hits the nail on the head

Wimberism-"One of the most damaging characteristics of the Western church is the hurtful way Christians sometimes treat each other. As I grow older I am becoming more sensitive to the damage that dis-unity & malicious criticism do to the witness of Christ in the world--Christians must learn to love each other..."

Awesome quote. :)

"I build my house somewhere
On memories of you
A hollow field I've made
And wondering where I've gone

In lines made perfect
One chance to run away
Angel wings, marmelade
So I'm covering 'till my death

Lord although I burn I am so cold
'lo you've sent me off
alone in the wind you have let me go

Call of every nation
Call of every heart
a part of my own sense of what is right
a part of my own sense of where it went wrong

In lines made perfect
One chance to run away
Angel Wings, marmelade
so I'm covering 'till my death

Everytime I am safe
Gotta find the fire
Every tear, every choice, every breath
You have let it go
Cause when misty skies won't last
only what is left is what you show

The call of every nation
The call of every heart
Part of my own sense of what is right
A part of my own sense of where it went wrong
Part of my own sense of what is right
A part of my own sense of where it went wrong"

-Jeremy Enigk, lyrics to his song Burn

Sometimes it's impossible to see how God is working in a situation.

It feels as if God has thrown us out, not wanting anything to do with us. & yes, we do deserve this... But we can always come back to His grace, always find Him again.

always find Him again...

Lord:

be my rock.

Sufjan Stevens + Bob Dylan = *explosions*

I'm on a major Sufjan Stevens kick at the moment, and happened to find his version of Bob Dylan's song "Ring Them Bells". It's fantastic! I also had to tack on the lyrics; they're pretty awesome as well.

Enjoy!

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xK6afjBxyOA&feature=related

The lyrics are as follows:

"Ring them bells, ye heathen

From the city that dreams

Ring them bells from the sanctuaries

’Cross the valleys and streams

For they’re deep and they’re wide

And the world’s on its side

And time is running backwards

And so is the bride

Ring them bells St. Peter
Where the four winds blow
Ring them bells with an iron hand
So the people will know
Oh it’s rush hour now
On the wheel and the plow
And the sun is going down
Upon the sacred cow

Ring them bells Sweet Martha
For the poor man’s son
Ring them bells so the world will know
That God is one
Oh the shepherd is asleep
Where the willows weep
And the mountains are filled
With lost sheep

Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf
Ring them bells for all of us who are left
Ring them bells for the chosen few
Who will judge the many when the game is through
Ring them bells, for the time that flies
For the child that cries
When innocence dies

Ring them bells St. Catherine
From the top of the room
Ring them from the fortress
For the lilies that bloom
Oh the lines are long
And the fighting is strong
And they’re breaking down the distance
Between right and wrong"

I've Got the Joy, Joy, Joy, Joy Down in My Heart

Well, Thanksgiving is now past, and it's nearly time for Christmas.

I feel mixed things during this time of year, many of them good, healthy, somewhat expected, but some I'm not sure where to place. It's sort of a warm-fuzziness with a little heart-tugging and shame thrown in.

Maybe it's all part of getting older. You realize what a complete scumbag you are, more and more, and the feeling that: "Wow, maybe I don't deserve any of the things God's given me, and neither does that guy over there; remind me why God cares again?"

The way God does things is always the opposite of what we think makes sense. He orchestrates things perfectly, but so damn strangely. Man & God? One body? One nature? Couldn't He make it some superhuman-otherworldy-but-something-less-than-*all*-He-is "being" that could save the world from an invasion of sin by shooting lasers from his eyes? At least we could categorize that somewhere in our minds, even fit it in our minds at all.

But no. He had to do this the hard way.

Disclaimer: I'm not dissing God's methods. I just wish it could be on my level. On my turf. Something I can understand. Something I could maybe, in 1000 years, deserve. ever...

The feeling of utter helplessness is not something I'm comfortable with. I really hate it. To put it quite frankly: yes, I do hear the Christmas angels, and you know what? I just threw up in my mouth. You don't see it, but oh, it's there. Even my lungs feel pretty deflated, and I need a blanket & pjs just to see straight. Let's watch A Charlie Brown Christmas, eh? Maybe then I could stop thinking about my total worthlessness and think about trees and kids and other stuff.

