Ojo

People don’t read my blog anymore as much as they used to, so I’m not sure how much of a difference this post is going to make. But, as you well know, our nation is currently facing a crisis of race. This has gotten me thinking through my own issues. I don’t wish to dishonor anyone, but I also don’t wish for anyone to interpret my silence as my condoning evil behavior. Because I don’t condone it. So, I’m going to speak. I will offer my perspective as cautiously yet as passionately as I can.

So, yet another act of police brutality has occurred as the result of racial profiling. I saw the video footage. I saw the anger in the officers’ eyes. I heard the cries of a dying man who was pinned between the pavement and a merciless knee as if he were an inanimate object instead of a human being.

Has it come to this yet again? Protests, riots, and lootings because yet another thug in a police uniform has abused the authority that he or she has been entrusted with? Another innocent life has been taken because some jerk couldn’t look past the color of a person’s skin?

I’m sorry—what year is it? Is it 1820, when many of us believe that human beings can be purchased and owned as slaves? Is it 1920, when many of us believe that human beings can be segregated and separated like animals on a farm? I’m sorry—I thought it was 2020, when many of us have gone through diversity training, years of schooling, and decades of growing up around people who were different than us. I thought we were past all of this racist crap.

But apparently not. Apparently, it’s still here like a volcano that we think is dormant until it suddenly erupts.

As many of you know, I’m half Anglo, half Mexican, 100% white. I don’t understand the specific struggles that black people have experienced all of their lives. But since I grew up in a bi-ethnic home, I understand my own struggles, and I hope I can empathize at least a little bit.

“Mexican” is often still used as a derogatory term, but in this post I have chosen to use it as a descriptive term. That means that half of my family is originally from Mexico—you know, that country that is responsible for creating most of your favorite foods. “Hispanic” or “Latino” are politically correct terms, but they aren’t descriptive enough in my opinion. (I used to have a half-Nicaraguan coworker who demanded that I be more specific. Fine. I guess you can’t please everybody.)

People of Mexican descent have encountered their share of racism in the United States over the years, and I daresay we still do. My Mexican uncle said once that when he was a boy in the 1950s, his schoolteacher made him and his classmates wash their hands unnecessarily because they still looked dirty (brown). My Mexican mom and aunt have mentioned that they weren’t allowed to speak Spanish in school because their (paranoid) non-bilingual teachers couldn’t understand what they were saying. White people in my family have either told me about their concern that my skin is browner than theirs or that a neighborhood becomes bad when black people and Mexicans move in.

Yes, I’ve encountered and experienced racism even in my own family—the people who I’m supposed to feel safe around.

While I was growing up, I also learned that it’s not just white people who discriminate against black people. Mexicans can be just as prejudiced against black people as white people can, if not worse. (And, if you see the infamous video footage, you’ll notice that one of the four police officers was Asian.)

Racism aside, I still haven’t figured out why skin color is such a big deal in Hispanic cultures. “La Negra” (which means “the black lady” in Spanish) is my favorite Mariachi song—not because of the lyrics but because of the extremely catchy and danceable traditional melody. And anytime you see the word “morena” or “moreno,” that’s Spanish for “brown” or “dark skin,” which is often included in song lyrics as an expression of beauty.

But if all you see when you look at a person is his or her skin color... you truly lack depth as a human being.

“Give the king Your judgments, O God, and Your righteousness to the king’s Son. He will judge Your people with righteousness, and Your poor with justice.” (Psalm 72:1-2)

So, as I’ve been processing the tragedy of George Floyd and the current situation that our country has been facing yet again, I’ve been angry. You’re supposed to get angry at injustice. You’re supposed to get angry when an abuser treats a human being like a piece of furniture.

But my thinking hasn’t stopped there. Yes, people still discriminate nowadays because of race. But what about gender discrimination? What about age discrimination? How many opportunities have I been passed up for because I’m not white enough? or not Mexican enough? or not cute and feminine enough? or too old?

Discrimination is horrible. God doesn’t see people that way. He likes variety, so He makes people all sorts of colors, shapes, and sizes on purpose. And He wants all people to love Him and to love one another.

 

As I’ve mentioned before, since I’ve been around racist attitudes for a large portion of my life, I’ve had to work through my own racist issues. Every time racism bubbles up inside me, I have to get rid of it like a turd that needs to be flushed down the commode. If it will help you do the same, I would like to share with you something that has helped me.

The title of this post is “Ojo,” which is pronounced “oh-ho,” and it is the Spanish word for “eye.” (It can also mean “look” or “watch out.”) I think this Spanish word is a very clever one, because the word “ojo” looks like a pair of eyes with a nose in the middle.

I’ve heard it said that the eyes are the windows to the soul. This is certainly true, because when you look into a person’s eyes, you can’t see that person’s skin color, height, weight, socioeconomic status, or educational status. You can see pain. You can see joy. You can see weariness. You can see contentment. Ultimately, all you see is a person.

