Where are you going with this?

Well I've probably already told you where I'm going. . . I'm going to Ireland, Israel, Egypt, Ukraine. . .

Oh wait, That's not what you meant.

It has only been about two months since I've started this "World Race" thing. . .and already the doubts are setting in. The worst part, I don't even think they're my doubts. It started with a conversation last night with the Youth Pastor at my church. Basically, he asked me where I'm going with this whole "World Race" trip. He has a legitimate claim to ask those things, too, because he's the pastor that oversees the missions funds at my church. I am guessing, he had to ask me those hard questions to ensure my church wouldn't be "wasting God's Money" (not his words, mine) if they decided to support me on the Race. Then it ended with a conversation with one of my roommates, when she said, "To be honest, I think you're going on this trip for yourself. I am certain that God will use it to change your life though."

So why can't I get past the whole, "You're wasting money, you're doing this for yourself part?"

I was perfectly fine when no one questioned me. I had no doubts. And now, when confronted by people I hold in high regard, I am suddenly asking questions of myself.

Such as, "Is this a responsible use of my donor's money? Is this a responsible use of MY money? Am I going on this trip because I just want a 'vacation'? Am I going on this trip because I have NO IDEA WHAT I WANT TO DO WITH MY LIFE and so I'll just put the future off for a little bit while I think about it? Am I really just doing this for ME, and not for God? I've already admitted that I didn't pray about this decision when I filled out the application, so will I be reaping the benefits of what I sow by not listening to God's will? What are the chances that I will look back on month 11 and say, 'What a complete waste of a year'?"

And other questions like that. They are swirling around in my mind like a tempest, slowly growing louder, threatening to drown out all the confidence I had in myself to live up to God's potential. Maybe I should just quit now, while I, (and my potential donors) still have money in their pockets during this economic recession.

After all this happened, I was driving to Boynton to help a friend bake cookies so she can raise money for HER mission trip. I believe in her. I wondered if anyone would do the same thing for me. I wondered if anyone would believe in me.

Then a song came on the radio. It's a song that I've already claimed as my "World Race" theme song. Here are the lyrics:

Lord I want to feel your heart
and see the world through your eyes
I want to be your hands and feet
I want to live a life that leads

ready yourselves
ready yourselves
Let us shine the light of Jesus in the darkest night
ready yourselves
ready yourselves
May the powers of darkness tremble as our praises rise
Until the whole world hears Lord we are calling out
Lifting up Your name for all to hear the sound
Like voices in the wilderness we're crying out
as the day draws near
we'll sing until the whole world hears

Lord let your sleeping giant arise
Catch the demons by surprise
Holy nation sanctified
Let this be our battle cry

we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears

Want to be your hands and feet
Want to be a life that leads
To see you set the captive free
Until the whole world hears
and I pray that they will see more of you and less of me
Lord I want my life to be the song You sing
Until the whole world hears Lord we are calling out
Lifting your name up for all to hear the sound
Like voices in the wilderness we're crying out
as the day draws near
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears
we'll sing until the whole world hears

During that song, tears streamed down my face, yet they were not tears of defeat. They were tears of empowerment. Who cares if people doubt me? Who am I to I doubt myself? There is a world out there that doesn't know You, that doesn't understand how love can somehow overcome pain and poverty. There is a world who is dying to hear some good news. DYING.

Who believes in me? God believes in me. I don't know how, I don't know why. He is where my confidence lies. He is bigger than money or doubt, recessions or fear. He is bigger than me. He's bigger than my roommate. He's bigger than my youth pastor.

And He is with me.

I will fight this thing out, and even if it turns out that this was not His will for me at this time in my life, for much like Jacob in the desert, I will know that I have wrestled men with God, and I will overcome, because I'm not about to let Him go until he blesses me.

Why everyone shouldn’t go to heaven.

This Blog post will make you angry.

I was standing in a stadium, singing at the top of my lungs. Some of my closest friends were with me, and we were all enjoying a concert with overtly "Christian" music. Me and my friends were dancing, shouting, having a glorious time, since we had just worked six hours and were enjoying the fruits of our labor. The free concert wasn't quite as good as last years, (how can you top a Family Force Five, Relient K and Toby Mac Concert? The answer is, you can't.) However, there were spurts of greatness, such as watching the three uber-talented Barlow Girl Sisters tear up their instruments, or feeling my vocal chords rip as I sang Casting Crown's "Until the whole world hears" as loud as I could, regardless of who's ears I may have offended.

Jeanette nudged me and tilted her chin towards my right. "Talk about a lousy date." I looked over, and there sat a young girl, around 23ish, holding her cell phone in a vice grip. Her brow was furrowed and her arms crossed, and she was tapping her foot impatiently. Her body language was that of a person who "Had better things to do."

"She's not having fun, is she?" Jeanette said.

"Hmm." I thought. Consequently, I looked behind me, remembering something I had saw earlier. A man sat about four rows behind us with a scowl so cold it could bore a hole in an iceberg. Bordering on a sneer, he sat there defiantly, looking like someone had handcuffed him to an electric chair.

"Neither is that guy," I mentioned. "He looks miserable... " and that's when it hit me.

"Jeanette. This is why everyone shouldn't go to heaven." I began to explain my theory, or attempted to shout it over the music.

One of the biggest arguments against God's existence is, "How can God really be all loving and still allow people to go to hell?"

One of the rebuttals I always used was, "Why would God, who is all loving, FORCE a person, who wanted NOTHING to do with Him on earth, to HEAVEN, a place where God's will is ETERNALLY done?" The point is, these people, who were probably dragged to this concert by a believing boyfriend or someone else, are miserable. They didn't want to be there. The rest of the people there were worshipping God with their voices, lifting him up in song, enjoying being in the presence of His Holy Spirit and other believers who are considered "family."

If these people were this miserable here, how much more miserable would they be in heaven? Even if heaven is the better alternative?

Now don't get me wrong. I do NOT want anyone to go to hell. I would PREFER if we all were like minded and worshipped God, and I know for a FACT that is God's point of view. 2 Peter 3:9 says: "The Lord is not slow in keeping his promise, as some understand slowness. He is patient with you, not wanting anyone to perish, but everyone to come to repentance." But the reality is, there are people who don't want anything to do with God. It's mere fact. So why would God give someone free will, to allow them to do WHATEVER they want to in this life, only to FORCE them to obey and worship Him in the next?

I don't think He would. He loves us perfectly, and therefore being the gentlemen that He is, would rather respect our wishes to want nothing to do with Him. He's not going to force Himself on anyone. And if He did, what kind of a God would He be? Who wants to worship a God who engages in a form of spiritual rape? I wouldn't want to worship that type of Deity.

And I bet you wouldn't either.

The Sin of Satan

One of the best things about reading my bible is that the more I do it, the more things seem to leap off the page right into my brain. Now, this isn't an everyday occurrence, I'm quite ashamed to admit that I'm not a frequent reader. So please don't think that I'm attempting to prove I'm "Holier than Thou". . . rather, I read something today that I would really like to share.

Going through the first chapter of 1 Corinthians, I came to this little verse that says: "For the message of the cross is foolishness to those who are perishing, but to us who are being saved it is the power of god. (Verse 18)

Then I read a little further and verse 21 says: "For since, in the wisdom of God, the world through wisdom did not know God, it pleased God through the foolishness of the message preached to save those who believe" (emphasis added)

And THEN verse 27-29: "But God has chosen the foolish things of the world to put to shame the wise, and God has chosen the weak things of the world to put to shame the things that are mighty; and the base things of the world and the things which are despised God has chosen, and the things which are not, to bring to nothing the things that are, that no flesh should glory in His presence."

Can I rewrite that, the way I understood it? (Bear with me. My thoughts will be in parenthesis)

Verse 21: For since, in the wisdom of God, the world through wisdom (science, philosophy, post-modern thought etc,) did not know God, it pleased God through the foolishness of the message preached (that being, the last shall be first, whomever wants to be greatest should be least… etc.) to save those who believe"

And Verses 27-29: "But God has chosen the foolish things of the world (High school drop-outs) to put to shame the wise, (those with Doctorates) and God has chosen the weak things of the world (sick and hurting) to put to shame the things that are mighty (Olympian athletes); and the base(normal, insignificant) things of the world and the things which are despised (people you hate, or the people you wouldn't have picked for your team in P.E.) God has chosen, and the things which are not, (the "things which are not" can be anything, like say, someone who can't talk because they are mute. Technically, their "Voice" is "Not" )to bring to nothing the things that are, (people who CAN speak would find themselves speechless if that mute person "Suddenly" began to speak) that no flesh (human) should glory in His (God's) presence."

That last verse, Verse 29, is what really struck me. I think all of us humans, especially Christians, struggle with the idea of Sin. What is it, exactly? We know that Sin is bad. We know that Sin is something we shouldn't do. We know that Sin separates us from God.

But Why?

Why is God so upset about sin in the first place? Is it really that bad to tell a little white lie? Is it so wrong to sleep with someone if I love them? It's my body anyway, why shouldn't I be able to choose whether or not I want to keep my baby? And for goodness sake, how dare you persecute me because I happen to like the same sex!

These things seem rational to us. Why is that Killjoy God so concerned about it? Why is it SO important for us to follow HIS plan if we want to be saved from Hell?

It's because of Satan.

