Lately I have become numb to the gospel.
We have been in the season of Lent for almost forty days now and I can't say that I've reflected much on the very concept of my savior's precious and terrible journey to death.
Sadly, it is too easy for me to be mostly satisfied by the things of this world: Food. Family. Friends. A job. Money. Car. Activities. Fun. Good deeds. Fulfilling tasks. In fact, I am the worst example of a Christian you might find these days. I am a white female who grew up in an affluent part of America; facing true hardship is rare. The sad fact is, I have no need to trust God. I find my fulfillment in lots of different things. In fact, my life lately would look no different if I was an atheist. And that's a hard thing to admit, but it's true.
American Christians, I believe, have difficulty in a completely different way than any other Christians on the planet. We are that man who, when Jesus told him to go and sell everything he had, he walked away sad. (Matthew 19:21-22)
Why would he walk away sad? Because it was the worldly things he put so much trust in and so much of his joy came from those things instead of simply being with Jesus and the joy he gives.
I admittedly am that man.
Oh how I long to walk closer with my savior, but alas, I flock to the things that are more attractive, more appealing, more tangible and right in front of me. Things that I can touch, see, smell, taste--these are the things that pull my attention and affection away from Christ.
I have become so unaware of his Spirit that is inside of me that I may as well be a zombie.
Oh, how my heart weeps for myself and others who do not realize that we have this precious, precious God who lives inside of us, waiting to have intimacy with us, to change us into godlike people who become doers of good and be completely filled with ever-increasing peace and joy.
Oh how I want to be changed from the inside out and stop living this grey-toned life.
Oh how I want my heart to be shocked back into a rhythm that beats "Thank you, Lord, you are my life, I give you all, there is nothing on this earth that can satisfy, for all I need is you!"
Oh how I want to discover once again the wonder of his face, the splendor of his majesty, the power of his grace, and the vastness of his love.
He gave his life so he could live in me.
How can I ever look to anything else to fill my soul?
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
Wednesday, February 10, 2016
Finding my voice
As I wandered back and forth today between my bedroom--where my homework sat glaring at me--and my piano room, calling my name, I decided to sing out a few high Gs and A-flats from sections in a favorite piece of mine, "M'appari Tutt'amor" by Flotow. You know, for some midmorning kicks and giggles.
I have always struggled as a vocalist for several reasons. I have TMJ, which produces an abnormal amount of tension in my jaw and limits how far I can open my mouth, in addition to being an insecure, tense singer (and person, let's face it) at times. I have come to realize in this short segment of rehearsal that throughout my entire undergraduate studies, I never truly believed in myself.
I have grown too accustomed to my identity as a petite person, much like a person identifies themselves with being a particular race, citizen, or possessing a certain level of IQ. This idea of being limited in physical stature has somehow transferred itself into the belief that I myself am limited in my personal stature--my self-worth, my ability, and my potential. I believe that same line of thinking has spanned across multiple areas of my life and has infected my confidence, decision-making, and view of myself in a most negative and crippling way. And in these short moments of rehearsal, I have begun a journey to debunk that negative line of thinking.
Not to say that I am anywhere near an expertly-trained vocalist, because I am still very much an amateur, but I have discovered a very, very, important truth. I have discovered something akin to buried treasure; buried treasure that, along with the assistance and influence of others, I have discovered only because I had to allow myself to trust.
As I sang through some phrases, I actually was applying some teaching methods I am currently teaching to middle school singers. Strange, isn't it? That when you actually apply what you have learned and are teaching to others, you improve? What a discovery. As I opened my mouth to its fullest extent without pain or tension, by shaping my "ah" vowel as tall as I can, pursing my lips forward and making sure I opened my throat--out came a free, rich sound, full of vibrato and most importantly--with ease. I realized in these few short moments that this beauty, ease, and richness can only come out of a singer who is confident and free, a concept which I've hardly ever grasped.
Singing is actually controlled freedom, which sounds paradoxical, but it truly isn't. Similar to being a disciple of Jesus--where I am completely free from the punishment of sin yet I must control my freedom in order to fully experience his presence and blessing--I must first discover this tremendous freedom I can have as a singer and yet control it using the wealth of knowledge I possess. The furthest distance, however, between knowing and applying has been in the trusting of myself; trust is the most difficult hurdle to overcome.
