Enough For Today

This past weekend I went on the Mill Fall Retreat, the retreat for the college group at my church. It was an amazing couple of days and I learned a lot and had lots of fun, but there is one thing in particular I want to share this afternoon.

We had a guest speaker named Andrew Arndt (from Bloom Church in Denver) talk to us on Saturday morning about the Lord's Prayer. The entire sermon was extremely thought-provoking, and I encourage anyone who is able to listen to the podcast... you won't regret it. One of my favorite things he said was this simple-yet-profound statement:

We never get to graduate from trust.

Because the idea of trust has been on my mind lately (see my last blog post), this idea struck me in a powerful way. Pastor Arndt wisely pointed out our tendency to expect that we'll get to a point in our lives where we don't have to trust God anymore.

But if we look at the Lord's Prayer, he pointed out, this is unrealistic. Matthew 6:11 says, "Give us this day our daily bread." Jesus didn't instruct us to ask for anything more than what we need for that day.

It's like when God sent manna from heaven to the Israelites in the desert! In Exodus 16, "God said to Moses, “I’m going to rain bread down from the skies for you. The people will go out and gather each day’s ration. I’m going to test them to see if they’ll live according to my Teaching or not.'" When they saw the manna on the ground, they didn't know what it was, "So Moses told them, 'It’s the bread God has given you to eat. And these are God’s instructions: "Gather enough for each person, about two quarts per person; gather enough for everyone in your tent."' The People of Israel went to work and started gathering, some more, some less, but when they measured out what they had gathered, those who gathered more had no extra and those who gathered less weren’t short—each person had gathered as much as was needed. Moses said to them, 'Don’t leave any of it until morning.' But they didn’t listen to Moses. A few of the men kept back some of it until morning. It got wormy and smelled bad."

It's such an accurate picture of the way I find myself "trusting" Jesus. He promised to provide. He has kept that promise every single day of my life. And yet I still don't want to trust him fully. I doubt he'll keep his promise tomorrow, so I try to take control.

Pastor Arndt talked about how we often pray for God to supply our needs out of a desire not to have to depend on him so much. We hope that God will bless us to such a degree that we no longer experience the kinds of pain or discomfort that would compel us to cry out to Him.

Talk about convicting! Jesus instructed us to pray for today's provision, which means that tomorrow's is in his hands. He'll take care of it. It's uncomfortable not knowing exactly how or when he is going to meet my needs, but as a Christ-follower I'm committed to learning to trust him in the midst of the discomfort. He is more than enough for today, even if I'm not always convinced of the truth of that statement.

I don't get to graduate from trust. It is my life's work.

"But I trust in your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in your salvation." ~ Psalm 13:5

Risky

I'm reading through Luke and can't get over what a radical man Jesus was (and is). At times, looking at his life and words makes me uncomfortable - I feel like the people from the Gerasenes, who after seeing what he had done in the life of the man afflicted by demons, "got together and asked Jesus to leave - too much change, too fast, and they were scared" (Luke 8:37).

Being a Christ-follower is scary. And yet, as I've been reading, I've also found extreme comfort in this man I love so much. I trust him... or at least I'm learning to. There are days when its easy, when I've watched him feed the five thousand and I realize that he is so much bigger than the problems I put in front of him. But there are also days when a storm is threatening to capsize my boat and he seems far too calm about it!

Today I'm challenged to trust Jesus more. He never fails to comes to my side, silence the storm and ask once again, 

"Why can't you trust me?"

Over and over he listens to me explain that the crowds are too big and the need is too vast, and he responds with the terrifying challenge, "You feed them." 

And yet, he never turns me away. He never abandons me to the storm and he never asks me to meet the enormous need alone. He's right there in the middle of every one of my messes, and for that I am learning to trust him. 

This morning as I read the story of the bleeding woman in Luke 8, I was moved by the way Jesus met the woman's desperation with such compassion and grace. When she admits to touching him and receiving his healing, he said something that wrecks me.

"Daughter, you took a risk trusting me,
and now you're healed and whole.
Live well, live blessed!"
~ Luke 8:48

Trusting Jesus is risky. With each passing season of my faith I recognize that more and more! But I am encouraged by his response to my messy attempts.

