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

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

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!

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

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

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.

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

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.