Black & Proud

Duck #105

 

“I am dripping melanin and honey…”
___

To Whom It May Concern:

When hate is spewed like venom from the mouths of serpents, the very skin I’m in is threatened. Words and actions pierce the dark color that protects my bones—I cry. My insides tremble and my blood boils. I am hurt and I am angry and I am sad, but I am proud.

When violence shoots forth from the hands of bears, the very skin I’m in becomes a target. Fists and bullets bruise the rich chocolate that covers my chest—I scream. My hands sweat and my heart races. I am hurt and I am angry and I am sad, but I am proud.

When ignorance spills from the minds of fools, the very skin I’m in is attacked. Idiocrasy and bigotry slip over the negro soul that holds my hopes and dreams—I pray. My thoughts run to the King of Kings, my Creator. I am hurt and I am angry and I am sad, but I am proud.

I am black and I am proud.
I am proud because I know to Whom I belong.
I come from a history of perseverance.

I am black and I am proud.
I am proud because my identity is engraved in the palms of my Creator.
I come from a history of resilience.

I am black and I am proud.
I am proud because I am of more value than many sparrows.
I come from a history of discovery.

I am black and I am proud.
I am proud because those who look to Jesus are radiant and their faces will never be ashamed.
I come from a history of invention.

I am black and I am proud.
I am proud because God made me who I am and who I am is BEAUTIFUL.
No qualifications.
No modifications.
No adjustments.
Dark skinned and curly haired.

I refuse to let the media tell me who I am.
I repel the notion that I am anything but beloved.
I reject voices that attempt to refute my dignity.
I rebel against the narrative that tells me I am still a slave.
I refute the racist lies that are antithetical to the gospel of Jesus Christ.

 

When love is poured out like water from a stream, the very skin I’m in will relax. Songs of charity warm the dark color that protects my bones—I cry. Anxiety subsides and worry fleas. I am known and I am wanted and I am joyful and I am proud.

When peace grows strong like a tall oak tree, the very skin I’m in will be healed. Hands and arms embrace the rich chocolate that covers my chest—I laugh. My lips curve upward and my breathing steadies. I am known and I am wanted and I am joyful and I am proud.

When wisdom is sought after by the minds of the hungry, the very skin I’m in will not be feared. Understanding and empathy cover the negro soul that holds my hopes and dreams—I pray. My thoughts dance before the Maker of Heaven and earth, King Jesus. I am known and I am wanted and I am joyful and I am proud.

With all sincerity,

Jayna Duckenfield

___

“…I am black without apology.”

Quote by Upile Chisala

 

[Dear Jesus,
thank You for who You are and thank You for making me who I am.]
❤ Amen

 

 

 

 

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trying not to flee

Duck #104

The thing about cities is that there are a lot of people. Mmmm, let me rephrase that. The thing about cities is that there are a lot of lonely people. Yup, I said it. Lonely People. Maybe saying that isn’t politically correct or maybe it’s just too honest. But that’s the point. No matter how many articles and books we read, no matter how many seminars we attend, no matter how many conversations we have, there is something about the word “loneliness” that makes us want to avert our eyes. There’s something about it that makes us want to nervously play with our hands, shift positions in our chairs, and say sentences that start with phrases like “Well, I think it’s because…” or “I mean, it’s just a matter of remembering…” Loneliness makes us nervous. We treat it like a plague that we hope we won’t catch, but it’s slowly taking our energy and leaving us bed ridden.  We’re all susceptible, from Manhattan socialites to your mom’s cousin’s best friend’s boss’s brother Billy. Loneliness is not akin to favoritism.

