Behind

Everyone I know got married or engaged this winter. That is, everyone who was left over from the past couple of wedding seasons, when summer marriages in my social circle saw an unprecedented increase.

Well, alright, not everyone got married.

A guy I follow on Instagram visited 26 countries during 2015. A couple of people had babies. Other friends moved house, got new jobs or climbed their career ladder, travelled, helped refugees, went to shows in London, and generally got on with their grown-up lives.

I moved back in with my parents and went into further education, a move that left me with mixed feelings and no cash.

If you've read any of my blogs from the past few months, you'll know the transition from my old life to my new one was not easy. Sometimes I've struggled against feeling like a child again (although I have to credit my parents for not treating me as such) -- against feeling lonely -- against feeling trapped -- and against feeling behind.

Sometimes it's easy to compare myself with peers who look like they're "ahead" in their careers, relationships, financial situation etc., and wonder what happened with my own life. It's easy to feel like I haven't "made it" yet...whatever that means...and that everyone else has their lives figured out and on track.

Part of my problem, I think, is that I've always struggled to be fully engaged with the present. I tend to look forward to significant points in the future -- the weekend, graduation, the summer, my first regular paycheck -- at the expense of what is happening, what God is giving me, in the moment.

I think about the next place I'm going to go; I have trouble imagining myself in one place for very long or putting down any real roots.

I overlook or downplay my own everyday adventures because I wonder what other, potentially better, adventures my friends are having. I tend to think the grass really may be greener for them.

I miss out on joy.

I'm tired of that. Life is what happens while you're making other plans, so they say, and I don't want to miss out on happiness and fulfilment in my life as it is here and now.

In a very apt article, "How To Ruin Your Life (Without Even Noticing That You Are)", the writer states, "Understand that life is not a straight line. Life is not a set timeline of milestones." 

I'm beginning to internalize that.

I'm realizing that my life doesn't have to follow other people's timelines (or plot lines, as my story-loving mind likes to imagine it). I can let go of some of my own preconceived notions of what my life should look like, too. Particularly as a Christian, I can be assured that God is somehow working out things for good, and that He is weaving my story into part of a grander tale that I may not fully see or understand right now.

A colleague kinda brought me up short this week as I pondered how "behind" I was feeling.

We were talking about our language learning experiences in class, and I was briefly sharing some anecdotes about what had compelled me to learn German, Spanish, Lao, and Portuguese (to varying degrees of fluency), which included, of course, my travels and life abroad.

"Can I ask how old you are?" my classmate said.

"I'm 25," I replied.

"Wow, you've done so much!" she said.

I thought about it on my train-ride home. I have done a lot. My pathway may not have been very traditional, but I have so many stories and experiences and people that I would never have encountered if I hadn't gotten "behind." Honestly, I wouldn't exchange all of that to be on par with my peers in relationships and apartments of their own.

Riding 3 to a motorcycle? Done that!

These days, I may not have prospects of marriage or a job that allows me to support myself on the horizon, but I'm in the worldwide #1 university for my field, studying things that fascinate me, working towards a Master's degree in something I believe can help make a difference in the world. I have family and friends who support me.

What do I have to complain about, really?

I thought about these things as I watched the winter-grey, terribly ordinary suburban neighbourhoods of Greater London flash past my train window. And I was happy.

"Live to the hilt every situation you believe to be the will of God."

Christmas Spirit and the New Year's Challenge

Certain people would say I'm a grinch. It's true that I dislike hearing Christmas music before December, and, if it was left up to me, I wouldn't put up my tree before Christmas Eve. I do like the holiday, though, whatever grinch-like things I may do or say earlier in the year.

But this December I was having more trouble than usual getting into the Christmas spirit. (I know I wasn't the only one.) My heart felt...tired and dull. Even the lights of Oxford street, Bing Crosby's croonings, and all the marzipan I wanted to eat couldn't produce a sense of real delight or warm fuzziness. I was in an inner huff about it.

