Water fast, day 2

Day 2 is so much better than day 1. God's worked a lot in me last night and this morning. I think I am finally resting in Him. It's a huge break from trying to fix everything.

When I get into the sweet spot of a fast, I never want to leave it. It's so easy- you know exactly what you're going to eat and drink, whether it's just water, just liquids, or maple-lemonade like the Master Cleanse.

The challenge always comes in exiting the fast because I know I want to keep resting in Him as I return to the world of food. I'm excited about this arrangement, though, because I'll move from water to more liquids (fresh juice, coconut water, vegetable broth) to the Daniel fast (where you eat the diet of a diabetic vegan), and then finally back to meat and eggs.

I am excited about eating meat and eggs again. Yes. Yes indeed.

hill running

I am not a runner. I do not run. I eschew it, dis it, whatever you wanna say, I don't like to run.

But lately I've been running. Up and down hills. Mostly up, it's my preference. And God teaches me in our running; He invites me into it.

Today He led me a more roundabout way than I wanted to go. And I ran up and along the flatter places. I slowed down through a turn and some brambles, but He asked me to keep running, so I did. Up another hill.

This place is my life right now is ever in my consciousness- perching on the edge of great change, of great movement, still a little unsure that I'm headed the right direction, and seeking Him, always always always seeking Him for Himself and for answers that He is so pleased to give.

I crested the hill, slowed to a walk. I took it all in before me, this glorious hill. I drank in where I was and looked out at where I was going. I let gravity pull me down the hill until I was running, running, and then up another hill, running, and then walking backwards (gotta work all those muscles).

In the flow. Being with Him. That is where I am and where I shall continue to be. Yes and Amen!

Aslan is on the move

Thursday nights are such a blessing! I meet with some people from church, and we eat and chat and pray and worship and encourage each other. It's AWESOME!!! I'm really loving these people, and they love me. I'm so thankful.

I just wanted to share a huge blessing I got tonight. My Indian friend, Amukta, asked for prayer for me, for my next step, and they all prayed over me (they're pentecostal, so they just break out and pray all at once. In English this time, pretty swell!). After they had finished, a pastor there said he heard in his spirit God saying YES to me. YES YES YES YES!!! And he kept saying it, and we were all laughing and saying YES and rejoicing and I was so glad and crying and laughing. God is so good. He's on the move. There are changes coming, I feel it. I've prayed for it. He is faithful. I am thankful.

The amazing God thing is that on the way to small group, I was asking Jesus how to dream with Him. It actually head-&-heart-hit-me that that would require more prayer, more asking, more listening, more opening. A real alive eternal amazing relationship. And I asked how to dream. And I discovered a hurt there, and the hurt was that I doubted that He wanted to hear what I want. But He does. He revealed it in order to heal it, saying, "Yes, Beloved, I want to hear the desires of your heart. Share with Me." And so I began telling Him, in small bits, because it was pretty intense and a pretty big move for little bitty me.

So we talked about dreaming on the car ride there. I drew close.

Then He tells me yes to whatever. YES! What an amazing God we have! Hurrah for dream time! Further up & further in!

Basking in gratitude

I was chatting online with a friend of mine the other day. We chat very rarely, but whenever we do it's pretty intense: Glen is not the kind of guy who digs superficial chatter. Ever.

We were discussing things we had learned, those lessons that keep presenting themselves to you until you've finally learned what you needed to learn from them. I brought up my perception that I'm going through a refining fire where my faith is being tested, specifically in regards to relationships. I have this fear that I'll always be alone, and it's ever present. I shared that I didn't know how to cope with it. It's a fear that I, though I didn't notice it until my chat with Glen, have turned into a rule. The rule goes like this: Megan will always be alone. You see, it's easier that way. Then I know what will happen and will never do anything "wrong," I feel like I'm in control, and I don't get hurt. Amazing! How brave am I?

He shared Proverbs 10:24 with me:

"The fears of the wicked will be fulfilled;
the hopes of the godly will be granted."

He also let me know in no uncertain terms that I could not hold on to this fear. And I saw that he was right. I saw that in carrying around this fear, I had become enslaved by it. It prevented me from hoping and thus from having any of my hopes granted.