This I know. Jesus is worth my trust.

Worth My Time

Hi, my name is Sophie Tirado and I have a Pinterest account. For those of you with a life, Pinterest "is a virtual pinboard. Pinterest lets you organize and share all the beautiful things you find on the web. People use pinboards to plan their weddings, decorate their homes, and organize their favorite recipes. Best of all, you can browse pinboards created by other people. Browsing pinboards is a fun way to discover new things and get inspiration from people who share your interests."

It makes total sense why I'm on Pinterest now, right? Because I have a wedding to plan (false), a home to decorate (also false) and recipes to organize (still false). Really it's just one of those things that I waste time on. I see cool stuff and I "pin" it so I can look at it later... it's super great. Or not. 

Anyways. This isn't meant to be a Pinterest rant! There actually are some reasons I like the site, and one of these is the fact that sometimes I find encouraging/inspiring/funny quotes. Stuff like,

or,

or,

or even

.

It's sometimes goofy and sometimes pointless, but then there are times when I see something that genuinely strikes a chord with me - that sets me thinking and puts courage in my heart.

The problem is, there are also pins that concern me. They're the ones that may sound good initially, but communicate something that is actually deeply disturbing. These pins say things like this,

or,

or,

or one that seems to be a particular favorite,

.

Obviously there is a theme to all of these. I'm sharing them because they all communicate a popular idea in today's generation. It sounds good, to a point... repairing individuals' self-worth is something that I do think that a lot of people - young women in particular - are in need of. But that's a talk for another day. 

I would argue that the ideas being communicated here hold a frightening potential to tear lives apart.

The ideas expressed here say that when people mistreat me - fail to "be there" for me, desert me, talk poorly of me, stop loving me, refuse to make time for me, treat me as ordinary - I have every right to walk away. I deserve more, and they need to learn respect.

But do you know what I noticed about the sentence above? 

Me. Me, me, me, me, me, me.

Yikes. That sends a red flag up in my brain.

As a Christ follower, I'm immediately compelled to compare these quotes with what the Word of God says. As it turns out, I'm having trouble finding anything that communicates these kinds of values. Here's just a few examples of what I found:

“Therefore, as God's chosen people, 
holy and dearly loved, clothe yourselves 
with compassion, kindness, humility, 
gentleness and patience. Bear with each 
other and forgive whatever grievances 
you may have against one another. 
Forgive as the Lord forgave you. And 
over all these virtues put on love, which 
binds them all together in perfect unity.”
~ Colossians 3:12-14

The word "bear" stands out to me here. "Bear with each other" sounds so much messier than "love each other," or "forgive each other," both of which we are also asked to practice. And yet something about "bearing" with people who have grieved me speaks differently to me. It's not easy. It's not pretty. But I'm called to it, nonetheless.

“But the wisdom that comes from 
heaven is first of all pure; then peace 
loving, considerate, submissive, full 
of mercy and good fruit, impartial 
and sincere.” ~ James 3:17 

This verse gives me a little more comfort, reminding me that this wisdom regarding how to love and bear with people I struggle with comes from heaven, not from me. It's not about gritting my teeth and forcing myself to produce good fruit in my life and self. A tree doesn't force itself to bear fruit, it comes about naturally! In the same way, the ability to live in peace with others, to be considerate, submissive, full of mercy, impartial and sincere comes as a natural byproduct of my connection with the source of Life. He is the Vine, I am the branch, and he enables me to produce the fruit that would otherwise be counterfeit and short-lived.

And of course, the classic verse so often quoted but so rarely embodied...

"But I tell you, Do not resist an evil person. 
If someone strikes you on the right cheek, 
turn to him the other also." ~ Matthew 5:39

Oi. How do you even begin to unpack a verse like this without sounding like a hypocrite? I could talk all day about how important it is to live this out - loving our enemies and praying for those who persecute us - but the truth is that it is so counter-cultural, so unnatural, it's something that I feel only God can actually reveal to our hearts. 

That's the thing about Jesus. He isn't like a virtual pinboard - no matter how hard I may try, I cannot "pin" my thoughts, feelings or ideas on him. Just because something sounds good doesn't mean it's true. Jesus came and refused to conform to the standards of his time. He asked hard questions, broke religious rules, flipped tables, and challenged just about every "norm" his culture lived under. 

