God the Creator

“In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.” {Genesis 1:1}

We’ve ignored a huge side of God in today’s Christianity, the creative. In the beginning, the very first thing He did was create.

God is the Ultimate Creative; He designed not only this world, but the universe, but we tend to forget that fact. In the church today we recognize the need for Christians in math and science, and even business, but the arts? Nah. The arts are evil, but there’s no need to take them back; they’re just for entertainment after all.

But God created the arts. Losing a Christian influence in the art industry has limited our view of God to the left-brained scientist. We’ve put Him in a box, ignoring His freedom to create, and reducing Him to a mathematical formula. If you get one small part of that formula wrong, the project (i.e. your life) won’t turn out.

This is where we begin to believe that being a good Christian looks a certain way, and that it takes a specific equation, because that’s our view of how God works.

This is why I feel we desperately need to take back the arts, because without being an active part of them, from movies and music to photography and painting or potter, we fail to grasp the importance of the "other side" of God.

God’s path for your life (and others) is beautiful, and a lot of it is due to the fact that it’s different than anyone else’s. He takes pleasure in creating unique places and roads just for you. Don’t forget that He’s not limited to one formula, even though we tend to think He is.

Purity and our Past

I read this post on Stuff Christians Like, on “Guys like girls with a past” the other day. There are a lot of things I could say about this, and there were a lot of good arguments in the comments, such as why guys *shouldn’t* like girls with a past and other topics but it really just sparked some different thoughts for me.

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Wait a sec…there’s a difference? You mean there are girls without a past? Woah woah woah. When did this happen? I don’t know any.

I think sometimes we need to realize the fact that ALL of us have a past. Maybe the guys are attracted to the ones with an “open” past because they’re more real*. They’re admitting that they’ve messed up. That they’re not pure.

Because none of us are pure. I don’t care if you’ve never slept with a guy, never even kissed a guy, never watch a PG-13 movie, listened to secular music, or been around people who swear [much less use one yourself],  we were born with sin. We were born marked, tarnished… UN-pure. In Christian circles we talk about “losing our purity”, but how can you “lose” it if you’ve never had it? We talk about, strategize and stress [and stress and stress some more] KEEPING your purity, but how can we keep what we’ve never had?

“All have sinned and fallen SHORT of the glory of God.” {Romans 3:23}

We can only gain purity. We can only be given purity, it’s not something we already have. We were never whole, we were never blameless, and never spotless. Jesus came to give us that, He came to make us that way. Pure is something you become, not something you were.

Accepting this fact, for me, is freeing. Because instead of being something on me [I need to keep my purity, I need to be so careful because if I lose it… I can never get it back], and turns into something on God [He’s the only one that has it, and the only one that can give it]. It turns our focus from us to Him. Exactly where it should be. It frees us to do, and be, and say exactly what He wants of us because we have forgotten that it’s on us to save our purity.

Never forget, only Jesus can give us purity, it was never ours in the first place and it’s gift. But it’s a gift He’s more than willing to give.

“Come, and let us return to the Lord; for He has torn, but He will heal us. He has stricken, but He will bind us up. After two days He will revive us; on the third day He will raise us up, that we may live in His sight.” {Hosea 6:1-2}

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{The P.S.'s} 

*This has nothing to do with the "past" or the "cooler past" that they were talking about in the post. And this is not me saying that guys should be attracted to "bad girls", it's more me saying that really we're all bad girls [and boys]. 

Links to the two blog posts that sparked these thoughts of mine [they were also feed by some of the talk at Junction last night]

http://laurennicolelove.blogspot.com/2011/10/what-makes-woman-good.html

http://www.jonacuff.com/stuffchristianslike/2011/11/stuff-christians-guys-like-girls-that-have-a-past/

Kind of like Sisters

So I've decided that I hate short stories... so much for thinking this was an easy assignment. They always end up so lopsided... my intro is as long as the rest of the story for crying out loud. And the whole thing doesn't have a very strong story line for someone who wasn't there. Ahhhh! I guess practice makes perfect... So I should just suck it up and do more, right? haha

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 The girl waited impatiently to leave the plane. She stood in the isle with her backpack slung across one shoulder and her suitcase at her feet. She pulled at the neck of her Twins sweatshirt and shifted. Thoughts flashed through her brain, ‘was this really a good idea?’ she second guessed herself.