The thing is, it takes a lot of courage for me to hope. It turns out that hope hurts- it stings. Hope reminds me of all I've lost, all I want but don't have. Hope is dangerous. Because what happens when my hopes are dashed? Lots of ouchie is what happens. My heart swells with hope and joy and potential, and then all of those things fall flat, and I'm left with a mess to clean up. But why does hope hurt me so much when God intended it for good?

It turns out that I've done a pretty good job with mishandling hope- I turn it into fantasy and then rely on that hope/fantasy instead of God. As it turns out, that doesn't work so well- that is what has really hurt me. It is from this particular habit of mine that I learned that it was wrong to hope because I am always let down by hope.

But that's not necessarily the case. I hoped for a house, and I've got one. I hoped for growth in every aspect of my life, and I have grown and am growing a LOT. I hoped to make my living as a dancer, and I'm doing that, if only part time. And there's even more than what I've hoped for! I've realized that I don't want my life to revolve around dance - I want a more full, whole life than that. And that's a realization I have resisted for years now, but in hoping for wholeness and restoration, that's where I am - the last place I thought I wanted to be. Now I have a new hope of being a farmer. Who'd have thunk it?

I am grateful to be in this fragile place of hope again. It is truly bold for me to hope instead of fear, and I hope. I hope for relationship. I hope for fulfillment in every way, not just in dance. I hope that God really wants to give me the desires of my heart like He says He does. I hope though it may pain me in its lack. I hope.

Living in community I: Realization

A lot of people who follow Jesus like to talk about community and living in community. It seems pretty important to us, and Jesus certainly surrounded himself with people: his disciples, other friends, the masses. Sure He was alone at times - everyone needs to be alone, I think - but He invested himself in other people. He risked living in community with other people; He was honest and transparent, and ultimately that cost Him his life.

I am a part of a great community called Crossings. We meet on Sunday mornings all together, and then during the week there are smaller groups of people who get together for Bible study and sharing and maybe munching or drinking. It's a pretty amazing and dedicated bunch of people as far as most churches are concerned, and as far as church goes, I'm satisfied with it, although I want to contribute more artistically. But it's not yet what I think Jesus would have the church look like. Not completely. There's more, and I want it!

I want to dig deep in this life- plumb the depths of my own depravity and rejoice in the wideness of God's love. I want to really live in community. What I mean is, I want to live in close quarters with other people. My neighbors are great, and I love my house, but I really don't think all these separate, discrete houses side by side are what Jesus had in mind. It's such a picture of the society that sees the individual as the basic unit. Of course, that's how I see it, too, but I think I'm wrong. I don't think that's the way it should be. I don't think it's been restored or perfected (perfect as in made whole or complete). I doubt I'll ever be fulfilled living like this.

I very recently realized that I don't like my living arrangements. I live alone in an awesome house. It's a really great house- an 80-year old Craftsman with hardwood floors, new appliances, and the best porch ever- but I live alone, and I just really feel like I'm not meant to live alone. I ache to have other people around me; I ache to be known. Sure, I'd like to be in a relationship one day where we are married and share life at a very intimate level, but that's not all I'm getting at here. The Africans say that it takes a whole village to raise a child; I agree wholeheartedly. In that proverb, the emphasis is on the child- it's easy to see how children need a lot of care, especially if you've cared for them. But I would say that the village needs the children, too, that the village needs the parents of that child to depend on them for a night off once in a while so the village can continue to practice the refining art of giving. I would argue that the villagers need the chaos of children to remind them that they're only one tiny part of this world, and that no plan is ever 100% certain. I'd say the village needs the laughter of children.... bubbles, too. You can never have enough bubbles.

For now, I'm looking for a roommate. I have an incredibly cute little sunroom with lots of windows and light and even a closet. It faces west. Cleaning it out and getting rid of stuff has moved up higher on my priority list.

For the future, I'm not sure how long I'll be in my house. Perhaps I'll rent it. Perhaps I'll donate it. Maybe I'll even sell it. But I do know that I do not want to live a mainstream American life. That may translate into life in an intentional community (no, no - not a commune, folks). It may mean moving to another country where their norm is the polar opposite of ours. I really don't know. All I know is that movement is necessary, and change is certain. And I want the abundant, full, sometimes chaotic, frustrating, and deeply rewarding life of a physically and spiritually close-knit community.

