Humbled

Nothing else quite matches the feeling. I'm sitting in front of my laptop with a bowl of chili in hand, writing some silly blog about my current lifestyle. And then the phone rings. I don't recognize the number, but I answer anyway. "Lindsey, it's Amy. Are you coming to our meeting?" I glance at the clock. The meeting started fifteen minutes ago. In Platteville. I will be 45 minutes late...at best. I'm the chair of the committee.

I feel like crying. Like spitting. I hate screwing up. I hate being reminded of my own limitations. 

Oh, the gracious women of that committee. They smiled, continued on with their meeting, got a ton of business done. Stupid me for being so cocky that this little committee at church would be easy. That it would be no big deal. 

So, now that I'm decently humbled, I am back in front of my laptop, back at the dining room table, taking deep breaths to somehow get over myself and move on with the projects intended for this evening. First on the agenda? Updating my calendars. Sigh.

Privileges of Living Alone

Tonight, I find myself appreciating the many privileges of living alone. It's not often I sit back just to take them all in at once, but over the past few days, I have enjoyed many unique privileges, and I thought I should share a few with you. 

On Monday night, I made about a hundred cookies...and apple crisp...and dinner. I proceeded to leave the entire baking mess on the counter until Wednesday evening. There were oatmeal bits on the floor, flour on the counter, sticky appley finger prints all over everything. Waxed paper was strewn about. Bowls left on the counter. I feel no guilt for this. 

I have been caught with teeth marks in solid blocks of cheese in my refrigerator. But I ask you, why dirty a knife and cutting board if you know that you'll be the only one to ever consume that block of cheese? 

Three different light bulbs are burned out in my house right now. I will eventually replace them, but for now, I'm not particularly bothered. I, after all, know how many stairs are in the stairwell and exactly where the extra toilet paper is in the linen closet.

As I gaze around my bathroom, there is a smudge of toothpaste in the sink, mascara mysteriously on the mirror, the trash overfloweth, and my hair is on nearly every surface you can see. I am planning to clean it up, but I can't say it's bothered me that I haven't before tonight. 

Tonight, I used four different spoons for dinner and dessert. I have plenty. And they wash right up. And I can smirk a little as I take another bite off the the end of my brick of muenster cheese, drink milk out of the carton, use my forth dinner spoon to eat directly out of the ice cream container. These are all privileges that I have come to love about living alone. 

The only flaw in all of this privilege? Surprise guests. It's happened before, and it will undoubtedly happen again, that someone will ring the doorbell on a Saturday morning, as I'm in my PJs, tackling the giant pile of laundry in the middle of the living room. But you know what? I'm pretty okay with it. It's life. Real. Messy. Ridiculous. And it's a privilege to be able to enjoy all that I have been given.

Stones Cry Out

Moses stood in the middle of an open field, doing all of his shepherdly duties for his family, minding his own business, and if he was anything like me, he was most likely knee deep in a daydream about life, when out of the blue, a bush spontaneously combusted. I imagine Moses to gasp, wondering what in the world was going on. Wouldn't you? And as he walked a bit closer to see the strange sight of a bush burning but not burning up, he heard God's very voice instruct him to remove his shoes, as he was standing on holy ground in the very presence of God.

In chapel last week, the musical worship leader expressed eloquently the idea that we are standing on holy ground, too. She even went so far as to have us all remove our shoes as Moses had done. We were not in the presence of a burning-but-not-burning-up bush, but we were indeed in God's presence. Matthew 18:20 reminds us that where a few are gathered, God's presence is there. And in Psalm 19, David passionately shares that God's glory is not only expressed where people are, but all of creation is shouting praises, singing songs, glorifying God in ways that transcend language and human expression.

Jesus reiterates this in Luke 19:40. He looks Pharisees square in the eye and tells them that if people keep quiet, even the stones will cry out to God. Stones. They are not even alive, but yet they can scream out the glory of God. The last thing I want is for rocks to cry out when I don't. I want to make sure that I am always crying out, just oozing with worship to God, that everything I do needs to bring glory to Him. What would life look like if everything I did, everything I said, was truly in worship of God?

Lenses and Focus: Follow Up

Seriously, God is so very amazing. I had no more than hit "publish" to post the Lenses and Focus post on joy and delight, and Jim started preaching in chapel on the very same topic. God delights in us and we are to delight in Him. I could not stop smiling; tears welled up in my eyes. I worshiped God like I haven't in a while. God is so full of surprises, and I do indeed delight in Him!

