Crumble

Crumble…

Casting Crowns has a song out right now—Slow Fade. The chorus goes like this:

It's a slow fade when you give yourself away
It's a slow fade when black and white have turned to gray
Thoughts invade, choices are made, a price will be paid
When you give yourself away
People never crumble in a day
It's a slow fade, it's a slow fade

People never crumble in a day… Hmmmm…. How true is that statement?

When I was in about the 7th or 8th grade, we had just moved back to Korea from the States. I was in a new school, and it was ok. I hated middle school, but what girl didn’t? ☺ Anyhow, none of that has to do with this story. It was either spring or early summer—the wet season in Korea. We had been hit by a typhoon, and there was massive flooding all around Seoul.

In Korea, we lived on a compound. No—not the David Koresh/Waco type compound, but a community of missionaries. We just happened to have a wall around our property. I honestly don’t know why—I just know that was the way it was in Korea when I was growing up. So our compound was set up on a hill—we were probably half way up the mountain. (I guess it was a mountain…) There was a wall that separated us from the family who owned the house above our compound.

One night, in the midst of the terrible rain and storm of the typhoon, the wall between their property and our compound gave way—their house fell into our property. I don’t remember it—I was a good sleeper then. But I do remember waking up and finding a strange Korean family in our house. I also remember the scene—there were pots and pans, laundry, and furniture scattered down the side of the hill. All they held dear was washed away.

The family in the living room was so embarrassed. I guess that is just something cultural. They couldn’t control the landslide—it was well beyond their means of control. The wall that had been built 20+ years before had finally crumbled and gave way. It wasn’t an instant thing—it was something that had happened over the course of the life of the wall. One little raindrop didn’t cause the foundation to crack. It was the culmination of thousands of raindrops over the course of years.

I look at my life like that wall. My foundation was built—like the wise man that built his house upon the rock. But as I have lived my life, I have been hit by storms, and by trials… and by poor choices. And each time I have been hit by the storms of life, my wall seems to have gotten a little bit weaker, and a little bit weaker. Until there is a landslide, and I have crumbled.

The song Slow Fade continues:

The journey from your mind to your hands
Is shorter than you're thinking
Be careful if you think you stand
You just might be sinking

The main thing, though, that causes me to crumble is my mind—and the choices I make. “The journey from your mind to your hands is shorter than you’re thinking…” And that is how Satan gets me… He puts a sinful thought into my mind—at first I am shocked by it because that is NOT of God and shut it down before it even hits the soil of my mind. And sometimes, I am shocked, but don’t shut it down immediately. The seed hits the fertile ground of my mind.

And then, Satan tries again… and again… and again… raindrop after raindrop, storm after storm, until I give in and entertain that thought. Not actually to the point of acting on it, but entertaining it. Then the “What if’s…” syndrome sets in. “Well, what if I did that? It’s not as bad as X…” And once the what if’s set in, I am a goner. My wall takes a hit, and Satan chips a little bit out from underneath me. And it starts all over again…

And suddenly—or not so suddenly, really, I start to slip and fall down the side of the mountain until I hit a roadblock, or rock bottom. And I look back up the mountain, and see the laundry of my sin strewn on the ground for everyone to see. And I am embarrassed. But unlike the poor Korean family in our living room that morning, this landslide wasn’t beyond my control—I willingly took each step closer and closer to the edge. And fell. No—tumbled down the mountain. Leaving the evidence of my sin and sinful life scattered behind for all to see.

People never crumble in a day…. No—it is truly a slow fade.

Things that make you go hmmmm....

No--I am not going to break into song and sing "Things That Make You Go Hmmmm...." It is too late at night for that and I am putting off dusting by writing this blog. I was reading my friend Dan's blog and he was writing about things that confuse him. So, I started my own list... Here goes:

OK, so the one thing that really gets me is the Braille on the drive through ATM at the bank. Really? If you need Braille to help you get money out of your bank account, then MAYBE you don't need to be driving. Just a thought... :)

Another thing that makes me laugh is the directions on how to use a western toilet on the seats in rural Korea, China, Japan... fill in the blank. It just cracks me up!

One of the things that really baffles me is change stealing... I was at a restaurant with my family recently, and my tab came to something like $9.22. I gave her a $20 and she gave me a $10 back. I was thinking "Really?!" it's not the $0.78 that bothers me. It is the principle of it.

To borrow one from Dan--stupid book covers. When I pick up a book to read, I don't want to see some quote from the New England Lobster Fisherman's Weekly that I need a thesaurus to translate--"Mr. Doe's brilliant masterpiece brings together a subtle message with a brash and irreverent sense of humor." Huh? So what is the book about? Give me names, basic plot outlines.

