Let's Be Real

Small. 

That's how you feel.

Wrapped tightly in your shell, 

Layers of identities building a cocoon 

Which you don't know how to escape.

Hurt. 

That's how you feel. 

Hiding behind your smile, 

Answering safely with "I'm fine,"

A lie you've told so often 

that you almost believe it.   

Lost. 

That's how you feel. 

Not sure where you're going, 

Or what you should believe, 

Or how you can live as you. 

In our world, it's common for us to hear the message of, "Just be you." With everything in society pushing for deceit, telling you to put on the best show you can, it isn't surprising that there has been a bit off pushback. A desire to just forget what the world says, and just live as me.

How many people actually do that? How many people actually stop paying attention to what others think and just live out what they believe?

The reason I am mentioning living by beliefs is because what we believe is a major part of what forms us. Decisions we make, perceptions we have of people and the world, and views we hold of right and wrong are all colored by what we believe.

Living genuinely partially requires knowing what our beliefs are, and be willing to put those beliefs into action.

I've been learning about the life of Paul the apostle in one of my classes, and I have been amazed to realize just how tough he was. Paul was persistent almost to a fault. Boldly he preached the message he believed in, no matter how much persecution he faced.

At one point while reading about him, I actually said to my roommate, "They like legit stoned Paul." The passage shocked me a little, because although I had heard that Paul had been stoned, it had clicked in my head before.

The people stoned Paul and then dragged him out of the city because they thought he was dead. That hit me. Paul was so beaten that they were convinced that they had killed him. Then Paul just gets up, goes back into the city, and then leaves the next day to go preach some more.

Paul showed amazing perseverance, and in many ways, honesty. He never failed to proclaim the gospel, believing its words strongly enough to live them out daily. His faith never seemed to waver in the face of persecution, and his life was nothing if not consistent. He believed he was called to preach, and so he did.

So often we have a hard time today living out our faith or worldviews. What we say is rarely shown through our actions. Even our actions are often inconsistent, one day showing us to be loving, the next showing us to be hateful.

If we really believe what we say we believe, why is it so hard for us to live genuinely?

One reason is that, while yes, living genuinely partially deals with beliefs, living genuinely also requires honesty. A seemingly obvious statement to be sure, but one difficult to achieve.

It can be so easy to deceive others, and even to deceive ourselves. When we meet people, we want them to like us or respect us, and so sometimes without even thinking about it, we show them only the parts of ourselves that we want them to see.

We have different faces to match different people, pulling each mask out at the right time. Who we are, or who we want to be, is lost in a sea of identities we can hardly keep up with.

When people ask if we are okay, we don't want them to know of our hurts. Maybe we don't want to burden them, maybe we don't want to appear weak, or maybe we just don't want to face the answer of no. So instead we say we're fine, and bury the hurt deep within ourselves, where all it does is grow.

We refuse to face our own problems. Convincing ourselves that we are okay becomes a daily habit, reminding ourselves of others pain, to which our hurt could never compare. How can my problems matter, when their problems are so much worse?

We deceive ourselves in other ways too, ignoring pieces of our identity that we don't like, and ignoring wrongs that we commit.

We deceive ourselves into thinking everything is under control when it is all falling apart.

We convince ourselves that we are better, or worse, than we actually are.

In these lies to self and empty displays to others, we create an image of ourselves that just isn't real. This false image is impossible to live out, but living truly as ourselves feels harder. It would require being honest with other people, risking their disapproval or even concern. It would require being honest with ourselves.

In thinking about this, I came to realize, that the only one who is never fooled by our shows is God. No matter how much we trick ourselves and others, God always can see straight past our facades. And in the end, all of our actions, everything secret will be brought to light. We aren't hiding anything from Him, and nothing will stay hidden forever. To me, this is comforting, because even when I'm lost in lies, God sees past them all. He knows me, even when I don't. It gives me hope that there's a way to find truth.

But back to the topic at hand. Whether you agree with me or not, whether you believe in God or not, you do believe something. So let me end with this:

Is it worth honestly living out what you believe?   Is it worth living genuinely?

Spring in January

Yellow.
Sunshine pours in through the window,
Squeezing past the grey clouds
Which claim that it's still winter.

Yellow.
Dresses are pulled from the closet,
Though it should be too cold to wear them,
because the South doesn't care.

Yellow.
Grass is soft from the rain,
And uncharacteristically warm
Against bare feet and arms.

Yellow.
Streaks of light stretch across the sky,
And dance across the lake far earlier
Than they should when it smells of spring.

Yellow.
Flowers on weeds match the color
Of my mood. A smile brought by
Breezes, makes me think of

Yellow.
Summers filled with laughter and life,
Though those days are still far off,
Right now that joy is captured.

Blue,
And white and grey are nice,
And while cold does have its perks,
I love when winter's

Yellow.

Times and Tides

Psalm 89: 8-9 "O Lord God of hosts, who is a strong Lord like unto thee? or thy faithfulness round about thee? Thou rulest the raging of the sea: when the waves thereof arise, thou stillest them." 

Psalm 90:4 "For a thousand years in thy sight are but as yesterday when it is past, and as a watch in the night." 

Time is like the sea, and we're all floating in it. Suspended, drifting as the water passes by.

Sometimes life is calm, and the sea is silent. The waves seem to stand still; the moments passing slowly under the surface as if not to disrupt the peaceful cover. Other times, the minutes rush as swirling eddies around us, disappearing into the currents. Waves crash and years pass, whirling away and leaving us barely afloat.

Time is untamable. Pulsing, for with every beat of my heart, a second slips away. The droplets fall through my fingers to join the salty spray; the hours of wasted moments lost to the breeze.

 I am a vessel, carried forward by the currents without ever having raised my sails in consent. It is a scary feeling, to know that though I am woefully unprepared for my journey, the waves won't wait for me to learn. This ship I'm on has no anchor for me to drop. Life's voyage has begun, and there can be no stopping it.

Even with my sail's lowered, time's pulling me along. My ship is ever moving, sailing forward to the day when my voyage will end. There is no way to know how close or far that shoreline is. No way to guess how many storms there'll be, or how far I'll travel, or how or where I'll land. I can't stop the currents from flowing; there is no slowing them now.

The only thing I can do is choose.

Do I let the currents drag me where they will? Or, do I raise my sails and set my own course?

This ocean of time surrounds us and dares us with its depths.

What will you decide to do with it?

New Year's

Years slip together seamlessly. In spite of all our grand ideas about what a new year is, or what it means, or what goals might be accomplished in it, the day before new year's day passes much the same as the the one after it. Jobs, homes, families -- nothing really changes. Life is still the same.

Yet somehow, the new year manages to have an air of freshness to it. Maybe it's just me, but writing a date starting with 1 and ending with a new number feels like standing at a beginning.

Perhaps it is merely because I know have 11 more months ahead of me, 11 more months to try and make this year great.

Perhaps the feeling comes from the tradition of resolutions seeping into my head.

Perhaps the new year is just a good excuse to try once more to change.

Whatever the reason, January has a fresh feel to it, an air of hope.

For January is a blank canvas, calling for paint. It is a lump of clay, ready to be molded. It is a blank page, begging to be filled with words.

Silly or not, the new year is a beginning. It is a new block of time just waiting to be lived in.

So my question for you is simple: What will you do with your year?