Lenses and Focus

As of late, I have been in a fairly serious state. My mind and heart have been somewhat burdened with the happenings of UD that have been fostered by my desire to do well by Jesus and this place. And although the responsibilities I have been entrusted are indeed serious, weighty, significant, I have allowed myself to get bogged down with details, the affairs of others, and injustices that fall far outside of my control. 

What is the result of all of this bogging and weight? Well, my passions have certainly not been diminished. In fact, I feel like many of my emotions toward specific individuals on this campus and certain circumstances are driven by the very passion that wells in my heart, something that resides there in inexplicable levels all of the time. But something that has been sacrificed in the process of allowing myself to be bogged down is the joy that used to be a byproduct of my passion. Now it seems that instead, my passion is producing fire, maybe even fury. And frankly, it's exhausting.

In church on Sunday, Pastor Ken closed his sermon by reading Psalm 37:4 - "Delight yourself in the Lord, and He will give you the desires of your heart." And it struck me in that moment that I had always heard that verse completely wrong. How I remembered and interpreted the verse was, "The Lord will give you the desires of your heart." Ha. Really for the first time on Sunday I heard the verse for what it was, and it sounded more like, "Delight yourself in the Lord." Suddenly, the desires of my heart became much, much less significant. The command here is to delight, to take joy in the Lord. Not delight when you have the desires of your heart, not delight when you feel like it. Delight. Take pleasure. Have joy. The desires of my heart will follow undoubtedly because as I take delight in my Lord, my heart aligns with his heart, my desires with his. It's not the desires I should be focusing on, it's Jesus. 

So, a change in focus needs to take place. Or maybe just a refocusing. I need to be absolutely sure that my focus is only set on one thing - my Jesus. It's so easy to get sidetracked and focus on all sorts of other things, people, circumstances, injustice, unfairness, hurt, messes...but amidst it all, I need to maintain focus on Jesus. But even if my focus is on him, the lenses that I use to see and focus in could still be off. I feel, honestly, like lately I have had my focus on Jesus, but the lenses that I was looking through were righteous (and perhaps a good dose of unrighteous) anger, frustration. I was weighed down by the desire for everyone to be better people, to work harder, to grow up. Those were the lenses I was looking through. But Jesus commands us to be joyful, to take delight, more than once. 

Philippians 4:4 - "Rejoice in the Lord always. I will say it again: Rejoice!" 

Luke 6:23 - "Rejoice in that day and leap for joy, because great is your reward in heaven." 

1 Peter 4:13 - "But rejoice that you participate in the sufferings of Christ, so that you may be overjoyed when his glory is revealed."

My focus is set squarely on my Jesus, and I look to him through the lenses of joy. Just like 3D glasses change the appearance of the movie screen, so does joy change the appearance of every circumstance, encounter, individual. It's time to obey the command and take joy, to delight in the Lord.

Buried but not Bothered

It's Homecoming Week around here which generally means one thing for me - I'm completely buried in projects, tasks, and requests. My voicemail light has not stopped blinking despite my many glances of disdain in its direction. I have a huge list of people I have to call already. I don't want to know what's still on the machine. My email inbox currently contains 229 items and is steadily increasing by the minute. I have salad dressing spilled on a pile of parade applications, coffee dripped on a pile of position descriptions. I have piled piles of things on top of other piles of things. There's a poster on my floor that my desk chair continually rolls over each time I have to get up. I am awaiting essential responses from people that without, I can not move forward on a project that is due at 9:30 pm tonight. And that's just the Homecoming work! I have proposals, course preparations, quizzes and papers, student employment, organizational constitutions, a giant mess of a budget, a book club reading assignment...And that's just work! Then there's that church committee that has fallen behind that I volunteered to lead, my poor neglected house plants, that book I started a few weeks ago... 

Do you know what really astounds me about all of this? I am not bothered by that daunting list in the least. It doesn't even shake me. Is it a lot to do? Certainly! Is it too much to do? More than likely! Will I work hard to complete all of it anyway? Absolutely! 

This gets me thinking, first, What kind of crazed maniac am I? I mean, really. Who puts themselves through this sort of jumbled mess of a life? Who would want to? And who could actually remain calm about all such things? 