As pointed out by a friend, Jean Vanier puts it this way,

“We all carry our own deep wound, which is the wound of our loneliness. We find it hard to be alone, and we try to flee from this in hyperactivity, through television, and in a million other ways. Some people think their wound of loneliness will be healed if they come into community. But they will be disappointed. While they are young, they can hide their disappointment behind the dynamic of generosity, they can flee from the present by projecting themselves into the future, into a hope that things will be better tomorrow. But towards the age of forty, the future is past and there are no more great projects; the wound is still there and we can become depressed, especially as we are now carrying all the guilt and apathy of the past. Then we have to realise that this wound is inherent in the human condition…”

I was watching Gossip Girl the other day, because television (Netflix) is an easy way to temporarily escape loneliness. I’ve seen the series before, but I wanted to dive into something familiar. Loneliness will do that to you, make you ache for familiarity. Anyway, I was watching the episode where Dan realizes that he loves Serena. He tells her and she says “Okay.” Shocked, they both stand there and eventually Dan walks away, admittedly embarrassed. Later, we learn that the reason Serena didn’t know how to respond is because she has trust issues and is struggling to believe that Dan actually feels that way about her. Fast forward to the last few scenes of the episode and Serena shows up at Dan’s home. She asks him to explain to her why he loves her–and he does. He explains in detail all of the quirks and mannerisms and personality traits that make Serena who she is. Her countenance changes. Her face softens and her eyes relax. She laughs. Dan stands there confidently, like he has for the whole interaction and Serena’s movements become airy and giddy and light–almost as if her insides are suddenly made of cotton candy. She begins to take take on Dan’s confidence because she now understands that he really does love her. The understanding even compels her to leave the moment and go help her friend Blair. She can leave because she knows Dan’s love isn’t contingent upon what she does next–saying the right thing, kissing him the right way, looking at him perfectly. Dan loves Serena, no strings attached.

tr

As I sat on my bed, wrapped up in the scene, I had a thought. “Man, I want a love like that…one where I’m secure and safe and confident and unafraid to be me because I’m so sure that I’m loved.” And then I immediately had another thought. “Wait, I already have that love. I have it and more.” I have that love in an irreversible, couldn’t lose it if I wanted to, stay up all night with you, plead for me to be safe, die a horrible death in my place kind of way.” I’m not sure if I started crying or not, but there’s a chance I did.  Regardless or whether or not I shed a few tears over what I realized, whether or not I actively believe that I am loved beyond compare, that GREAT love still exists. It exists and is going to keep on doing what it’s been doing since before time began: love. That’s just who God is.

The end of that quote by Jean Vanier goes like this,

“… and that what we have to do is walk with it (our loneliness) instead of fleeing from it. We cannot accept it until we discover that we are loved by God just as we are, and that the Holy Spirit, in a mysterious way, is living at the centre of the wound.”

So, here I am: wounded, so loved by God , and trying not to flee.

[Heavenly Father,
thank You for sending your son Jesus to dive for me, to love me so tangibly.
Grant me the understanding of that love. May I be confident in it and accordingly.
Thanks for being patient and loving me even when I ignore You. You’re really kind.]
<3Amen

scripture and a good meal

Duck #103

Why is it so easy to be afraid? What is it about life that fuels us with an insatiable lack of trust? Will I ever be able to quiet my mind from the doubts that seem ceaseless?

Maybe not this explicitly, but somewhat implicitly, these questions have been swirling around in my head for longer than I’d like to admit. I’m a thinker, I’m an analyzer, I’m creative, I desire understanding. But sometimes life doesn’t have the answers I seek. And this, my friends, is endlessly frustrating for a 23 year old that doesn’t do well with “being where you’re planted,” as the cliche (but wise) quote from someone goes. Sure, I’ll be where I’m planted, but can you tell me why I’m planted here and how long it’s gonna take for my flowers to grow? My anxiety wants to grab lunch at noon and I told my fear that we could meet for coffee beforehand. Also, I’m exhausted. So….

A few days ago, I was talking to my best friend and I told her that the only thing that has remained constant in my life this past year has been been Scripture and the Lord’s character. As soon as I said those words out loud, I sort of laughed to myself. As a believer, I felt like I should be comforted by the fact that I’d inadvertently come to the conclusion that the “the rock” upon which I’m hanging my salvation has proved itself to be tried and true in my life–and in many ways I was comforted—but I still felt unsatisfied. Why? Well, I’ve been trying to figure that out, but I think it all has something to do with pride. (I know the Bible says that the love of money is the root of all evil, but I’m in ministry, so I don’t make enough money to love it that much, but I have a surplus of pride and it’s put me through the ringer. Maybe “the love of money” is a metaphor for pride, or maybe pride is just assumed to be in everything that’s evil in some fashion? Idk. *makes mental note to look into that and blog about it later*). I’ve digressed…