Now, I'm not giving Satan ALL the power here, and by NO MEANS do I claim that the "Devil made me do it" argument is even liable. As far as I know, the devil can't MAKE you do anything, rather, he can seductively suggest which option to choose, and when we choose poorly, well, that is of our own decision. So when I say that this issue is because of Satan, I only mean to say that the reason we even have sin in the first place is because of Satan. Sure, Adam and Eve (unless you're an evolutionist) sinned in the garden of Eden when they chose to eat from the tree that God told them not to eat of. But wasn't Satan there? In the guise of a serpent? Suggesting that they might become like God if they eat the fruit? Wasn't the whole reason that Satan was trying to subjugate God's plan because HE had already sinned and was cast from heaven?

So what was Satan's Sin?

Pride. Satan had become too proud. Satan began to look at himself and his beauty and glory, and decided that he too, should be worshiped like God. I don't think that Satan really wanted to overthrow God as King (at least in the beginning,) rather, Satan merely wanted worshippers of his own, because he felt he was entitled to such. So God did the only thing God could have done. God stripped Satan of his glory by casting him down. After all, how do you deal with pride except by taking away EVERYTHING that makes one proud? If you are proud of your healthy body, can't it be maimed with cancer? If you are proud of your superior intellect, can't it be brought to shame with dementia?

So herein lays the significance of my musings. Sin is Pride. Pride is Sin. They cannot be separated from each other. They CAN be used as synonyms when referring to that which separates us from God. God's glory is HIS ALONE. Whether Satan wanted to share it or steal it, makes no difference. Satan wanted Glory, and that is not okay. Enter Adam and Eve. What did Satan tell them? Genesis 1 verse 5 says that Satan told them: "For God knows that in the day you eat of it (the fruit) your eyes will be opened, and you will be LIKE GOD, knowing good and evil."

So Eve took the fruit and she ate it in her pride, that being Satan's pride, thinking she might become like God. To Glory in her flesh. And what happens? As soon they eat, they feel ASHAMED! The opposite of PRIDE is SHAME! God immediately stripped Adam and Eve of the pride they had in their flesh by making them feel ashamed because they were naked.

And so on through the Bible. It was Pride that made Cain kill his Brother Abel, because God chose Abel's sacrifice as a more pleasing sacrifice. There you have murder. David took another man's wife, because as King, in his PRIDE he felt he had the right to do so. Adultery. Joseph's brothers sold him into slavery because their PRIDE couldn't see the truth in his dreams. Pick a Sin. I guarantee that you can trace it back to pride.

We lie because the truth in a situation may make us look bad. We engage in premarital sex because we feel we should have the right to express our love in whatever way we feel is correct. We kill our babies because, we're too proud to admit we made a poor decision and so, it is better to be "rid" of the consequences then to deal with them. And of course, how dare you tell someone homosexuality is wrong, regardless of how even the laws of nature, (two boys can't reproduce offspring, regardless of science, the very idea of survival of the fittest contradicts homosexuality) stand against it.

So what does that tell us? We have bought into the "Sin of Satan," that being pride. The bible goes so far to tell us, that we who sin are of "Our Father" the devil, (1 John 3.. just read the whole thing), because we have partaken of HIS sin, the sin of pride. I'm sure, that if Satan had sinned in some other way then we would have also partaken in that other sin as well. (I can't even describe that thought to you, because Satan's only sin is pride, and therefore all of our sin is a derivative of pride, so I can't even think of another way to sin.. For instance, if Satan had sinned by BLARTHKAB (a made up word) then all of our sin would be a derivative of BLARTHKAB also. . .does that make sense?) It is our pride that keeps us from God, because we say that OUR way is better than His, and OUR wants are greater than His wants. For that, God sees us, as we sin, as terrible as Satan, and therefore, those who do NOT submit themselves to God's supreme Lordship are PUNISHED the same way that Satan will be punished. Matthew 25:41 says: "Depart from me, you cursed, into the everlasting fire prepared for the DEVIL AND HIS ANGELS."

Humans were NEVER supposed to be punished, we were supposed to share in the eternity of God's glory and goodness, but because we BOUGHT INTO the sin of Satan, we have also bought into his punishment. Those who do not choose God's way of forgiveness, that being the death of Jesus on the cross, have counted themselves as TOO PROUD to have to "Believe in such foolishness" (1 Corinthians 1:18.. see above) and therefore have condemned themselves because they chose to rather "Glory in their flesh" (1 Corinthians 1:29) much the same way Satan gloried in his.

Of course, don't take my word for it. By all means please read those verses in their complete context and come to your own conclusion. I just wanted to share mine.

What it takes to lead

I have a friend. Her name is Jeanette. She just recently graduated from college last year from Palm Beach Atlantic University in West Palm. I've known her for about 4 years now (wow, has it been that long??) and I met her because we both work for the same company.

Anyway, we've been pretty decent work friends for these past four years. I think she's a pretty cool person, and I've always wanted to get to know her better, but because she's been so busy with College, RA-ing, work, and other. . .It has been difficult to get to know her better.

And then she graduated. And then work slowed down. So we've gotten to hang out a little bit more, and because of that I've noticed a trend.

She's a great leader. A fantastic leader. People immediately pay attention to her when she speaks. She can light up a room with her contagious laughter. She has SO MANY friends from PBA that I've lost count. She says "BONFIRE FRIDAY" and people jump, with lighter fluid and fire extinguishers in hand. It has been really impressive to watch.

The most interesting encounter happened the other day as I asked her to help me raise money for the World Race. She said yes. And I asked her if she thought her friends would be willing to help too. She said "Totally!" with such enthusiasm that it really surprised me. "I don't have any money Kirsten, but I'm TOTALLY willing to help!"

"That's so cool Jeanette," I remember saying. And I mean it. It's so cool that she's willing to help me. I mean, we're friends and all, but I didn't think that we were good enough friends to merit such enthusiasm.

That's when I started to think about it. . . Jeanette is a great leader because she's willing to follow.

Look at all the references to leadership in modern culture, and you will usually find something along the lines of how, "A Leader should be willing to take charge, to step up and command attention." But if you look at the Bible, it says the exact opposite. All of the great leaders in the Bible were considered great because they were willing to follow God's command. Jesus was the ultimate example of that. He said, "I have set you an example that you should do as I have done for you," (John 13:15) RIGHT after He got done washing the disciple's feet. He set the ultimate example of what a true leader is, and because none of us can ever be greater than our Master, we can only hope to follow close enough in His footsteps that we can point others in that right direction. Our lives are supposed to point to our Leader, Christ, the firstborn of God and firstborn from the dead. We are to follow Him, and in turn, Lead by example so that others may follow us.

Jeanette was completely willing to put her agenda aside to "follow" me, by helping me raise funds. Her friends will do the same, putting aside their agendas to "follow" her. It's like we're playing one big game of "Follow the Leader," where our Leader is Jesus.

I am humbled that Jeanette would be willing to help me, like I should deserve such favor. I can only pray that I can learn from her example.

"I found an alligator on the side of the road and I took it home and fed it to my dog. . ." (That was for you jetty. J )

The Cost of Priceless

I've been very busy lately. Which is a good thing. I've been so blessed by God recently, and I know I'm on this spiritual high that won't seem to quit. Every time I get the chance to use my talents for the Glory of God's kingdom, it sends supernatural jolts through my system that ignites that fire within. Which, I know you'd understand this, is why I want to use them more.

I realized though, that there is a wrong way to utilize your talents for God, and that is, using them out of His timing. A little while ago, when I first got into doing paintings on stage, I remembered trying to "push" myself onto other people. I tried to use my talents to make money, and regardless of whatever spin I put on it, the efforts seemed doomed to fail. People keep telling me that I'm worth money, that my talents aren't to be taken lightly. Although I struggled with that at first, I am learning to see the value of what God has given me, and so I don't want to sell myself short.

However, I don't want to sell out either. Attempting to prostitute my talent away is only going to lead to it being taken away from me. Yes, I shouldn't just "give" my art away. Yes, my time and my talents are "worth" something. Yet, I can't help but feel bad when someone asks me "How much do you want for your paintings?" and I squirm on the inside because although I know I am worth something, I can't bring myself to ask that of other people. Maybe it's because I know that people can never pay me the "worth" of what my God has given me.

That old verse, "Freely you have received, so freely give" (Matthew 10:8) continues to run through my mind. My talent, painting to the images God gives me, because of His Spirit who lives inside me, because His Son who died to give me that Spirit, tell me, how can one put a price tag on that?

That which is priceless, should be free.

So when I finally came to that conclusion, I realized that I couldn't charge for a ministry. I SHOULDN'T charge for a ministry. I was standing there in a Night of Worship, seeing flashes of God's Glory, and I felt so compelled to paint. Yet there I stood, in the crowd, because that is where God met me. At the end of the service, I met with the Worship Pastor, and I told him that I wanted to paint at the next worship night, free of charge. He smiled and assured me that I could. I have yet to do so, but I truly believe it was that moment, where I was willing to submit myself and my talents to God's use, for FREE, was where God began to bless me.

Since that moment, I've had people call me to come and paint for them, instead of the other way around. First stop was Palm Beach Atlantic, Night with the artists. What an amazing opportunity it was, to both share my heart and to minister to people, as I really do love those college kids. They make me feel super young.

Because of that venue, I actually made another contact with an amazing woman of God known as Cindy Stewart. Turns out, she was looking for a Speed Painter to come and minister at the Women on Fire conference at Lakeview Church in Tampa. A friend of hers, Julie Hendricksen, (whose daughter, Jenny, I went to Bolivia with last March) saw me at the PBA event and mentioned me to Cindy. Wow. With God as my Marketing Manager, how can I go wrong?

