in boston

I've been walking around, spaced out, with my back turned to the Lord for quite some time now. I think it began in January... No, it was before that. Even in Japan, I think that although I was walking toward Him, my head was turned the other way (if you can picture that), screwed on backwards, whatever you want to call it (yes, it was very uncomfortable and yeah, many times I didn't know where I was going). This week, I decided to turn back. Sunday, I took my first glance (behind the left shoulder), just to make sure. And I saw Him there. I knew He'd be there, but I didn't get that "why are you there? why are you always there?? aaaaaharhgafblah just leave me be" (my rendition of Job 7:17-19) feeling, the one where you sort of shoo away with your arms and hands and kick with your legs and feet. Instead, a feeling of quiet resignation, submission. "Yeah, I'm ready..."

It didn't come as an epiphany, a huge realization, or a bonk on the head. It just came and I just turned. It came as I was leaving one service to go to another, walking to the T - it was a thought, silent and clear -

I didn't get what I want.

That's what it essentially came down to. I turned my back on Him because He didn't give me what I wanted. Pretty immature, huh? The past year I shared this reason and that as to why I was struggling: I thought of it as a combination or culmination of all things that had recently happened and in years past. But as I deconstructed I saw that I myself laid at the foundation of my disatisfaction with the Lord. Maybe it's a repercussion of being the youngest of two - Brain's words - "Quit your whining!" - rang all too true, quite poignant although taken out of context. Underneath this "wise" 24 year-old is a bratty, selfish kid who got so caught up in her own stuff that she forgot who God is, what place He holds. I was disgruntled for not getting my piece of cake and I let that feeling stew until I found myself hesitant, fearful to go back, separated, at a distance, displaced in His house and skeptical of His family... How quickly I forgot what I learned that night at Gusto with Soo and Shally - that the Lord never promised me so many of the things I held on to. What He really promises is in His Word. And I was reminded of this again as an excerpt from Narnia was preached to me -

"Are you thirsty?" said the lion.
"I'm dying of thirst," said Jill.
"Then drink," said the lion.
"May I - could I - would you mind going away while I do?" said Jill.
The lion answered this only by a look and a very low growl. And as Jill gazed at its motionless bulk, she realized that she might as well have asked the whole mountain to move aside for her convenience. The delicious rippling noise of the stream was driving her nearly frantic.
"Will you promise not to - do anything to me, if I do come?" said Jill.
"I make no promise," said the lion.
Jill was so thirsty now that, without noticing it, she had come a step nearer.
"Do you eat girls?" she said.
"I have swallowed up girls and boys, women and men, kings and emperors, cities and realms," said the lion. It didn't say this as if it were boasting, nor as if it were sorry, nor as if it were angry. It just said it.
"I daren't come and drink," said Jill.
"Then you will die of thirst," said the lion.
"Oh dear!" said Jill, coming another step nearer. "I suppose I must go and look for another stream then."
"There is no other stream," said the lion.

- and that night in the bathroom thinking about Job and how what I went through is beans (dude, not even beans) compared to what He endured and yet his eyes remained fixed while mine wandered all over the place. All those times where I told myself that I'd never deny Christ, but like Peter jumping ship at the first sight of rough waters. How foolish to think that strong meant self-reliance, independence

But Sunday, for some reason I accepted what was given to me rather than ask question after question and turn the blame on Him for things that I had wanted, asked for, and done (I think someone was praying for me, or, simply grace?). Only two days before as I awkwardly waited for praise to start, I scribbled in my notebook "Lord, how can I sing you praise when I am feeling like this? You remind me that it's not about me, my condition, the state of my heart... It's about you. But Lord, what if I don't - or can't - believe with my heart and all of me that the words I sing are true? ... ... What do I do? Please help me Lord. What do I do? Is that what it means to take a step of faith? To sing empty words and hope that my heart will be changed? Hope that something magical will happen? Or, hope that nothing will happen but that You would be glorified? That you would be pleased with a trying heart..." And now, this.

I don't see the year or so I spent in my head as time wasted. Yeah, in a way it's unfortunate and I do wish that certain happenings had been more meaningful to me, more heart-friendly, made a deeper impression. But they didn't. That's just where I was, where I'm trying to get out of. I walked around in a daze with the world and people moving around me but with nothing sticking, thinking about everything while trying to remain unaffected by it all, and although I knew that real strength is coming back after being hurt, I wanted to choose to be superficially strong by walking away from it all, tears in eyes but head held high, extra careful not to step where I stepped before, careful not to make the same mistakes twice (remembering what Leslor always says: "hurt me once, shame on you. hurt me twice, shame on me!), careful not to fall. Somewhere along the way, while I was thinking about all this strength stuff, I remember this thought entering my brain: "duh, of course true strength isn't walking away. who has to have the greatest strength? God. and at what point did He exemplify this? on the cross. yeah, you're hurt, but who was most hurt? Christ. Did Christ walk away when He was most hurt by His Father? no. THAT Jenn, is real strength. being hurt, knowing you'll be hurt, knowing it will hurt, but going - doing it - anyway. you have your scars, but you are all the more resilient, glorious" At that time, I shooed that reminder away as well. I didn't want to hear it. And as I shooed away, what kept coming back were all the things I had walked away from, a lot of regret.

I remember as 2004 came to a close telling myself and others that "2005 is going to be great. 2004 sucked, so 2005... 2005 is my year. 2005 is going to be great." and I remember not even a month ago telling Goot over the phone, "2004 sucked. so did 2005. i have no hope for 2006, so 2007 - that's my year! 2007, here i come!" and as I said those words, somewhere in the back of my mind someone said, "Jenn, the year isn't over...!" hm, maybe it was Goot. or God? but still, even though September, October, and November are always the best months, I had little hope. now, I think, Maybe 2006 won't be so bad? This is where the real strength kicks in.

it's beautiful out,

there are many things I miss