Chey, What?!

CopyDog

2011-05-25T12:22:00.000-07:00

I've been thinking a lot about copying lately.
Never has it been easier to copy. Or, harder to establish ones originality! Once I made up a song. Totally impromptu...it was deeply profound. About a cow in a field. I sang it over and over, laughing giddily about it when someone said "Oh yes, I saw that episode." Pardon? "That episode where the girl sang that song?" Are you kidding me? I made up that song with verse and chorus on the spot and it's NOT original? How disappointing.
You could make up a completely random saying and type it into google.com and find that seventeen other bloggers have expressed themselves in precisely the same way.
And yet, to copy should never be more challenging. Just walk down the toothpaste aisle at any drugstore. There are so many choices, it seems unlikely that any other human being could possibly come to the same conclusion to grab the same tube. We have limitless choices on just about everything! Anything can be custom-made. But walk into a typical public high school and you will see cliques of mini clones milling around in packs. Live in a dorm room for three months, and TELL ME that all the girls don't end us using the same face wash! Watch as you enter a tight knit community and see dozens of glowing fruits rise to announce the crowd's corporate computer participation.
They say that, "Copying is the highest form of flattery." But I have to wonder, too, it is the natural progression of choice overload, too? Or the evidence of paralyzing insecurity?
Cerulean. It's a fabulous color. According to Google, though more memorably referenced in The Devil Wears Prada, cerulean hit the fashion scene in 2002 with Oscar de la Renta. Or if we push it back a bit farther, a company called Pantone, the American color authority, and organization that works in color development for major corporations. Cerulean has always been a color. God invented it in fact...or perhaps its the combination of the pretty cones in our eyes that allow us to see color that fabricate it. Either way, it was not the new invention of the color that made it popular. It was the fact that someone made a choice. And declared it to be so. And someone influential like Oscar de la Renta could carry to that to the next level of completion!
So the next designer who has to choose the powerful hue to complete their collection with a stunning ball gown makes a choice. Not to flatter, I would argue, but rather to reneg on their opportunity for originality. Oscar, via Pantone, made that choice very easy. A choice that would satisfy millions of people, conveniently having already been made.
Let's go back to the face wash. A very pretty girl uses Noxzema facial cleansing cream. She has nice skin and nightly applies a thick layer to her face as she finalizes closing out her day. The next time each of the seven roommates goes to the beastly monstrosity known as the drug store cleanser aisle, all they can think of is the face of the very pretty girl with nice skin. She's confident, she made the choice, and her skin is nice. Therefore, I should try it, too. THUS eliminating the angst of personal decision making, and also the rare, yet possible occurrence that another peer might open judge or chastise them for their choice. Noxzema already went over well; no one seems to protest.
I remember the day when I professed openly that I would never wear flare-legged jeans. After holding firm ground and rocking JNCO's for about 7 months (Come on! You remember those!) I caved and proceeded to live life as a hypocrite for about eleven years. I also remember swearing off the cursed day when tapered-leg jeans would resurface, and already claiming my allegiance to the boot-cut. Let's be real, people. Skinny jeans on me? That would be unattractive. And here I am three pairs of skinny jeans later, living on in my lifestyle as a sell-out. I saw a pair of stirrup pants on a girl a few days ago. Let's see a show of hands of everyone who condemned stirrup pants to the ultimate fashion faux-pas that should never resurface...yeah that's everyone. Y'all...stirrup pants have not changed. They are just as unattractive, and still possibly the worst idea, that they have ever been. And yet a cute girl with a bold attitude made me feel like I should probably own them in every color.
Copying is not always about paying someone a compliment. Its a few more things, too.1) Its a relinquishment of the gift of self-expression2) It's a failure to act on an opportunity for original thought3) It's a bunker to avoid the shells of rejection and fear4) It's a free pass from the bombardment of choice overload
Trend-setters often feel cheated when other copy them. And we console them with that age old quote that should make them feel better. And sometimes it does, especially if they get some sort of satisfaction from swaying public opinion. But sometimes those who are stepping out...really boldly making a stand, and choosing to throw caution to the wind as they express themselves...are frustrated. Their attempt to be original and bold has not only been stripped from them, but adopted by people who didnt really care deeply about it to begin with. It would be like Mozart's semi-musical neighbor who heard some repeating chords and decided he would use those too in his next piece...I mean, the other neighbors liked it too, right?
As much as maybe at this point you feel like I'm berating the copy crooks, I'm actually not. Especially (as I struggle to sit more comfortable in my rather constricting skinny jeans) as I am in their number. I want us to sympathize with them...and take a moment to analyze them. Maybe the last time they went out on a limb with their creativity, they were shot down and stomped in the face, and vowed to never let that happen again. Maybe their life is so frenzied with multiple levels of stress that they would rather hear someone else's opinion, knowing that it MUST have been formed thoughtfully, and adopt it as their own. Maybe they worked so desperately hard to get accepted by those around them, that any mis-step of perspective could potentially jeopardize all they labored to achieve. So rather than be original, they fall in line. Or maybe somewhere along the road, the belief was imparted that they were not creative, and were not to be trusted with coloring outside the lines.
So this is a challenge. Why are you copying? Maybe it's for a good reason: Everyone is buying Hondas because they are known to be fuel efficient, reliable, easy to work on, and with a high resale value. Maybe its for the necessity of survival: I'm stressed about finances, silver seems to be where it's at, so please, give me some dang bars! But maybe it's for one of two bad reasons: 1) You're scared of the consequences of making your own choices. Or 2) You couldn't care less about exercising your God-given gift of creative expression. Either way is a tragedy...and one that deserves reconciling. Who knows, maybe YOU'RE supposed to bring puce back.
Oh, and CopyDog? Yeah cats don't seem to be scoring high on the popularity charts right now.