But as the days passed, I became increasingly convicted that I was thinking of Christmas spirit in the wrong way, and part of my problem was that I was focused entirely too much on myself.

Today I read something that beautifully and powerfully sums up what God has been whispering to my heart about real Christmas spirit:

"We talk glibly of the 'Christmas spirit', rarely meaning more by this than sentimental jollity on a family basis. But...the phrase should in fact carry a tremendous weight of meaning. It ought to mean the reproducing in human lives of the temper of him who for our sakes became poor at the first Christmas. And the Christmas spirit itself ought to be the mark of every Christian all the year round...

"The Christmas spirit is the spirit of those who, like their Master, live their whole lives on the principle of making themselves poor -- spending, and being spent -- to enrich their fellow humans, giving time, trouble, care and concern, to do good to others -- not just their own friends -- in whatever way there seems need."

(J.I. Packer, Knowing God)

Well...wow. Frankly, it's hard to live like this! Thinking of myself comes much more easily than thinking of others, yet the inescapable call remains: "You must have the same attitude that Christ Jesus had."

(Thankfully, a few verses later we are assured that we're not alone in producing this attitude and lifestyle-- "For God is working in you, giving you the desire and power to do what pleases Him.")

This is God's challenge to us not just for a few days in December, but as we go into the New Year, and for all our lives.

May I, and may you, take the true spirit of Christmas into 2016 -- a spirit of selfless love in action, the spirit of our Master.

Moving On: Loneliness, Long-Distance, and Life after Graduation

I've always been somewhat proud of my ability to move on quickly. As I moved house numerous times while I was growing up, I became increasingly adept at putting the past behind me. I faced a new situation with steely reserve and a poker face that over time transformed from a mere façade to a real internal stoicism. Never mind impractical emotions; move on and embrace the new. I was good at change.

That's why I was so surprised at how emotionally difficult I found the transition from my college lifestyle to life after graduation.

When I arrived back in the UK, I was excited to see old friends, but at the same time I honestly didn't feel like I had the energy to genuinely reconnect with anyone or to open myself up to new people. I didn't feel like I had the energy to invest myself in anyone again. Life had moved on since I was last in England, and I wasn't confident of my place in the new social scene. I missed my college circle. I missed having people around who already knew me, my stories, my quirks, my likes and dislikes.

(In spite of how I felt, I did my best to invest in friendships again, even though I still had a hedge around my heart at times, and I'm so thankful I did. My local friend circle is pretty amazing, and I'm much happier now than I was a few months ago. But it took more time than I was anticipating.)

I was surprised at how lonely I felt in spite of new friendships. I wasn't very busy during the summer, and when those balmy summer nights became cool September days and my friends went back to work, I had a lot more time to wander around by myself and miss my old life.

I missed the real sense of community and camaraderie I had in college. I missed having people popping over regularly, even if they were just going to sit at the kitchen table and do homework. I missed being busy (I wasn't in grad school then). I even missed having a room mate, which had been one of the biggest initial "culture shocks" of American college life!

I've always been proud of being a great long-distance friend (also a result of all the moving around as a kid). I love letter writing and there are a few people I'm still close to in spite of seeing extremely rarely. However, over the past couple of years, I've noticed how difficult it is to maintain a genuine connection with friends when you move away. People do move on; everyone is busy with new jobs, new friends, new relationships and marriages, new babies, new priorities, new chapters in their lives. It's normal for relationships to change, but as I experienced that reality after graduation, although my mind understood, this time my heart was slower to catch up. In my heart, it really felt like I was losing friends.

Some nights I would scroll mindlessly through Facebook for much longer than was necessary, trying to feel that elusive sense of connection with the people from my old life, wishing that somebody would message me. I allowed myself a few moments of bitterness: Why was I so often the one to initiate contact? Why weren't other people making the same effort? Sometimes people did message me -- a titbit of news, or a funny cartoon or video. I was glad they were thinking of me, but I ached to meaningfully connect. "Tell me what's happening in your life, tell me about your heart, and ask about mine!" I wrote in my journal one night when I was particularly frustrated.

