Holy Restlessness

Tonight we got ice cream and took the long way around the block back home so we could pass by the view of the city. In case my Twitter and Facebook friends have forgotten the scenery in my new hood, this is the view I’m talking about:

A stroll down Grandview Ave. will almost certainly be filled with one or more couples taking touristy pictures of each other in front of the city scape (tonight I actually saw two couples who did the ol’ “we’ll take one of you if you take one of us” exchange—classic). I still get a smile on my face each time I look over the railing and see the city I've grown to love. But Emily, Tayler, and I commented while walking home how ironic it is that the place others consider a rare photo op is just home to us now. It's usual and familiar.

We also had a conversation earlier in the day about fulfillment and longing to do work that matters and lasts. Each of us desires to be used effectively in the capacity that God created us for.

Sitting here full of waffle cone and fro-yo, I'm making the connection. Contentment is to be sought after. “Godliness with contentment is great gain” (1 Timothy 6:6). But I don’t ever want to be too content. I will seek contentment in my circumstances—whatever they may be—but not contentment in what I've accomplished for Christ. There will always be more to learn. More to serve. More to share. More to do. Not because our salvation depends on it, but because His redeeming Love makes me want to go places. I hope there’s no such thing as “arriving” until we arrive in Heaven.

I have a feeling, and the only way I can describe it is Holy restlessness—I don’t want to lose that. I don't ever want to stop being a tourist—even in my own city. I don't ever want the view to become trite. Because as long as Christ is my life, He will compel me.

“Never be lacking in zeal, but keep your spiritual fervor, serving the Lord…the hour has come for you to wake up from your slumber, because our salvation is nearer now then when we first believed.” (Romans 12:11, 13:11)

Stars

The Lord is reminding me who I am these days. I love to pack life full of people and memories and joy. Today was so full. Work. Espresso breaks. Long lunches with generous friends who know me. Conversation. Openness. Food. Parks. Black kids and pixie sticks. Late night drives in the city. I'm writing this post outside on a blanket, because sometimes you need to just be close to all of life all the time and sleep under the stars.  "The earth is the Lord's and the fullness thereof, the world and those who dwell therein" (Psalm 24:1)

Love

"Spiritual love does not desire but rather serves." -D.B.

Boys

Life is easier to remember in landmarks.  Today, on the 4^th of July, I was remembering where I was this time last year.  Also, Facebook can often do the remembering for you:

A year ago I was “doing life” with these two guys after Thomas reunited with Pete and me in Pittsburgh.

There are not enough words to fill a blog post that would articulate how blessed I have been to have these boys be a constant in my life, so I won’t really even start.  But I want to dedicate this post to them.

In less than a month, the three of us will inhabit three different states, and I am so thankful that closeness has nothing to do with distance in the case of these two.

“There’s nothing like the warmth of the one who has put in the time and you know is gonna be there.” -Gavin

Scars and Open Hands

The bad news:

I fell while running.  Straight down, eating pavement.

The good news:

My first thought upon getting up was: well, I’ve got a blog post for today!

The one other time I’ve fallen when I was running, I was able to nail the dismount and do a sort of barrel roll out of the tumble.  Not this time.  We’re talking cobblestone street.  Hit the ground.  Hands and knees break the fall. 

Luckily my stunt was only performed for an audience of one—a nice older gentleman who asked if I was alright and then shouted from afar: “You’ll probably have some nice cherries on there!”…I love cherries.  That’s not what he meant.

After making my way to my feet, confirming that I could indeed walk, and then looking over my shoulder a bunch of times with that “It’s all good, I’m cool” look on my face, I started to feel the sting in my scrapes.  But I had been so excited to spend my quasi-Friday evening (Happy Independence Day!) on a run through the city, and I had just barely started, so I decided to keep going.

The lesson seemed really clear, right?: push through the pain.  When life knocks you down, get back up again and keep going.  What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger—basically everything Kanye and Kelly Clarkson ever taught us about life.

But as I kept running I realized that wasn’t really what the Lord wanted to teach me.  As I pounded the pavement down the River Trail in the Southside, I felt so legit!  Blood spilling from my soon-to-be scars as sweat dripped in to the open wounds (read: the blood was kind of just glistening and then drying there)—I was wearing those scrapes like a badge.  Real runners get bloody and dusty.

Before this had to become a lesson about pride, I realized the significance in the moment.

“And the God of all grace…after you have suffered a little while, will himself restore you and make you strong, firm and steadfast.” (1 Peter 5:10)

“Suffering produces perseverance; perseverance, character; and character, hope.” (Romans 5:3-4)

There is beauty in scars.  Suffering accomplishes stuff...strength, firmness, steadfastness, character, hope.  Something happens in pain that makes us more legit (for lack of a better Biblical term).

I remembered Jacob who wrestled with God:

“When the man saw that he could not overpower [Jacob], he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man…Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel, because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.” (Genesis 32:25-28)

Jacob walked with a limp which would remind him of his encounter with God and the way he overcame.

I ran the rest of my route with my palms open to the sky because my hands were bloody and heavy.  It occurred to me that that is what life is: scars and open hands.  I think I try too often to “heal over,” to avoid pain and suffering because I am supposed to be joyful and glad, right??  Holy people don’t hurt.  Praise God whose Spirit grants us joy, but let me not forget that my pain, too, accomplishes glory.

The word of God cuts like a double-edged sword (Hebrews 4:12).  And be careful—sometimes it cuts like a cobblestone street.

Monday

Some days you (I) don't learn anything.  You (I) don't get stopped in your tracks with wisdom or revelation.  You don't have a "light bulb" moment.

Some days you don't even feel that great.  Everything seems to go wrong.  You feel off and overwhelmed.  And it's almost always on Mondays.  (Yes, I am one of those working people who complains about Mondays.)

The promise is: "The fear of the Lord is the beginning of knowledge" (Proverbs 1:7).

Fear God and worship Him, before anything else and through everything else.

G'night!

James

I love a good story.

For months we have been visiting James at our favorite fro-yo shop / second home.  He’s become less our boss and more our friend as we’ve gotten to know him over raspberries, mochi, and expensive store furniture.  He always calls when he’s working at “Forbes location,” never lets us leave without “trying to have some more,” and even lets us underline our favorite verses in his travel-size New Testament Bible that I’m not sure he can even read.  Tonight I called him on my way back to Pittsburgh to see about stopping in, and his first words were, “Jacob is here!”  I love this community.

In China, James is a history teacher.  He came to the United States to work at Razzy Fresh seven days a week, sometimes twelve hours a day.  At the end of his shifts, he goes home where he is the house cook for his roommates.  In the little down time he has, he Skypes with his wife and son who are still in China.

James rarely complains about his long work days and lack of personal time.  Tonight he told me that the reason he came to America is because in China, when a man wants to get married, he has to first buy a house for him and his future wife.  James’ son is engaged to his middle school sweetheart.  Her family is wealthy—James said they have six large houses.  The fiancé’s father offered for his daughter and James’ son to live in one of their houses after their married.  But James’ son does not want to break custom, so instead James will work so he can buy his son a house, and he can get married. 

James said he can make four times as much working in a yogurt shop in America than he can being a high school teacher in China.  He came here for the money—for his son—and “to have a new experience.”  He looks forward to talking about his time working in the United States as part of his story.  I am so thankful we can be a small part of that story.