Day 13- longing

Today has been difficult for me…I have been feeling displaced, disconnected.  Sometimes when I am walking in the city or sitting in class, I get this feeling like “Why am I here?”  Since Lent began I have been struggling with hearing God’s voice.  It has come through, but like in the desert.  I have wrestled with the idea of doing what I don’t want to do.  Every life involves some of that.  Doing what you don’t want to do.  We don’t want to wake up at 6am, we don’t want to sit through boring classes or do jobs at work that are frustrating and difficult.  I have not been at peace recently about the bigger things: I do not want to wait for God. I do not want to work hard now for the vague promise of what I might have in the future.

On days like these it is hard to be here. It is hard to think of what I have lost.

Lord, have mercy.  Abba father, draw me close to you.  Your words are all I need to hear

Day 2-

Still not working, so I don’t have much to do during the day.  Felt very unmotivated, listening to NPR while still in my bed.

Later, I went into my internship so I could meet Jorge, a local community leader and youth worker.  He took me on a tour of Little Village, telling me about where the gangs are, what its like to work with youth in Chicago, and describing the successes he has had in the last year in turning boys away from the gang life.  He told me that the reason he does this work is because God has called him to do it, and his life has been in danger many times.  He trusts that God is working greatly in this time, in this place.

After that, I met with a pastor from Vessels of His Love Church in Wheaton. He and a Wheaton student drove out here to the city to have dinner with me at Cafe Catedral.  It was a blessing to talk about relationships, money, manhood and ministry with them.

Today’s scripture: Hosea chapters 1 and 2.  Why did God command Hosea to marry a prostitute?  What does God’s love for Israel tell me about God’s love for me?  About my love for the people in my life?  Reading about infidelity and “whoredom” was a little uncomfortable for me after going through 16 hours of domestic violence training this week.  I am sensitive the the ways in which patriarchy and marriage are culturally framed in the bible.  But, if I listen to the Spirit, I know that what God is saying doesnt have to do with patriarchy and gender roles.  It has to do with trust, faith and love.  It has to do with how I treat other people every day, and whether or not I live my life (and lay down my life) to love my friends, my enemies and my God.

other scripture for the day: 2 Samuel 22

Day 1- Snow, slush (and ashes)

Faithful readers,

I have decided, as a way to celebrate this Lenten season, to blog regularly for the 40 days of Lent. I have been praying and preparing for this Lent season more than I usually do. Given all the transitions and new-found busy-ness in my life in the last month or so, the prospect of 40 days of seeking and opening myself up to the gift of God has felt all the more attractive. I want these posts to be like markers along the way on a journey. They will be reflections and thanksgivings about the ways I see God at work in my life each day- from the mundane to the sublime. No great themes or categories. Just honest prayers, hopes and observations.

So today began with freezing rain stinging my face as I walked to the L at 6:30 in the morning. Meeting Veronica at Dunkin Donuts for a half-hour was a highlight. We usually don’t see each other until the weekends. Later on it began to snow, and snow hard as I watched from the 23rd floor of a building downtown. I was there for the domestic violence training that my internship is paying for me to attend. I have learned so much in the last two days. It is like being in college again, in a sense, de-constructing patriarchy. But it is geared toward practitioners, of which we are quite a diverse group. Social workers of every stripe, police counselors, clinical counselors, agency administrators, advocates. Several of the women in the training are survivors of DV who have worked in social services for decades serving other women who are victims of abuse and violence. It has been so inspiring so far to hear their stories and share a time of learning and insight with them. Thank you God for these people, and especially for the men who already have given me great hope with their demonstrated compassion, intelligence and love.

It was still snowing, but not as hard, when I took the subway to Loyola to attend the 5pm Ash Wednesday Mass. Its the first time I have gone to a mass here in Chicago, and it was nice to see the room full of students. The scripture that spoke to me from the readings was from Joel chapter 2, particularly verse 12:

“Yet even now,” declares the LORD, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping and with mourning; rend your hearts and not your garments.”