Pride is so dangerous because it provides a false sense of what reality actually is. (Self) Shame does the same thing. I have this thing that I’ve been saying for a while now: “Shame is just pride that weeps.” The shame we often live in is just our pride, so devastated and overcome with grief, telling us that we’re worthless. Reality is distorted and we believe that we’re the exception to grace, to love, to forgiveness, to mercy, to good gifts. Lately, my pride has been sobbing and I’ve been letting it cry and cry and I’ve allowed myself to trust the lies my tears are holding onto. It’s easy to do that, to focus so heavily on my self that I won’t allow myself see Jesus standing boldly, brilliantly, lovingly before me saying, “It is I, do not fear. Follow Me.” 

I both delight in and struggle with the truth of Scripture because of how offensive it is. My pride takes continual blows to the chest every time I open my Bible. In Luke Chapter 24 we read that Jesus has just defeated death, risen from the grave, and is walking through Jerusalem heading to a city named Emmaus. As he is walking, he runs into two men, distraught over the fact that the supposed Messiah had been crucified. It’s quite a funny and convicting passage to read because Jesus (the man who they watched die 3 days prior) is literally walking beside them and talking with them about his own death–but the men’s “eyes were kept from recognizing him” (v 16). The men ask Jesus silly questions like, “Are you the only visitor to Jerusalem who does not know the things that have happened here in these days?” (v18). But Jesus is patient, he listens to these men and continues to walk with them in their confusion, shame, and sadness. And then, Jesus does the unexpected: he quotes Scripture and breaks bread with these men (v25-31). Jesus uses the Word of God and a loaf of bread to reveal himself to doubting souls. Jesus, the Living Word and Bread of Heaven, meets these men exactly where they are to offend their doubts and comfort them with His presence. 

Through this passage, I have found that the antidote to my weeping pride is Scripture and a good meal shared with friends. But my (self) shame doesn’t want to be comforted because comfort to self shame is offensive. Intimacy with other people exposes the pity party of loneliness I’ve been desperately trying to perfect. Dried tears in this case lead to repentance and salvation—a work that I have no place participating in, and that hurts when I want everything to revolve around me. But, through this passage I have also found that Jesus loves me too much to not offend me, walk with me, show himself in Scripture, and reveal himself through the community found in sharing a meal. I must grow where I’m planted, but the Lord has not left me to grow alone. He has planted the seed, He is doing the watering, He is providing sunlight. 

So as I walk with my questions of fear, I walk with Jesus. As I walk with my shameful thoughts, I walk with Jesus. As I walk with my lack of trust, I walk with Jesus. We walk together, through Scripture, sit down at a table and break bread together. He brings me away from myself, into His presence and says, “It is I, do not fear. Follow Me.”

[Dear Lord,
Thank you for the ways in which you have proven yourself to be faithful. Thank you for the assurance of Scripture. May I continue to walk with you and eat with you always, seeing you for the beautiful Savior you are.]

❤ Amen

My Dearest Aunt T,

My Dearest Aunt T,

Let me start by saying that I love you so so much. I wish that the reason for me writing this letter was because you were about to win an award or something and I had the privilege to watch you receive a great honor. You deserve all the honors. However, the reason for this letter is because you finally got to meet Jesus face to face (what feels like) far too early.

On the one hand, I am thrilled that you are now dancing in the presence of our Savior. What’s He like? I mean, up close. Does He have a beard? Are His eyes warm? What does He sound like? What does He smell like? I like to think He smells like roses or lavender…at least a little bit.  I can only imagine how healed and whole you feel. I know you were in so much pain. Do you remember the pain? Probably not. That’s good. 

Is it bright there? In Heaven, that is. Is it warm? How does the grass feel on your toes? I bet the food smells and tastes amazing. Oh, and the music! I’m sure you’ve already joined in with the singing, haven’t you? Your glorified voice is probably bringing so much joy to the heart of the Father. Your earthly voice did the same…it brought joy to all of us. 

