Today I realized that I believe in the Selective Gospel.
This is not good.
I'm pretty sure this not an actual term, but I'm christening it so.
Definition: The Selective Gospel is the belief of one individual that only a select few individuals are allowed to be a part of/accepted into/believe in, the actual biblical Gospel found in Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John. The Selective Gospel is based on the foundation that certain individuals are not worthy of entering the kingdom of God due to their personality or past. However these selections are mostly based on their interactions with the aforementioned one individual.
The Selective Gospel is a horrible thing I adhere to. I'd like to say that I am quite tolerant when it comes to people, that I don't judge you right away, and that even when I get to know you that I maintain an infinite amount of graceful padding for any potential hurt or pain you will cause me. Unfortunately none of that is so. I tend to judge people quickly (whether acting on it or not) and that padding is more like a block of wood that hurts when you land on it.
I state freely that the Gospel is for anyone, anywhere, anytime. But more specifically that tends to mean that the Gospel is only for people I tend to like. Remember those group of kids in school who where the social misfits, often outwardly awkward or quiet, insecure and shy? Well my Selective Gospel says that anyone of those people are welcome to believe. But the popular kids with their designer bags and clothes that partied on the weekends? Nope the Gospel is not for them.
Okay so you might think that I'm just a disgruntled misfit who couldn't hang out with the "cool" kids and therefore think this way. Maybe in part you're true. But more so is that I realize that because I view these people as overly ostentatious, self-centered, rich kids I find that they have no place, be it not right to believe in the Gospel.
This is one of my worst sins.
To project my individual feelings of these people onto the image of God himself is like playing God...I don't have to tell you why that's wrong. What I see when looking at them is exactly the way God looked at me, before Christ came. Overly ostentatious, self-centered, rich kids who think they have it all together.
It's ironic too because I know that behind those masks those kids were always the ones with the most insecurities, the most issues in life, the most complications. They just acted that way because they were broken...just like me.
The funny thing is that by believing the Selective Gospel I'm essentially admitting and acknowledging that I am unable to be saved. That I am as annoying and obnoxious as those kids I used to not like in high school. What a humbling thought that is...
The truth is that the true Gospel specifically states that the Selective Gospel is a lie. That true grace does not discriminate nor does it give up on or judge. It is not based on qualifications from previous interactions or current situations. It's all-inclusive.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Thursday, November 12, 2009
Non-Motivated-Ness
I have this weird thing about myself...ok restate that sentence, I have MANY weird things about myself (I knew that if I didn't write that one of my dear friends would). But the most obvious one that I've noticed about myself in the past months is that when I lack motivation, I lack it completely.
What I mean by this is that normally although a person might feel unmotivated, they at least feel some motivation to do the things they like or love doing. An example being that if a person loves to play basketball they will do so even if every other aspect of their lives is uneventful.
However when I have nothing on my schedule, I've been realizing that I don't even make the effort to do the things I love. I watch a lot of tv, but to be honest it has never been something I really love doing...I'd rather watch a movie instead.
I think I've watched only about a handful.
I tend to blame my non-motivated-ness (I think blogs should be used for the purpose of making words up) on money. The fact that I have none and therefore feel guilty using what my parents have. But sometimes I think that just becomes an excuse for me, because I know that deep down my parents would be willing to lend me a couple dollars here or there if they knew it would get me out of the house.
Which brings me to dancing.
My relationship with dance has never been a love-hate but rather a love-love-LOVE relationship. However this doesn't explain the long hiatus that has taken place not only now but throughout college. If you love something normally you want more of it, need more of it, and can't go a day without it. But in truth the most dancing I've done in the past year has probably been at a club.
I think that in the case of dancing, I'm afraid to enjoy it and do it because I know that eventually I won't be able to do it forever. That my joints will weaken and I'll not have the energy when I get older. And I know that in college I held back because I thought that if I couldn't major in dance, then why bother, because dance would only bring temporary happiness. Kind of emo I know.
Hmm...I guess now that I think of it it kind of reflects how I also feel about relationships. I think that I'm often scared of committing or admitting to feelings simply on the basis that I know it's temporary. That even long lasting marriages eventually have an end, I mean there's always going to be a "till death do us part" it's kind of a guarantee.
Perhaps this is a lesson on the eternal nature of God and the fleeting nature of human life and love. Or perhaps I'm just trying to justify my feelings and confused nuggets of truth that float in my head of clouds on a daily basis. Either way I guess the truth of it is that I need to live more in the moment...take that back, the emotions of the moment, rather then dissect the consequences and possibilities of every and any combination of actions that I must take.