I’ve struggled with lust for most of my life. When I’m around people, I’ve noticed something that keeps my thoughts from going to bad places. Looking a person in the eye—instead of down at his pecs or at her cleavage—helps me see the person as a human being. Not as an object.

If you struggle with racism, try looking people in the eye. You won’t see that person’s skin color. You’ll see wisdom. You’ll see anger. You’ll see friendliness. You’ll see confusion. You’ll see a search for acceptance.

You’ll see a person. And that person’s life matters.

Epic-ness and other thoughts

The pandemic: the bad parts

This year has gotten such a bad rap so far. Yes, it’s been difficult—and with COVID-19, it’s felt like we’ve been living in a bad dream—but personally, it hasn’t been my worst year.

2019 was the hardest year of my life. I had financial issues, health issues, car issues, and relationship issues. I had to step off the worship platform for a few months so that I could get a handle on some emotional healing. I saw family for the first time in about 8 years. I started 3 new jobs. I went back to school and learned how to be in college while being hopelessly dependent on the internet. And yet, I’m really glad that I went through all of that because it prepared me for 2020.

The pandemic has been awful. We all know that. And yet, I think that’s what’s made it so doable: Literally everyone in the entire world has been affected by it. I don’t ever have to explain to anyone why 1) I’ve had to stay at home 2) I haven’t been able to lead worship at church and 3) I’ve had to wear a mask. Because everyone already knows. Can you imagine if you were the only one who had to do any or all of that all by yourself? You’d probably feel like a freak. At the very least, we’ve all been in this together.

And yet, I’m kind of done with this pandemic, as I think we all are. Since my food delivery job is considered to be “essential,” I’ve seen all kinds of people and the ways that they’ve been dealing with everything. Some people were cautious from the very beginning. Others haven’t really seemed to care about the whole social distancing thing. Still others wear masks but don’t cover their mouths or noses with it, which makes me think they’re either careless or maybe overworked and just don’t care anymore.

Speaking of, I honestly kinda started to resent it when people would say that we’ve all had so much spare time since we’ve been stuck at home. No, not all of us. I ended up being busier than I’ve been in a long time. Since people couldn’t eat at restaurants for a while, they ordered takeout, so food deliveries spiked. My bank account was happy because I was so busy, but I didn’t really get to breathe between deliveries like I normally do. (Tonight was the first slow-ness that I’ve seen since March.) Since I’ve been working from home for my office job, it’s been challenging for me to set boundaries for myself since I’ve been working in the place where I usually rest. And since all of my classes moved online for the latter half of the semester, the amount of work doubled for most of my courses. In addition to showing up for class (online), I had to complete extra assignments that proved I was doing the work.

As a result, I’ve been dealing with exhaustion and burnout. My natural tendency is to be a workaholic, so it’s been hard to try to not overwork myself and yet have to do extra work. I talked to my therapist about feeling burned out, but it doesn’t seem like there’s any need for alarm in terms of my mental health.

Thankfully, since the semester has been over for a week now, I’ve felt myself gradually slowing down, relaxing in my natural tendency to study everything (even when school isn’t in session), and resting a tiny bit more.

I’ve remembered what God told me about what 2020 would be for me. My word for the year is “epic,” and He said that this year would be “on the edge of your seat.” I’ve also heard Him say, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” It’s interesting how this year has unfolded so far. COVID-19 has certainly turned out to be a disease of epic proportions. We’ve all been on the edge of our seats as we wait to see how soon life will return to normal. And there have been lots of little things in my life that I’ve wondered about: Should I get a new laptop or a new phone? Should I have adjusted the way I was turning in my assignments for school or my approach to doing homework? Should I update my strategy for food deliveries? Well, none of the above was broke, so I didn’t fix any of it. And I’m good with the results.

And in case this still needs to be said: THIS WAS THE WEIRDEST SEMESTER EVER.

The music

I switched from guitar to piano this semester. This was a big deal for me, and it’s the first time that I’ve studied piano since 1997 when I was at Baylor. I got to shake off some rust and learn a lot of new skills. And I had a blast! In Matthew 25 in the Bible, the master tells his one-talent servant that he should have at least put his talent in the bank so that it would have collected some interest. I think in all of those years that I had largely set aside the piano, that talent had been collecting interest. It was pretty epic to see what I was able to withdraw from that bank. There have been times when I’ve sat at my keyboard and played, and I’ve heard new melodies come out of my fingertips that I don’t remember putting there, and I’ve seen my fingers go to places that I don’t remember training them to go. (I also think all of the emotional healing has helped clear the air and lighten the load.) Shucks, I didn’t know my fingers could do that! So, I’ve just enjoyed the ride.

As an assignment for one of my courses this semester, I broadcast a worship concert on Facebook Live during finals week where I led worship with my little piano keyboard. (I was so nervous! I covered up my many mistakes by singing louder and changing my rhythm/style.) I’m always eager to lead worship, but I attend such a large church and a school that only has a certain number of slots, so there aren’t always very many opportunities to lead. It felt good to be in charge of a worship set again! And I think that was the first time I’ve led worship on piano since I was in my parents’ living room in the summer of ’96 or ’97.