But then I think, Me. And the response comes with not a tone of contention but an attitude of joy. How is that possible, you may ask. Certainly, I have no earthly idea. But it's absolutely true. My life doesn't feel like a struggle; it feels like a party! My life is not chaotic or messy; it's well lived in. Well lived in. I like the sound of that. It's a phrase that comes to mind when we walk into a family's home where there are toys all over the floor, dishes in the sink, flour on the counter...to some it may look like a disaster, but to that family, those things might just represent one of the best days ever. All of the mess surrounding me are like crazy good memories or reminders of things that have happened, are happening, or will happen. It's not daunting, it's exciting. Energizing even. 

The only explanation I can even think of to explain any of this is that I have a wonderful and mighty Creator. He wired to me love this, to take joy in it. When I'm living as He created me to be, I won't be tired (okay maybe, but in that great, I-just-got-home-from-vacation-tired way), I won't be worried, I won't be shaken. 

Over the last week or so, I have explored two scriptures that are really sticking to my ribs right now: Matthew 28:14-30 and Proverbs 31. In the first, we are reminded that we have responsibilities based on our God-given abilities that we should desire to use in the best ways we can. It makes our Master happy. In the second, we are shown an example of a woman using her God-given gifts and abilities to her very best, and she is called noble. I am this woman. I am the servant given much. I desire to serve God to the very best of my ability in the very ways He has designed for me. It may give my life that well-lived-in look, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

Thoughts on the Proverbs 31 Woman

I should be grading papers...

I've been giving some thought to the noble woman described in Proverbs 31 lately. It seems to me to be pretty radical for the time it was written and radical in comparison to other biblical passages on marriage and women. Some of this chapter actually makes me grin - what a woman! She feeds her family (well), clothes them and keeps them comfortable, earns good money, buys and sells wisely and at her own discretion, is physically strong, manages all of the affairs of the household...

But the line that catches me tonight is verse 25: "She is clothed with strength and dignity; she can laugh at the days to come." What a cool woman. She laughs at the days to come. Why? She is completely certain in her God that sustains her in all of her efforts. She knows that she and her family are protected, cared for, provided for. She is not cowering in fear at what might happen in the future - she looks up, cracks a smile, and laughs. 

Now, I have seen this passage before today. I've read it plenty of times. Most of the times I've read it, I've been discouraged or even a little mocking of her. Who could possibly be all of these things? This is not real life. But lately, I've been reading it with new eyes - knowing that these traits are noble and godly. And I've begun to resonate with this noble woman, desiring to be more like her, finding similarities to her. Look at all the things God has provided in my life - the skills to earn and use money wisely, a home to take care of, physical abilities to work on projects and passions... These gifts are from God, and I can use them to the glory of God.

So, let me look up, smile and even laugh at what is to come, knowing that God is in control of it all. And I am provided for, cared for, and protected by Him who loves me dearly.

A Passionate Fool: Following Up

If you've been tracking with my posts for the last few weeks, you most likely read my post on my lack of balance in my spiritual life. (If not, A Passionate Fool.) Well, since then, I've been asking God to provide me with knowledge of His heart from His Word. I told God I was thirsty, and He proceeded to offer me a drink...from the exposed and flowing end of a fire hydrant. To drown in God's love is a fascinating feeling. 

The past two Sundays at church, however, the message has been firmly planted in a singular and clear message: passion. Last week, I chuckled at the irony that God would choose to bring up the idea of passion in the midst of so many messages leading me to seek knowledge and wisdom. They just seem to fall on such polar ends of the spiritual spectrum. This week, hearing the message of passion a second time, I know I heard God loud and clear. 

Passion, you see, and knowledge, may be somewhat bipolar in nature, but they are not mutually exclusive. In fact, in my life, it seems, the two are directly proportionate. What I started with was passion, an intense love and desire to chase after Jesus, wherever He may go. I started to seek out knowledge and wisdom rather than just desire. I thought that search would yield, well, more knowledge and wisdom. What I've learned, however, is that what I have actually gained (besides added knowledge and wisdom), is even more passion. I didn't see that coming. It wasn't even in the sermons over the past few weeks. 

But here's what was in those sermons. Christians have tried to depassionize (sure, I can make up words like that) everything because passion is unpredictable, it's wild, it's dangerous. And our passions can indeed be misguided. Sinful nature is a powerful thing, and our desires for sinful things are strong. So, wanting to repress these desires in order to strive for holiness seems natural. But in the process, we've also repressed our godly passions, the ones inspired by the Holy Spirit living within us because no passion seems like a better option than the battle between good and bad passions. And when we repress God, when we tell Him to step back and stop inspiring passion in our lives, all we are left with is bad passion.