I think of Ash Wednesday as a kind of mourning. The ashes reminds us of repentance, our own sinfulness and mortality. Of the death that had to happen in order to atone for our sins. Henry Nouwen speaks of Lent as a time of purification, of exposing our “ambiguous relationships and our ambivalent attitudes.” To me, that means focus. Focusing on our lives so we can identify the things we hold onto too closely and the areas in which we are ambivalent towards God. I am glad to start this season with a reminder of who I am– mortal, sinful, made from dust. In 40 days, we will celebrate the Lamb who was slain and rose again so that we could have new life and go from ashes to beauty.

I pray that during these 40 days, we would see God’s hand in our lives taking us and those around us from ashes to beauty.  Particularly, for me, that my time in the DV training would not be about anger, hopelessness or self-focus.  But that clients and those who give their lives to helping them would see the beauty of their work and survival amidst the ashes of brokenness and violence.  Beauty is God’s promise.

the middle-west

I am in Chicago.  The drive here was smooth, and some good bonding time with my dad.  Especially toward the end when we got caught in a miserable snow storm 200 miles outside of Chicago.  It felt like we were in the novel The Road–gray landscape, wisps of white blowing across the highway, and old, weathered farmhouses every few miles.  Somewhere outside of Springfield, IL, we heard a terrible screeching noise, and the car seemed to slow down.   We were scared for a minute, but then everything was ok.  By the time we got to Chicago, we were hearing a rattling noise coming from the engine.  We checked into the hotel, exhausted, and went to bed.  The next morning, we tried to figure out what was wrong with the car, but we couldn’t.  I was taking my dad for a tour of the Magnificent Mile, when all of a sudden on the corner of Michigan and Adams, right in front of museums and corners full of tourists, my little Hyundai Accent died.  In the middle lane.  In full traffic.   Sigh.  Look out the window on each side.  Looks of sympathy or annoyance from passers-by.  My dad got out and pushed the car while I steered into oncoming traffic, praying that people would be kind and stop.  We got it to a side-road, and my dad quickly determined that it was one belt that was causing the problem.  He borrowed a swiss army knife from a kind stranger, cut the belt off, and the car started beautifully.  Elation.  Relief.

For the rest of my birthday, we went to play pool, have beers and saw I am Legend.  Afterward, took the bus to Bennigan’s where my dad bought me Corona and we shared shots of Crown Royal.   I am grateful that this was my first birthday on my first full day in Chicago.  It was perfect.

Today I moved most of my stuff into the small room I will call home for the next who-knows-how-long.  The floors are glossy finished wood.  The kitchen smells of Trader Joe’s.  I can park my car in a driveway!  Its pretty nice.  Now I just need a bed.

I have been getting to know the area today, and I landed at a small corner cafe only 3 blocks from my place called Cafe Catedral.  Thats the Cathedral Cafe in English.  An apt title, because the place is filled with very, very Catholic art.  There are even replicas of the Sistine Chapel frescoes on the ceiling.  Next to the creme and sugar station is a counter with a thick, old Bible next to a poinsettia underneath a portrait of Mary and Jesus– only one of many such portraits in the place.

They have free wi-fi, too.

More updates to come.

fundamentals

So, here is my situation:

I am looking to make $1200 multiply itself for me over the next 3 to 5 years.  So far, Solarfun, Inc. (SOLF) has performed beautifully, jumping from 26 to 34 in the 3 weeks since I bought 5 shares.   I needed to diversify, so I bought small amounts of shares in 3 ETFs and one other stock- a Florida real estate company.  So far the results have been good.  But for the long term, there are some things I need to do:

1. Research and become an expert in fundamental analysis.  My goal is to know how to read a company’s balance sheet and income statement.  Also, I want to know the meaning and significance of every major ratio (P/E, ROE, Beta, etc)

2. Continue to formulate my investment goals  and focus them.  What sectors do I like?  How can I take more educated risks?  How can I be a socially responsible (just) investor?  How can I transfer my portfolio into an IRA?