Why I was up until 4 in the morning

Not that I need to justify my waking hours to anyone at my age of twenty-eight, but in the middle of all my growing pains, there was a gleam of the Real, the priceless, and I want to hold onto it. But first, context.

I have no job. I own a house. My car insurance payment is due March 1. My savings account has recently become empty. I have many bills in addition to my mortgage. Faith is slippery, a bit difficult to hold onto lately. I could lose my house. I might not have a car next month. Believing that I can change myself, that my choices are truly important and life-shaping - this can be a daunting task. Living this life for real is not something I'm used to. It's scary and uncertain and different and painful to take a leap of faith and dare to live life like I want to.

A friend of mine opened up to me tonight about some misconceptions about relationship and misconceptions and me. We cleared the air in a really refreshing way. Then I talked through a situation with him that I'm not sure how to deal with. I don't know what dating means or when people are dating or what my own criteria are for dating someone. I'm uncertain, and that's really hard for me to 'fess up to and admit to myself and other people.

I got a rare glimpse into other people's lives this weekend, and I saw up close the tendency we have to hold onto things that really hold us down. For a real-life example, Man A (stellar guy!) is holding onto Woman B (dead weight). If Man A let go of Woman B, he could have Woman A (stellar gal that most men would kill for). I doubt Man A knows this, but some of his friends do, and now so do I. Not that Woman A would be guaranteed: there's risk in everything. But most people looking at the situation would agree that the risk is worth it.

I like my house. I like wireless internet and the freedom that ownership of a car brings. I like Knoxville. But the only thing I really have is me, and for the first time I really like that. For the first time, that's enough - all I really want is to possess myself. I really feel the importance and the lightness and the pure simplicity of it. He said I'm stunningly beautiful, and in a rare moment, I accepted that. False modesty be damned! God made me incredible, and that's what I'm learning to be, that's where I'm going. I don't know what's next: the life of a nomad or the niche of a home, but I know that I have myself.

ground zero

I read Ecclesiastes and got mad. It didn't even agree with itself- it's an absurd book. I wanted to know who wrote it and why, where in his life he was when he wrote it, and how much wine he'd drunk. To give you a small slice of the reason for my complaint, Eccl. 7:3 states, "Frustration is better than laughter, because a sad face is good for the heart" (TNIV), but in Eccl. 9:7 I find this: "Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do." And over and over again the writer keeps saying how meaningless this life is. Meaningless, all is meaningless. I don't like that. I want to believe that what I do matters, that life is not meaningless, that this will all make sense someday.

The TNIV didn't tell me any background on the book's origins, and Bible Gateway didn't either, so I went for The Message. As I read the description of Ecclesiastes, it was like everything I had been clinging to, trying for, wanting - what I thought was my whole world - just fell. It collapsed like a house of cards. From the point of view of the introduction's author, the main point of Ecclesiastes is the futility of life, of our actions, of all our trying to be something else or something better. The goals I set don't actually guarantee success; my optimism is not everlasting. In short, I can't live this life by myself or on my own terms. It was the most sobering experience I've had in a long while, like a fast of the heart.

I lay in my room at my own personal ground zero and stared at the ceiling, knowing that God is it. It was a completely different experience for me. Instead of being obsessed with my own welfare, or lost in illusion, or paralyzed with fear, I sat in freedom. I was still. I know He is God. Fear is useless. Despair, needless. What else is there but God? Nothing. Lots of meaningless stuff, but God is the only thing with real substance.

I really needed the reminder. I feel like I've been off track lately, not listening or even trying to. I feel purged, clean- like there's been a clearing within me. Since emerging from my room, I've gone about the house focusing more on God. When my focus drifts downward, and I get tense, I find I have inevitably forgotten God. Then I lift my head, my shoulders lose their tension, and I am again at peace. It's this constant reminder of God that centers me, renews my perspective, helps me see the reason for Jews to hang the Mezuzah next to their doors.