But I love the traditions of Christmas: putting up the tree, eating good food, seeing family, giving/receiving gifts (yes, both, not just giving), and fudge. How hard is it though, to love those things? Comfort food and free stuff? Um, yes please, I'll take lots.

It's what makes all these things even possible, what started it off in the first place, that's gut-wrenchingly real. And so very, very disconcerting.

For years I've tried to iron out the lump-in-the-throat when I sing "O Come, O Come Emmanuel". I know I need a Savior, but do I want one? No way. Keep it. It's too complicated. Well, the way God did it. So overrated. I know, I know, it's essential, but really? God can do whatever He wants; why make me feel like complete and utter shit in the process of saving me? Can't we do this without the guilt trip?

No.

Years ago, I wrote a poem based on one of my favorite verses:

"For now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face."

-1 Corinthians 13:12

The extremities of that moment

will overcome me:

the darkness of me,

the white light of Him.

And if I have not God to stand on,

I know I shall fall.

And that descent will

never end...

Lift me up, if it is your will Lord.

Let me be part of your story,

even the worm on it's belly,

slowly crawling back for forgiveness.

But I am that already, aren't I?

Then make me who you will.

I add 'Amen'.

9-9-2008

(Overlooking the crappy poetry):

For an instant, maybe I got it.

Christmas is not about comfort.

Christmas, the time for hot chocolate, slippers, red noses & furry sweaters, is not about comfort.

It's about stretching, pulling, squeezing, pinching, stuffing, moving, wiggling, twitching, sniffing, spasmodic, absolutely beautiful grace.

So what if you aren't a saint?

So what if you do feel like crap and your self-worth just went to the moon?

There's so much more than comfort... so much more than feeling warm & fuzzy...

"Stop it. Stop being so comfortable," God says.

What can we ever have that's completely and wholly precious that we can attain through being comfortable?

This truth, the truth that God came to us and became one of us (and if you don't think I didn't just shout that, oh, you're sorely mistaken) is so mind-bogglingly unreal.

And the most beautiful thing I've ever heard...

So, get out of your comfort zone, Bel. Start wrestling with it. Try to cram it into your mind, just see what happens... Fireworks is an understatement. Joy? Pure, unadulterated, absolute joy? Yep. We're talking big stuff here.

Here's to more hot chocolate,

here's to more Christmas movies,

here's to more fudge (of course!):

Cheers!

^"10 But the angel said to them, 'Do not be afraid. I bring you good news that will cause great joy for all the people. ¹¹Today in the town of David a Savior has been born to you; he is the Messiah, the Lord. ¹² This will be a sign to you: You will find a baby wrapped in cloths and lying in a manger.'

¹³ Suddenly a great company of the heavenly host appeared with the angel, praising God and saying,

¹⁴ 'Glory to God in the highest heaven,
and on earth peace to those on whom his favor rests.'"

-Luke 2: 10-14

The True Meaning of Christmas

This was a haiku I wrote around Christmas time last year.


bursting at the seams:
Christ-child contained, warm belly tight.
searing pain. new world.


-12/27/09

run.

This was a poem I wrote for my rhetoric class; it's a series of haiku that make up a larger story.


feather curl: light as
breath in the corner where
you crouch, tendons tight.

hypnotic dance- the
petticoats unfurl, and a
sudden reflection

in wide eyes almost
could be maniacal. there
comes a twitch- a slight

movement. grandpa joe's
handiwork- a small pile of
sinners' souls. look out.

now comes the noise.
shriek, wail- brings forth neighbors for
miles- bleary eyes blink.

stuff fingers in ears:
run, run. do not stop for the
things you prize. just run.

run.

-2/7/10

Superman

This was a short story I wrote a couple of years ago; I was simply trying to give a background to a picture I had in my head. Looking back at it now, I realize many revisions are necessary, & I'm hoping to make those soon. In the meantime, enjoy, and please come back to read the (hopefully) better version.