Eventually the line started moving and everything went from the quiet calm on the plane to busy people rushing here and there, the sound of roller bags on the linoleum, sometimes a different language. The girl briefly wished she wasn’t wearing a sweatshirt and tennis shoes in the California airport, but the thought was interrupted by the sound of her name.

“You’re here!” hugs, parking lots and cars followed, and then a year’s worth of catching up. It didn’t take long to skip the small stuff and jump right into what God had been doing in their lives, but still the quiet doubts lingered.

The next day the two found themselves in San Diego, looking for a gelato shop in the midst of all the crazy ComicCon goers. After enjoying cappuccino flavored gelato they ventured up the outside staircase to find the bathrooms. Laughing and talking as the followed the sign the pushed open the door and stopped when they realized it was a single bathroom.

  

 “ummm, go ahead,” one of them said, and the other walked back to the main room to awkwardly read the bulletin board. Before she could get to the board however, one of the men sitting at a table looked up from his computer with a laugh and remarked, “not that good of friends, huh?”

“ha… yeahhh not that good,” she managed, and the man went back to his work.

The girls had a good laugh about it on the two hour drive back, “what an awkward comment!

Nine days, a wedding, four days of camping in a small tent, tramping all over Yosemite with their bibles, a day of rock climbing, being mistaken for sisters (and mother/daughter), meeting crazy people, brushing their teeth in the street, 24 hours in the car and hoards of adventures later, they were sitting at a picnic table in the dark, somewhere in the mountains, talking.

One of them remarked on how they both had such similar taste, “I mean we never have to argue about what kind of music to listen to, we get the same kind of coffee where ever we go, we like the same kinds of food, and the same kinds of activities. It’s kind of a good thing...”

“I know! It’s a really good thing… Otherwise I don’t know how the ten days would have gone. To be completely honest I was kind of wondering how good idea this was,” said the CA girl. “I was thinking, ‘I liked her at Photoj and all, but that was two years ago..”

“Since we’re being honest… I had the same thoughts!” admitted the one that came to visit, “What if we didn’t have any of the same tastes!? What if we didn’t get along very well and had to spend all that time together?!?”  The two laughed about how unfounded their fears had turned out to be, and tried to ignore the fact that they wouldn’t be together in another day.

The next night was her last night in Cali. She cuddled up on the floor while her friend crawled into bed. “What are you doing down there?!? Get up here and bring your pillow!"

She laughed, “I guess maybe, by now, we are ‘that good of friends’.” 

Sweaters and Hoodies

Sometimes I can't decide who I really am.

Sometimes I feel as if I'm having an internal identity crisis. Actually a lot of the time.

Part of me thinks I'm an artsy person. You know, the sweaters, skinny jeans and TOMS wearing, trend setting person. An abstract and impractical one, loving my new haircut and always being creative. The dreamer, the right-brained.

And the other part of me says I'm just pretending. That I'm just an right-brained wanna-be.

That at heart, I'm really a jock, the one that wonders what the heck I'm going to do with these bangs when I'm lifting or climbing, the part that chooses sweats and a hoodie with the hood up over a sweater and jeans, and the one that disses all things impractical.

Can I actually be both? Or am I one or the other?

Am I pretending? Or am I really a part of both people?

The Cryptozoologist

This is me getting the cryptozoologist out of the way, because it's been plaguing me for a lonnnnng time. ;) [happy Jennette???]

I'm not sure this really counts are writing... but whatever.
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I don’t want my life to be like the story of the Cryptozoologist.

Honestly, I’m intrigued by stories like that; slight randomness, lots of insinuation and not a lot of flat out answers. They make my imagination run, and I make up sub-stories while I’m reading.

But this ending, annoyed me; in reality, it more than annoyed me, but less than infuriated me. What did the two plastic five gallon buckets half filled with apples have to do with it? Was it Wayne Lee, or a Skunk Ape? Or did it have something to do with her dying, or was she dreaming? And what did the Secret Agent Dude want?