These are the moments I wish I had less a stone heart and more of a mushy soul. Then maybe my brain wouldn't hurt so much...
=)
What I mean by this is that normally although a person might feel unmotivated, they at least feel some motivation to do the things they like or love doing. An example being that if a person loves to play basketball they will do so even if every other aspect of their lives is uneventful.
However when I have nothing on my schedule, I've been realizing that I don't even make the effort to do the things I love. I watch a lot of tv, but to be honest it has never been something I really love doing...I'd rather watch a movie instead.
I think I've watched only about a handful.
I tend to blame my non-motivated-ness (I think blogs should be used for the purpose of making words up) on money. The fact that I have none and therefore feel guilty using what my parents have. But sometimes I think that just becomes an excuse for me, because I know that deep down my parents would be willing to lend me a couple dollars here or there if they knew it would get me out of the house.
Which brings me to dancing.
My relationship with dance has never been a love-hate but rather a love-love-LOVE relationship. However this doesn't explain the long hiatus that has taken place not only now but throughout college. If you love something normally you want more of it, need more of it, and can't go a day without it. But in truth the most dancing I've done in the past year has probably been at a club.
I think that in the case of dancing, I'm afraid to enjoy it and do it because I know that eventually I won't be able to do it forever. That my joints will weaken and I'll not have the energy when I get older. And I know that in college I held back because I thought that if I couldn't major in dance, then why bother, because dance would only bring temporary happiness. Kind of emo I know.
Hmm...I guess now that I think of it it kind of reflects how I also feel about relationships. I think that I'm often scared of committing or admitting to feelings simply on the basis that I know it's temporary. That even long lasting marriages eventually have an end, I mean there's always going to be a "till death do us part" it's kind of a guarantee.
Perhaps this is a lesson on the eternal nature of God and the fleeting nature of human life and love. Or perhaps I'm just trying to justify my feelings and confused nuggets of truth that float in my head of clouds on a daily basis. Either way I guess the truth of it is that I need to live more in the moment...take that back, the emotions of the moment, rather then dissect the consequences and possibilities of every and any combination of actions that I must take.
These are the moments I wish I had less a stone heart and more of a mushy soul. Then maybe my brain wouldn't hurt so much...
=)
Monday, October 19, 2009
My Life is a Sitcom
I like that God designed life to be one big story. A story that is neither comedic nor dramatic, but anything and everything in between.
Sometimes I like to bask in the simple enjoyment of the non-drama, the kind of story that really just entertains you, without having to think or act accordingly. Kind of like a sitcom, these moments flash in an instant, leaving a pleasantly warm-fuzzy-bottom of the mug of hot chocolate-essence in your belly.
But then there are those mini drama series. Whether like Heroes, CSI (all of them), even those reality shows, these dramas tend to mark and mar our life. But without them the story would lack its much needed arch, instead becoming a flattened line on the heart monitor in Grey's Anatomy.
Now this is not discounting the comedic sitcoms. Often times I don't think we get enough of them. That sometimes even the minor dramatic moments found in them become something more important and time consuming then they are ever intended by the script writers to be. Most times these little gems are what life needs to get us from and through the dramatic season finale to a new season pilot.
And its this back and forth ping pong battle in life that makes it that much more beautiful. While we hold onto the drama because its the nitty gritty of life that gets the adrenaline pumping with 24 hours to live; the release into blissful escapedom provides much needed rest and renewal.
The great thing about all this is that no matter if we're in the middle of season 4 or at the beginning of season 1 episode 4, we can all catch up with what we've missed. Whether its through talking with close friends, finding happiness in a new relationship, lifting ourselves out of the wreckage, or finally understanding the twists and turns of the plot...we all catch up eventually.
So I hope you won't give up living because there's no way that Jack Baur can once again escape, or because House can't figure out which disease it is, or because you don't want Barney and Robin to get together.
Because we all know that Jack Baur will escape and do it bigger and better, that House will cure his patient just before he dies, and maybe Barney and Robin won't stay together but at least we'll get closer to finding out who 'the mother' is...and maybe that's the part that really matters.
=)
Sometimes I like to bask in the simple enjoyment of the non-drama, the kind of story that really just entertains you, without having to think or act accordingly. Kind of like a sitcom, these moments flash in an instant, leaving a pleasantly warm-fuzzy-bottom of the mug of hot chocolate-essence in your belly.