I missed a sense of genuine, deep human connection.

Adjusting to life after graduation was indeed harder than I had anticipated. It takes a lot more effort and intentionality to build a good friendship circle in the "real world" than in college, and to sculpt your own life instead of letting it be structured by your class schedule. But that effort really is worth it...even if you're emotionally exhausted just thinking about it at first.

I'm thankful to have been reminded of a couple of things in the past six months:

• It really does get better in time.

• Nothing can replace genuine human connection. Not Facebook, not Instagram, not Snapchat. Useful as they are (and I am grateful for technology that makes the possibility of staying in touch easier), newsfeeds are no substitute for real, meaningful communication. 

Invest in your relationships, local and long-distance. Be present.

I am moving on. I'm engaging with the next phase of my life. I'm surrounded by delightful people. I'm constantly but happily busy with grad school. I'm much more satisfied and settled than I used to be. Life after graduation is going to be OK.

A piece of advice, first given to Ruth Van Reken and passed on in her book about third culture kids, often plays on my mind. It's applicable as I get used to building this new stage of my life, and, I believe, it can apply to every stage of life that requires embracing change and moving on.

"Wherever you go in life, unpack your bags--physically and mentally--and plant your trees. Too many people never live in the now because they assume the time is too short to settle in. They don't plant trees because they expect to be gone before the trees bear fruit. But if you keep thinking about the next move, you'll never live fully where you are. When it's time to go, then it's time to go, but you won't have missed what this experience was about." 

Confession of a Recovering Christian Atheist

I've always loved perusing other people's bookshelves. One of my college room-mates had a book on her desk with a title that fascinated and disturbed me: The Christian Atheist. I haven't yet read the whole book, but my pastor often quoted it in his sermon series of the time, and I thought a lot about the title. Did I believe in God but live as though he didn't exist?

Yes, I often did.

One of the biggest ways that "Christian Atheism" worked out in my life was in how anxious I was about the future when it was out of my control--in fact, how I worried about anything that was out of my control. I liked playing God for myself, but of course that didn't always work out so great!

"When we live by faith, we believe that God has everything under control. But if we start to worry, how we live says the opposite." (Craig Groeschel, The Christian Atheist)

God has been bringing my mistrustful tendencies to my attention many times over the past months, and I'm glad of it. I'm tired of worry stealing my joy.

I was flicking through an old journal when something I wrote jumped out at me, something that God impressed on my heart at the time and that is still so relevant to me today. It is written from God's perspective, and I've shared it on this blog before, but I thought it merited sharing again:

"I have not called you to freak out about the future. Your freaking out will not alter My good plan, but it will rob you of today's joy. I have called you to walk with me today, to give yourself to today, to trust Me today. How long until you learn, my child? I am not against you. I am able to do more than you can ask or imagine. Stop doubting and believe."

The problems and heartache that provided the context for that journal entry were indeed soothed and solved; it amazes me how quick I am to forget.  

I'm trying to be more intentional about taking God at his word.

I am learning to believe that he means what he says when he tells me, "Do not worry." I am choosing to believe that he will take care of my needs. I am choosing to believe that he really does work all things out for the good of those who love him.

It is easier to trust someone that you know--someone that you love--someone that you know loves you. I guess that's what it comes down to with God-- knowing him not as some distant abstract being, but as a real, loving, active presence in your life.

How would my life be different if I knew God more deeply and if I really believed that he loves me? How would your life be different?


I am thankful that God wants to be known and that he doesn't give up on me while I'm learning to trust him. (Jer 29:11-13, Acts 17:27, Psalm 37:23, 24.)

"Imagine how a [wo]man's life would be if [s]he trusted that [s]he was loved by God." (Donald Miller, Searching for God Knows What)

If I ignore it, will it go away?