The very idea of passion comes from God. Without passion, there is no salvation. Without passion, Jesus would never have volunteered to come to earth as a baby, to heal the sick, to love the unlovable, to die on a cross. In gratitude, I can only, I must respond in passion, a passion that is directed by the Holy Spirit and instructed by the Word, an inextricably woven wonder.

Lots of Life!

Sometimes I wonder how many lives I've managed to live in my still-short life of nearly twenty seven years. Some days I feel so young and full of inexperience and wonder. Other days, I feel like I've lived to a great old age.

Tonight, the students of the University Program Council came over to my house for a movie night. I happily came home a bit early from work and anxiously prepared for their arrival, wondering who would come for sure and what time they would arrive. We all crowded into the kitchen, where everyone always seems to gather no matter how many other great rooms there are to hang out in. Then we packed around the dining room table sharing far too much Chinese food for dinner. Blankets and pillows and a host of furniture rearranging made it officially movie time, and I loved that everyone made themselves truly comfortable snuggled up on the couches and sprawled out on the floor, and lively conversation filled the room the instant the movie was over. 

I couldn't help but think that this must be what parents feel like when their grown kids come home for the holidays. My heart just smiled to watch my students enjoy themselves, relax, and laugh. And when they all finally filed out the door and to their cars, I happily turned around to survey the pleasant messes left behind...crumbs on the coffee tables, empty cans and cups on the counter, chairs and pillows not near where they once where. 

I feel like I've lived so very much life tonight, like a mother of grown children; I'm exhausted, content, and perfectly happy to clean up after kids that I've grown so very proud of.

To Be Given Much

Lately, I've been chewing on the ideas of what God gives us and what He expects of us. There's a parable in Matthew (Matthew 28:14-30) where a master gives one servant five talents, one two talents, and one one talent to take care of while he was gone. When he came back, the servant with five talents had doubled it and gave it all back to the master. The servant with two had also doubled it and gave it back to the master. The last servant buried the one talent he'd been given in the ground and upon the master's return, dug it back up and gave it to him. To the two who had been careful with the responsibility given to them, the master promised to place them in power over much. But the one who had only returned the one talent, the master called wicked, took away what little he had, and gave him the boot. 

So what does this mean for my life? How does this story apply? In the last few weeks, it seems that I have had quite a few people say in conversation something to the effect of, "I don't know how you keep it all straight," or "You make crazy chaos look easy." I usually just chuckle and go about my way, but when the comments come in droves, more than once a day, I have to start thinking that maybe there's something to it all. 

I feel that I have indeed been given much. Now, please don't misunderstand me to be saying, "Look at me and how great I am at everything! I'm so stinkin' cool!" That is absolutely not what I am saying. But I know my life is full. I recognize that God has given me gifts. Even just a quick glance at my life reveals that I have the ability to operate well in chaos, organize details, view the big picture, touch people with music...dig a little deeper and my heart reveals an ability to connect with people; to inspire, energize, excite people around me; dream beyond most people's limits...

My heart deeply desires to share these gifts with others, to offer them to God. So what's nagging me about this parable? What is it that I keep coming back to? I am offering enough? Am I choosing not to use some of my gifts? Am I trying to do too much, rendering myself fairly ineffective at everything? 

I've been given what I've been given not with the suggestion that I use it. No, it's an expectation. To chose not to use my gifts is a choice to avoid the responsibility God has given me. My gifts come with responsibilities. When I avoid responsibility, I am saying to God that I don't think I need to or should have to fulfill my responsibilities from Him. And I think that's a form of pride. But I could also use my gifts in ways that are not honoring to God or people. I could use them in ways that only further my own agendas, for my own glory. And that's pride, too, right? 

I'm sure this is post is just a rambling mess right now, but I have written, deleted, and rewritten this post so many times in the last few days, I just had to get something down and out of my head. Clearly, I still have much mulling to do on this passage in scripture and more listening to hear what God is trying to tell me through it.

On Forgiveness, Confession, and Growth

Because talking about one topic wouldn't seem like rambling enough...

Last night, for the first time, I publicly talked about my battle with bitterness toward my predecessor in a small group. The confession was a terrifying moment for me as I faced a group of students that may look up to me and follow my example. But I could not, in good faith, lead a discussion about forgiveness and keep my dark little secret to myself as if it didn't exist. It was a moment of vulnerability that God provided me the grace to make it through without completely losing it.