Miracle? Oh, no thank you, I'm good.

2010-10-21T18:02:00.000-07:00

I believe COMPLETELY that God can do anything.

After 5 years with no car, and after months of saving, a beautiful new home, some super generous donations, the perfect car for the perfect amount of money appears in my lap.

And after just 3 short months, in the span of about 20 seconds it's sitting mangled on the side of the road.

And after a bold faced lie, it's chances of being restored rightly by the party responsible are as crushed as my rear bumper.

I had a dear friend tell me that they were praying for God to do something surprising. And I haven't really talked to God about it until today when I found out that the lady who hit us due 100% to her fault, called my insurance company and lied saying that I was the one in the middle of the road. And that chances of having her insurance cover it were slim to none.

So I was about to talk to God about it.

But I realized something. As much as anger burned in the pit of my stomach and in the tears of my eyes at the injustice. And as much as I wanted to say anything besides "It's so unfair." As much as I would love a miracle: I'd love to find a check for a fatty sum to cover the cost. Or a brand new car sitting in the driveway tomorrow. I don't.

The one time in my life I can imagine God handing me a present, and quietly leaving its ribbon untouched. I would more than happily take a surprising gift from God. Especially one that I had been praying so long and hard for.

And yet, I prayed much harder for a different miracle. For the miracle of Eisley's life to be maintained and restored. I believed so hard for her future and for my chance to get to meet and hold her, and watch her grow into the beautiful woman God designed her to be. I dont think I've wanted anything more.

It's not like we get "redeem for a free miracle" coupons. And when we're good enough or holy enough, or with pure enough intentions we are awarded one. God knows the implications of our actions, our humanity, and this world far better than I do. When I don't get the miracle I'm asking for...I can trust him.

But don't. Don't give me a different miracle, Jesus. I don't want it.

It's not because I'm not thankful. Let's be real, I'd prefer NOT to have to walk 4 miles to work and back each day. I would love to prove to God that not for one moment did I take that blessing for granted. I would LOVE to be back in the boat of being able to offer my own car for rides rather than begging and hoping to bum off someone else. It's because I feel like I wouldn't be able to look at my miracle without wishing with every ounce of my being that just once I could transfer my card.

Bi-polar Again

2010-08-17T17:30:00.001-07:00

Haha, okay, forgive me. That title was purely for shock value. Those of you who know me, know that I used to be bipolar. Those of you who don't...there you go. And that's right. Used to be. Ask me the story sometime.

But that's NOT the point right now. I have a feeling this is going to be a long one. So be warned, and be released from any obligation from reading. But I guess you're at your own computer and I'm no where to be found. I suppose, then, you're already off the hook.

I've learned a lot about leadership lately. To be totally transparent, this has been one of the hardest seasons of my life to date. The weight of responsibility I feel in my job is such that I am unable to put it into words. (Which, according to StrengthsFinder, I should be particularly adept at.) God is using some challenging circumstances around me to drive home the understanding how totally reliant on him I MUST be. And not just when I find myself holding the umbrella of responsibility, but always. But my responsibility is a real one. Even though I hand the weight of it to God, my actions, reactions, words and decisions have profound impact in those I'm serving.