The conference was an amazing spirit filled time of worship and refueling. Cindy and everyone involved were so gracious to me and bent over backward to bless me. When I was packing my things up to leave, Cindy told me, "I'll be giving your name out to everyone I know." I can only imagine what that means.

This month, I have at least two more opportunities to share my talent with the community around my house. I keep making contacts right and left, of people who have either heard of me, have a friend who knows me, or even people who have "Googled" my name. As a result, the money I owe for my latest mission trip, the World Race, is quickly being diminished. How amazing is that.
If God keeps giving me opportunities, I will keep painting. Even if He decides to stop allowing me to make money by using my talents, I will keep painting. It only seems right, after all. I have been told that my paintings bless people. I will not let what the world considers success to keep me from doing so. I just enjoy it too much.

How to change a heart

I had a dream last night. I don't remember quite the details about it, except that I was homeless.
I was sleeping on the ground, outside of a business, (possibly a starbucks) clothed in a dirty jacket. I remember pulling my arms tight around my body, because it was so blasted cold out.
In front of me, I had a little purple water bag (something that I actually use in real life to paint with.) and people were shoving money in it. Tons of people walked by, and they all would reach down and shove $1, $5, and even $10 bills in the bag. I remember peeling back my eyelids to peek at the bag. It was overflowing.
I briefly recall waking up and beginning to count the money. I had wool gloves with the fingers cut out, and I remember the bitter cold air accosting my senses as I counted my cash.
Then I woke. I think it was because my roommate's alarm clock went off, (because it's SO LOUD I can hear it from her room, even with her door shut) but instantly tear began to well up in my eyes.
I don't know what it was, but when I woke up, I had overwhelming feelings of sadness. Maybe it was because I knew that the dream wasn't true. How many of us would shove bills into a homeless man's cup? They hardly ever have money overflowing in their cups. Maybe it was the sensation of knowing that if I didn't make enough money that day I would go hungry. Or knowing I'd have to sleep on the ground again, in the cold.
I can tell you, for a few waking moments in the night, I was homeless. I was terrified. I completely believed that I was one of the forgotten ones, and I remember thinking, "what happened? Where did I go wrong?"
Wiping the tears from my eyes when I woke, I realized it was a call to empathy. For many years, I've prayed to God about giving me compassion, filing me with empathy for those people who are hurting, because I knew I didn't have any.
I believe, last night, God answered those prayers. I knew what it was to be homeless, hungry. Dirty. Forgotten.
Yes, it was just a dream, you might say. I woke up today in a warm bed with money in my bank account. I even went to Starbucks this morning. But I felt the terror of wondering if my belly would stay empty.
We often ask ourselves, (or at least I do,) about how God might go about changing a person's heart. I used to doubt that He would do it instantaneously, and if He did, I wondered what that might be like. If I prayed for Him to change my heart, would He IMMEDIATELY reach down and grasp my being and twist it to His will? What would that feel like?
Well, now I know. God knows how to change a heart. Be careful what you pray for.

A Love not forgotten

"Yet I hold this against you: you have forsaken your first Love. Remember the height from which you have fallen! Repent, and do the things you did at first. If you do not repent, I will come to you and remove your lampstand from its place." Revelation 2:4-5

How far I had fallen.

I knew it too, because I just couldn't get into reading the Bible anymore. Nor could I pray to God at length, because I had simply run out of things to say. I remembered what it was like when I first had surrendered my life to God. It was a glorious feeling, even when those kids in my 8^th grade journalism class made fun of me when I told them I had become a Christian. They laughed so hard and my heart broke inside. My parents, even, became very upset with my Aunt, because they felt like my Aunt had somehow "collected" me into her cult, that being the Cult of the Nazarine.

I really didn't care. I remember feeling alive, and passionate about what I had chosen to believe in. I would read my Bible every night and pray for what felt like hours.

And now, I struggle to remember that passion. Jesus' Love had been so forgiving, so complete, so new that I felt like my heart had been thrown into the darkest of thunderstorms only to be juggled by a constant flow of lightning. It was glorious. It was hard, and it hurt, but it was glorious.

I haven't been this excited in a long time. Nothing has made me this eager in so many years. I've taken many trips, been to many different places on missions, and even left my heart in one. Yet there is something about this trip, the World Race, that has electrified my soul to the point of feeling like the edges of my being have been singed from getting too close to the fire. I continually pray to God for wisdom and favor. The moment I feel as if I have nothing to do, my mind remembers my bible instead of the TV remote. I hear about amazing things happening around the world, like my Church's mission trip to Columbia, where people are being HEALED and DELIVERED from demonic forces, and I so eagerly want to experience that for myself.

I've even wanted to fast. Wanted to fast. Anyone who knows me knows how much I love food. I've NEVER wanted to fast in my ENTIRE life. And now it is something I want to partake in, almost like new hobby. "Oh you like to knit? Well I like to fast in my spare time." Who does that?? To be perfectly honest, I have yet to do so… but I know it is only a matter of time.

I hope this isn't a fad. I hope and pray that I have remembered my first Love. . . one that I know will never return empty. I hope that this fire has been replenished with heavy logs of oak rather than a quick douse of gasoline.

What does a lampstand do, anyway? It burns and gives off light. If our lights die out, why should we expect God to keep us where we are when we are doing no good to Him? If we are not illuminating the darkness, then we have merely become a part of it. Darkness consumes everything unless a light is manifest. Then the darkness must flee because it cannot overcome the light. It's simple Physics people.

So with that, I encourage you. . .find the romance again. If you're feeling like the Love has run out of your relationship with God. Rekindle that flame. I don't know how to do that for you, it's something you're going to have to figure out on your own. But find the excitement again. Then never let it leave.

Oh ye of little faith.

"Why did you doubt?"

I feel like Jesus asks us all that at one point or another. Doubt is an integral part to our lives as fallen humans, so much so that religions are built upon it. I can see why Peter doubted that night on the Sea of Galilee. He was walking on water, defying the very laws of nature itself to take a step of faith. How poor Peter gets a bad rap. At least he had the faith that Jesus could pull him back out, because that's the first thing he cried out when he began to sink.

"Lord! Save me!" (Matthew 14:30)

My doubts are so much shallower than Peter's. If I were to get out of the boat, for instance, I'd probably only sink up to my knees until I hit the ground. Yeah, I had the courage to get out of the boat and try walking on water, but how deep was my faith really? What good would it be for Jesus to save me from knee deep water?

And therein lays my problem. I don't give Jesus enough credit. I don't give Him NEARLY enough of a chance to show His glory. I rob Him of it by only trying to tread upon pond deep water.

I was talking about the World Race to some friends of mine at church, one of which happened to be the Youth Pastor's wife. She's a few breaths older than I am, but I have always valued her insight and wisdom. Interestingly enough, when she found out I had applied to the World Race, she told me about how her sister-in-law's sister was doing the same thing. We got into a very interesting conversation about raising funds, and she told me about how all the stuff I needed to bring (like the backpack, sleeping bag, pillow, tent. . . etc…) cost around $500 alone.

I was shocked. "Are you kidding? Where am I going to get the money to pay for all of that?"

She continued her story about how her sister sister-in-law (that's a fun title) went to a backpacking store to look at all of the stuff she needed to get, and how when she got to talking to the lady that worked at the store, the sister-sister mentioned what she was doing.

Apparently, the worker at the store told her she could borrow all of her supplies for the trip.

I was even more shocked. "WOW. That's amazing. God is so good." Then I huffed, "It must be nice."

Did you catch that? I completely short changed God. I was willing to praise Him for somebody else's experience, and then INSTANTLY doubted that anything like that could ever happen to me. Even as we continued to talk about the trip, my mind was still wondering, "Where am I going to get all this stuff? I may be able to borrow a backpack, or a sleeping bag, but what about the rest of it?"

So when my application had been accepted, one of the first things I looked at was the packing list, and one of the second things I did was put up a link on my Facebook asking if anyone had a backpack I could borrow. No takers, but my aunt did offer to buy me one. I told her I'd have to do some more research on what I want before I let her do that.

Even with the buzz of excitement, I still doubted that I would be able to get my hands on cheap equipment.

Then I came home, and started chatting with my roommates about the day. One of my roommates, (a lovely girl known as Leah, whom I went to Zambia with in 2005) perked up and said, "Hey, I have a backpack you can borrow, from when I went to. . ."

"INDIA!" I shouted. I had forgotten Leah had backpacked around India the year before I met her. YET EVEN THEN, I doubted, thinking, "I'm sure her backpack is nice and all, but I don't think it's what I'm looking for." Sure enough, she trudged upstairs and when she came back down, I felt like my eyes were going to fall right out of their sockets.

She was holding the most gorgeous, navy blue, slightly used, internal frame backpack I had ever seen. "See? I think this might help. And I even have this. . ." for the next fifteen minutes, she proceeded to pull out her supplies. She has a 20 degree thermal sleeping bag, a sleeping pad, an inflatable pillow, and even a HEAD LAMP. A flipping head lamp. One that has red lights too for hiking at night. I threw my arms around her neck, and nearly kissed her.

That's when I heard Jesus say: "Oh ye of little faith. Why did you doubt?" I totally undercut God's provision for me because I didn't think I was worth it. I was wading in the shallow water when all the while He was beckoning me to come tread upon the deep.

I suppose that if we didn't have doubt, we wouldn't know what faith really is. Sometimes, I wonder if it is worth expressing our doubts so we can see His glory shatter them. I so hope I remember this lesson. His deep calls to deep have taken on a whole new meaning to me.

What in the world was I thinking?