3. Stop checking my graphs like, 20 times a day!  I want the freedom to make mistakes, but the confidence and knowledge to be able to sit back and live my (soon to be) busy life without constantly worrying about my investments.

4.  Continue to watch the news, pay attention to trends, policy, laws, world events.  Also keep looking out for investment advice, strategies and cautions.

5. Keep trading costs down! Pay attention to commissions and expense ratios.

three weeks left

It has been a while, but I am still here.  Still writing and making sense of things.

Since I last posted, I read The Road, which was beautiful and satisfying.  Also got really into investing.  I have literally dozens of websites that I check quotes on, do research, learn terms and vocabulary, get analysis, and generally just learn as much as I can before I start putting a portfolio together.  Strange how those things used to bore me to death, and now it’s like my number one hobby. 

There are only three weeks until I will drive east and enter the Midwest, to make it my new home.  A new journey, a new place to seek and find the Lord, his love and grace, and more of his family.

In preparation: listen to Sufjan Stevens.  look at internet maps of Chicago and study them in detail.  Buy warm clothes.  Ask God for hope for my family as I leave them.

As I enter Chicago and begin a new phase of my life, I will turn 26 years old.  A year ago, I sat back and thought about what it was I wanted to do.  What makes my heart come alive.  I have tried to pursue those things, and I am sure that the Lord will show me that there are more things I have not yet seen that will draw me towards His work in new ways.  But as I set out this time around, I am reflecting back on some treasured words that I have received during this last year of sabbath and healing.

Last month, I began reading the Book of Daniel.  I started reading, but I could not get past the first chapter.  I read it over and over again.  Something was there for me, I was sure of it.  I let the story and the words have a space in my mind and my heart.  I let them speak to me.  But I knew I had to keep looking.  I suggested to my girlfriend that we study the text together (inductively, of course   That filled it out more for me, but I felt there was something more personal that I was missing.  I thought of a verse that I had read a few days earlier- 2 Samuel 5:12.  David had just been anointed king, and made a covenant with God before he stepped into his role.  For years he had fled in the desert, living in caves, hated by those who pursued him relentlessly.  At 2 Samuel 5:12, the author inserts the line- “And David knew that the Lord had established him king over Israel.”  The word knew stuck in my head and repeated itself to me.   Of course David knew- God just told him!  But I thought about it again.  No.  David knew.  David’s knowledge was not information, it was not a re-iteration.  It was his lifeblood.  It was what sustained him when he had no home, no food, no ally.  He knew who he was.  He knew what God had done for him.  He knew his God.  And he knew that God had made him king.

God knows that I have a stubborn tendency to question who I am.  To question what I am capable of and what I should do.  If God had made me king, I would wonder, “Should I be king?  I mean, a king has power and status and influence.  There has to be something wrong with this.”  It is shameful to admit, but often humility is a mask for low self-worth, cowardice, self-protection.  So, what if God made me ‘king’?  Would I know it, or doubt it?

I was pondering this along with Daniel 1, when went to church in Wheaton with Veronica.  The pastor had asked the Holy Spirit for a word for every one of the men in the congregation.  The whole service was just her giving these words to the men.  I had only been there three times before, but she had remembered me, and had a word for me.  Her word was from Daniel chapter 1- verse 4.  The verse describes the young men that were brought to Babylon from Israel, their qualifications and the fact that they were to be educated for three years “in the language and literature of the Babylonians.”

The pastor told me, “You are in the midst of what this verse is talking about.”