And in my personal life, I have never experienced this kind of heartache. I mean, shoot, even in the psychiatric hospital at least there were other kids sucking down the same concoction of pharmaceutical potions. And this is not to say that no one can understand where I find myself. SO not true. I know people can relate. I just find myself in a unique place where God is my only refuge. And, as lovely as that is, I ache for solace in a tangible way. I'm freed of unforgiveness, but the events that occurred had undeniable repercussions resulting in real consequences in relationships.

In the past I wore a mask in front of others. Meticulously painted with an air of constancy and stability. It was the fight of my life to keep that held up while the rest of me was crumbling beneath the facade. I was freed from that so completely. And we know that we were never intended to hold up masks.

But to hold and possess different sides at once. Is this really all bad? In the first case, yes. But consider this. I find myself in legitimately challenging circumstances. Wounds that have been and are still being inflicted by people I care deeply about. And I have a group of beautiful people who are looking to me to lead, encourage, and direct during this time.

So we are taught to be transparent. Now I dont know about you, but if you've ever had a leader break down in total weakness in front of you, it's incredibly destabilizing. If they are incapacitated...How can I trust them? If I am completely open, can my leader even hear me? Will I burden them? The biggest question: Are we going to be okay?!?!

So is this a mistake? Am I in sin? Outside the will of God? If I am leading, am I supposed to have everything all together? Am I even qualified to do this right now?

That's all just silly. We know that God uses us in our brokenness. That sometimes it can be the best thing for a group, as our brokenness throws us at the feet of God in desperation.

So I lead with a smile. I encourage others in truth that I know I'm still wrestling with. I joke around and try to listen well.

YOU HYPOCRITE!

No, actually. I dont think so. There are two truths I stand on in leadership. Whatever happens: God. Is. Good. End of story. No matter what curveballs come my way, God is always worthy of honor. Truth is unwavering regardless of how much I currently walk in knowledge of it. I know that I know. That I can lead others into truth, not because of who I am, or where I stand. But because of who He is. The second truth: My heart hurts. I'm personally wrestling through tough things, and choosing to face them head on right now. And this is not wrong. And I've asked God, and I'm not just being a baby. These things did hurt.

So where these two exist, there are healthy ways and avenues for walking them out. And only God knows the right balance. So I guess it's a good thing I already find myself sprawled out at his feet.

So two different sides exist at once.

And for the first time total, inexplicable peace covers them both.

Reflections on blogging

2010-08-17T17:05:00.000-07:00

I was sitting in Starbucks, SUPPOSEDLY working on a teaching. But my head was spinning to the point of being totally incapable of focusing on this project.

So I grabbed my journal. And was void of all motivation. Then I had this crazy urge to blog.

Why do we blog? I think I guiltily assumed it was because I had this extreme "emo" desire to share my angst with the world in a facet that required zero follow-through. I can vent. And vent to people. And have no one to deliver a swift slap back to reality.

So I put my computer down.

But I realized that's not my heart at all. I think I'd want to blog even if no one read. I'm a verbal processor. And I have a desire to put my feelings out there, but still be able to process as the information goes. And not just in a way that's just for me. The accountability that exists in knowing that the information is accessible, helps me walk myself through truth.

In a journal, I can just put my head down and get lost in a sea of self-pity. But blogging requires pulling up my hypothetical bootstraps.

A while back, God spoke to me very clearly about venting. I had journal pages filled with frustration and hurt. Feeling better after I had processed, but as I would later peruse the vomit-filled pages, I was left with feelings reminiscent of the time I trudged through thigh-high mud ponds looking for disc golf discs. There are many words that try to evoke the correct emotion, but the word I'm really looking for: "icky."

He showed me that my version of "venting" is reflecting on a situation while purposely blocking Holy Spirit from speaking truth into it. My venting is unforgiving. My venting is always played as the victim.

(I'm careful to say "MY venting" because I know that this is not true for everyone! Some people keep everything bottled inside, and you need to get the muck out! This can be a good and healthy thing. My venting was from a wrong heart motive, and God was quick to reveal that to me. I in NO means am saying that anyone who "vents" is wrong. I feel to share this though, because I want to be transparent...in order to be true to my blog. Insert ironic grin here.)

And so I blog. For perspective. For the hope that maybe something I write will bring truth elsewhere. For the practice of making sure that the shared revelation is one that reflects something real...and real in God's eyes, too.

And most of all: for my sanity.

Blogging. A modern day message in a bottle.