In case anyone was wondering, I haven’t completely given up the guitar. I still play every once in a while. I just need to build my calluses up again if I want to play for long periods of time. (Owie.)

The pandemic: the good parts

My Facebook Live piano concert was an epic opportunity for me, and I wouldn’t have had it if it COVID-19 hadn’t put all of my classes online. During a regular semester, I would have performed only one song for a grade in front of my peers. This semester, I played multiple songs, and even though I was by myself, more than 100 people ended up watching me. That frickin’ rocked.

Other things have rocked, too. In a season of economic uncertainty, God has been providing for me in epic ways: I’ve been able to work from home for my office job, I got some new freelance gigs, and of course I’ve been extremely busy with food delivery. Add to that the economic stimulus from the government, and voilà, I’m financially OK for the first time since 2017. (I hope it stays that way!)

Of course, since I’ve been home so much more, I’ve spent a ton of time around MeepMeep. Unlike my previous cats, she has really gone with the flow with my schedule change. (I think it helped that she used to live inside a vet clinic. You never really know what’s going to happen there.) Thankfully, over these past two months it seemed like she was sick of me only a time or two. The rest of the time, I think she’s been glad to have me around. When I leave to deliver food and come back, she seems ecstatic to see me.

I think one thing that we can all learn from this pandemic is how to persevere. This will all be over eventually, and we need to just stick it out and wait for it to end. We can finish strong!

But we can’t just up and quit.

The seriousness

I heard that May is Mental Health Awareness Month. If you’re not familiar with my story, I attempted suicide nearly 20 years ago. (I still celebrate it as a morbid anniversary every November. Because I’m still alive.) I’ve dealt with depression off and on since about 1998, with 1999 and 2000 being the worst years for it. You think 2020 is bad? For me, it’s been nothing compared to the mental hell that I went through all those years ago.

For me, getting free from depression has been sort of like a ripple effect. The biggest waves were my couple of years of depression that led up to my suicide attempt, and working through that helped the waves to calm down. Then something would happen to disrupt the waters, and the ripples would need some time to subside again. (2013 was another horrible year for me. If you read my blog back then, perhaps you remember my long, prolific angry posts.) In recent years, I’ve been dealing with getting rid of the roots that drove me to depression, so it’s gotten so much better. When I needed to start working from home a couple of months ago, I was concerned that I would wig out again (because that’s what happened in 2013), but thankfully I only had like one depressed day. The rest of the time, I’ve been OK.

This evening as I was beginning my food deliveries, I was playing the Christian industrial music that I used to listen to years ago in my car. I was like, I’m too happy to listen to this, so I switched to The Gipsy Kings’ danceable Latin beats instead.

I think the reason why Mental Health Awareness Month is a thing is because not everyone understands how serious mental health issues can be. If you’ve never experienced clinical depression, you don’t know what it’s like to be depressed. I don’t know what it’s like to be bipolar, because I’ve never been bipolar. I don’t know what panic attacks feel like, because I’ve never had one. But I know what it’s like to get so depressed that I either feel like cutting myself or killing myself, because I’ve been there.

When people either attempt or commit suicide, they often stun the people in their lives who say that they didn’t see it coming. Uh, yeah. If you genuinely want to take your life, you’re not going to want anyone to know about it, because you don’t want anyone or anything to foil your plan, so of course you’re going to try to hide it. Sorry, but that’s the way the deception works. (Yes, there’s an enemy behind the madness.)

Someone’s mental health isn’t something that you can just blow off. People in the Church—as loving and as well-intentioned as they can be—can be especially clueless about mental health, especially depression. Throughout the years, I’ve encountered a variety of attitudes from church people: getting basically ignored when I mentioned suicide, getting the spirit of depression rebuked over me lots of times, getting treated like a child, getting studied like a science experiment, having things taken away because I was struggling... receiving some sound wisdom, being blessed by a listening ear, getting checked on by a concerned friend, and everything in between. I’m very glad to say that I’ve seen improvement from the Church over the years. I think all of the mental health awareness has been working.

This pandemic has been messing with people in all kinds of ways. It wouldn’t hurt to check on people to make sure they’re holding up OK.

Although the Church still has a lot to learn (as we all do), I think church people have been doing a better job of understanding that the battle for mental health isn’t just a spiritual one. It’s a battle that’s fought on several different fronts: spiritual, physical, emotional, mental, social, relational, chemical, psychological, etc. Yes, pray for people, walk with them through their fires, but also make sure that people have access to a good therapist if they need one, and don’t shame them for taking medication if they need it. Comedian Chonda Pierce has said that when people have criticized her for taking medicine for depression, she’s quipped, “Take off your glasses and drive home. Where’s your faith?”

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: You never know what’s behind a person’s smile. You may never fully realize what a person has had to go through to achieve a genuine smile that expresses a joy and a peace that surpasses all understanding. If people don’t understand it, I don’t mind too much. Through my journey, I’ve developed a relationship with my Father that no one will be able to take away from me.

