hard you work.

I've learned to be loving--with conditions, of course.

I've learned to be submissive--the mark of every "servant."

I've learned to be creative--in ways everyone else, but myself, can imagine.

I've learned to be trustworthy--everyone loves a snitch.

I've learned to be outspoken--quietly.

I've learned to be zealous, I'd like to pair this with enthusiastic. I was so enthused by even a hello.

And I've learned to be giving, with what little time, money, and energy I had.

And that, my friends, was just optimism.