Heart Explosion

2010-08-06T09:51:00.000-07:00

I have a friend whose facebook status reads as follows:

Charlie Blanch

is 100% cool, 100% funny, 100% smart, and 100% happy;100% dweeb, 100% boring, 100% daft, and 100% grieved; I'm 100% excited, 100% careful, 100% social, and 100% sufficient;100% scared, 100% careless, 100% solitary, and 100% needy

I froze for a moment as I reflected on how true that feels for my life. I am so filled with joy and gratitude. Relief and laughter. And at the exact same moment heart broken, sorrowful, devoid of hope, and empty.

The former so outweighs the latter. God has so tangibly met with me during this time. I am so thankful. So blessed. And so overwhelmed by it.

But these other areas of my heart feel like they are dying.

Many people know I'm a "passionate" person (my new word for "dramatic"). And maybe that's how this seems. But truly there are many things writhing in an unseen depth of my heart.

So balance. Always back to balance.

How do I reconcile all these feelings in my heart? Do I run to people and lay it all out there, bearing the wounds and begging for gauze? Or do I run to God and know that in his arms, all is made right? But we were made for relationship, so should I be transparent? Or should I let Him shield my heart and not allow offense to overtake me?

Balance.

And yet...You. You hold the scale. The scale that never weighs in a formula of law. The scale that holds justice and mercy on either end but is ever regulated by love.

Lord weigh my heart. Weigh my circumstance. I give the right of the outcome to you. Take my heart and teach it love. Let your fire burn in my soul. Rebuild the broken walls of trust with revelation of your faithfulness.

I think I'll have the tofu, thank you.

2010-05-10T21:26:00.000-07:00

Staring at an empty plate. Wishing with all the imagination contained in the pint-sized cranium for something to appear. Gazing longingly at the plethora of appetizers, entrees and desserts piled high at all the other tables. Their intended recipients laughing gaily; forks, knives and spoons poised and ready.

The light stretches with all its might to attempt to reach the far corners of the booth, yet it only barely licks the edges of the chipped wood at its outer rim. The shadows envelope the cracked leather seats, and mock the feeble attempts of the dusty globe entrusted with its illumination.

A coffee cup, long emptied of its contents sits abandoned on its companion, the saucer, who has forgotten the swirling vines and daisies which once adorned its surface. A tarnished tea spoon sighs softly as it rests gently on the saucer's lip, with little anticipation of being lifted any time soon. The plate, which one held itself and its created companions in high esteem, no longer protests to being paired with these un-matching counterparts.

Through the din of the room, the thick aura of the dingy enclosure seemed to create an eerie ambiance, as though submerged under water. The idle chatter and clinking of celebratory flutes becomes muted beneath a furrowed brow. The rhythm of breath is only interrupted by an occasional stuttered inhalation; broken as the lungs resist desired depth.

If hasty words escape from behind teeth that have (perhaps accidentally) unclenched themselves, the implications are stark.

That I know what I want.

But what I really want is meat.

And yet my ears ring as the resonance echoes scornfully all the way down into the labored beating of my heart. "I think I'll have the tofu, thank you."

Untrodden earth

2010-03-26T17:59:00.000-07:00

I'm having a bit of a moment.

I've been sick for two weeks. The longest I've ever been sick, and I've been so discouraged. Since being back from Thailand on February 11th, I've been at work a total of four days. I feel so disconnected. I feel like I've stayed in one place and watched the entire world shift around me. I know that sounds so melodramatic, but when the only place you've been stuck in for week is your own head...things get a little distorted.

One of my closest friends in the entire world is leaving. She's been there since that first day on June 20th when I came to Denver. We weren't friends until three months later, but she was there! I don't really know what life looks like without her 5 minutes away.

Quite a few dear friends, and mentors, and people whose influence in my life have been indescribable are moving on to different endeavors beyond YWAM.

And I've been stuck here. With nothing but an aggravating lingering cough to break the silence. And tomorrow I move. For the first time in my life, I'll be living pretty much by myself. Maybe in other circumstances I would be more excited...except I've worn out my own welcome in the last few weeks. I've pretty much always lived with really close friends. And now to be on my own...it's so bizarre.

All tied together with the pretty bow of regret. The good-byes that this sickness has forbade me to bid. The hours I hoped to cram full of time with those I am so deeply going to miss. And the loved ones who I so desperately wanted to be there for in their time of need.

I know that frustration is the product of unmet expectations and stolen sense of ownership. Both of which are not mine to hold. And I know that this seemingly dark equation has been missing a crucial element.

Yes, Jesus, it's you. But what are you doing right now? Don't you realize that this timing has been terrible? I'm not sure if you've noticed, but these open doors don't appear as ones of hope. I'm even a bit afraid.

I'm grasping the hilt, firmly with both hands. For stability, accuracy, and also to keep me from shaking. I trust you. Come and be with me?