At least, that's what I was thinking when I got done filling out my world race application.
I suppose I should back up a bit... in small group we were reading the book "In a pit with a Lion on a Snowy day" (which I recommend every Christian should read) and in my own personal time I've been reading "Four Souls", which is a story about four guys who took their own personal trip around the globe to minister to different places (which I recommend every Christian MISSIONARY should read) . . . (consequently, I'm also reading Brisingr, in case you were wondering.) but I digress..
Anyway, those books seemed to fuel this little fire I've had inside me since I came home from another great (but not glorious) summer in Bolivia. I really feel God has called me to missions, and so I've been putting my little "feelers" out there, attempting to find something to do or somewhere to go. Everything I've looked at has ended up with a resounding door slam and God saying (audible at times) "Wait. Just Wait."
Arrgh. Groan. And then the inevitable sigh as I acquiesce.
However.
The fire flared as I finished reading "In a pit with a Lion," as the last words in the book are: "Maybe its time to start chasing God again. Maybe its time to seize God-ordained opportunities. Maybe its time to unleash the lion chaser within. Chase the lion! Its what you are destined to do."
I kid you not, I literally put the book down, picked up my laptop, and googled "Free Mission Trips."
I know missions cost money, but I don't have any. I just wanted to get out and serve.
One of the links said: "Free World Race", which I thought looked interesting. So I clicked on that. It took me to the World Race website, which I admit, reminded me a little bit of that show, "The Amazing Race" on tv. Turned out, the FREE part of that link had to do with winning a free ticket into the World Race in 2006, so that was over and done with. Yet my interest was already peaked, so I kept looking.
Mission trip? Yes. 11 countries? Wow. 11 months? BIG WOW. Next team was leaving in January, and the application had to be completed by October 15th.
I looked at the date. It was October 14th.
Without thinking at ALL, ashamedly without praying, I completed the application and even paid my $39 application fee, praying it wouldn't be for naught.
So far, it hasn't. I've had a few unusual things happen since then, such as it seems that everyone I know, KNOWS someone who is either ON the World Race currently or someone who has been or going. Even a guy in my small group went last year.
WHAT? How did I miss that little tidbit??
The day after I filled out my application, I kid you not, I got a fortune cookie, and inside the fortune said: "Wish you a good journey." Wow.
I don't believe in coincidences, have I shared that yet?
I even had an especially frustrating moment, where I was sitting in my kitchen, waiting for the World Race crew to call me for my interview, and as the time came and passed without a phone call, I remember crying. I heard God say, "This isn't it." And instead of fighting Him this time, I was like, "Fine Lord. Then what? What would you have me do? I'm ready, I'm willing, I'm able, so what?"
The next day I was graced with two emails from the World Racers, telling me they've scheduled TWO phone calls at different times. I was really confused. "I thought you said this wasn't it?" I asked God. He responded with a feeling of "I just wanted to see if you were willing to give it up if I told you no."
So here I am. I've been accepted to go on the June 2010 World Race. I have no idea what that means yet.
But I'm starting to find out.

Smack Talk

I have found lately that I talk an awful lot.
I was at art night last night with some friends and some new friends, and afterward I realized that I had said a whole lot.
When I'm getting to know people, Christians specifically, I find that I speak in great lengths about grand things. Things that have happened in my life, Christian things specifically. I find I don't mind sharing my past, what I have gone through, the cool things I have done and stuff like that.
I also seem to have no problem spouting "Christian" wisdom, or the equivalent of what could pass as such, and at the very least, my opinion in the form of what's wrong with our world.
I have no problem "sounding" wise or pretending that I'm smarter than I actually am. I have no issue with being passionate about social ills of the world, the United States, and formulating solutions that would CLEARLY fix ALL the problems on the planet.

Why do I do that?
When all is said and done, do I really live up to my smack talk?
Or if you prefer "Christian-ease", do I "Walk The Talk?"
I'm not so sure. I know what I am in my head, I know the sins I still struggle with and I know the "BS" that I spout. Not that I do it on purpose, I fully believe the things that I say and what I am passionate about. But I wonder, is it just me, or does everyone feel the same way? Does everyone come off of a conversation feeling like they've just attempted to "BS" their way into heaven?

The Bible tells us at the end of time, that we will give an account for "EVERY idle word." We will have to explain to God everything we meant when we said what we said. How discomforting.
I understand why God speaks in a still small voice, and when I get so loud I run the risk of drowning Him out. Maybe I should be less concerned with sounding good and just let my actions scream.

A choice

I was sitting in the drive through teller at my bank this afternoon. As she counted the multiple dollar bills I had just given her, (don't get the wrong idea, they were just tips from painting at the zoo the past weekend) a random man with a backpack came wandering up to the drive through and started talking to the lady inside.
I couldn't quite understand what he was asking, but the look on the teller's face was very, well, telling.
She kind of rolled her eyes and smirked. I can only imagine what my face was saying, because she shortly told me, "He wants you to cash his check."
I looked over at the man, who kept mumbling something over and over. Finally I heard him say it, "I'm homeless. They won't cash my check at Publix, and I need the money for the bus."
As the thoughts began racing through my head, I knew that I was faced with a choice. I could cash his check for him, and give him the money, but if the check came back, I would be faced with a $25 fee.
The teller explained this to the man, and the man quickly protested "It won't come back! It's a money order! My dad sent it to me! I have a letter. . ."
The man continued to babble on, as I knew that shortly the teller would be done with my transaction and I'd drive away, to leave this man cashless.
I rolled down my window and asked him to see the money order. "I'll give you two dollars to cash it. I'm homeless. I need the money to get to where I'm staying tonight."
I looked at the money order in my hands. It was only made out for $20. Less then my check bounce fee.
I didn't even have the time to pray about it. I just had to make a decision.
"I'll cash his check." I said to the teller, who looked a little incredulous.
As she finished the transaction, I looked at the man and told him, "You don't have to pay me two dollars. I'm doing this because I believe in Jesus and I know He loves you."
What a stupid thing to say. Seriously, I couldn't come up with something better? I'm horrible at sharing the gospel.
Nevertheless, the man told me he believed in Jesus too. I couldn't really think of anything else to say.
"I just need the money to get to my church. I owe them $15. Thank you so much."
I grabbed the wad of dollar bills on my passenger seat that I had reserved for myself from the tips. I gave it to the man and told him that I wanted him to pay his church back. Then I suddenly felt very convicted, because if I had acted earlier, I could have given him more cash.
The teller gave me my deposit slips and that was that. I told the man, "God Bless you," to which he returned.
I drove off feeling like I wished I could do more. Why is it never enough?

Art is not a crime.

But repressing it very well may be.

Someone told me recently I should write more because they love reading my blogs. I didn't realize I was being followed. But anyway.

So I recently had someone ask me to do a painting. Not too unusual, at least lately. I have people who want me to do art for them all the time. Shortly after someone discovers my hidden talent, they immediately push me to "un-hide" it by asking me to draw or paint them something. I usually have a hard time saying no, and I've recently discovered (consequently, by the person who also told me they love my writings,) that I, and I quote, "I am valuable."

As I sit and ponder that, almost as if to re-assure this point in my brain, someone calls me and asks me if I'd be able to do a speed painting. Wishing I could charge an amount equal to the value I feel, I probably won't, simply because I hate asking for money.

I'm slowly getting to the point, so please hang in there. Streams of thoughts happen so much faster when they're being thought, you know?

Anyway, so I'm considering what I should paint for this event, and I wonder, what is it that makes my art valuable? Or anyone's art, for that matter? Some people would argue that it is the demand of that artwork. Picasso's paintings were worth OH SO MUCH more after he died.
However comforting that may be to artists out there, knowing their art will be more appreciated after they're gone, I'd argue that the value of the art is directionally proportionate to the story behind it.

Take this painting: "Fighting the Tide"
To those people who don't know the story behind it, it kinda just looks like a guy standing over a girl with waves splashing all around him. But to me, the artist, it represents so much more. It tells a story, about how the guy is Jesus, and the girl is me, and it is apparent that Jesus is standing over me, protecting me from the rushing water that was meant to crush me.

For people who have experienced a feeling like this in their lives, I would say that this painting might be more valuable to them then someone who has never had this experience.

So along those lines, I was wondering, how many stories are out there? How many artists are repressing their feelings because they are afraid that they aren't good enough to express their experiences in art?

Art is deep rooted in passion and experience, after all. When I paint, I literally pour myself out onto the canvas, which is why an art critique can NEVER tell me what that painting is worth, because he will NEVER know.

I remember many paintings that have stemmed from anger rage and pain. I know how many times I've painted rather than hurt myself. If I had chosen not to paint, to express my feelings, could something worse have happened? What if I had bottled all that rage and pain inside rather than reveal it to the world? I suspect that it possibly could have bubbled over into something more foul. I've had people tell me that my artwork is dark. I admit, yes. Some of my art is scary. Even for me. And some of my art is bloody. How much darker a person would I be if I had chosen not to paint those paintings?

And so here is my point. Art is not a crime. But if I were to have repressed those passions, would I have committed a crime? Maybe not something illegal per se, but a crime against God? A Sin against myself or another human?
I can tell you honestly, that I most certainly know the answer to that. Because the answer is yes. The times I have repressed my feelings and my urge to paint therein, I have committed a sin, whether it was against myself or someone else.

So, I guess, when I'm asked at the event that I'll be speed painting at what inspires me, I'll have to tell them the truth. The truth is that art is inside each of us, regardless of what form it takes. Some of us can look at the world and see how beautiful it is, and capture that with a photograph. Some of us make up lyrics in our heads that make us feel better, and turn it into a song. Some of us can feel the rhythm of the world at large and turn it into music. And some of us can put our feelings into color and produce a painting.

