Wholeheartedly

There's a quote I really like that was articulated by Solzhenitsyn. It goes something like this:

"If only there were evil people somewhere, insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being, and who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?"

I think one adjective that really irks me is the word good. I can't claim it for myself, I can't expect it from other people. The thing is, the older I get, the more I see that goodness is conditional (like many other descriptives). Goodness is tied intricately to context and emotions; indeed, I confess that oftentimes, I'm good to other people because I am motivated by what I will gain from the experience. I may gain positive emotions, mutual friendship, the list goes on. The thing is, I am not a good person. All too often, I experience flashes of selfishness, pride, greed, contempt, rebelliousness - again, the list goes on.

So... That's pretty depressing. This heart condition characterized by fickleness is pretty disheartening. And yet, I'd like to counter Solzhenitsyn by saying that there is an alternative option that ushers in hope. Yes, no one is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart, but it is quite possible that a heart can be renewed and transformed. It involves dying to self and surrendering to the Lord. It involves not simply a piece of your heart, but the entirety of it, with all of its hills and valleys and caves and open fields. 

Why do I desire to give the Lord the entirety of my heart? Because in all of my 27 years, I have found that no one can take care of it better than Christ. Because so much of my inner and external transformation is deeply rooted in knowing the Lord and living with him and in community.

Shotgun Conversations Part II

I was driving home from work the other day, and had a really random conversation with the Lord. It went something like this:

"Lord, you know what? I don't really experience the deep loneliness I used to feel anymore."

As soon as I spoke those words (well, not out loud because that's just weird), a startling realization struck me. Growing up and for most of my life, I would experience a day-to-day dizzying anxiety rooted in this lie that I was abandoned and alone. There were physiological symptoms and I would turn inward and isolate, all the while carrying shame and the belief that I was unworthy.

That moment in the car made me ponder my thoughts. Lord, I don't experience the same loneliness I used to.

And the Lord spoke. Grace, you aren't the same person you used to be. You have a greater reassurance of my presence.

It is so freeing - this reassurance that I am loved. That there is nowhere I could run or hide that could possibly separate me from the love of God.

Life & Death

Lord, today I lament because yesterday I was at work and found out that Sam's brother committed suicide earlier that morning. I moved through the day in a daze, not able to comprehend simple tasks; indeed, my thoughts kept going to Sam and her family. My thoughts kept dwelling on her dad, who found Dan earlier that morning. I grieve and mourn because this incidence has unearthed my own history and the instances when I witnessed suicide attempts in my own family. My deep fears growing up were never realized, however, and my sister lives. Yet, these fears have taken on a new reality because Sam is like my blood sister and I lament because she no longer has her brother. My heart and mind cannot comprehend this new reality. My faith cannot wrap itself around what life has become for Sam and the rest of her family. I lament.

A few weeks ago, a person came into my life unexpectedly. In one life-changing moment, Nastassja encountered Jesus and his unconditional love. She asked for guidance, and felt prompted by the Holy Spirit to reach out to my housemate (they are both medical students at UIC who interacted minimally at school prior to this season). My housemate started meeting up with her every Sunday and brought her over to our house this past Sunday. I got to hear firsthand her story and I couldn't help but cry and sit awestruck as she recounted her experience with the Lord and the ensuing desire she had to learn all about him. Nastassja and I have been texting back and forth scripture passages this week and she's going to come over this Sunday so we can make homemade bread and ricotta cheese and talk some more about the Lord.

These two stories are such a stark juxtaposition that honestly, leaves me with a range of intense emotions. The same God that encountered Nastassja so powerfully could have met Dan and prevented his death. Why one and not the other? This question keeps running through my head and I think the only prayer I can pray right now is that I would be okay with the unknown.