I’ve always had a soft spot for superhero movies, spy adventures, and true-story-inspired war epics—The Avengers, The Great Escape, James Bond, and so on. As the movie’s background music would build to its heart-stopping crescendo, I would relish the excitement of the hero saving the world against all the odds, the agent’s narrow escape, or the soldier’s bravery. 

As a child (and sometimes as an adult, I admit), I would replay the films in my imagination and put myself in a starring role. I imagined myself to be as tenacious, cunning, courageous, and self-sacrificing (not to mention superpower-full) as the on-screen characters. Real life could seem quite unremarkable after thrilling to those stories of war. 

The truth is, though, that I do live in a war. I just don’t tend to think about it. 

“This is no afternoon athletic contest that we’ll walk away from and forget about in a couple of hours. This is for keeps, a life-or-death fight to the finish against the Devil and all his angels.”

As a Christian, my worldview embraces the Great Controversy—the story of a war in heaven that spilled out onto earth, that great cosmic conflict between Good and Evil, Christ and Satan. When I lived in Asia, the spirit realm was a day-to-day reality; I knew people who had communication and tangible experiences with the spirits. I had some dubious encounters myself. However, in the comfortable, scientific culture of the West, it’s easy to forget that there’s more to life than what we see and that spiritual warfare is a reality. 

I do believe that I am part of the great battle between Good and Evil… yet I rarely live mindfully, as though I really do acknowledge my part in the controversy. Why?

After some honest reflection, I realized: I don’t want to be in a war. It’s too much bother.

If I ignore it, will it go away?

I don’t want to think twice about whether what I do, what I say, and the way I live is doing more for the side of Evil or for the side of Good. Whether I’m playing into the hands of the Enemy or being used by the hands of my God. Whether I’m under assault or unwittingly dispersing “friendly fire.”

Really, I just want to think about me. I want to skip through life comfortably and. . . blindly. It’s easier that way.

As a citizen of Earth, I don’t have a choice about whether I’m in a war or not, though. To pretend otherwise is to deny reality—a tragic reality that plays out on our TV screens and infiltrates our daily lives. Ultimately, I do have to choose which side to be on. How am I going to make a difference? 

Thank God that He is patiently, slowly changing the selfish tendencies of my heart. He doesn’t give up on me, even during the times when to the universe, I may look more like I’m playing the damaging role of a double agent rather than being faithful to the side I claim to have chosen.

I want to keep my heart awake and my eyes open to the meaningful part I can have in the unfolding plot of Good versus Evil. Looking at the world today, it feels more and more like we’re in the last chapter of the story.

"Be prepared. You're up against far more than you can handle on your own. Take all the help you can get, every weapon that God has issued, so that when it's all over but the shouting you'll still be on your feet. Truth, righteousness, peace, faith, and salvation are more than words. Learn how to apply them. You'll need them throughout your life. God's Word is an indispensable weapon. In the same way, prayer is essential in this ongoing warfare. Pray hard and long. Pray for your brothers and sisters. Keep your eyes open. Keep each other's spirits up so that no one falls behind or drops out."

Quotes take from Ephesians 6, The Message

 

The Insanity of Forgiveness

His eyes are crazy, deep pools of hatred. I grip my scarf until my knuckles are white as I watch him beat the helpless young man before me, striking him again and again across the face with his cane. It's not the first time. I know it won't be the last time. I feel wrath, even hatred, bubbling up inside me, and I wish I could hit this bully back, beat him twice for every blow he's given Louis. But there's nothing I can do.

There's nothing I can do because I'm sitting in the cinema, and the young man, Louis, is on the big screen. I'm watching "Unbroken." The movie posters declare that it's an incredible true story of survival, resilience, and redemption, which it is, but I would like to add one more thing: it's an incredible true story of insanity. The insanity of war and man's brutality to man, and the insanity of faith and forgiveness.