But then there are those mini drama series. Whether like Heroes, CSI (all of them), even those reality shows, these dramas tend to mark and mar our life. But without them the story would lack its much needed arch, instead becoming a flattened line on the heart monitor in Grey's Anatomy.
Now this is not discounting the comedic sitcoms. Often times I don't think we get enough of them. That sometimes even the minor dramatic moments found in them become something more important and time consuming then they are ever intended by the script writers to be. Most times these little gems are what life needs to get us from and through the dramatic season finale to a new season pilot.
And its this back and forth ping pong battle in life that makes it that much more beautiful. While we hold onto the drama because its the nitty gritty of life that gets the adrenaline pumping with 24 hours to live; the release into blissful escapedom provides much needed rest and renewal.
The great thing about all this is that no matter if we're in the middle of season 4 or at the beginning of season 1 episode 4, we can all catch up with what we've missed. Whether its through talking with close friends, finding happiness in a new relationship, lifting ourselves out of the wreckage, or finally understanding the twists and turns of the plot...we all catch up eventually.
So I hope you won't give up living because there's no way that Jack Baur can once again escape, or because House can't figure out which disease it is, or because you don't want Barney and Robin to get together.
Because we all know that Jack Baur will escape and do it bigger and better, that House will cure his patient just before he dies, and maybe Barney and Robin won't stay together but at least we'll get closer to finding out who 'the mother' is...and maybe that's the part that really matters.
=)
Friday, May 8, 2009
Finals Therapy
Is it weird that after 4 years and countless essays...
I still enjoy it?
Music, writing, and myself, it's my type of therapy.
I still enjoy it?
Music, writing, and myself, it's my type of therapy.
Thursday, March 19, 2009
Overcharged and Owned
Hi My name is Rachel and I've been owned by God.....again.
I've never really considered myself a perfectionist (okay maybe sometimes).
Or a person who gets stressed out a lot.
Or someone who takes on too many hats at one time.
I've always felt like I know when to be still.
Known when to chill out, and calm down.
And if you know me, you know that I'm one of the least neurotic/panicky people.
When it comes to life, I tend to cruise on by.
But today God owned me, through my circumstances and the advice of my mom. This week is supposed to be a break from work, and yet I've been finding myself with a busier schedule than the entire semester. I thought I could handle it, because it didn't seem like a lot of work, most of it I wanted to do, and therefore my work load wouldn't be that heavy (or so I thought.)
But today, amidst the busiest day of the week, everything came to a halt...I lost my keys. Actually I retract that statement because I know where they are, they're just unattainable at this time. And because I couldn't find my keys, I was forced to not do some of things I was supposed to do. Instead I found myself waiting for over an hour, sitting in the hallway, in front of my door, eating honey nut cheerios with one of my best friends. It was the most rest I'd had all week.
It's funny that just the other day I was talking to my friend about the Sabbath, and how it's a commandment we so often forget or dismiss. And yet God made it the 4th commandment, above honoring your parents, or not murdering or lying. So it obviously must be important.
But in a world that tells us "time is money" we forget to rest. We forget to recharge our own batteries, although that never seems to happen with our Ipods or Blackberries. We often go without thinking too much about it, running from meeting to class, from lunch to coffee, from e-mail to phone call.
And we simply forget to be still.
God knows that too often we do this to ourselves. He knows how easy it is to get burnt out, frustrated, or stressed out. He didn't make our bodies to be machines that run on little sleep and caffeine pills. Instead he made our bodies need 8 hours of sleep, need to sit down once in a while, and need to just breathe.
And when we're too busy trying to get everything done, sometimes he pulls the switch just to make sure that we're taken care of. He pulls the plug right before we have the chance to explode, and lets the computer cool down, so it doesn't get overworked.
And sometimes he just hides the keys.
I've never really considered myself a perfectionist (okay maybe sometimes).
Or a person who gets stressed out a lot.
Or someone who takes on too many hats at one time.
I've always felt like I know when to be still.
Known when to chill out, and calm down.
And if you know me, you know that I'm one of the least neurotic/panicky people.
When it comes to life, I tend to cruise on by.
But today God owned me, through my circumstances and the advice of my mom. This week is supposed to be a break from work, and yet I've been finding myself with a busier schedule than the entire semester. I thought I could handle it, because it didn't seem like a lot of work, most of it I wanted to do, and therefore my work load wouldn't be that heavy (or so I thought.)
But today, amidst the busiest day of the week, everything came to a halt...I lost my keys. Actually I retract that statement because I know where they are, they're just unattainable at this time. And because I couldn't find my keys, I was forced to not do some of things I was supposed to do. Instead I found myself waiting for over an hour, sitting in the hallway, in front of my door, eating honey nut cheerios with one of my best friends. It was the most rest I'd had all week.