#breakthestigma

As always, thank you for reading!

Reflecting on the phenomena

Back when I used to have time to blog, I think I would post something once a week or at least once a month. Now that I’ve gone back to school—which, if you’ve been following my blog over the years, is a dream come true—I think I only have time to blog once a semester. I also usually blog around New Year’s Day. So, due to my crazy schedule, I thought I’d combine those two things and blog everything here all at once. Thank you in advance for reading.

Academic phenomenon

The word that God gave me for my 2019 was “phenomenon.” If I remember correctly, I took that to mean that 2019 would be a really cool year and that maybe stuff would happen that I wouldn’t quite be able to explain. I remembered all of that near the beginning of the year, but then I kind of forgot about it... probably because I was smack-dab in the midst of it.

First of all, this year I became a full-time Bible college student with three part-time jobs, and I also sing on three worship teams. Yes, you read that correctly. I’ve been extremely busy. And I’ve been having the time of my life. MeepMeep has had to be flexible with my crazy schedule, but she’s been adjusting like a champ. (And she takes advantage of every possible opportunity to get my attention.)

 

This past semester, my schedule was slammed. Most of the time during the day, when I wasn’t in class, I was at work. At night, I had to practice for my voice lesson and my guitar lesson and also do my homework. There wasn’t any way humanly possible to get absolutely everything done perfectly or to read every assigned page every time.

So, God helped me. I prioritized. I worked on whatever was due first (whatever was in front of me). If I had to do a book report/critique for a class, I took the paperback with me to school/work so that I could read it if I had time and also to read it between/during food deliveries. Other than that, I couldn’t find or make time to read any textbooks to prepare for lectures. In one of my classes, I ended up reading only chapter 1 of the textbook and part of chapter 2 but still did OK on the midterm exam. However, I found out that the professor in another class graded us on whether or not we read the textbook (if you read less than 100% of the assigned reading, he would count off points on your exam, if you would answer honestly). So, for that class, I hope this isn’t TMI, I kept the textbook in the restroom and did most of my reading in there. 

Here’s my point: I had to make some adjustments this year. Would you like to see the results? Here are my grades for Spring 2019...

...and here are my grades for Fall 2019.

I got all As for both semesters. I hope you understand that these were NOT easy As. My school is an accredited university with challenging curriculum. Yes, I worked my little tail off to show up for class, learn the material, and complete the assignments. Yes, I already have a bachelor’s degree, so I know how to do the work, I know what professors are looking for, and I know how to write papers. Yes, I only got about 4-5 hours of sleep a night (except for Saturdays, when I would rest completely).

But... what the heck? When I learned what all of my grades were for the Spring, I burst into explosive-triumphant tears. When I learned what all of my grades were for the Fall, I was ecstatic but still kind of stunned. How... in the world... did I get straight As while being in school full time, with three part-time jobs and spots on three worship teams?

I believe that was a phenomenon. It’s something cool that happened, but I can’t really explain it. I just kept showing up, and so did God. If there’s any doubt in my mind as to whether or not I made the right decision to go back to school, I can just look at my GPA.

One cool thing about being in Bible college is the constant reminder that everything I do or experience during this season is really just preparation for ministry. Time management is probably going to be a big deal when I become a pastor someday.

When I was at Baylor, I was a traditional college student with no job—just school, church, and the typical social life of a young adult. And yet I ended up pulling all-nighters and would show up 20 minutes late for class because I hadn’t finished my papers in time. And I usually didn’t make straight As. I have no idea what ate up all the time that I had on my hands.

In contrast, in Bible college with absolutely no spare time whatsoever, I didn’t have to pull any all-nighters, I showered daily, I packed a lunch and hauled it around with me every day, and I stayed awake during the day without a drop of caffeine. Staying awake at night was a challenge (towards the end of the semester, I would either take a power nap or just go to bed early and wake up early the next day to finish homework), but I still learned an important lesson: You’ll learn how to manage your time when you don’t HAVE time.

At the beginning of this past semester, I had class on Thursdays from 8 to 12:15, and then I had a voice lesson at 12:30, and then I had to be at work at 1:30, and then as soon as I got off work, I had a guitar lesson scheduled at 5:00. I remember thinking, Why am I doing this to myself? Then I realized: If I become a pastor someday, my schedule might just be that crazy. I might as well get used to it now.

My work schedule changed slightly, so I had a tiny bit of breathing room in my schedule for the rest of the semester, but still... this entire thing has just been a phenomenon.

Biblical phenomenon

The way I see the Bible has really been stretched this year—in a good way, of course. I wrote in a previous post about how I took a class this summer that showed me how harmful it can be to just quote Bible verses out of context. The class also taught us how important it is to actually read the Bible, rather than just analyzing it and studying it. This past semester, I took a class that balanced out my summer class: I learned how to actually study the Bible, which of course involves looking at Bible passages in their own context and in their historical context, etc. I think it was my favorite class this Fall.