I trust not just to manage through this season of transition. But to thrive. To take all my desperation and channel it as the driving force that hurls me into your arms. I want to know you like I never have. To love you as never before. To develop such unwavering trust that catapults me into new and beautiful glory of revelation.

LET MY UNTRODDEN EARTH BE THIS: Not the unfamiliarity of my circumstance, but the depth of my love affair with You.

I'M SORRY!

2010-03-26T17:57:00.000-07:00

So, sorry about the Thailand updates NOT showing up. This blog site won't let you paste anything into the message box. And considering I wrote most the updates with limited time or from my iPod touch, I couldn't write it here first!

I'm SO sorry, but if you really want to know, I can email them to you. Or you can just ask me to tell you a story. I'd like that even better.

Sorry times a million.

The end.

Thailand Travels

2009-12-12T23:00:00.000-08:00

Hey friends,

This is it! The place that will weekly be holding updates from our 8 week trip to Thailand. Keep checking back to make sure you're not missing a thing!

Pray for us! It's gonna be a rough, but WONDERFUL ride.

Thanks,

Chey Lynn

The elaborate facade

2009-12-02T22:45:00.000-08:00

There are those times. The times when I deliberately choose to pick up a mask; with a singular expression affixed to its hollow surface. And in a sweeping rush of color, emotion and verse I attempt to deliver a convincing performance of sincerity. Suppose I succeed. Though most often the display only proves to clue my audience in to the utter transparency of my brokenness.

But there is a practice in which my talents are far superior to this. It is the art of self-deception.

This farce runs so deeps, that it slips unnoticed by my sense of self-awareness. Its own creation of false logic nestles in place next to absolute truth and irrefutable evidence. In one hand it holds justification, and in the other...a sword to challenge any avenger of lost perspective. From its mouth it shrieks claims of its partnership with the Spirit of God. The sweet, sickly secretions from its pores whisper of false comfort and peace.

My sweet Jesus: In a futile attempt at forcing life's circumstances into the confines of a sugar-coated capsule, I have tried to take the reigns of control for my life. With only myself to blame as the scapegoat for failings and undesirable outcomes, I actually convinced myself that I was protecting you. I lost sight of your majesty and beauty, in my fictitious pursuit of normalcy.

And yet even in the most elaborate facade, your truth radiates blindingly through the night. I give back to you that which has actually never eluded your grasp.

Acting like a little child.

2009-11-21T22:13:00.000-08:00

A dear friend of mine has a precious little two-year old daughter. Recently their family underwent a massive change. Their typically obedient little one began to rebel against bedtime. My friend described how one night, they had to be consistent in their returning her to her bed for over two hours.

With this change, this little one needed to know something. Were things still the same? Can I get away with this? And the biggest one...how will Daddy respond?

While being severely tested, daddy lovingly and firmly stayed true until she finally decided that things were indeed still in order.

I think I've been doing this with God. With change, shift and heartache, I'm desperate to know that things are still the same. Even in my failings, rather than rise above them, I find myself owning them. Wearing them. Clutching them tightly to my chest. As if to say to God "You love me? Well, how about now? Don't you see this!?"

In a not-so-subtle attempt to gain our attention and love, children will sometimes run away from us, grinning over their shoulder to make sure that we have fallen into the game and are chasing after them. I feel like today God showed me that this is what I'm doing to him. Only maybe with different motives.

I've heard it said that sin does not keep God away from us. But that sin causes us to run from God. The separation has really been on our side. Adam and Eve in the garden. God is looking in the garden for THEM. THEY are hiding from HIM.

I've been running. Overwhelmed by my own shortcomings, my inability to meet my own expectations, my...humanity. I run.

But I'm not too far gone yet. I still glance over my shoulder. To see if He would really dare follow.

I'm pretty sure that the place I really would like to run to...is you. I guess I'm just kind of wanting to make sure that you still want me. Even with my fists full of old rags.

Frank and Joe, eat your "Hardy" out

2009-09-04T23:16:00.000-07:00

Never mind the fact that the novels reflect each other in shocking similarity, the Hardy boys were darn good at solving mysteries. Not only that, but tracking down the culprit and taking him out with a well practiced shot to the solar plexus. But that's not the point of this entry.

Bottom line, I have no doubt that despite their amazing talents, our God would have had the beloved brothers scratching their heads.

I was thinking the other day. As I heard A.J. Jacobs, a dedicated journalist, describe in detail how devout Christians create a massive, complex web of logic to explain creation (in a rather degrading tone, might I add) it made me wonder. What about other religious schools of thought? Doesn't it take an extensive measure of faith to believe in any of these theories?