It's funny that just the other day I was talking to my friend about the Sabbath, and how it's a commandment we so often forget or dismiss. And yet God made it the 4th commandment, above honoring your parents, or not murdering or lying. So it obviously must be important.
But in a world that tells us "time is money" we forget to rest. We forget to recharge our own batteries, although that never seems to happen with our Ipods or Blackberries. We often go without thinking too much about it, running from meeting to class, from lunch to coffee, from e-mail to phone call.
And we simply forget to be still.
God knows that too often we do this to ourselves. He knows how easy it is to get burnt out, frustrated, or stressed out. He didn't make our bodies to be machines that run on little sleep and caffeine pills. Instead he made our bodies need 8 hours of sleep, need to sit down once in a while, and need to just breathe.
And when we're too busy trying to get everything done, sometimes he pulls the switch just to make sure that we're taken care of. He pulls the plug right before we have the chance to explode, and lets the computer cool down, so it doesn't get overworked.
And sometimes he just hides the keys.
Monday, March 16, 2009
Dreams or Destiny
It's hard to figure out whether your dreams are your destiny. Or if your heart longs for things because of the right reasons. Or if your heart is aligned with God's heart, or if God's telling you yes, though you think its a no, or vice versa.
It's never an easy task to move on from a comfortable state of living. Whether a new school, a new relationship, a new job or even a new type of food, it seems that there are always too many questions and too little answers.
Too often I find myself living in a fluffy cloud of my dreams, swirling in my own head dreaming of 'what I could do', 'what I want to do', 'what I should do', and 'what I will do.' It's a progression from my imagination to reality, often influenced by my peers and family. What I 'could' and 'want' to do are encouraged by my friends, but my family tells me what I 'should' and 'will' do, because inevitably I take the road well traveled, the most secure, all the while hoping that some drastic event will happen that will change the course I'm set on.
The question is whether imagination or reality is really God's plan.
This past Sunday Pastor Jim (I love the fact that he calls the congregation "beloved") talked about Paul and how God changed his trip to Rome, to a trip to an island called Malta. There was no forewarning, no direct signs of where God wanted Paul, except for a massive storm that blew them off course, or rather on course with God. After being shipwrecked on an island God uses Paul to preach the Gospel, heal the villagers, bond convicts and Roman guards, and fulfill a purpose he never was aware of. And then God evens sends them on their merry way with all the supplies necessarily to make it to Rome.
I'd like to know if my reality is in Rome, or my dreams are in Malta, but the truth is it could be both. Or it could be neither. And even though there are no clear signs, it doesn't mean that the path is not set out before me. It is, I just can't tell at the moment.
For Paul it wasn't about knowing, it was simply about floating. Floating to whatever remote island God took him to. But when he got there he took every opportunity, wasted nothing, and loved on everything.
Perhaps its not dreams or destiny, but simply living. And living actively and purposefully in every situation.
It's never an easy task to move on from a comfortable state of living. Whether a new school, a new relationship, a new job or even a new type of food, it seems that there are always too many questions and too little answers.
Too often I find myself living in a fluffy cloud of my dreams, swirling in my own head dreaming of 'what I could do', 'what I want to do', 'what I should do', and 'what I will do.' It's a progression from my imagination to reality, often influenced by my peers and family. What I 'could' and 'want' to do are encouraged by my friends, but my family tells me what I 'should' and 'will' do, because inevitably I take the road well traveled, the most secure, all the while hoping that some drastic event will happen that will change the course I'm set on.
The question is whether imagination or reality is really God's plan.
This past Sunday Pastor Jim (I love the fact that he calls the congregation "beloved") talked about Paul and how God changed his trip to Rome, to a trip to an island called Malta. There was no forewarning, no direct signs of where God wanted Paul, except for a massive storm that blew them off course, or rather on course with God. After being shipwrecked on an island God uses Paul to preach the Gospel, heal the villagers, bond convicts and Roman guards, and fulfill a purpose he never was aware of. And then God evens sends them on their merry way with all the supplies necessarily to make it to Rome.
I'd like to know if my reality is in Rome, or my dreams are in Malta, but the truth is it could be both. Or it could be neither. And even though there are no clear signs, it doesn't mean that the path is not set out before me. It is, I just can't tell at the moment.