Skinny jeans: Unless you are Heidi Klum, buy a baggier cut. And there is only one Heidi Klum.

Eyebrow piercing: I was at lunch yesterday with a friend and this guy across the restaurant had one. I will admit to having shiny object syndrome, but honestly, it was all I could focus on until he finally stood up and left the restaurant... It was insane.

Anyhow, I could go on and on, but then it turns into complaining when in reality, I am just confused--not whiny! So, now that you know the things that make my eyebrows furrow, what are some things that make YOU go hmmm?

Homeless

The old saying “Home is where the heart is” has been ringing in my ears for the last hour or so. You see, I am on odd breed—I am never “home.” If I am at my house in Calera, my house in Korea is home. When I was living in Korea, Pelham was home. I am, in essence, homeless. Maybe part of it is my semi-bohemian childhood—never the same house for more than 4 years. Maybe it is an indication of my souls’ condition. Maybe… I was “created for a place I've never known” to borrow a quote from This is Home, by Switchfoot (thanks, Lindsey!). This sense of homelessness is tiring.

Home, truly, is where your heart is. And my home should be in the embrace of God—my savior, father and life’s breath. And yet, here I am—homeless. Seeking the place that keeps my soul at rest. Why is it that I can’t seem to find my home? Is it because finding my home means giving my heart—part and parcel to God? Is it because it means that I will be giving up the control over my life?

The song continues:

And now after all
My searching
After all my questions
I'm gonna call it home

And then, like a ton of bricks, it hit me—I am homeless by choice. I have chosen this life of semi-servitude. I have chosen to take the world’s unstable promises built on desperation instead of the promise of His everlasting shelter. It is MY choice to call Him home.

Choice is a dangerous thing. I am free to choose every last detail of my life—because Jesus chose to redeem me on the cross. At any point, Jesus could have left the cross and the tortuous pain that was separation from God. And yet He chose to stay. He chose to give me the freedom that I now use to walk away. Choice has brought me a lot of joy—I know my God and creator of all things. But, choice has gotten me into a lot of trouble, too. Why is it that I can’t allow my heart to find its’ way home?

In Psalm 61, David cries out to God—he says:

Hear my cry, O God;
listen to my prayer.
From the ends of the earth I call to you,
I call as my heart grows faint;
lead me to the rock that is higher than I.
For you have been my refuge,
a strong tower against my foe.
I long to dwell in your tent forever
and take refuge in the shelter of your wings.

My heart continually echoes David’s cry. I long for God to be my “rock that is higher than I,” and my refuge, my tower. I long to dwell in the tent of the Lord forever. I long to go home.

My life in 6 words...

My friend Dan posted about summing your life up in a 6 word sentence.  That is so hard!  Here are a few thoughts for me....

Unworthily, she was loved unconditionally.

Oh wait--that is just 5 words.  Let's try this one...

Home's where she hung her heart. 

That one is OK, but not great.  Too vague.

Wandering feet always brought her home.  

That is pretty good.  But again, not great.  This is really harder than it looks.  

I will keep thinking on it.  Meanwhile--how would you sum up your life in 6 words?!  Choose carefully!

Just call me Gomer

Uhm... no. Not The Mayberry version of Gomer--but Gomer. Hosea's wife, Gomer. You see, in the story of Hosea, Gomer is a prostitute. She leaves the lover of her soul to be with other men--other loves. Each time Gomer leaves, Hosea goes after her and takes her back home. Each time she leaves--no matter how much trouble she gets into, Hosea goes back to find her and take her back home. At one point, he even purchases her back out of bondage. Hosea--a prophet of Jehovah God, is in a marriage to a woman who abuses his love, trust, and sleeps with other men, and yet he takes her back unconditionally.
I am Gomer. No--I am not a prostitute. But I do leave the lover of my soul for another love. I leave my God to pursue other gods--security, love, selfishness... the list goes on. You see, I sell myself into worldliness--away from Godliness.
But here is where my story diverges from Gomer's. Hosea was commanded each time to go and bring Gomer back. When God seeks me out, it is purely out of His desire for me, not because He is commanded to. I mean really--who would send Him?! But the beauty of this story is mind blowing. I am God's treasure. He values me--and seeks me out. No matter where I run, He goes after me, and brings me back home.
Hosea gave consequences to Gomer--she was forbidden to be with any man--Hosea included. After a suitable period, Gomer was allowed to resume her intimate relationship with Hosea. Whenever I run, God allows me to face consequences--but the end reward is always His blessings.
What have I done to deserve such an awesome God?! Provider for my soul--Mountain of strength, brook of respite, and the fragrance that my soul longs for.