One thing I learned is that there is a difference between something called exegesis (studying and examining the Bible to see what you can get out of it) and eisegesis (reading something into a Bible verse that isn’t really there). Reader, if I have misled you in past blog posts by performing eisegesis on a Bible verse (quoting it so that it would fit into what I was saying), I do apologize. My disclaimer was always that I’m not a theologian or a Bible scholar, but I’ve since learned that I actually am... especially if I’m a songwriter.

We worship leaders are learning nowadays just how influential we are in shaping the theology of contemporary Christians. People sometimes get their theological beliefs from the songs that we write. For example, here’s something that’s been bothering me lately. We toss around the term “The Great I AM” rather frequently, but is that term exactly in the Bible? I haven’t been able to find it. In Exodus chapter 3, God calls Himself “I AM” and “I AM WHO I AM” in the NKJV, but where did “The Great” come from?

Did it come from a songwriter? Did it come from Jared Anderson’s song “Great I Am?” Or did it come from Mark Lowry’s Christmas song “Mary Did You Know?” There’s absolutely nothing wrong with calling God “The Great I AM,” because He is, but I’ve heard it said that we songwriters have way more influence on people theologically than we think we do, and I totally agree now. It’s sobering to think about.

A song really is a powerful piece of artwork. And we singers are the ones who are crazy enough to face the enemy head-on in the thick of battle. No wonder he hates us and attacks us so fiercely.

Speaking of songwriting (yes, I’ve even made time for that this year), one part of the Bible that has been inspiring me and fascinating me this semester is the Book of Ecclesiastes (again). In class, we learned that the wisdom books of the Bible aren’t a collection of promises; they are a collection of observations that are usually true. Thank heavens! For example:

“The rich rules over the poor, and the borrower is servant to the lender.” (Proverbs 22:7, NKJV)

If Proverbs 22:7 were a promise, I think I would be doomed to a lifetime of servitude, because I’ve borrowed quite a bit of money. Yes, the debt that I owe has caused me to work so that I can pay it off, but I don’t live under rich people’s thumbs. Actually, when I deliver their dinner, they’re kind of at my mercy. If I don’t show up to their house, they’ll starve. Maniacal laughter!

Similarly:

“Sorrow is better than laughter, for by a sad countenance the heart is made better.” (Ecclesiastes 7:3, NKJV)

Say what?! Is this verse God’s way of promising me that He’s going to ensure that I have more bad times than good times just because the bad times are BETTER for me than the good times?? Um, no. The context of this verse is a collection of similar sayings. King Solomon, the author, is sharing observations that he’s made about how experiencing the harder things in life are better for a person in the long run than just partying like a fool all the time. (In other words, going through hard times will shape you in a way that just being happy all the time won’t. I believe this is what the commentaries say as well.) Solomon was a king who had like 1,000 women, so he knew what he was talking about.

Are all of these observations inspired by God? Yes, of course. Do they contain any errors? No, I don’t believe they do. It’s the Bible. That means it’s perfect.

Family phenomenon

This year, long story short, God showed me that I needed to connect with my mother before she passes away. This past summer, I saw her for the first time in eight and a half years. I visited her at her hospice bed for a short while. I won’t go into details here, but I will say this: Due to her dementia, I was told that she might not know who I am and that she could barely move (due to muscle atrophy). But she knew who I was, and when I said goodbye, she was able to say goodbye back. As I was walking out of the room and waving goodbye, she followed me with her neck and eyes, smiled, raised her hand and arm out of bed, and waved goodbye.

I was not expecting that precious moment to happen this year.

Health phenomenon

I’ve still been monitoring my blood pressure. Due to transitions in health insurance companies, I haven’t seen a doctor or P.A. since this summer, and one of my prescriptions is out of refills, so I’m only taking two medications now. I mostly didn’t have time to exercise while school was in session, but I’ve still been doing my best to follow my low-sodium diet.

I’ve noticed something interesting. Even when I’m following my diet to the letter, my blood pressure is still high when I’m stressed. On the other hand, there have been times when I thought maybe my BP would be high due to my not being able to avoid salty foods (for example, if I attend an event where food is provided and I don’t get to be picky about what I eat), but my BP actually turns out to not be so high.

I think feeling the pressure of adhering to a low-sodium diet stresses me out and, ironically, could be raising my BP. I also think the pressure of having to take my BP three times a day could raise my BP. Ironic.

I think my BP is better when I’m just happy. So, I’ve been kind of trying to balance all of that and just see what happens.

Construction phenomenon

A popular street where I spend a lot of my time driving was repaved recently. I don’t like driving on streets that are in the process of being repaved. After they’ve ripped off the road and left all the awkward grooves underneath, it can be so uncomfortable to drive on. Before I got new tires this year, driving on that type of road-under-construction was downright scary.

It’s interesting to observe what’s underneath, though. After they rip off the drivable part, you can see the lines where the old lanes used to be. Then after they complete the repaving and draw the new lines on the road, you’re relieved to drive on it again because it’s such a smooth ride. It’s built exactly the way a good road is supposed to be.