It has taken a lot of praying and personal growth to get to a place where I am confident and trusting enough to graduate school or travel to Latin America or apply for fellowships and scholarships.  What gives me hope is that men like David and Daniel, who knew the position that God had given them, continued to be devoted to the Lord, to seek him and to obey him (and I try not to forget the warnings about how sin can cause you to lose what God has given you).

All this to say, I believe that we are always more in God’s eyes than we are in our own.  Self-protection comes from fear, and it keeps you from what God wants to give.

I am excited about where I am going, even if I can’t fully see how I will get there.

tally ho!

Being sick, and, To love Diamondbacks or Rockies?

Last Thursday, after eating baked chicken and lots (lots) of ice cream at a friend’s house, I became very ill.  Driving home, I vomited in my car (which was a horror to clean up) and spent the rest of the night expunging the remaining contents of my digestive tract.  Even water, vital H2O, failed to find the warm reception it has become accustomed to in the cozy folds of my gut.  It, too, was promptly expelled.  What I thought might have been food poisoning turned out to be a 24-hour stomach flu.  Muscles I didn’t even know I had remained sore for days afterward.

Anyway, enough of that.  I am well, now.  The Albuquerque International Balloon Fiesta is over, which is sad because I enjoyed seeing hundreds of hot air balloons in the morning sky as i drove to work.  New Mexicans are very proud of their balloon fiesta.

Being sick has allowed me some serious couch time with my dad, which has been nice.  We watch a combination of 1. major league baseball playoffs, 2. Jimmy Stewart movies and 3. Documentaries on the History channel.

The playoffs are fun, because both of my dad’s favorite teams are in them- the Colorado Rockies and the Arizona Diamondbacks.  I am sure that has something to with the fact that those are the only two teams whose stadiums my dad has visited, AND that they are the only major league teams in states bordering New Mexico (Texas, of course, doesn’t count.)  I think that most New Mexicans, if you asked them, would support the Rockies instead of the Diamondbacks.  I was always raised to believe that we New Mexicans have more of an affinity with Colorado than with Arizona.  We both share the Rocky Mountains.  We both relish in our distance from and disdain for California.  (While Arizona just wants to be California’s Mini-Me)  But what I think it boils down to for my family is that, in fact, our family came from Colorado. My dad’s side at least.

The funniest part of the whole thing to me, though, is that while we watch the Diamondbacks and the Rockies play each other, my dad cannot decide which team’s hat to wear.  Last night he wore his Rockies hat, because they were winning.  But he still felt an allegiance to the Diamondbacks.  After a few moments of silent wresting with the dilemma, he came upon a sage solution:  Put the Diamondbacks hat on the dog.

Too bad it didn’t fit him.

in the news.

I was reading the New York Times website the other day, and this story caught my eye.  It is very intense, and I don’t want my blog posts to be too intense all the time, but I really felt like this needed attention brought to it.  It has been a long time since I was affected by a story as much as I was by this.  The last time I felt like this was probably when my friend Lexie was learning about the sex industry in Thailand when we were in college.  I had a very hard time expressing or understanding how it made me fell, and so mostly I was just silent and sad.  But I think a word that comes close to expressing it might be rage.  Sorrow and rage.    There was a lot of emphasis on gender reconciliation in Intervarsity the following year, and along with the women’s studies classes I was taking, I felt like I could understand these feelings better. More importantly, I was also learning more about how God saw these things.(studying Genesis at summer conference was a big part of that)

This story in the NY Times made me cry.   It brought me back to that feeling, that discomfort  and that sense that something is deeply wrong and God is deeply grieved.

I don’t really have anything else to say about it.

:-)

Right now I am in the cafe/bookstore at the mega-church i have been trying to connect with. It is minutes before the Wednesday night service begins, and the whole place is bustling and loud. It smells like coffee and new books. It’s going to get cold tonight.