Today, Jesus hasn't changed a bit. He makes me uncomfortable, he pulls the carpet out from under my pre-conceived ideas, turns my world on its head, and offers me a better story than what I would otherwise settle for. 

Only he offers me the "mad, passionate, extraordinary love" that the quote above talks about. There is nothing mediocre about the way he loves me, but there is also nothing mediocre about the way he loves the person who bugs me most in life. The people who we think aren't worth our time, the people who have done unspeakably hurtful things and who have never truly loved anyone are just as loved, desired and valuable to the King of Kings as Mother Theresa was, the woman who spent her love everywhere she went. 

It's almost earth-shattering, isn't it?

I've loved Jesus my whole life, but every time I actually sit down to think about it my mind is blown again.

And because I've decided to let Jesus in to begin transforming my mind and heart - an incredibly long and difficult process - I'm learning an alternative to the knee-jerk reaction of turning my back on the people who hurt me, hate me, or annoy me. If I let him into my interactions with those people, Jesus's mad, passionate, extraordinary love produces a different reaction in me. 

Jesus says that everyone I encounter is worth his time, therefore they are worth mine, too. No one is beneath me. No one is disqualified, no one is ineligible of his love. No one. So why do I think I can excuse them?

Jesus in me, the hope of glory, is up to something pretty crazy. It's still unnatural. It's still uncomfortable. But it's good. Don't miss out.

"It’s in Christ that we find out who we are 

and what we are living for. Long before we 

first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, 

he had his eye on us, had designs on us for 

glorious living, part of the overall purpose 

he is working out in everything and everyone." 

~ Ephesians 1:11-12

The Story About a Forest

Happy fall, everyone!

I'm back at CC for my sophomore year and feeling as blessed as ever to be somewhere I feel so called to. Life has been hectic since I last wrote, with a month-long class in Italy, three months of nannying in New Hampshire, and then a month of geology that kept me out in the field for most of my days last block! So much has happened and I really feel like God has been showing me a lot over the past several months. 

A couple weeks ago I picked up a book called A Million Miles in a Thousand Years by Donald Miller. The premise of the book is that "if what we choose to do with out lives won't make a story meaningful, it won't make a life meaningful either." Miller makes the argument that the same elements that go into a compelling story also go into a compelling life. He demonstrates this idea beautifully by telling his own journey through this discovery and the ways it changed him.

Although my entire copy of A Million Miles is marked up and highlighted from all the great material I encountered within its pages, there are a few key statements that Miller made that I'd like to share, simply because they've stuck with me the most since I finished reading the book. The first is when Miller suggests that life is always "staggering," but that we have somehow grown accustomed to it. He writes, 

"I've wondered, though, if one of the reasons
we fail to acknowledge the brilliance of life
is because we don't want the responsibility
inherent in the acknowledgement. We don't
want to be characters in a story because
characters have to move and breathe and face
conflict with courage. And if life isn't remarkable,
then we don't have to do any of that; we can be
unwilling victims rather than grateful participants."

I read that paragraph and scribbled "profound" next to it. It's easy to read and apply it to someone else - "Yeah, that's totally true for so-and-so..." - but the more I have thought about it, the more I've seen it in myself. During some seasons, life is blindingly brilliant and overwhelmingly remarkable. In those times I feel fully alive... I'm moving and breathing and facing conflict with courage! But then I go through seasons of what Christians have callously dubbed "spiritual dryness." Life loses its luster and all of a sudden everything seems commonplace. 

Though I am usually aware of this shift, I've seen myself time and time again choose to camp out in it. The feeling is hard to describe, and I almost want to use the word "numbing," but it's more of a sense of boredom than desensitization. In the middle of my fog I still know there's more to be had out there, but for some reason something in my nature urges me to play the part of unwilling victim. 

Maybe its laziness. Maybe its pride. Maybe its cowardice...

Whatever it is, I find it disengaging me from what I'd call "true" or "abundant" life and allowing me to settle into something that requires far less responsibility or participation. 