Whatever the art is, feel it. Express it. Because not doing so may be a crime.

The Ant and The Grasshopper

My Dad sent me this in an email, and though I am usually slow to push a political email, I lol'ed at this one. I thought it was very interesting.

Two Different Versions! Two
Different Morals!

OLD VERSION: The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer
long, building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances
and plays the summer away.
Come winter, the ant is warm and well fed.

The grasshopper has no food or shelter, so he dies out in the
cold.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be responsible for yourself!
________________________________


MODERN VERSION:

The ant works hard in the withering heat all summer long,
building his house and laying up supplies for the winter.

The grasshopper thinks the ant is a fool and laughs and dances
and plays the summer away.
Come winter, the shivering grasshopper calls a press conference
and demands to know why the ant should be allowed to be warm and well
fed while others are cold and starving.


CBS, NBC , PBS, CNN, and ABC show up to provide pictures of the
shivering grasshopper next to a video of the ant in his comfortable home
with a table filled with food. America is stunned by the sharp contrast.

How can this be, that in a country of such wealth, this poor grasshopper is allowed to suffer so?

Kermit the Frog appears on Oprah with the grasshopper, and everybody cries when they sing, 'It's Not Easy Being Green.'

Jesse Jackson stages a demonstration in front of the ant 's house where the news stations film the group singing, 'We shall overcome.' Jesse then has the group kneel down to pray to God for the grasshopper's sake.

Nancy Pelosi & John Kerry exclaim in an interview with Larry King that the ant has gotten rich off the back of the grasshopper, and both call for an immediate tax hike on the ant to make him pay his fair share.

Finally, the EEOC drafts the Economic Equity & Anti-Grasshopper Act retroactive to the beginning of the summer.

The ant is fined for failing to hire a proportionate number of green bugs and, having nothing left to pay his retroactive taxes, his home is confiscated by the government.

The story ends as we see the grasshopper finishing up the last bits of the ant's food while the government house he is in, which just happens to be the ant's old house, crumbles around him because he doesn't maintain it.

The ant has disappeared in the snow.

The grasshopper is found dead in a drug related incident and the house, now abandoned, is taken over by a gang of spiders who terrorize the once peaceful neighborhood.

MORAL OF THE STORY: Be VERY careful how you vote.

The cost usefulness.

I think I only write blogs when I'm angry or depressed. I apologize for that. Maybe one day I'll write something when everything is ok. Who knows.

Anyway, back to the rant.

So I've discovered that I've become awfully comfortable with being used. I wonder if this is something that I've always done, and only recently become aware of it, or if this is a pattern of behavior that I find myself falling into.

Unfortunately, I think that this is something that I almost do on purpose. I find that I'm usually ok with being used, because well, I like to feel useful. I think all humans like to feel useful. If we don't then we feel the opposite, which is useless, and that usually leads to a feeling of, "what's the point?"
If we aren't useful, then there is no purpose, no reason for our being. I believe that this is why some people may kill themselves, because they feel like their is no longer a purpose to their life, so why go on living?

The extreme opposite of this, of course, is being walked on by everyone. Being a people-pleaser to everyone you come into contact with, because you so desire that need to feel useful that you will go to any extreme to be used.

I have lived a good portion of my life teetering between these two extremes. I've gone from feeling used to feeling useless.

I really wish there was a balance. I suppose there is, because you can't have a seesaw without a fulcrum, a point of balance. Where is the proper point that we must exist in to keep two sides of the scale balanced? I suppose if I knew that, I could write a book.

And therein lies the problem. I suppose I like feeling useful, to a point. Then one day, I help someone just one too many times, and they ask for something else, and I feel used. I guess I just wonder, why all of a sudden I go from being useful to used? Where is the breaking point? The point where the seesaw suddenly teeters to the other side, with so much force that it can't be stopped?

And, is that ok? Is it ok to be used like that? If it is, why is it that I am ok with it? And why is it one day I'm suddenly not?

Anyway, this is my dilemma. And when you throw God into the mix, it's even worse.
Jesus was the epitome of being useful. People asked him for things all the time. They cried and clamored and wept, and He just kept on letting them use Him.
They used Him until He was all used up.
This is my example? This is how I'm supposed to live my life? Used until I die?
I guess that is ok. If that is how this must be, then so be it. If God wants me to be useful until I die, then fine.
But why can't He make me ok with it?

And is that fair? Is it fair for people to use other people? Especially people they say they "love", people they call their "family"?

Maybe the truth of all of this, is that I am just upset that I'm more useful to people that they are to me. I just get mad when people use me, when in reality, I just wish they would let me use them more often. This is the condition of the human race. We are so concerned about being useful, only because in the end, we hope that the other person will return the favor, and when they don't, we feel used instead of feeling useful. How utterly disappointing.

To Live or Die

I now know why God asks us to "Live" for him. Because it is the harder option.
All of us have that question posed to us, by Paul. "For me, To Live is Christ, and to Die is Gain."
If I live, then I must live in Christ, and portray His life here on this broken earth as His ambassadors to the Kingdom of Heaven.
If I die, I get to go to that Kingdom.
Being an ambassador is very hard.
Living in this place is very difficult.
I used to wonder why Christ struggled with death, in the garden. After all, He was perfect. Dying was his sure fire ticket into heaven.
It was not dying that made His sweat drops of blood, rather, it was the difficulty of "living" our sins for us. Living was the difficulty for Christ, and now that we are in Him, we too, have that difficulty.
It is hard for us to go on living, imagining that nobody loves you, or will EVER love you.
It is hard to go on living, thinking you have been forgotten.
It is so difficult to live, knowing that you have been abandoned, and may possibly have to be abandoned again in the future.
All for His glory. All for His will.
We live to die. Die to ourselves.
Do you know how hard that is? Have you tried to Live Death recently?
I sometimes wonder if I feel even a fraction of the struggle Christ had in that Garden. If my streaming tears, jewels that will never be set in gold, could ever compare to the tears that He cried.
My blood, that sits so safely in my arteries and veins, will never know the pressure that forces it through the capillaries of my skin.
Yet He keeps calling. He keeps asking me to die. A little bit at a time.
Do this. Give up that. Sell this. Say that. Die here. Die there. And here.
And here.
Die now.
It hurts to die. At least, when you're still living.
Leaving this world will be so easy, but then again, that's the point, isn't it?
And even now, He calls me. He calls me to get up and keep pressing on.
Sometimes, I hate Him for that. But He loves me just the same, and I guess, that is what keeps me moving forward, is the promise that someday, it will all be made new.
So here I go again, to live another day dying.
One day, I won't have to live anymore.

Outside for the first time

I went outside today, and I saw the sky. I noticed how much bigger it was than me.
Staring at the clouds that enveloped the sun, I never noticed before how small I was. The sky is huge here. Smaller in Bolivia, and not as big as Africa, the sky screams its presence and demands to be seen. I felt like I'd never seen it before.
It is quite a terrifying thought, feeling so small in the sight of the trees. Everything seems so far away, and yet it is so much closer than it has ever been before. How can we exist in a place for so long and never notice the clouds?
The rain falls heavy today. I feel like I've only just felt the first drop of water in my whole life. It feels warm and strange, yet comforting.
I don't know what it means. I feel so weird, like I've only opened my eyes for the very first time. Thought for myself for once.
Even the people I love raise their voices in contrast. I don't want to hear them anymore. I don't want to doubt. I want to believe. I have to believe.
I do believe.
The world looks so different, now that I'm finally outside. Outside of myself for the first time.

Yikes

It is amazing at how quickly the panic sets in... it seems just yesterday, (oh wait, it was) when I was writing about how everything is starting to make sense, and now, I guess, it is only natural for the overwhelming feelings of panic to flood in.

It isn't like I didn't see this coming. It's just that I started thinking about it on the way home from work today. I suppose thinking is what the problem really is, because I don't worry if I don't think.

But then, while I was driving home, something made me realize that I'd probably only be doing this for two or three more weeks. And after that, I don't know where I'll be driving. It's possible that I won't have my own "home" to go to.

Thoughts of the verse, Matthew 8:19 and 20, when a teacher of the law came to Jesus and said, "Teacher, I will follow you wherever you go."
Jesus replied, "Foxes have holes and birds of the air have nests, but the Son of Man has no place to lay his head."

"No place to lay his head."
The cost of following Jesus. Is this the true cost?
I started thinking about what it would be like to live out of my car. Having to get a P.O. box because I wouldn't have a real mailbox. Having to take showers at the four seasons locker room because I don't have my own shower. I wondered what it would be like if a cop woke me up in the middle of the night because I was sleeping in my driver's seat in a parking lot somewhere.

That's when I started to panic. It's not that I don't think I couldn't do it. Millions of people sleep in a cardboard box at night. At least I have a car.

I am able to make plans with the rest of them. But then I wonder how my plans tie in to God's will. I tell myself, "He wouldn't make me do that. He wouldn't make me live on the street."
And I wonder, why wouldn't He? He could do whatever He darn well pleases.
And I am slowly learning to be ok with that. I think that might be one of the other things that scares me. How easy it is for me to simply accept his will, or at least what I attempt to pass off as his will.

Coincidencs are not without a sense of irony.

Coincidences. I find that I don't believe in them so much. Not anymore.