This act of confession somehow is changing my heart on the matter all together. I said my predecessor's name aloud tonight to the group. I said that I knew she must be a good person that does good things. I have not been able to do this since I started working at UD. I have humanized her again. She is not the memory that I've held hostage in my mind for so very long. It's as if the act of confession has tipped the scales, and now I can move toward the process of forgiveness. It will not be easy, but at least I've begun the journey.

Lately, as you may have noticed, I have been learning and growing at an incredible rate. As an outpouring of all that growth and learning, I have filled notebooks and blog posts and conversations...I suppose all in an attempt to have landing places for everything that doesn't fit inside my brain once it reaches maximum capacity. Someone noted last night that I appeared to be deeply saddened by something, but it wasn't moments later that I was nearly bursting at the seams with joy and excitement. And I suppose that's what growth looks like...sadness, joy, pain, excitement...all at once. Stretching and examining and being pulled and pushed isn't comfortable, and frankly it's a little messy. But the result is always good. So, stay tuned, as I would imagine that I have much growth to come...messy, painful, joyous, exciting growth.

Today's Lesson on Forgiveness

My lesson in forgiveness continues to serge ahead with what can only be divinely assigned lessons tailored for me this week. God continues to place the things I need to hear directly in my ears lately. Such a blessing!

This morning in chapel, we continued our journey though Ephesians. This week, we landed in chapter two...

"But now you have been united with Christ Jesus. Once you were far away from God, but now you have been brought near to him through the blood of Christ. For Christ himself has brought peace to us. He united Jews and Gentiles into one people when, in his own body on the cross, he broke down the wall of hostility that separated us. He did this by ending the system of law with its commandments and regulations. He made peace between Jews and Gentiles by creating in himself one new people from the two groups. Together as one body, Christ reconciled both groups to God by means of his death on the cross, and our hostility toward each other was put to death. He brought this Good News of peace to you Gentiles who were far away from him, and peace to the Jews who were near. Now all of us can come to the Father through the same Holy Spirit because of what Christ has done for us."

Okay, so this passage isn't about forgiveness, per se. But there is something key that I was furiously taking notes on throughout the twenty minute chapel service. The passage says that Christ reconciled the two groups together ending all hostility between the groups. Does this mean that the hostility instantly ceased around the world, and all was well from that moment on? Well, no. Christ declaring it so did indeed make it so, but it didn't make the process any less of a process. Christ has reconciled me to God by His death on the cross, but does that mean that I'm perfect now? No. I am being reconciled. I have been reconciled, and I am being reconciled. It is so, but it's still a process. 

Forgiveness is the same way. My declaring forgiveness to someone does indeed make it so, but does it remove the process of forgiveness from my heart? Does it mean that hard feelings, hurt, pain, and all the other emotions that go with trying to forgive someone just instantly disappear upon forgiving? Forgiveness is a process. It starts with being willing to forgive then being willing to work on forgiving.

This is such good stuff. God is so very good.

When God Does Math

Somewhere back in middle school math, or maybe even before, I learned how to add negative numbers together. And one of the first principles you learn when adding negative numbers together is that a negative plus a negative always results in a more negative number. -6 + -6 = -12. 

God's math, however, does not follow this principle. In fact, God's math seems to work in the opposite direction....at least when it comes to matters of the heart. Jesus tells us that the greatest commandment is to love God then the second is to love others. In the arithmetic of love, that's "give away love" plus "give away love" which seems pretty clearly to be two negative numbers to me. But somehow, this equation does not equal an empty heart. No, quite the opposite, in fact. If we give our love to God and give our love to others, somehow we end up with full hearts. Somehow. 

So often, I find myself searching to find love, to add a positive into this equation that doesn't make any sense. But the more love I seek out, the more I seem to need to find. Here, apparently positives yield a deficit. How can this be?

And this isn't the only math that doesn't add up the same in the world's math and God's math. Think about it. I have to be generous to receive much. I have to lose my life to find it. Die to myself to truly live. Be last to be first. None of this makes an iota of sense when using the world's math, but somehow God's math makes the worthless have worth. The slaves to sin completely free. The dead fully alive.

My brain desperately wants to understand this backwards math. I want to consume the whole textbook and ace the test, put it in its tidy little box, and move on to the next subject. But God's math when it comes to love is no more neat and tidy than the idea of His grace. There's no single word, phrase, acronym, or alliteration to sum it all up. 