I’m so happy for you, Aunt T, but I’m also really, really sad. 

I’m sad because I won’t receive one of your hugs again. You know, how you would just squeeeeeze so tightly?. Those hugs had the power to make anyone feel simultaneously safe and loved. I’m sad because I won’t get to hear your laugh anymore. Oh man, Aunt T, your laugh could fill a cathedral. What joy you had simply because you were alive and because you believed that God was good. I always admired that about you. I’m sad because I won’t get to see the way you relaxed, yet lit up whenever you got to spend time with your siblings. Being present for a Duckenfield reunion is by far one of the best things I’ve witnessed—what a privilege it is to be a part of this family, isn’t it? Quirks and all, we’re a great bunch. I’m sad because I won’t get to hear you speak anymore. I’ll miss just the regular way you talked or the hilarious inflections you’d put on words, just because. I can hear our conversation now:  “Aunt T, may I have some of the juice in the fridge?” “Why yes, of course dahhhling.” You loved to perform and put on a show. Did you know I’ve wanted to be just like you since I was a kid?  I’m sad because I won’t get to see that beautiful smiles of yours. You’re so radiant. I’m sad because so many people won’t get to experience the sheer pleasure of meeting you, talking to you, laughing with you, sharing a meal with you. To know you, Aunt T, is to love you. 

But while I am sad, like I said earlier, I’m also happy. Aunt T, you’re with Jesus now! You heard him say to you, “Well done, Thy good and faithful servant.” You are free from sadness and sorrow and pain and hurt and grief. You are filled to the brim with joy and love and peace. Your faith has been turned to sight. What you’ve hoped for is now your reality. Hallelujah!

Aunt T, we love you deeply and we all miss you terribly. Honestly, it still doesn’t feel real. It’s so weird—peace and pain aren’t mutually exclusive. The last time I saw you, something you couldn’t stop sharing with Leila and me was “Just trust Him. Girls, just trust Him.” You were adamant about the way the Lord provides for His children and How much love He has to lavish on us and all we needed to do was trust Him…

I’m trying Aunt T, but it’s hard…but I know you’re right and I know you’d want us all to run to Jesus now. I know He understands our sorrow and I know that He is delighted to have you back. 

So, until we meet again. Auntie Cortina, I dance, I laugh, I sing, I eat, I wear bright colors in your honor because you loved life; and I love you…so so much, 

Jayna

P.S. Remember that time when I was about 9 or 10 and you told me that I’d look cute with a nose ring and then remember when I graduated high school I got my nose pierced and I told my mom that the reason I had to get one was because you said I’d look cute with one and then when I finally showed it to you years later you told me that your comment about my cuteness wasn’t necessarily permission to get a piercing. And we both laughed and then you said…”I mean, you do look really cute though,” and then we laughed some more? Yeah, me too. 🙂

[godly] grief & 13 reasons why

Duck #101

By nature, I’m a writer. It’s one of the best ways for me to express my thoughts, but I’ve been avoiding it lately. With so much transition coming up in my life, I’ve felt like my emotions are on the edge of a precipice and it’s seemed as though writing, would be the gust of wind that sends everything tumbling down. I’ve been afraid to know what I think by reading what I write, to paraphrase Flannery O’ Connor, but I’ve become to curious…

Last week, I started and finished the beautiful and broken Original Netflix series “13 Reasons Why.” If you’re unfamiliar, it’s based off of a young adult novel written by Jay Asher. The story follows a junior in high school, Clay Jensen, as he uncovers the reasons why his friend, classmate, and crush, Hannah Baker, committed suicide. Before her death, Hannah recorded 13 stories on cassette tapes—each story is “dedicated” to someone who played a part in her eventual life taking incident. I read the book a few years ago and thought it was powerful then, but to see that story be brought to life on a screen almost felt surreal. Since finishing the series, I’m not sure if a day has gone by (so far) that I haven’t thought about the show.*But there is something that almost all of the characters feel that I think is worth noting—grief.