Coming back from Bolivia has been interesting, to say the least. I can't lie, and say that this summer was as amazing as I would have liked. No, this summer was torture. So many things happened to me that left me writhing in a sort of "spiritual pain", if I can say it like that.
I realize now, that this whole year has been a sort of spiritual pregnancy, as an idea has been growing inside my head that only recently has been birthed.
Conceived about a year ago, I attended a church service where John Hernandez (the founder of CIN) preached about "Nailing whatever is holding you back from Christ to the Cross."
I didn't understand much of the sermon, because it was mostly in spanish, but what I do remember, was how John challenged us to write down on a piece of paper whatever it was that was holding us back from following Christ. Then we were to walk to the front of the church, where he had multiple wooden crosses and nails. He asked us to nail what was on that paper to the cross.
Cliche, I thought. But then I started thinking about what that actually meant. What was it that was holding ME back from serving Christ? It wasn't my sin, though sin does keep us from God. I realized what was holding me back was my life. I had been keeping my life neatly compartmentalized, tucked away in the corners of my mind, free from God's control. I wanted to have my "Christianity Cake" and eat it too.

Sure, I was a Christian. I was doing everything that God could ask of any Christian. I was living the life any true North American Christian would. And I know, that it was okay to do so. I wasn't committing any sin by living this life.

But I suspected, that there may be more to it. And I knew, that this "life", as I called it, was what was holding me back. From what, I couldn't tell you at the time. I just knew that it was holding me back from what God truly had in store for me. So I had the choice. Continue my "life", and live in the shadow of God's Glory. Or give my "life" away, and potentially bask in the fullness of it.

So I scribbled "Mi Vida" on the paper, and I walked up to the front. I nailed my life to the cross.
In Spanish.

I didn't know what that meant for a very long time. I tried "giving up" my life after that, sacrificing what I thought anyone who had done such a thing should. Like sleep to read my bible. But eventually, I forgot and resumed life as normal. Every now and then, God would casually remind me of how I nailed my life to the cross, but I never really understood what it meant so I ignored it.

And this year was hard. So hard that there were times I just wanted to die. I would cry myself to sleep almost every night, feeling so alone, hurting so badly. Not wanting to live here, but not wanting to live anywhere. Even this summer in Bolivia, I had nights of "I just don't want to be here, God," running through my skull until the thoughts leaked out of the cracked glass of my soul. "I don't want to be anywhere."

Satan has pushed so hard, this year. He has lurked in every shadow, every corner. Every time I looked in the mirror, he was there. Scratching at my arms, feeding on my thoughts. Satan has been a punk this year. And I have fought back. Tooth and nail, I have pushed back. I keep seeing images in my head of a lone warrior with nothing but a shield, pushing against the hordes of hell. That scene in 300? Where they are pushing the army off the cliff? That is me, and Satan is going over.

I've hated my friends this year, and learned to love them again. I've committed sins that I had promised God many years ago that I'd never do again, and have fresh scars to show from it. This year has been so tough, and I didn't know why. But it's all starting to make sense. This summer was nothing but contractions in the birthing process as the idea began to free itself from my mind.

I guess all the poetic wording is to make this one statement: Everything makes sense now. All of it. Or at least the parts that matter.
From learning how to depend on friends, to having none at all. From realizing that sin isn't something you can completely free yourself from, it has to be understood to be conquered. (And only Christ can do that.) From getting to Bolivia, and realizing that wasn't enough to make me happy. To praying for a clear vision of my life, knowing I wasn't meant to be a clown forever. Having John Hernandez tell me this year how when Levi was called, (by Jesus) that he "Got up. Left all. And followed Him." To learning I had a love for Hispanic and Latin culture and people, to remembering that I had nailed my LIFE to the CROSS. IN SPANISH. To panicking because God revealed to me what that meant. Getting home, realizing I was losing my job (at least, the job in the way that I know it.) Reading Matthew and getting stuck on the part about the rich young ruler. Having the words, "This one thing you lack, sell all your possessions, give that money to the poor, and Follow Me."
Follow Me. Follow Me. Follow Me.
I can't shake the words from my head. Follow Me.

I keep telling myself I'm making thing up. This isn't a burning bush, but it's pretty hot.

That, and realizing now, how the whole time in Bolivia, I had a pair of Jeans that had (what I thought was a Venezuelan flag) stitched into the seam. Those jeans were a size 34, a size that I was just able to fit into this summer. Come to find out, it was a Colombian Flag. The very place I've had rolling around in my mind lately. "Colombia just fits so nice."
Coincidences are not without a sense of irony. And that irony has not been lost on me. That final piece of the puzzle isn't there yet, but it is in my hands, waiting for a very crucial conversation. But I know that the puzzle will never be complete until I put that piece in. It is only a matter of time before I decide to complete it.
Prayers are always helpful.

Harder than the first time

This last week went by, pretty well. I thought it would be a fun week, as I learned all of the 27 new team members names in one night, an accomplishment I don´t take lightly.

However, as fun as parts of it were, there were struggles as dark and hard as I have ever faced.

People questioning Jesus as the only way to God is not something I take lightly. And having to be asked to stop defendig my faith is something else I never expected to happen here.

It seems that humility is the name of the game this year, something I´m not entirely sure I expected, but something I´m learning to.

A lot of hard work was done this week, and so the Boy´s home is looking better and better, and we even started clearing the workshop to prepare it for the bakery.

All good things. I just hope I can survive. Please pray for me, as never have I felt closer to God, and yet so alone.

Miss you all.

First Week

I think that grown men who are moved to tears because they are brokenhearted about leaving something they love says a multitude about this place.
Alex, who has never been to Bolivia before, and Adam, a former host and a dear friend, both cried as they passed through security the other night.
I don´t know what they were thinking, but clearly tears like that only come from a broken heart.
I know those tears well.
Overall, we had an amazing week, filled with lots of hard work involving pickaxes, rocks, and fire. I had a few spiritual conversations, and much internal reflection and struggle. I got to know the other hosts a little better, and had an amazing moment of reconciliation with a close friend, who I was so reluctant to say goodbye to.
Though the team had a good time, I had a difficult week finding my place and determining my purpose. I feel a little alone, as I´m finding it hard to connect to people this time around.
As far as the boys from the center are concerned, they have been amazing. The healing work of Christ has never been more apparent than this year. It makes my heart sing. One of the new team members said it best: ¨You can see God in their smiles.
Please continue to pray for me, as I still struggle with some unseen issue. Whether it is Angel or Demon, I do not know. I love you all.
I miss you Elena. Javier comes looking for his hugs evereday.
Dios Te Bendiga

Packing

So I'm at about 55 pounds. I think this is my lightest trip yet. I'd like to think that I've gotten a little bit better at leaving stuff behind. But then I go to the store and find that "one item" I simply can't live without.
What is it about our society that makes us believe that we simply can't survive without a new coat? Or some "noise" putty?
I feel like I should be really excited right now. Yet, I'm not. I don't get it. I've never felt like this before. It's almost like this is "supposed" to happen. Do you get excited about something that is inevitable?
It has been such a strange preparation for this trip. Ever since I decided that I would go ahead and go, things have seemed to roll so smoothly that I haven't had much of a say in it.
I got all my money in a week. I have more than enough to pay for my bills while I'm gone. I have managed to juggle a wedding, two graduations, and going out of the country, all within a month. I've worked, painted, plexiglassed... (is that a word?) and even blogged a bit.
I've gotten so much done, but still feel like I'm missing something.
It has got to be God.
Getting to the end of a day, have you ever realized that you haven't talked to God at all?
Is that the most horrible feeling you've ever had? Like you'd forgotten to call someone back that has left you three voicemails, five text messages, and a facebook wall post.
I wonder if God understands our busy-ness? Not to make excuses.. but did Jesus ever forget to get back to someone? And if He did, was there remorse?
I can only think of the situation where Lazarus was ill, and his family sent for Jesus. Jesus didn't get back to them right away. Lazarus died, and THEN Jesus got back to him.
And Jesus wept.
I don't have any clue, (again,) how this is relevant to my packing for Bolivia. Except maybe, that I went through another whole day without seeking him first.
I'd ask Him to understand, but I just feel rude.
So I hope to keep up with this blog a bit while I'm in Bolivia. Hopefully I'll have more interesting stories than the random ones I come up with when I'm really tired.
Blessings to you all. See you stateside in August.

Some Random Thoughts

(do you think this is appropriate since I have called myself RandomK?)