Enter the paradigm dripping with irony.

Islam, Buddhism, Hinduism, and most other religions have solid logic for explaining pain, creation, God's view of humans and earth, God's attitude toward dealing with us, and the responsibilities expected of those indebted to the overseers of the faith.

Christianity is whack. There are more seemingly bizarre, inexplicable concepts here than any other religious market i've ever seen. There are more questions without answers, more seeming contradictions, more "I don't know!"s.

And yet. He is the most captivating. In the mystery lies hope. Hope and promise that he is beyond our comprehension. That the One who put the earth into motion is so capable and intelligent that we have to, at times, resort to the fact that we are unable to wrap our heads around his grandeur. There is a strange comfort hidden here. Interesting that maybe God doesn't feel the need to be fully understood, or prove himself. Because faith was not intended to be a job interview, asking questions of the deities and choosing the one with the most politically correct answers. It's about relationship. Trust emanating from revelation of love.

I think He might be the only one who offers that, too.

But that doesn't mean that we should put down our magnifying glasses and double-billed houndstooth hats. The pursuit of truth never fails to bring about peace, some answers, and maybe a few more questions, too.

Just to clarify...

2009-09-01T21:06:00.000-07:00

The last post was inspired by revelation from God through a wonderful man named Baxter Kruger. Credit was due! I just expounded and dramatized, as I do. He talked to us about hanging out in a trash can. I've been chillin' there ever since. And needed to write about it.

Good night, friends.

Trash Can Gospel

2009-08-31T21:25:00.000-07:00

How often do you find yourself thinking,

I need to deal with this issue in my life before God can use me.

Or,

I need to (read my Bible more) (pray more) (get over this sin) (trust God more) (be farther along in my walk) to GET BACK to where I need to be with God.

Have you been in a place where you are so totally aware of your own grime and tarnished exterior that you just feel like God has slipped from your reach? That the only way back into his arms is fixing that one (if you're lucky) thing?

Sometimes we struggle to create this grandiose illusion of perfection. A serene room of pure white. Every inch of it scrubbed down to a harsh, stark, hospital white. And yet in the corner we position ourselves in front of a blindingly white trash can, with an awkward, uncomfortable smile on our faces. Anyone can enter our abode, even God. This is where we invite him to enter. On our terms. To come look around, observe the cleanliness, see the accomplishments carefully affixed to the walls and every spec of dust removed. We entertain our guests here, as they welcome us into theirs. Comparing methods for purification and the recognitions adorning the surfaces.

"Oh, allow me!" As the unaccustomed visitor heads to that shadow in the corner. Oh sure, maybe every once in a while, we might let those closest to us venture over to that area of the room. But heaven forbid they look inside that receptacle.

If they truly knew what lay beneath the gleaming cover...

All would be lost.

And not Him. He cannot see that all has not been removed.

We so desperately try to convince ourselves and God that we are good. That we are deserving of grace. LOOK how I have scoured this room! You have given me the ultimate gift and here is what I have done to prove my gratitude. And to the others? SEE how my life has changed! How nothing but the brilliance of white has permeated this existence!

And so it is. That we push everyone, including our greatest Love away. The more desperately we try to hide its contents, closer we must come to the container itself, and the more enormous the divide we must create between us and those we are trying to protect from the contents.

And He. The ultimate gentleman. Will not force his way through our barricades. He will wait at the point where our fear and agony have held him.

And here is where we have missed it completely. He is not waiting for us to clean up our act. To convince him that we have made ourselves presentable. That we have taken his grace and forced our flesh to submit to a standard of holiness to the rhythm of law and religion.

Utterly broken from the exhausting task of upholding this facade, I fall. Deep into the abyss that I so drastically attempted to hide from the world. I lie crumpled in a heap amidst the perpetrator itself. My own garbage.

So immense. So daunting. I feel as though I'm drowning in its expanse. When suddenly a soft whisper navigates the chaos to my heart.

May I come in?

Not him. Please not him. I can be better! I can take care of this!

Please, may I come in?

And this is where he meets me. Not in that room, congratulating me on my progress. Not in my stubborn attempts to display my worthiness. In the darkest place. In the foulest stench of my past and present. This is where he holds me. This is where we talk. This is where light shatters the fog of condemnation and deceit.

And this is the Trash Can Gospel. Not that we can ascend to divinity and the place of glory. But that He descends to us, where we sit in our garbage.

Dismembered

2009-08-27T21:08:00.000-07:00

(That's a dramatic way to say "torn.")