After Hannah’s death, the wake that her friends are left to swim in is one of sorrow and anguish. Once her friends learn of the role they effectively played in Hannah’s suicide, these teens have to navigate how to deal with their misery. They feel guilty for what they’ve done (and to some degree guilt is an appropriate response), but guilt without the gospel leads to shame. And when it’s stripped down, shame really is just pride that is weeping; there is often a selfishness to our sadness. When this is the case, we unfortunately think that we’re the exception to hope, forgiveness, grace, and repentance. 

Please don’t read what I haven’t typed. I don’t mean to communicate that the intense pain and loneliness that Hannah and her friends feel is wrong. It’s not. (What happens to Hannah is deplorable and is inexcusable. The way in which she communicates her feelings to her friends is not constructive. At all. Whatsoever.)  From this, what I think is important to see is that when we don’t have a place to take those feelings of pain and loneliness, when our eyes stay focused on the nastiness of our circumstances, our loneliness can quickly turn into saddened pride. Both Hannah and her friends acted in ways that rightfully caused feelings of guilt and grief. Unfortunately, the grief they all felt is the very kind that Paul says leads to death in 2 Corinthians 7. 

In verses 8-10, Paul addresses the words and tone of his last letter to the church in Corinth (1 Corinthians). He says, “For even if I made you grieve with my letter, I do not regret it—though I did regret it, for I see that letter grieved you, though only for a while. As it is, I rejoice not because you were grieved, but because you were grieved into repenting. For you felt a godly grief…godly grief produces a repentance that leads to salvation without regret, whereas worldly grief produces death.”

More often than not, I think we tend to feel worldly grief. We forget the gospel and the forgiveness that Christ so willingly offers us through repentance and the freedom from shame that is ours to hold. Like Hannah and her friends, we tend to sit in our shame and allow it to overtake us. We become paralyzed by fear and don’t ask for help. We neglect to express the parts of our hearts that beg to be shared. 

The story of “13 Reasons Why” is a very acute type of story, but several of its themes are universal. We all struggle, we all deal with pain, we have all done regrettable things—but there is hope! There is a Savior who came, died, and was resurrected for every pain we feel. There is a Savior who seeks to invite us into his presence of ceaseless joy, new mercy, and everlasting love. When this Savior calls us to repent, He doesn’t do so because He desires to make us feel worse, He does so to set us free and welcome us back to life. 

I wish that I could tell Hannah and her friends about the good news of the gospel. I wish I could tell them how Jesus desires to free them from their sadness. I wish I could tell them of the beauty and blessed assurance offered in repentance. I wish I could tell them that grace abounds. 

 I wish that I would tell myself this more often…

[Dear Jesus, thank You for the freedom from shame you offer us. Thank you for your willingness to always forgive. Thank you for the hope of the gospel. May we see that and repent.]
❤ Amen

——

*”13 Reasons Why” is a very heavy show.  I’m not necessarily recommending the show, nor am I not recommending the show. There are pretty graphic scenes of sexual assault, rape, and suicide. It depicts a harsh and undesired reality of (what could be) several high schools across the country. For more context, (if you decide to watch the show) I suggest watching a 30 minute video entitled “Beyond The Reasons.” (also on Netflix) In this video author of the book, director and produces of the show, characters, and a few other people affiliated with the production discuss the show, why they added the scenes they did, and why they filmed them it the way they did.

sustenance

 Duck #100

It seems that in our culture following certain principles of Christianity are more than acceptable, as long as Christ remains in the background. We want unrestricted freedom, but our very nature is restricted–we have limitations. Consider the Lord’s prayer in Matthew chapter 6, “…give us this day our daily bread, and forgive us our debts as we also have forgiven our debtors, and lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil.” 