When I finally emerge from the fog, repent, and actively choose abundant life, I realize how foolish I have been. Jesus said he came that we "may have life, and have it to the full. (John 10:10b)" And in Galatians we are told that "It is for freedom that Christ has set us free. (Galatians 5:1a)" 

I know what it looks like to live fully and freely like that. In January of 2009 I joined the Burn Internship at my church, and was immediately thrown into a group of Christ followers who radically changed my understanding of what it means to follow Jesus. The students and leaders I was interacting with were "on fire" for their King - they prayed, served, and worshiped harder and with more genuine passion than I had ever encountered before. And yet, somehow, they were also some of the craziest, goofiest, most hilarious people I had ever spent time with. At the time, I didn't know how to reconcile this. 

"If people could see these friends of mine and how real and full of life they are, their conceptions of Christians would be shattered," I remember thinking to myself. 

I craved the life and joy and freedom they possessed. I soaked it up like a sponge, and quickly realized it had nothing to do with the people's personalities and everything to do with what Jesus had done/was daily doing in their lives. 

The people I served with in Burn are only one example I've seen of life lived to the fullest like that. I've encountered so many individuals who are filled with an insatiable joy that is both appealing and contagious, and Donald Miller shares even more examples in his book. These people make ordinary life look extraordinary and I admire that so much!

Thinking about all this over the past few weeks, I've become really "jazzed" about the idea of intentionally telling a compelling story with my life. Over my block break I packed every possible moment full of laughter, memories, conversations, experiences and meaning. My facebook status to commemorate the amazing weekend and give thanks for the life God has given me, said:

"1st block break of sophomore year: Picked a new major/minor, hung out with Hannah Atencio, went camping/hiking with a ton of fun people in Elevenmile Canyon, practiced some rugby with Bryce Miller, went to Mill, spent the night and went to Cripple Creek with Morgan O'Tool, hung out with friends at Saige Fuller's house, went to church and out to lunch with Lexi Wortley, Noah Wortley and Mrs. Kathy, went to dinner downtown (and attempted to rescue 2 puppies) with Kaley Logan Wheless, went to Navs at David and Anna Rau's house, and hung out on the roof with my bro Will Tirado. Livin' the good life. :D

A weekend like that - despite it's being so full of activities and busyness - is remarkably refreshing. But it also requires sacrifice. Sometimes we sacrifice silly-but-tempting things like watching too many movies or messing around too long on facebook, sometimes we have to sacrifice good-and-valuable things like quiet or comfort, and other times the sacrifice is much more severe. Sacrifice often involves pain. 

"Here's the truth about telling stories with your life,"
Miller explains. "It's going to sound like a great idea,
and you are going to get excited about it, and then
when it comes time to do the work, you're not going
to want to do it. It's like that with writing books, and
it's like that with life. People love to have lived a great
story, but few people like the work it takes to make
it happen. But joy costs pain."

It will take pain and sacrifice to tell a story worth telling. But I think that it will all be worth it.

Which leads me to another part of Miller's book that really struck me. He talks about a time in his life when he was experiencing overwhelming heartache, and dissects his thoughts and emotions in a way that is refreshingly raw and real. After wallowing for a while in the pain, he came to an amazing conclusion. He writes,

"...I was a tree in the story about a forest... it was
arrogant of me to believe any differently... the story
of the forest is better than the story of the tree."

It's challenging to think about myself in these terms. And the more I think about it, the more I've realized how careful I need to be about how I pursue this "tell a compelling story with your life" idea. I think it is a worthwhile aspiration, but my generation - really the entire culture I live in - is plagued with a disease of self-absorption. Constant access to social media convinces us that our thoughts, feelings and experiences are supposed to be broadcasted for everyone to see, despite the fact that most of what we share is essentially meaningless. Without vigilant effort to remind myself that everyone isn't as fascinated by myself as I am, I quickly make my story about myself (the tree) and not Jesus (the forest).

It's not that my story isn't valuable, but if it's all I see or tell its missing the real glory of the bigger story! In the words of an old song I used to listen to by Steven Curtis Chapman, "I want my life to be a preview of coming attractions."

There's a good deal more I'm processing regarding all of this material, but I don't want the blog post to be too long. Hope it sparks some thought in you like it has in me.