I just got home from a friends house, where me and my roommate had been invited over to chill before we left for Bolivia. We talked about sTREETsLEEPERs, and I expressed my discouragement. But as soon as we were done talking about it, my friend Karen from Delaware texted me a picture of her wearing her sTREETsLEEPERs shirt. I took that as confirmation. My friend told me that I thought too much into things like that. I decided that I didn't want to believe that.
We painted at his house. My roommate made an amazing painting of some trees in front of a gorgeous sky. I tried to make a painting of an angel and a demon. So typical of me.
I wonder if she knows how jealous I am of her painting? It's way nicer than mine. But I guess that's because I didn't have a plan.
I decided to give the painting to Lider, my Godson in Bolivia... because I don't know what else to give him.
We left our friend's house, and I said goodbye to him for 6 weeks. I don't know this guy as well as I'd like, only cause we just met. He's very nice and has introduced me to some amazing people. So times like this, I don't like leaving for long periods of time.. because I would almost rather stay to get to know them better. I guess I feel like I'm going to miss something while I'm gone. I think Adam might appreciate this feeling, seeing as how he's an ISFJ. Maybe I'm wrong.
So we drove home at 10:53pm. My roommate asked me what time it was and I guessed. (But it was an educated guess.)
I complained to her about how, during the summer months, it gets so hot during the day, that even when it gets dark, the heat still lingers. I wore jeans tonight, and regretted it.
I can't wait until I'm in Bolivia, because the low is 33. Awesome.
The Fray came on the radio, with their new song, "Never say never." The chorus made me cry.
Then I thought of an idea for a poem. Some of it would go like this:
Wash my eyes with tears so I may see more clearly
Scream my name so that I may hear your voice loudly
Break my heart, so that I can feel so deeply. . .
That's all I can think of for now. I hope I can get back to it.
When we pulled into the driveway, I noticed how tall the grass was, and it amazed me and angered me. It's amazing how quickly the grass grows after so little rain, but in the morning I will have to mow it when it is hot. I hate the heat.
I took out the garbage, and thought again to myself, "I always take out the garbage." But I chose to not resent that.
Relieved at how cold the house was, I was a little annoyed that the air was running. It is always running. I hope it doesn't break while I'm gone.
I hate not being able to take care of people I love. So when something goes wrong, I get upset for them, probably more than they do. They seem to always get over it before I do. I don't think people realize I put so much thought into my actions.
I get stuck, with that wanting to take care of people, and the annoyed, "why am I always doing everything, and they never notice?" Feeling. I think it has to do with the way I was raised. My parents made me do so much housework, and when I did, they never noticed. They just always made me do more. They were never happy with me.
There is a helicopter circling around my house, it is so loud that it drowns out Conan O'Brien's Late Show. Which annoys me, but doesn't bother me, because i'm not really paying attention to Conan anyway.
There is a jail 10 minutes walking distance away from my house, so when I hear helicopters like this, I wonder if someone escaped the jail, and very well may be hiding in my back yard.
I wonder, if they were to break into the house, would I have the courage to protect my roommates? To the point of death? I secretly hope that I do. I pray that God doesn't let criminals break into my house so that people will never find out how much of a coward I really am.
And one of my roommates is moving out in July (I think, if I get the confirmation from the girl who said she wants to move in.) I don't know if my roommate realizes how much I will miss her.. or how much I'm ignoring those feelings.
I don't even want to think about the other roommate moving out. That will happen in August.
I really do hope the other girl moves in, because she seems so very nice, and I'd really like to get to know her better.. and I hope Karen moves in too. But I can't afford to get my hopes up, because I get disappointed easily.
Willow is sitting with me on the couch. Earlier, she put her head on my knee. Do you think it is strange if I say that I think animals can somehow be a vessel of God's love? Because I feel alone. But I feel loved. It is kinda like God put his hand on my knee, and said, "I may be silent, but I'm here and I love you."
Sometimes that is so hard for me to swallow. I just wish God would talk to me more.
The strangest thing, is that just as I wrote that, the dog, who has been sleeping, woke up and put her head on my knee again.
I take that as another confirmation that what I was thinking was correct. My friend my not think so, but I try to find God in the little things, because I have a hard time seeing him in the Big things.
Gavin Rothsdale (Is that his name?) is performing on Conan now. It is quite possible the worst song/performance/noise I have ever heard.
I guess I should take that as a confirmation to turn the tv off and go to bed. I do have my alarm set for 6:45 am tomorrow.
Is this random enough for you?

You're a curse!

Can I just say that I absolutely LOVE how many plane crashes always seem to happen RIGHT BEFORE I get on a plane to leave the country? Seriously, I've heard about at least two tonight alone.

But that's not the point of this blog, so let me get back to my thoughts.

I worked an evening program tonight, with around 15 kids ranging from 3-12 years of age.
My nametag says "Captain K", and as I was getting to know the kids, I attempted to make it fun as I had them try to guess what the K stood for.
As my name is pretty rare, of course they couldn't, so I told them. "My name is Kirsten." (Pronounced curse-ten).

Immediately, like, five of the kids tell me, "Oh, your name is Kirsten? You're a CURSE."

To which I responded, "Oh I feel like I'm in second grade again."

Which was true.
When I was younger, kids used to tease me all the time about my name, saying the very same thing.
Kids are so mean. I was so mean. When kids used to tell me I was a curse, I promptly used my superior height and strength to promptly pound them into the dirt. Yes, I was a bully. I lacked the quick wit of the "intelligent" kids, and so I retaliated the only way I knew how. I can tell you that most bullies are insecure. I certainly was. And it didn't help any that those insecurities were reinforced by kids calling me a curse. This continued all the way into my middle school years, every time I met new kids, almost immediately there would be some joke about how "I'm a curse cause my name is Kirsten." The teasing tapered off around ninth grade, in high school, because somehow, we all had grown up enough to realize that kind of teasing was beneath us.

Of course, I've said some pretty stupid things in my life, but I always wondered if kids REALLY understood what they were saying to me. Do they really grasp what it means to be called a curse? Did they understand the prophecies they were speaking into my life? Once something like that is put into your head, you don't forget it. Especially when people say your name. Somewhere, in the back of your mind, you think, "Oh, my name is Kirsten. I'm a curse."

Of course, I'm not expecting seven to ten year olds to truly be able to evaluate the weight of their words. It is just interesting to me how we all claim to be "good natured" but, we never had anyone "teach" us to be mean. It just comes so naturally.

Anyway, it is really amazing how deep emotional scars run. Over the years, I've attempted to get past those biting words by ignoring them, or even embracing them. I've found myself introducing my name to people by telling them, "Yes, my name is pronounced Kirsten, not Kristen. Just think of a curse ten times."

Yet, tonight, when those kids called me a "Curse" again, all those feelings came back. The feeling of wanting to hit someone for calling me a curse. The feeling of "how can they say that to me when they don't even know me?" The feeling of wanting to just run away. The feeling of tightness in my chest because I couldn't stop them from saying it over and over again, as they laughed about it.
I thought, for sure, that at age 30 I would have been over that by now. But no. It still hurts.
Every time.

In my house, I have a picture frame that one of my amazing roommates made that has pictures of us and our names with meanings. Kirsten Lynn apparently means, "Beautiful Anointed Christ-Bearer."

What?

When I first saw that, I was overwhelmed. All these years, people had called me a curse, but this is what my name really means? Pretty cool.

Have you ever given thought to the significance of names? We are named by our parents. When I was born, my father picked my name because he had heard it on TV. It was the name of some newscaster, or something like that.
Do you think he put any thought into what my name actually meant? No. He thought it sounded pretty, and so he named me Kirsten.
Yet, I look at my life, and what I'm doing now, with traveling all over the world, spreading the gospel. It absolutely fits.
My dad may not of known what my name meant, but God knew. The irony, however much it may seem like coincidence, is not lost on me.

Names are so important. Look at the bible. Two times (that I know of,) God changed the name of Bible characters, right after they had gone through something important. Jacob (which means deceiver) had his name changed to Israel (which means prince) after he wrestled with God all night. Jesus changed Simon's name to Peter, (which means rock, which, consequently, is my father's name) after Jesus met him.
We are also told, that there is no other name above the name of Jesus, Or Yeshua.(In Hebrew Yeshua means both "Salvation," and the concatenated form of Yahoshua, is "Lord who is Salvation.") We are told there is power in his name. There are also numerous occasions where God told people to name their children VERY specific things. (like John the baptist. Zechariah was John's father, and God told him to name him John. When it came time to name the baby, since Zechariah couldn't talk, the family was going to name the baby after the father, but the baby's mother protested and said, "No! His name is to be John" The family had an argument about naming the baby John, saying, "there is no one in the family by that name." You can read about it in the book of Luke, Chapter 1, starting at verse 5. Click Here
The fact that God (and later Jesus) would change the names of two very pivotal people in the Bible story is significant in itself. They prove, that God, has the power to change names. Think about Jacob, the deceiver. He lived up to his namesake. When God changed his name to Israel, a prince, he became a prince of a nation.

So, I guess, that is my revelation for tonight. It may seem silly to you, but I think it is a big thing. Find out what your name means. And don't make fun of others who's names may seem a little dumber than yours.
And please.. never call anyone a curse. Words are powerful too.. just maybe not as powerful as names.

How easily forgotten

So I got through most of the day today without even thinking about it. Since I've been sick, I've been more inclined to take a two hour nap in the afternoon, simply because I don't have the energy to make it through the day. (Sounds so dramatic, I know.)
Anyway, as I lay in a borrowed bed, I was halfway to dreamland I suddenly jerked awake, freaking out.

I'd forgotten to make my paper crane.
Since it was only 3:42pm, it wasn't such a big deal, really. I still had the rest of the day to make one.
What made me freak out so badly, is how easily I had forgotten.

I've been doing this seven days now, and so I figured that it would have become a habit by now. Yet, this self assigned task completely slipped mind as I spent the day with my brothers at church.

It made me realize, how trivial things become in our lives, once we decide to do them.
Sure, we say we're going to start a "good" habit, like reading our bibles or running. Maybe it's just me, but I think that when I'm starting anything new, I do really well for a couple of days, but when I don't have accountability, I simply forget. Because the "new" thing becomes mundane, like brushing your teeth before bedtime. It is just something you do without thought because it is something you have always done.

So what is the threshold? When does something new cross the line to something mundane? And if we continue in that mundane task long enough, when does it become habit?
And, if it becomes a habit, does it really hold any meaning to us at that point? It is just something we do without thought, after all.

Is that what reading the bible everyday supposed to become? Mundane? Purposeless?

I doubt God would think so.