Give us. Forgive us. Lead us. Deliver us. We need the Father to sustain us. We need him to keep us alive, keep us healthy, take away our sins, and keep us out of harms way. The beauty of the gospel is that what we need has already been bought for us. What we can’t do on our own, Jesus has done. All he’s asking is that we honor and love him in return. But we’re deceived into thinking that we don’t actually need what Jesus has done on the cross, so we tend to take his principals, but don’t take him…

For example: I will be kind (if the person I’m being kind to can help me climb a social latter). I will love (those who love  me first). I will forgive (if it’s convenient and doesn’t cost me too much). I will go to church (as long as I don’t have (school) work to catch up on or I’m not too tired). I will pursue holiness (as long as that means I can still date who I want and do what I want with my body). I will pray (as long as God gives me what I ask for). All of these things are good, but going about them conditionally is just morality, which by itself is not the gospel. Morality points to our ability, it doesn’t point to Christ. We are more sinful than we realize and are therefore incapable to do anything good apart from Jesus. Without Jesus we cannot honor the Father. 

This is no easy task. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve given into particular sins because I genuinely felt like following Jesus or pursuing holiness wasn’t worth it. But then I read Psalm 34:10- “The young lions suffers want and hunger, but those who seek the Lord lack no good thing.” 

I firmly believe that my generation loves authenticity. We love the idea of pursuing (seeking) something so true to oneself that nothing can stand in the way of going after our goal. We love it when what we’re doing or pursuing gives us a sense of fulfillment and is ultimately satisfying. So what do I do with this truth: Jesus is the most satisfying. 

Initially, that’s a little scary because there A LOT of really satisfying things out there and sometimes Jesus feels so far away, so wispy, so tertiary. But in fact, He is central, sustaining everything good we could ever experience. You see, I think a lot of the reason we want Christianity and not Christ, the reason we want good things, and not the one who gives us good things, is because we don’t know how to properly look at Jesus. Further, we don’t know how to look at the Father, the giver of the beautiful gift we have in Jesus. We are afraid of what we may see, and even more so, we are afraid of what will happen if we give up “control” of our lives. 

Even though I know it’s not true,  I too often tend to believe that Father is out to get me, seeking to punish me. As His daughter, the opposite holds true. Luke chapter 12, verse 32 tells me that I don’t have to fear because “it is [my] Father’s good pleasure to give me [His] kingdom.” Ephesians chapter 2 tells me that even when I was dead in my sins completely ignoring God, He saved me and made me alive with him because he is RICH in mercy and loves me with a GREAT love. Romans chapter, verse 4 tells me that  “God’s kindness is meant to lead me to repentance.” So you see, the Father isn’t out to get me at all, He’s not out to get any of us. He wants us. 

We can’t have Christianity and leave Christ in the background because Christ is the very gift the Father has given us as a means to live out the principles of Christianity. Jesus is our example of how to love, how to pray, how to forgive, how to worship,  and how to depend fully on the sustaining power of the Father. We need Jesus in order to have access to the Father. We need Jesus because we are too sinful to stand before the Father on our own. We need Jesus because with Him,  we have something we cannot lose; we have something that is strong enough to gratify our deepest of longings: to be loved.  We need Jesus because with Him, the Father looks at us in delight and says, “My beloved child. You are mine. I love you…”

[Father, thank You for the gift of your Son. Thank you for loving me enough to send your Son so that I might forever be united to You. It was a costly gift that has brought me to life. I don’t deserve it, but you are a good, good Father. Jesus, thank You for being everything I could ever need or ever want.]
<3Amen

I didn’t wanna write this, but I’m glad I did.

Duck #99

If you’ve spent nearly any amount of time with me, you’ll know that I get excited about things very quickly. It doesn’t take much for me to elicit an overly exuberant response or find something humorous enough to literally knock me over. Laughter is genuinely my number one favorite thing to do. I know I’m not alone in this, but I’ve realized recently why it is that I love laughing so much. It’s because of how deeply I am “feeling the funny.” When I’m especially tickled by something, it’s common for me to be “taken” by my laughter, and usually will be rendered speechless for a bit too long. Admittedly, it’s quite a site and a ridiculous one at that, but I can’t help it. I just feel the funny in my bones and succumb to its vibrancy. It’s nirvanic. (That’s not a word, but let’s pretend nirvana can be an adjective, cool?)