I don’t want my life to be full of questions, I want a least a few answers. I don’t want my life a bunch of random, gloomy events; I want a least a little order. I don’t want my life to happen by default, but I do want to make the best of what does happen like Rose did.

I don’t know where this “response” is going, and that’s what I didn’t like about the story. So I guess I’ll end this by saying, I actually really enjoyed reading it, even if it was a bit depressing and had a ridiculous ending. Haha

I think I need to get back in the swing of this writing. 

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I wrote this last night... so I'm going to try to write some more today :)

"Can I give this lady some free guac?"

I wasn’t a picky kid when I was younger, but there was one thing I couldn’t stand. Avocados. Oh, the texture. The smooshy green pieces slid down your throat. There wasn’t anything that I couldn’t eat, but avocados… they made me gag. Really gag.

We have a policy in our family that no matter what it is, no matter how much you hate it, you have to eat a tiny bit every time it’s served. So I did. I’d quickly search my salad, or whatever it was, pick out one nice gooy piece, and with glass in hand quickly swallow it.

I’m not sure when it happened. Or how it did. But I like avocados now, and like is a weak word. Actually I love avocados now. And it wasn’t something that slowly happened, it was a sudden occurrence. Now I can’t get enough of them. It’s sort of sad, because living in Minnesota means that they are expensive, not very plentiful and mushy by the time you get to them (or they get to you).

When I went to visit my friend in the Bahamas and, get this, she has an avocado tree in her back yard! We literally ate them for breakfast , lunch and supper. And any time we were hungry. Lots of salt and pepper. Creole seasoning. On their own. Mmmmm, delicious. Nice and firm, just picked and perfectly ripe, and huge. I’d never seen such big ones. We brought them to the island, and they were even better there. So I ate my fill for ten days, and now I dream about them.

Oh and then there’s guacamole... I used the think it was smooshy* and not worth ruining your chip for. Not anymore. Blend up that gorgeous green stuff, add some lime juice and salt, crush some garlic and pull out the chips. Especially Chipotle’s guac, it’s smooth and creamy, with cilantro and salsa. Add a burrito and it’s heaven. Plus, bring your mom along. Because she’s amazing at getting free stuff.

[This was a lot harder than I thought it was going to be... sorry guys! hahah, I think I'll stick to letting Jennette assign us stuff. I *do* want to try something like this again... maybe something a little less specific...]

Boxes: A Short Story

“She turned the business card over in her hands, feeling the smoothness with her fingers. She contemplated the story it might tell, but for some reason her mind couldn’t go anywhere other than a romantic meeting of the guy and a girl.

“What is wrong with my brain?” she wondered. Sometimes she felt her mind was stuck on one track, and even though she hadn’t placed it there, she couldn’t get it off.

Stories. That was what she thought about. Always thought about stories. But lately her stories were limited to love stories. She loved adventure, but she had no plots without guy plus girl. “Oh boy, I feel like a hopeless romantic.”

And this writing was making things no better. She sighed and laid down her pen.”

Smiling she turned the page. Sitting back on her heels, she pulled the box full of journals closer. Reading them was amusing, to say the least. “I was such a hopeless dork!” She kept turning the pages. This one was from 2006, and so much had changed since then.

She resumed her reading, losing herself in her thoughts from long ago. Struggles with her life and her work that seemed so large then, but in hindsight appeared almost laughable. Entry after entry made mountains out of molehills, but she survived, and what was happening in the present made all the scraps worth it.

Some of the entries made a few tears trickle* out, while others made her laugh. “Oh I wish I had known what would happen after that,” she sighed. 

Then of course there were the multiple entries like the above one. “Geeze, girl, what was your problem. It’s not the only thing in life, and boy am I glad I’ve figured that all out now.” She rolled her eyes at the old her, and all her “heart problems” and “boy issues”.

“Whatever made me think that about him?” “Wow, that was stupid.” “girly, it’s not that big of a deal. You’ll get over it.”

She closed the journal, and stacked it back in the box, replacing the cover and carrying it to the storage closet. She shut the door and smiled at how mature she felt after reading her old problems. In her pocket her phone started vibrating. Looking down her heart jumped, breathing deep she tried to calm it.

“Hello? Oh hey!” Thump.

*yes Jennette... they trickled.