Forgiveness, when you think about it, isn't very "fair"--nor, perhaps, is it terribly satisfying. When I see Louis being tortured by the prison guard in the film -- or when I hear news stories of, for example, the Taliban massacring hundreds of innocent schoolchildren -- the anger that wells up inside me cries out for revenge. For justice to be served against the guilty. The kind of justice that takes an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, a life for a life.

It's at such times that I can resonate with David's heated pleas, "Oh, that you would slay the wicked, O God!" (Ps 139:19) I can understand why God would hate sin and anything that hurts his creation. I can appreciate God's statement: "I do not excuse the guilty" (Ex 34:7). What I find harder to understand is when God says, "I forgive iniquity, rebellion, and sin. . . I take no pleasure in the death of wicked people. I only want them to turn from their wicked ways so they can live" (Ex 34:7, Eze 33:10). I cannot understand forgiveness.

It's one thing for God to forgive me. After all, I'm basically good, right? I haven't committed war crimes. I haven't slaughtered innocents. I deserve forgiveness. Wicked people don't. Surely, to forgive the wicked doesn't make sense.

Picture taken from www.christianfilmdatabase.com

At the end of "Unbroken," Louie -- who has devoted his life to God -- returns to Japan, influenced by his faith to seek forgiveness rather than revenge as a way forward. The movie's website quotes Louis: "The one who forgives never brings up that past; true forgiveness is complete and total." That's insane.

To give up your desire to see the other person hurt in justifiable revenge? To offer unconditional forgiveness for terrible wrongs? It goes against every natural instinct. Forgiveness is something that, when I really try to think about it, is practically impossible to wrap my head around.

War and human brutality is insane. Forgiveness is also insane. It requires something superhuman. True forgiveness must be divine, and the fact that there is a faith that not only calls for forgiveness, but somehow also enables people to truly give it and live it -- as evidenced by Louie and many, many others -- is astounding.

There is something beautiful in the madness.

Jesus Claus

Dear Jesus Claus,

I know you have a list and are checking it twice, but by and large I've been a good girl this year. I'm sure I don't really deserve to be on the naughty list. So can you please, please send me a new car, a lot more money than I have right now, and a good man? Amen.

P.S. Oh, and can you hurry it up a bit? Thanks.  

Salvation is a free gift, but everything else has to be earned, right? After all, just like Santa Claus, God only gives nice things to those who have accumulated enough brownie points.

At least, that's what I realized I'd fallen into thinking.

I was journaling through some prayers, pouring out my heart to God and asking Him for something in one sentence, but in the next sentence agonizing over how I really didn't deserve such a gift anyway and hence I didn't expect to receive it. And suddenly I stopped short. What was I thinking about God?!

I began to write: "Do I really believe that any good I receive is because I deserve it somehow? That any time God gifts me is because I've ticked all the right boxes? That for God to bring something into my life I have to bribe Him with good behavior? Ouch."

God doesn't work that way. He is not some Santa Claus figure, weighing up my good deeds and my bad deeds before deciding whether I go on the Naughty or Nice list, and thus deciding whether I should receive any good gifts or answered prayers.

God is someone who loves to give and gives because He loves.

Over and over again in my Bible study this year, verses about the goodness and abundance of God have jumped out at me.  He promises that those who seek Him will not lack any good thing (Psalm 34:10). He "deals bountifully" with His people (Psalm 13:6), and brings them to "rich fulfillment" (Psalm 66:12). He promises that I can be "abundantly satisfied" with the "fullness" of His house (Psalm 36:8).

And all of this is simply because of who He is. Not because of anything I've done to be placed on a Naughty or Nice list.

How precious is Your lovingkindness, O God! Oh, continue Your lovingkindness to those who know You. You crown me with lovingkindness and tender mercies. Whoever is wise will observe these things, and they will understand the lovingkindness of the Lord. 
(From Psalms 36, 103, 107)

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Thank you to Tamara Naja for giving me the suggestion and inspiration for this post.