Maybe a bit over the top, yet in my brain and heart an accurate description.

Life is so incredibly busy. The line between priorities, obligations, and just plain "want-tos" bleed and blur. At any given moment, the subjects attached to the other end of the strings affixed to my heart begin to engage in aggressive tug-of-war.

I've realize how much has been entrusted to us. The responsibility to designate purpose to a whole of 86,400 seconds of each of day. Life, as an ever shifting maze of opportunity and decisive demands, makes for its own, enormous choice. For what we do with each second determines the outcome of the minute, determines the outcome of the hour, determines the outcome of the day, the year, the LIFE.

No pressure, though.

A dear friend a few nights ago challenged me to really break down my priorities. To decide and act upon the things that were truly important. As simple as this sounds, I had to take some time to contemplate. I first began by allowing the things that consistently fill my time to play in fast forward on the movie screen of my imagination. And yet, the significance for those activities was not as profound as I would have assigned .

When I finally broke it down, I had four priorities that the potential calendar of my life could filter through. It was quite different from the current reality.

Here's the kicker. I read through the Bible cover to cover in a pretty short time. This provided an amazing perspective on the overall story of the Word. Reading in the Old Testament, what command would you think God would put the most emphasis on?

Maybe things like, oh, I don't know murder? Idolatry? Covetousness?

Sabbath. That is the one discipline that is stressed throughout the ENTIRE Bible. And yet probably the most overlooked...I'm a prime example. Why does God do this? Because like a good parent, he knows that if we get tired we're gonna get cranky? Because He struggles to keep up with our constant requests, and needs a break from genie work every once in a while? Because, well, He rested on that one day and we are supposed to imitate him.

For me, I'm going with the cranky one. God made me. He knows how I roll.

Seriously, though. I have a theory. Rest is not just a grown-up "time out" thing. Rest is not a singular event. Rest is a perpetual state of being. It is in rest that we let go...and let God. A place of reflection. A place of perspective. Perspective on who we are...and ultimately who we are because of Christ. Rest is not about forcing ourselves to cease from doing what we really want to do. Rest is about being where we ultimately, deeply desire to be. To stay. And this is one of those times that God (shocker) knows what we need more than we do.

So on a surface level, the necessity to delegate some of my precious seconds to ANOTHER pursuit seems overwhelming. And yet. That's the beauty of rest. Rest is not another event. Rest is the vehicle that navigates the paths of responsibilities. Once seated in that place, the stress of time determination melts away. For in the rest, revelation falls that the pressure doesn't fall on me anymore. I switched yokes, remember?

Levitical Adventures

2009-07-05T21:38:00.001-07:00

I'm in the process of chronologically working my way through that sweet, sweet book we know as the Bible.

This is to be a Summer of Biblical Fun. Or, more specifically, the School of Biblical Foundations. I'm helping Brent and Foster run this school for three really quality guys who are taking three months of their life to dive into these pages.

Right now, though, I'm wading through text like, "the priest will wring the bird's neck without severing the head from the body." As much as I find verses like this one completely applicable to the season I currently find myself in...

(That was a joke.)

No really, though, I feel as though I've entered a realm of new-found fascination for this...book. If I can even classify it as such anymore. My brain is exploding with questions! I love the subtle sarcasm that the NLT attributes to God's tone when the situation can so contain it. I can't get enough of the little discoveries of revelation that surface along the way. I find safety in the discipline I'm pleasantly surprised to find myself walking in.

And yet, in the same moment, I feel as though this is the surface. I feel like deep in the depths of my heart, the waters are stirring. And here enters the understanding in my heart that is beyond description. Suffice to say, there is unfinished business in my soul, and I dare to believe that the newness might translate to every corner and crevice of who I am.

"And, scene."

2009-01-12T05:59:00.001-08:00

2009-01-12T05:59:00.000-08:00

2009-01-02T13:38:00.000-08:00

Hello beautiful people!

Short update!

Long one to come tomorrow!

Tomorrow is a well deserved day off. The group is splitting up to explore Buenos Aires one last time. We just got back from picking up our laundry and indulging in a treat at our favorite ice cream spot. My favorite is the frambuesa (raspberry) con bano de chocolate (bath of chocolate). Yep. As terrible as it sounds.

Things are good. It has been an interesting time here. It has been a strong focus of spiritual warfare, bringing the presence of God, and intercession. This can be a challenge when you long to see tangibly the work of God. But we discussed today how success is not determined in numbers...but in obedience. And to that, we can say that we are successful. We adored working with the church here. Man, talk about tangibly feeling the presence of the Holy Spirit.