1000 Cranes

So I had a conversation with my friend Anna once, about how when she worked in a wilderness camp she took her girls hiking. During the trip, she would make them all have a "fun" goal, so that they could look forward to doing something fun every day. One girl decided that she was going to do a back flip every day. Sounded fun the first couple of days, but after a couple of days of hiking with a heavy backpack and sleeping on the ground, the girl suddenly didn't like the idea of having to do a back flip every day.
But Anna still made her.
The other day, while I was struggling to learn how to make a paper crane, using the traditional style of origami, someone asked me, "Aren't you supposed to make 1000 for good luck?"
I had heard this before, but since I don't believe in luck, I didn't think much of it. I found out, that in actuality, one who folds a thousand cranes will be granted one wish.
I guess I can believe in wishes. They're kinda like prayers, anyway.
After figuring out how to make the crane, I wondered, what it would be like to say that I actually DID make 1000 cranes.
So I came up with this crazy idea of making one paper crane a day, for 1000 days.
If I start today, I won't be done until February 15th, 2012.
And if I forget a day, I have to start over.
I don't quite know what the purpose of this is. I feel like it's going to force me to think a little bit, each day while I'm making the crane. I'm going to have to stop and force myself to concentrate for about five minutes. Who knows what can happen in 1000 days?
Already, I'm panicking. What am I thinking? What is the point of something so seemingly pointless?
Who knows. I guess I'll find out.
Feel free to keep me accountable.
If you want to learn how to make one, you can watch this video:
How To Fold An Origami Paper Crane (Orizuru) - The funniest home videos are here

A prayer of mourning

LORD
Let me die tonight
take my life tonight
I'm so tired of this sadness
and I just don't feel alright

I'm not fooled by this world anymore
There is no love here anymore
I'm so tired of being forgotten
my heart is so raw and sore

You have forgotten me
You followers they hate me
I'm limping through this life
Did You ever make me free?

So let me close my eyes forever
so I can live forever
and feel real Love for once
and be with You forever

yet
Should I open my eyes in the morning
I will open them with mourning
knowing another day will pass
another day spent running

For to die is gain
and to live is pain
but I will believe the Truth
that all this suffering is not in vain.

Collateral Damage

Please read 1 Samuel 24 for a little bit of background... it may make no sense to you, but if that's the case, then the following poem doesn't apply to you anyway.

Wrestling again
this war of mine
takes no prisoners
nor does it sides

Friend or foe?
I cannot tell
as flesh and spirit
rage inside

My words cut deeper
than any blade
it would have been better if they had stayed
scraping the edges of my brain

This is a war I cannot win
for I am the enemy
and also the friend

when the lines are blurred
I can no longer tell
the allies of heaven
apart from my hell

Collateral damage
in the end
as I toast my foe
and kill a friend

Blood and black
are so bittersweet
as I win a battle and cry in defeat

I'm so sorry
but in the end,
I can't even promise
I won't do it again.


This one was written for you. Exactly who you think you are. It's unfinished, because I hope to add some hope.

What kind of Christ are you?

You're so stupid.
You sit there on your polished couch and judge the world. Yet you're so blind to the pain you cause that you call your works good.
I'd blame it on your youth but we both know that you pride yourself in your maturity. Deep as a pond of water, you speak of a Christ you do not know, or at least, do not know well. You claim to care but refuse to listen. You pretend to love, but you cannot see.
The pain inside you is killing your love. And you call it relying on God.
I call it a joke.
So sit there, using a shiny laptop as a shield from real conversation. Go ahead and love the ones that are easy to love, and ignore the ones who are dying inside. By all means, call yourself a good person and lie to me once again. Pretend to be smarter than you really are and call me stupid.
Get angry at me because I need help. But don't you dare give me any.
Sink your venom into my flesh, because it makes you feel better about yourself. I've been bitten before, so I must be able to take it. Make excuses that my blood runs watered down with poison. It tastes like honey when you lick your lips, but it burns like lava when it melts your soul.
Run away and rescue the needy in a foreign land, but forget the mission at home. Skim along the edges of the perfect ones, but don't reach out to the dirty handed. If you get to close, your heart will be consumed. If you get to close, you might find it hurts to love. It's so much easier to love the perfect. I understand that. I wish I didn't love you too.
All along, the Christ inside calls out, "Why do you hate me when all I do is love you?"
And I ask, what kind of Christ are you?
I wish I didn't crave your attention so much. It would make this so much easier.

Be my heart tonight

Oh my God,
Please be my heart tonight.
I am broken and poured out before you.
Your cup is so bitter, like fire
but I know it is melting my heart within me.
The cold granite soul within me is dying.
I need you be my life.
The people who surround me,
are they friends or enemies? I cannot tell.
They love me and hate me one in the same,
tearing my flesh to pieces.
They don't even know,
they don't even know how their ragged tongues lash so fierce.
Not that they care if they did.
Where did I go astray?
What life is this for your child?
So abandoned and alone,
cursing the day of their birth,
wondering what purpose there is in this pain.
So be my heart tonight, oh Lord.
You have shut the mouths of the prideful,
crushed the heads of the oppressive,
and shamed the intelligence of the wise.
And for these things, I praise You.
Now please, if You are willing,
be my heart tonight, for I have not one of my own.
I have given it away to so many loves,
and not one has returned in kind.
Forgive me for being a foolish lover,
for now I have nothing to give You.
So You, my God, will have to be my heart,
if You require a heart to follow you.
Or I will remain like dry bones,
lifeless save for the tears.
I fear that I cannot sleep in hopes of the dawn.
If I survive the night without You,
will You still love me in the morning?
The devil says You won't.
Why is it so easy to listen to lies?
So please, be my heart tonight my Lord,
For I want to love again,
but I cannot right now.
You will have to beat for me,
or my death will surely follow.
Maybe when I awake, I will feel again.

Wounds

I just don't know what else to do.
The hardest part about being hurt, is healing. Being hurt only takes a moment. It's the healing that takes forever.
Unfortunately, if you're living with a wound that keeps getting re-injured, it never truly heals correctly. The pain continues.
If the wound isn't treated properly, then when it finally does heal, there is usually scar tissue that causes pain because it's not supposed to be there. Eventually the body becomes so used to the pain, that it figures the pain is normal, and so the body stops trying to heal itself.
To heal a wound like that, it usually requires more drastic measures.
When I was younger, I had planter fasciitis (a rip in the tendon in the bottom of my foot)and lived with constant pain. Eventually I went to the doctor, and they used different methods to treat me.
First they used cortisone shots. Those were painful.
Then Physical Therapy... which is also painful.
When none of that worked, they recommended an experimental procedure that used high energy sound waves to cause MORE rips in the tendons and muscle.. in hopes that the damage would kick the body's immune system into healing itself again. (yup. Very painful.)
If that didn't work, they would do surgery.. which you guessed it, would lead to more pain. (at least I think so. I couldn't imagine someone cutting me open and sewing me back up NOT being a little uncomfortable.)
The experimental procedure worked, thank God. I knew a friend who had the same thing I did, and she had surgery.. and it took her FOREVER to be pain free.
I guess.. the point in all of this is to try to describe what I'm feeling, or going through.
I think that our emotions, our heart, are like that sometimes. Sometimes we are so hurt, that we get used to the pain, and when we are faced with it being taken away, we freak out because this is all we have ever known.
I'm so torn, between wanting to get better. But I don't know what it would be like to live without that pain.. and the worst part is, I know that it has to get worse before I get better. I've been doing so well..surviving. But am I called to more? Am I called to be healed?
Or must I live with this thorn in my spirit? Which sometimes I think is so much more painful than a thorn in my flesh.
Is God willing to heal me? I guess more importantly, do I want to be healed?
I say I do, but I don't know what that entails. I don't know what I have to do to get "better." Is death going to be the only true healing for me? When I am made whole with my Jesus?
I know I'm not alone. I know there are so many people out there in pain, and they choose to hide it instead of face it. They lie to themselves, but they can't lie to God. Messy stitches on gaping wounds will only have to be ripped apart to be fixed again. I know I'm not alone. But I feel so lonely. Would we feel less lonely if we chose to bear one another's burdens as we are called to do? Why do we have to put band aids on our pain and pretend "it's just a scratch" when it needs serious attention?
How long will we bleed until someone notices?
How long will I?

The problem

I've identified it.
After years of heartache, I think I've come pretty close to understanding why I fail at so many relationships.
I may have discovered why I feel so attracted to people that do nothing but hurt me, regardless of whether or not they do so purposely.
Now, the question stands.. what am I supposed to do?
How am I supposed to heal when I subconsciously keep falling into the same type of abusive relationships?
How do I avoid situations that only hurt me and make me feel lonely, abandoned, and jealous?
I'm so on the verge.. of just throwing it all in. I don't want to hurt anymore. I'm so tired of loving and hating the same people, over and over again.
I don't know what to do. I have no one who can fix this for me, because it's a problem that no one can fix, really. I'm doomed to repeat history over and over again until somehow I've rediscovered my discarded self.
I don't know how to do that.
All I know, is that I need to set boundaries.. because these people keep hurting me, and I keep letting them. Nothing I do is right, Nothing I say is right.. and that's part of the problem.
Nothing ever was. I was never worth fighting for in the first place. Nothing I ever did was right. It was always more important to have deadened brain cells then to listen to me. It was more important to have what you wanted rather than what I needed. I never grew up because you never grew up. It was so much easier to run away then to deal.
I hate you. I hate you. I hate what you've done to me. You hurt me. I don't care if you were hurt, because you never cared that I was.
So now you have to deal with it yourself. Because you lost me. And you'll never get me back. You can't have me anymore. You can't hurt me anymore. I won't let you. Just keep running away. Run away until you die.
Then you'll see that I was right.
And now, it's still the same. It's all the same. Maybe one day I'll be able to love you again.
But not right now.