As I’ve undergone some emotional healing this year, it’s been scary to see the stuff that’s underneath the road of my soul. Are those old lines really where the lanes used to be? For example, I’ve dealt with rejection for most (if not all) of my life, and God has recently begun a new repaving process. Now that that’s been exposed, it’s awkward to proceed with my life as I’ve learned how to let other people accept me, and it’s been shocking to see what’s been underneath that old road.

The other day, a friend of mine from school asked me what I was doing for Christmas and invited me to her house for the holiday. Out of the blue. I thanked her kindly and explained that I have plans for Christmas. Later, I wondered why in the world she would want to hang out with me... and I got to thinking about how being accepted felt so foreign, but being rejected seemed so normal. (It should be the other way around.) I felt strangely vulnerable for the rest of the day. Is that the old road that I’ve been driving on all these years??

Anyway, that’s what I mean. When people say that they’re under construction, they’re not kidding.

Horticultural phenomenon

This summer, I became a crazy plant lady who talks to my plants and names them. I planted beans just for the heck of it. The members of my little bean farm were Sprout, Baby Sprout, White Bean, and Mr. Bean. Sprout is a pinto bean and was the first one to germinate. When it came time for me to tie him to a small plastic rod for some support, I wasn’t gentle enough and accidentally bent his stalk somewhere in the middle. I felt horrible and treated him quite gingerly thereafter. It looked like I accidentally stunted his growth, especially since his peers all outgrew him.

 

But an interesting thing happened. After all the other little beanstalks died off, Sprout survived them all. I think he’s in the last phase of his little plant life, but look at him! He’s still mostly green and is even starting to produce a tiny bit of fruit.

Did my accidental handling of him actually help him?

Similarly, is sorrow really better than laughter? Did the events that should have killed us actually make us stronger? Ecclesiastes 7:3 is definitely onto something.

Vindication phenomenon

A phrase that God gave me for 2019 was “major vindication.” For example, a boss from my old writing job wrote on a performance review, “Tirzah doesn’t think before she writes.” I got pretty angry when I read that, of course, and that particular job ended pretty badly for me. (If you followed my emo blog posts from several years ago, perhaps you remember reading about this.)

However, several months ago, I was hired to do some freelance writing. Somebody actually paid me to write for them. I guess I don’t suck as a writer after all. Hmm. I can get used to God sticking up for me like that.

What’s next?

2019 truly turned out to be a phenomenal year, but I think 2020 will be even better. I had a feeling that I would experience all-new things in 2019, and I have. I wonder now if maybe all of that’s just been setting the stage for something else.

The word that God has given me for my 2020 is “epic.” A phrase that He’s given me for 2020 is “on the edge of your seat.” He’s shown me that major change is coming—for the better. I know I’m going to be living life on the edge of my seat in the coming year, but I don’t think it’s going to be in a bad way. I think it’s going to be in a good way. I think watching my life unfold in 2020 is going to be like watching a good epic film in the movie theater where the bad guys have given the superhero some hard knocks, and maybe they’ve been holding her underwater. Will she make it? The suspense is killing you! And then at the last possible second, she emerges from her underwater prison and kicks all of the bad guys’ butts in one fell swoop. Then the credits begin to roll, and you leap out of your seat in a moment of satisfying triumph. Yesssss! She made it!

Bring it. 

A whirlwind update

Whew! Life has been a crazy whirlwind these past couple of months. There are several updates and, of course, some things that I’ve been processing through. So, instead of giving each element its own blog post (which I usually do), I thought I’d condense them a tiny bit and group them all here.

This post turned out to be a lot longer than I thought it would, but it’s the internet. You don’t have to read all of this in one sitting if you don’t want to. But I hope you like pictures, because I’ll be sharing a few. As I usually tell my customers when I deliver their food, “Enjoy!”

It’s a salad

During the first two weeks of June, I did my annual salad fast as usual. For this particular fast, I felt like God showed me that I could define “salad” as different things mixed together in one dish, rather than just lettuce, tomatoes, carrots -- you know, regular “salad” stuff. (Long after my fast, I watched a British cooking show in which the host stated that salad nowadays isn’t just traditional stuff. She showed us how to make a salad out of quinoa and fresh herbs mixed together.)

This definition especially came in handy because my extremely tight budget meant that I didn’t always have traditional salad stuff around. But I did have plenty of spinach and avocados (which I can get messy with, but accidental guacamole in a salad is pretty delicious). I also used fruit, and I used a lot of bread to make homemade croutons (just toast that I sometimes cut with a knife and sometimes just shredded with my hands, because my stomach doesn’t mind). Basically, I just took what I had, mixed it all together, and made the best of it.

Isn’t that what life is like? Isn’t that what God does if we let Him?