I wish, though, that “the funny” was the only thing I felt deeply… The weather in Pennsylvania, while not extremely winterous (again, not a word. but let’s keep pretending), has been predominantly cloudy. Now, if you haven’t lived in a place where sunshine severely lacks in the winter, consider yourself fortunate. Sporadic gray days are fine, I think we all need them–they remind us to slow down and be still–but too many in a row can really take a toll on your mental health. Because the sun and I haven’t hung out as much as we did in the fall, I’ve had more time to think than I’d probably like. It’s okay, though. Thinking is inevitable and feeling your thoughts is important, sometimes. But man! It sure does feel like these clouds are just wringing me and my feelings dry.   Consequently, it is through this drying process  that I’ve begun to learn a thing or two…about my self, about the Lord…

Fear is familiar and it’s an easy camping ground. 
There is a false sense of security that being afraid gives. It tells you to worry because then you’ll have control. It tells you to hide because then you can’t be seen. It’s comfortable. But the gospel is bigger than that. The gospel says, “I see that you’re afraid, but you don’t have to be. I’ll take your fear.” In Luke  5, Jesus calls his first disciples. After Jesus finishes preaching to a large crowd, he tells Simon (a fisherman) to put his net back into the water.” Mind you, Simon and his fellow fishermen had been trying to catch fish for HOURS and even after fishing through the night, they’d come up short. Immediately, Simon says, “Master, we toiled all night and took nothing! But at your word I will let down the nets” (v5). I love Simon’s response because it’s shown me that in the midst of my fear, there is still a call for obedience. Leaving my fear is uncomfortable, because it requires me to trust someone other than my self, Jesus.

The Lord’s faithfulness is both self existing and self sustaining.
One of RUF’s presuppositions is “God is at work.” At first glance, it seems so simple and operates as obvious. However, in ministry, it’s really easy to doubt this truth. When I say the wrong thing, when girls don’t come back to RUF, when students have really hard stories, I too often blame myself for the “catastrophe.” But God is at work. He’s always at work. His love is steadfast and all his work is done in faithfulness (Psalm 33:4). The beauty of this reality is that my fear, doubt, confusion, worry, and lack of trust cannot thwart or alter this aspect of God’s character. And yet…this faithfulness is for me, with mercy that is new every morning. God’s faithfulness isn’t contingent upon me or my understanding of it. (Praise Him for that!!)
“Give yourself permission to be where you are.”
My counselor has been telling me this for months. I don’t do this well. I love to analyze and figure out why I am the way I am or why I am feeling the way I’m feeling. But If I try to always figure everything out, I don’t leave any room to be still and know that He is God (Ps 46:11). Breathe. This too shall pass, but if I don’t acknowledge that my “thing” needs to pass, it won’t.  I won’t give it undeserved credit, but I need to let it know that I see it and hear it. But it also needs to know that I don’t have time to be overwhelmed by it.

Fight like h*ll.
Daily, my flesh is out for blood. My mind is hungry to give into unhealthy behavior. I have to pray. In this incredibly individualistic society it’s far too easy to be threatened and offended when my comfort level is in danger. The gospel calls me out of comfortableness into the arms of Jesus. I have to pray. I really, really don’t like big change but I can’t give into the fear and anxiety change brings. Giving myself permission to be where I am doesn’t mean that I won’t have to move eventually. I have to pray.  After Simon put his nets into the water again, he “left everything and followed [Jesus] (Luke 5:11). He fought the urge to remain a fisherman and instead became a disciple of Christ. I have to pray.

Gratitude is a beautiful antidote, say “Thank You.”
It’s really difficult to be angry and thankful. It’s also really hard to complain when you’re making a list of blessings. For some reason, I find it really easy to keep thanksgiving to myself, but such an attitude isn’t like pride–it should be proclaimed. Gratitude should be shared and celebrated. It produces humility and I’ve found that it’s begun to open the caverns of my heart that are closed off to trusting my Savior.

So, I think that’s where I’m at. Somewhere between inevitably “feeling the funny” and also feeling everything else. But I’m learning and the Lord hasn’t left me. So I’m okay… 🙂

[Dear Jesus,
Thank You for your patience, for you love, for you understanding. Help me to trust You…]
❤ Amen