For Paul it wasn't about knowing, it was simply about floating. Floating to whatever remote island God took him to. But when he got there he took every opportunity, wasted nothing, and loved on everything.
Perhaps its not dreams or destiny, but simply living. And living actively and purposefully in every situation.
Saturday, February 28, 2009
The Last, Last Semester
After writing about how I KNEW this last year would be hard, it amazes me how much I seem to underestimate God, and what he meant by that.
First semester flew by and I learned a lot about myself and about my heart. My emotions might have got the best of me, but it was good. Like learning to cry when things get tough, or even think and deal with issues that force you to delve into your heart and find out just how broken a place it really is. And it was through a multitude of things, mainly my singleness that I was broken down and rebuilt. 6 of my friends got together in a single semester, a record that deserves recognition in my opinion.
Winter break happened and proved to be just the break I needed to end that chapter of a last, first semester. Engaging back into my friendships that I hadn't been in for a semester, and just soaking in probably my last real break at home. Being at home was like a release. Just being able to talk and share so openly with people who know you so well. Refreshing. God even surprised me with some new breakthroughs in old relationships, and showed me how much distance does not really matter when people are a part of your heart.
And fast-forward to this semester. Already just a couple months to go and I hit it big time in the real world. Or so I hope. After basking in the sunshine of being home I think I was unprepared for returning to the storm on the other coast. I was caught unaware of the problems I had left there, and the work needed to be done. Many projects were left unfinished or even untouched, and even now I wish I could say that I'm on the ball and rolling with the punches...but I'm not.
It's been a struggle in itself to keep afloat. I know I'm in a life raft, but I'm left without a paddle and so the most I can do is go where the wind blows. I've thought about using my hands and feet to get to shore, but I only think about it. I'm scared of taking that first step for fear of getting wet, and cold, and finding that I land on the wrong island. I wish I could have a treasure map that leads me to the buried treasure, but I feel like I'm left with a broken compass and only half of a treasure map. The other half floats somewhere in the unknown seas, where I lost it somewhere last semester.
As much as I'm ready to jump, I'm not proactive enough to do so. I can't seem to get my brain to send the signals to my feet and jump. Instead the signals just fumble around in my head causing more commotion and confusion, which does not help when you need to think clearly to swim.
And so I sit in the raft. Humming a tune unknown by everyone, though since it doesn't really reach anyone it doesn't even matter. And I keep hoping a boat will find me, rescue me and take me ashore. But I know that it won't come, and that I have to make it ashore myself.
I just need to try.
First semester flew by and I learned a lot about myself and about my heart. My emotions might have got the best of me, but it was good. Like learning to cry when things get tough, or even think and deal with issues that force you to delve into your heart and find out just how broken a place it really is. And it was through a multitude of things, mainly my singleness that I was broken down and rebuilt. 6 of my friends got together in a single semester, a record that deserves recognition in my opinion.
Winter break happened and proved to be just the break I needed to end that chapter of a last, first semester. Engaging back into my friendships that I hadn't been in for a semester, and just soaking in probably my last real break at home. Being at home was like a release. Just being able to talk and share so openly with people who know you so well. Refreshing. God even surprised me with some new breakthroughs in old relationships, and showed me how much distance does not really matter when people are a part of your heart.
And fast-forward to this semester. Already just a couple months to go and I hit it big time in the real world. Or so I hope. After basking in the sunshine of being home I think I was unprepared for returning to the storm on the other coast. I was caught unaware of the problems I had left there, and the work needed to be done. Many projects were left unfinished or even untouched, and even now I wish I could say that I'm on the ball and rolling with the punches...but I'm not.
It's been a struggle in itself to keep afloat. I know I'm in a life raft, but I'm left without a paddle and so the most I can do is go where the wind blows. I've thought about using my hands and feet to get to shore, but I only think about it. I'm scared of taking that first step for fear of getting wet, and cold, and finding that I land on the wrong island. I wish I could have a treasure map that leads me to the buried treasure, but I feel like I'm left with a broken compass and only half of a treasure map. The other half floats somewhere in the unknown seas, where I lost it somewhere last semester.
As much as I'm ready to jump, I'm not proactive enough to do so. I can't seem to get my brain to send the signals to my feet and jump. Instead the signals just fumble around in my head causing more commotion and confusion, which does not help when you need to think clearly to swim.
And so I sit in the raft. Humming a tune unknown by everyone, though since it doesn't really reach anyone it doesn't even matter. And I keep hoping a boat will find me, rescue me and take me ashore. But I know that it won't come, and that I have to make it ashore myself.
I just need to try.
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