All I can do is try my very best to learn the lessons God is trying to teach me every day, read the Textbook, and ask the Teacher lots of questions. And someday, it will all be made clear, all revealed to my heart.

Bitterness...The Battle Continues

Okay, so a few years back (has it been that long already?) I wrote a post about harboring bitterness. This was an issue that I was sure I could conquer quickly and move on from. I mean, I'm a good person who loves Jesus and wants to follow after Him. Surely some prayer and reflection would be enough to wipe out that little spec of dirty bad feelings. Well, over two years later, that bitterness that I swore to eliminate not only has not gone away, but it is seeming to spread. How can this be?

Bitterness is not like a shadow casting some little dark spot on your heart. Not like some flung dirt that requires only a napkin to clean up. No, bitterness is a highly corrosive acid eating away any surface it can get its hands on. What's the solution for a flesh eating predicament such as this? I can't think of any solution other than major surgery. 

So, what's the source of all of this bitterness anyway? Well, perhaps I should first ask where this bitterness is aimed. We'll maybe get back to the source later. As I undoubtedly have discussed before, when I started my job at UD, I began as an island with no bridges, no ports, no human contact of any kind. My predecessor had done her intentional best to destroy working relationships, burn bridges, leave smoldering piles of wreckage, and create sour attitudes in anyone within reach before she left. At least that's what it looked like and felt like to me and others I talked with and learned from when I first arrived. And whether the situation was or wasn't as it seemed, it greatly upset me....to the point that I could not say my predecessor's name aloud without getting fired up over her apparent negligence and poor choices. And truthfully, more that two years later, I still can't. I can't even say her name. And I have done my very best to hide away this corrosive little secret from everyone around me, keeping it tucked safely in the darkest corners of my heart that no one will ever see. Because one of my biggest fears in my work-life is that I would ever be seen as being anything like her. And the more this fear crept in, the deeper I tucked my bitterness, and the more it spread and corroded away. Like a lethal Chinese finger trap, the more I try to fight it, pulling one way in fear and the other in hatred, the tighter it gets, the more it traps.

So, out of this dark corner of my heart, lately I've been noticing bitterness coming up in other relationships that have nothing to do with my predecessor at all. And not only is it effecting particular situations or relationships, its effecting all of my relationships, and tainting how I deal with situations. That bitterness isn't staying put in that dark little corner. No, it's growing, festering, becoming visible to everyone around me. No amount of fear or hiding or fighting will take it away. Trapped. 

What is the release from this trap anyway? How can such hatred and corrosion be removed? Something pretty radical surely must take place. Forgiveness. But how do I get there? I feel so very far away from being able to forgive. And what or who am I forgiving? The person or people that committed the acts that the bitterness is aimed at? The actual acts? Do the people need to want forgiveness in order for me to give it? They don't even know of any issue to require it. Is the forgiveness for them at all? Or is it really for me? That seems somewhat oddly selfish, doesn't it? 

But am I truly angry with the person or people? Or am I angry at the memories? Can a memory really cause so much damage to the heart? Can I forgive a memory?

Upon reflection, it seems silly to hold so much bitterness, to waste so much energy on such memories, actions, or even people. Why can't I let it call go? These are such trivial things in the course of my life and in the course of the world, but yet I can't let them go. And then my heart turns to Jesus, the only example I should ever need to consider. He came to earth in the most humble of ways, in a form that no one recognized. He was hated, laughed at, betrayed. And even in the midst of dying a terrible death for those that did all of that against Him, He begged for our forgiveness. People, acts, memories, everything. He paid a price for a people that didn't appreciate it, didn't even care about it. 

Please tell me how I am supposed to live up to that? I can't. And now, do you know what this ties right back to? Grace. 

Here I've been given the topic of grace to study this semester as a mentor. I'm supposed to be able to lead discussions, inspire questions...But I don't nearly understand it. Grace is tied to everything - every hurt, every screw up, everything. Jesus knew that I would let Him down, and He still gave me grace. He wasn't bitter toward my choices or actions. He decided to forgive me anyway. He greed me from the consequences of my terrible choices that I absolutely deserved with a love bigger that any other love. 

So, what's the solution to all of this bitterness corroding that dark corner of my heart away? Radical, intrusive surgery. The surgeon? Jesus. The surgical tool? Grace.