He held it high overhead. It squealed and tried to bite him, but with no success. It barked, the yipping & yapping he hated so much. It's fur began to drift down on him. They had been standing there a long time.

The night it happened he had been safely in bed. Everything was quiet. He had almost drifted off into a pleasant sleep, when he woke up with a start. That was when he first heard it: that yipping. The screen door across the street banged open, and a woman yelled, "Muffin! Get back in here!" But even when she had taken "Muffin" back inside, he still hadn't been able to sleep. He could still hear it. The annoying, incessant barking. Three hours later, his cell phone began to ring. "We've got an accident," a man's voice said. "Get down here quick." Well, he would go. Even though he hadn't gotten any sleep. He pulled on his boots. Back to the same old thing.

All his days were starting to run together. No food, no water, and sometimes the drop from the top of the skyscraper looked like only a step. Oh well. He would stand here till he felt like dropping. Him, the dog, or both.

He woke with a start. His cell phone was ringing again. "Hello?" "Why aren't you down here? I called you an hour ago!" Then he remembered. The accident. He was supposed to be helping with the accident. "I'm so sorry..." he started to say, but the person on the other line hung up. That dog. He must get the dog.

"Dog, you'll pay for your yipping and yapping... if it's the last thing I do..." The dog yipped again and he leaned forward. A crowd was gathered below, and one woman in the front screamed, "Oh Muffin!" He decided this was the moment. He jumped.

He was Superman, after all.

-4/18/08

Deck

Broken backs flipping and mixing together,
the backs of each the same.
Difference comes in the faces, however,
for each has it's own identity:
it either smiles back
or is too modest,
& simply lets you count its symbols.

-12/11/08

Bread

Looking weathered, though new.
Your surface:
a dull gold.
You remind me of the face of an old woman, remembering:
possibly something from her childhood.
She will tell the story to her grandchildren,
but only after she has pulled her trusty knife through you innards,
softening your slices and the childrens' hearts
with butter,
as she prepares to begin her tale.

-11/5/08

Good Stuff.

"No man has learned to live until he can rise above the narrow confines of his individualistic concerns to the broader concerns of all humanity. Length without breadth is like a self contained tributary having no outward flow to the ocean. Stagnant, still, and stale it lacks both life and freshness. In order to live creatively and meaningfully, our self-concern must be wedded to other concerns."
-Martin Luther King

Intro

I suppose as this is my first post on this shiny, black blog I should provide some sort of introduction, for myself & for the purpose of this chunk in the wide world of blogging:

So hello. I'm Bel. I'm a 17 year old girl from Idaho who does, in fact, live in the middle of nowhere, thank-you-very-much. I have an acute liking for commas, and just punctuation in general, so please don't be counting. I also have a love of people (yes, just people in general; so that does include you, blog reader), though I have several special people in my life who keep the ticker running. But even more than all of that, I'm a Christian. I've been one my entire life, & can't remember a day I didn't know Christ's amazing work in my life. I've been blessed with the cutest, sweetest little siblings you'll ever meet, and parents who have never failed to always display Christ's love to us. I also steal pens, & consider Stevie Ray Vaughn one of my music heroes.

And that would pretty much sum up my personal part in this introduction.

For my purpose in blogging:

It's a good question. I don't actually know what brought me to start this. Several people had asked me about starting one, but I hadn't really seriously considered it. It became one of those molecules endlessly floating around in my brain, not really having any attention paid to it. It wasn't till I received a random e-mail from the lovely creators of Google, asking me if I wanted to sign up for this. "Well," I thought, "let's take this as a sign." So here I am.

I really don't know what I'll be posting here. Probably just those thoughts that hit at awkward moments when you're without a pen or paper; the ones you remember late at night when you have no intention of writing it down in any sort of notebook without burning it the next morning. It will be random, it will most definitely be spontaneous, but, in spite of myself, I hope it gives someone some pleasure to read.

And I believe that sums up my first post; hooray!

P.S. I apologize for the number of "I"s contained in this post; it won't happen again.