“And we know that all things work together for good to those who love God, to those who are the called according to His purpose.” (Romans 8:28)

School and delivery adventures

Earlier this summer, I took a class online so that my schedule could be freed up for work. This was the first time I had ever taken summer school. I’ve heard that summer school can be intense, but it was cool to experience the intensity firsthand. I ended up developing an actual routine: Work at my office job in the morning, make some deliveries at lunchtime, come home and do schoolwork in the afternoon, make more deliveries in the evening, come home and do even more schoolwork before bed, and read for class during deliveries or between deliveries. (And if I had freelance work to edit for a client, I would usually do that instead of making deliveries.)

In my summer school class, we learned that our society has been reading the Bible the wrong way. We tend to just pick out the verses that we like, read them out of context, and think that that’s enough for us. We tend to think that studying and analyzing the Bible and picking it apart is more important than simply reading it, enjoying it, and understanding it in the context that it was originally written -- with the understanding of the original audience that it was originally written for. It’s important to read the Bible first and THEN study it. That way we’ll get to understand God’s HEART better.

So, while I was sitting in parking lots waiting for the delivery app to send me somewhere, or while I was sitting in restaurants waiting for the kitchen to cook customers’ food, I was reading for class and my paradigms were exploding. In a good way.

Another thing about delivering food: I’ve discovered that delivery drivers are kind of at the bottom of the food chain in the restaurant business. I’ve felt talked down to and patronized by restaurant staff and customers in ways that have rattled me a little bit (one time I cried on the way home) but have also challenged me to forgive and walk in grace. And, not to mention, when I’m treated like royalty by restaurant staff or shown tremendous appreciation by customers, it makes it that much sweeter. I’m pretty sure it’s one way in which God has been humbling me, like He humbled the Israelites in the desert when they were learning how to worship Him and depend on Him.

I think it’s also preparation for becoming a pastor. Of course.

 

Also during deliveries, sometimes I’ve gotten to see some cool wildlife or livestock (yes, I’m from Texas, so livestock is cool to me) while I’m either driving or walking around. I’ve also seen horses and llamas (or alpacas?), but I haven’t taken any photos of them yet. I’ve seen some awesome sights like very expensive-looking houses, quaint bridges, and breathtaking avenues saturated with gorgeous trees.

Sometimes when I see something extremely beautiful like that, I’ll say something like, “God, that’s breathtaking” or “That’s gorgeous,” and He’ll respond with something like, “So are you.”

Which kind of transitions into my next section.

Multifaceted health update

The quest to lower my blood pressure has resulted in the doctors prescribing three blood pressure medicines that I now take daily (two in the morning, one at night so that I can sleep through the crazy side effects). The quest to analyze my heart murmur caused the doctors to order a few tests. The stress test showed some abnormalities in my EKGs, but the nuclear stress test (where they injected a tracer into my bloodstream and then took pictures of where the blood was flowing in my heart) showed that my blood vessels don’t have any blockages or any deprivation of oxygen. So, that’s very good news. I also have minor thickening on part of my heart, more than likely due to high blood pressure. I did suspect that there was some damage, but it was good to have it confirmed.

During an echocardiogram, I got to see and hear my heart beating, which was an incredibly awesome experience for me. I mean, you don’t get to do that every day. I got to hear the murmur which, to me, sounds like “Rock and Roll Part 2” (aka “The Hey Song”), so hopefully it’s benign. Or just something cool to brag about. (Hey! My heart beats like that song they play at football games. Ha, ha!)

I’ve continued with my low-sodium diet. I also recently switched to decaf because caffeine can raise your blood pressure. (I did that gradually instead of cold turkey so as to avoid the caffeine-withdrawal migraines.)

Why so much trouble just to take care of my health? It finally hit me one day: Oh! This whole thing is about my HEART... my physical heart and my emotional/spiritual heart. Duh.

I haven’t returned to platform ministry yet. I’ve needed some more time away because I’ve needed some more healing. I won’t go into details here, but there are a few things that I’d like to mention.

One thing that God has spoken to me specifically is that I’ve seen some bad things in the body of Christ -- the Church at large. (And those things have hurt me.) But now He’d like me to see some good things in the body of Christ.

For instance, I think in late April or early May (when it’s rainy in Texas), I couldn’t find one of my umbrellas. It was the umbrella that I would keep in the backseat of my car. I figured that I took it either to church or to my group/study and just forgot it there. I checked with the receptionist at the building where my group/study would meet, but it wasn’t there. I checked with different people at church, and I found out that the security guards take care of the “lost and found.” One Saturday, I had two security guards and about two or three volunteers from the visitor center checking on my umbrella for me. Unfortunately, they couldn’t find one that matched my description, but they spent what I felt was a significant amount of time helping me. Since it had been about a month and a half or so since I had lost it, they said that unfortunately, unclaimed items are donated after about a month. I followed their suggestion and checked at the umbrella holders that were located by each entrance and couldn’t find it there. I figured that it if was donated, maybe somebody got it who needs it more than I do.

 

I went back to my car that evening and looked one more time. I reached WAY back into the floorboard of my backseat... and I discovered that my umbrella had rolled all the way to the bottom of my front seat and had gotten wedged in there! Now I keep it at the floorboard of my front seat so that I’ll always know where it is.