I am into my 2nd week at my new job. I was placed by a temp agency in a local hospital, filing medical records for 40 hours a week. Its good hours and so-so pay, but very very monotonous and boring. I like the people I work with, though. We talk about music, politics, their kids. A 50-something woman named Mary Ann talks to me endlessly about her unusually talented niece who goes to art school in New York. She shows me her paintings, her photos, a CD she recorded. Her admiration for her niece is contagious, but I can’t help but wonder what part it plays in her own life.

I have been listening a lot to NPR recently. I love it. Almost every day I hear a story or a commentary that I have to “amen” out loud in agreement with. A recent interview on Democracy Now with Naomi Klein made me practically fall in love (with her ideas…of course) This amazing video summarizes the theme of her new book. Today, another amazing man was interviewed: Norman Solomon, and I was blown away with some of the most clear, prophetic words I have heard in a long time about our nation and the ‘bigger picture.’ You can listen to the October 3 interview with him on the Democracy Now website.

the hard things learning

I like this picture because she’s saying “You’re so weird, why are you taking pictures of me?” But in a way that lets you know that she really likes the fact that I’m taking pictures of her.

This was at Cafe Mestizo in the Pilsen neighborhood of Chicago, in the middle of September. I had a great time visiting with Veronica- especially visiting her church friends and going to an Ozomatli concert. Also, we went to the Water Tower campus of Loyola University, where we met with a professor who is leading a migration studies program in the school of social work that works with a Jesuit university in Mexico City.

A couple weeks later, I was informed that I had been offered admission to said School of Social Work. Yes!

It has been a long and prayerful process, but i feel like i am heading in the direction I want to be going, that fits with the calling God has placed on my life, and God is blessing it. Getting there has been very difficult, though.

I am at home with my family, and after three months, I have learned 1. the reality of spiritual warfare (again) and 2. I can’t do it alone. I have tried to do it alone. I have tried to have a relationship with God, to pray for my family, to love them, to bring my own sin and pride to God….all alone. I have even tried to uncover the roots of why (in the sin of self-protection) I choose to be alone, hidden. That also, I have learned, must not be attempted alone.

I have been reading and thinking a lot about disappointment. Disappointment, i think, is at the core of much of our behavior as wounded children of God. Our parents disappointed us. Our friends at some point, our significant others. The world is disappointing. We even look at these disappointments and conclude that God himself has disappointed us. What I am learning is that it’s true. The world is deeply, deeply disappointing….in such a way that our souls’ longing often cannot be contained, and so we frantically seek relief (relationships, food, porn, success, status, drugs, sex, order, isolation, violence, power, entertainment, religion…)

The thing is, God does not offer relief. That is not his business. Yet no one feels the disappointment and the darkness of the world more acutely than the Father who created it. He created us for love, for intimacy and for holiness. How terrible for him to see that things are not as he created them to be! I cry when the dysfunction of my family explodes around me. This summer I have allowed it to drop down into my gut, and not run away. It hurts. It hurts that things are not the way they should be. It hurts when people hurt you (a redundancy, but needed to get me out of intellectualizing of the pain) It hurts when people you love are hurting. It hurts when people are oppressed in the world and things to not seem to get better. Letting the tears flow has been healing for me, not because I feel relieved, but because in the disappointment of the world, only God offers hope. Only God offers hope.

I heard a quote the other day…”Christ will be sweet to me if sin be bitter.” Oh how true! Grace is amazing because my sin is so insurmountable. Salvation is the most beautiful thing I can imagine because the lost-ness of the world (Iraq, Darfur, Burma, Manila, Bangkok, L.A…) is so crushing. I will thirst for God, because drinking anything else is disappointment and despair.

I pray that I would have the ears and they eyes to see the gifts of God. The good things that come from God even out of the disappointing corners of daily life. My friends, who love me imperfectly, but with the love of God. My mom and dad’s prayers said for my brother daily. The people of God, the church, of whom i will always be a part. The encouraging words of my girlfriend, which God delivers to my soul even when I am too sad to receive them.

Lord, help me to choose out of being alone.