This felt almost like a testing time. Many things arose to test our patience. Many things threatened our unity. Many things were cause for complaints. And yet...none prevailed. What an amazing team.

Miss my mommy and daddy. But seriously, who doesn't?

More later.

2008-12-28T17:24:00.001-08:00

Hola from Argentina!

We arrived a little bleary-eyed in 90 degree Buenos Aires on Christmas morning. We found all of our bags, were shooed through customs and immediately found our translator. If that's not a Christmas present, I'm not sure what is. At the YWAM base where we are staying, we were given the day to adjust to the culture and get a quick run-down of what to expect during our stay. We had the evening to catch our breath before a whirlwind of our first two days of ministry.

Here is what our contact said before we left:

"Hey, we're going to a church, they want you to join them for some street evangelism."

Here is what he said when we got to the church:

"Street evangelism is at 12 pm, then they want you to do a workshop and teach them how to do some dramas, then you will go to a park and do open air evangelism, then they want to give you their evening church service to do dramas and testimonies and give the teaching. Then they'll feed you."

Welcome to outreach.

The next day was almost exactly the same, but add in a trip to a pool as a blessing for us. We still did all those other things, too, but you should have seen the team's eyes light up when we said, "pool." In our first two days in Buenos Aires, we did a total of 26 hours of ministry. Yep. The church we worked with was amazing. The pastor's wife said it has been a dream of hers that YWAM eam would come to her church and that we were fulfilling that dream. Hello!

The next few days are more low key. We went to a strategic city today and in the open market performed some of our drams and had some time to chat with locals ad other tourists. We will be doing some worship and intercession at government buildings (or in them, hopefully!) The rest of the week will hold working with street kids and prostitutes and street ministry with a team from YWAM Nashville.

Can I just say that this team is phenomenal? They have been incredibly flexible. Rolling with every punch, and taking every unprecedented turn with amazing amounts of grace. We are so blessed by them. Oh, and our contacts are absolutely amazing. PRAISE GOD!

Okeedokee, here are some prayer requests: Bug bites. We are getting bit badly by some phantom bug that none of us have seen, only the itchy evidence it leaves behind. Health (had some minor, but random injuries). Continued good attitudes and communication. For all of our future travel! (There is much.)

Miss y'all, but we are having a ridiculously awesome time. Peace out.

Chey and Abbi for the Argentina Team.

2008-12-22T18:42:00.000-08:00

Hello, friends!

So here's some news for y'all. I found out last Monday that our team leader, Peter, was unable to get his travel papers for Argentina. He is a British citizen, and he needed papers to be able to return to the states after his trip. The process is expected to take THREE MONTHS.

Wow.

So leadership at YWAM Denver asked me if I would be willing to lead the team. HELLO?! That's crazy. But maybe just crazy enough to be God. So after praying about it...I accepted.

Peter is not going with us, and so it will be my beautiful and capable assistant Abbi and myself leading this team of 14 amazing students on this seven week adventure. All I keep thinking is, "I can do ALL things through Christ who strengthens me." And guess what? I feel strengthened. Already we have amazing stories...try this one for size:

We fed 17 people for 5 1/2 days (Peter is doing ministry with us our first week as we are ministering locally in the Denver area) for a grand total of $36.01. AND ramen noodles are the base of only one meal! Yeah. God rocks.

Anyway, will you pray? I feel in my spirit that this is going to be a crazy adventure. This exciting roller coaster of a trip. God is the leader of this team, so we are in good hands And you know what? For now, I'm not going to give prayer requests...you just pray as you are led of the Holy Spirit. He knows what we need better than I do!

Love you all, and hope your Christmas is merry and beautiful.

2008-12-08T19:38:00.000-08:00

Hey friends!

So Argentina is coming up in just 16 days! We technically start our outreach on the 22nd, but we fly out on the 24th. We will be working locally in Denver for the first few days then we head to Buenos Aires. Our other stops include Bariloche and Ushuaia (the southern-most city in the world)! I absolutely cannot wait. I'm about to send out a Christmas greeting with this blog site on it so people can check in.

If you think of our team, pray for God to establish a deep unity within our team (there is already TONS of that, but we can ALWAYS use more), for God to prepare our hearts for what He has for us, and to prepare the hearts of those we will meet.

Love y'all.

Welcome!

2008-11-09T15:31:00.000-08:00

Greetings, friends!

Welcome to my blog. This is going to be the easiest way for y'all to catch up on what is going on with me, especially on my trip to Argentina! Enjoy!