I felt a little silly that my umbrella wasn’t lost after all, but the fact that several people at church dropped what they were doing to help me look for it meant a lot to me. In my church -- a megachurch -- I wasn’t lost in the crowd, and I wasn’t treated like a number. I was treated like a human being who was important enough to help. Even if it was for a silly little thing like an umbrella.

It meant a LOT to me.

I think sometimes it takes a trial for me to get to see stuff like that. Yes, in my past I’ve been hurt by church people -- I’ve been spiritually abused, talked about behind my back, rejected, insulted, manipulated, used, etc. But during the trials that I’ve walked through these past couple of years, I haven’t walked through them alone. Church people have checked on me to make sure that I’m OK. Church people have prayed for me without me asking them to. Church people have generously given me money or given me a truckload of food when I’ve been in need. My pantry is full, I haven’t gotten evicted, and I have some people who I can count on.

It’s hard to hate people who are loving you. It’s hard to be bitter against people who are going out of their way to help you. It’s hard to feel lonely when you know that you’re surrounded by family.

Princess or orphan?

One major thing that God has been teaching me is how to be a princess -- His princess, like the kind in Psalm 45. But I think before officially giving me regal lessons, He’s been parked on letting one specific truth absorb into me as deeply as possible: He adopted me. He’s my Father. I’m His daughter.

God has been in the process of healing my orphan spirit. I’ve received some healing regarding this issue in the past, and I blogged about it several years ago in this post. But I’ve needed to address this issue again, and God and I have been taking our time with it. “Orphans” are basically tough people on the outside who feel like they don’t need anybody because they can’t trust anybody. But on the inside, they’re just wounded little kids. So, I think the main way to heal this way of thinking is simply to develop a close relationship with the only One who can melt the orphan’s heart.

So, God and I have been talking to each other a lot while I’ve been driving around and making food deliveries. One thing I’ve been doing is listening to Brian Doerksen’s album Father’s House in my car every day that I make deliveries. Sometimes I sing along to one of the songs and change the words so that I can sing it to God: “You are my Father / And I will always be Your very own / Here I will find You / Waiting for me / You are my Father / I am Your daughter.” Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I just enjoy the peace and quiet in the midst of the hectic-ness.

The other day, God showed me that I still don’t completely trust Him, and He showed me a picture of a huge mountain -- that was the stronghold. He showed me a small piece of the mountain that He had already chipped away at and that there’s still some work to do. I also got the impression that it isn’t like an “I rebuke you and tear you down in the name of Jesus and presto, change-o, rearrange-o, now you’ve been delivered” kind of stronghold. I think it’s more like something that will take time to chip away at, break apart, and hopefully disintegrate forever.

It seems like this process will take some time, and I’m OK with that. For example, in this season, I’ve had to trust God to provide for me financially. My sources of income are small, and my food delivery job is unpredictable and sometimes unreliable, so I can’t technically depend on my jobs to provide for me. I have to depend on God to help me pay rent every month, even if it’s a few days late. I have to depend on Him to help me pay my growing pile of medical bills. I have to depend on Him to help me pay for my car’s maintenance. I have to depend on Him to help me pay for school.

A good Father provides for His children, right? Sometimes when He comes through for me yet again, He’ll remind me: “Have I ever let you down?” No, Papa, You’ve never let me down.

And the huge mountain cracks a little bit.

The garden

When I finished participating in my group/study for abuse survivors, I was given a small red oak tree. Since I live in an apartment and can’t plant my tree in the ground, I’ve been taking care of it on my balcony. I stopped owning plants shortly after I became a cat person (because Choochie would either eat the leaves or use the planters as litterboxes), so I’ve had to make an effort to learn how to take care of my tree.

 

In the process, something cool ended up happening. When I was growing up, my father had a green thumb, so learning how to garden has kind of awoken something that’s probably been buried in my DNA. (When I was a kid, we used to plant beans and avocados in the soil of our house plants all the time, just for fun and curiosity.) While I was repotting my tree, I ended up planting other things as well. And I’ve made some mistakes, but I hope I’ve been learning from them. I planted some avocados, but the pits had already dried out, so they didn’t germinate. I planted some pinto beans, but I overwatered them and they didn’t germinate, either. I planted a peach tree, and I found out that it could germinate in the spring, so we’ll see what happens. I planted some pinto beans again and have finally seen some new growth. Even my tree sprouted a little offshoot of his own. I typically don’t like to spend time outside, but gardening has been pretty fun so far.

Also in the process, the parts of the Bible that talk about planting seeds, sowing/reaping, pruning, bearing fruit, and gardening or growth in general have new meaning for me. Living things take time to grow. They are fragile, and they require a lot of care, especially if they depend on you for their needs.

But there’s so much joy in the process for the gardener. He doesn’t mind waiting, because He knows that growth is happening -- even if you can’t see it right away.

And sometimes you just gotta wait for results. It’s worth the wait, because you know that you’re growing something that will be sturdy, strong, fruit-bearing, and life-giving for years to come.