You can't imagine what this experience is truly like unless you have been the kind of person I have been my whole life--always struggling with comparing myself to others, wishing I had traits that others have. For example, with my voice, I've told myself I will never be able to produce a Verdi type of sound; it will never come from my tiny body. "You have a voice for church solos, weddings, and art songs. That's what you're good at. Do that." That's what I've told myself for years.
But after this morning, I discovered the simple act of trusting myself, to truly "let it go," and what resulted was the unveiling of abilities I didn't know I had. I still may not be a Verdi-type of vocalist, but the important lesson learned is this: instead of focusing on where I am lacking, I have decided to trust what I know, to engage in what I know, and to enjoy the freedom it brings.
I am so excited that this truth was unlocked for me this morning and I look forward to see how it will benefit myself and others as I will become a future educator, friend, and maybe someday a wife and mother. The journey to finding "one's voice," is actually never complete; but in my quest to discover this, I need to remember this always: that I am petite in stature, not in ability.
I have always struggled as a vocalist for several reasons. I have TMJ, which produces an abnormal amount of tension in my jaw and limits how far I can open my mouth, in addition to being an insecure, tense singer (and person, let's face it) at times. I have come to realize in this short segment of rehearsal that throughout my entire undergraduate studies, I never truly believed in myself.
I have grown too accustomed to my identity as a petite person, much like a person identifies themselves with being a particular race, citizen, or possessing a certain level of IQ. This idea of being limited in physical stature has somehow transferred itself into the belief that I myself am limited in my personal stature--my self-worth, my ability, and my potential. I believe that same line of thinking has spanned across multiple areas of my life and has infected my confidence, decision-making, and view of myself in a most negative and crippling way. And in these short moments of rehearsal, I have begun a journey to debunk that negative line of thinking.
Not to say that I am anywhere near an expertly-trained vocalist, because I am still very much an amateur, but I have discovered a very, very, important truth. I have discovered something akin to buried treasure; buried treasure that, along with the assistance and influence of others, I have discovered only because I had to allow myself to trust.
As I sang through some phrases, I actually was applying some teaching methods I am currently teaching to middle school singers. Strange, isn't it? That when you actually apply what you have learned and are teaching to others, you improve? What a discovery. As I opened my mouth to its fullest extent without pain or tension, by shaping my "ah" vowel as tall as I can, pursing my lips forward and making sure I opened my throat--out came a free, rich sound, full of vibrato and most importantly--with ease. I realized in these few short moments that this beauty, ease, and richness can only come out of a singer who is confident and free, a concept which I've hardly ever grasped.
Singing is actually controlled freedom, which sounds paradoxical, but it truly isn't. Similar to being a disciple of Jesus--where I am completely free from the punishment of sin yet I must control my freedom in order to fully experience his presence and blessing--I must first discover this tremendous freedom I can have as a singer and yet control it using the wealth of knowledge I possess. The furthest distance, however, between knowing and applying has been in the trusting of myself; trust is the most difficult hurdle to overcome.
You can't imagine what this experience is truly like unless you have been the kind of person I have been my whole life--always struggling with comparing myself to others, wishing I had traits that others have. For example, with my voice, I've told myself I will never be able to produce a Verdi type of sound; it will never come from my tiny body. "You have a voice for church solos, weddings, and art songs. That's what you're good at. Do that." That's what I've told myself for years.
But after this morning, I discovered the simple act of trusting myself, to truly "let it go," and what resulted was the unveiling of abilities I didn't know I had. I still may not be a Verdi-type of vocalist, but the important lesson learned is this: instead of focusing on where I am lacking, I have decided to trust what I know, to engage in what I know, and to enjoy the freedom it brings.
I am so excited that this truth was unlocked for me this morning and I look forward to see how it will benefit myself and others as I will become a future educator, friend, and maybe someday a wife and mother. The journey to finding "one's voice," is actually never complete; but in my quest to discover this, I need to remember this always: that I am petite in stature, not in ability.
Monday, December 14, 2015
My First Love
As I am writing letters for scholarships, signing up for licensure tests, paying for my classes with my (gulp) life savings, it's all becoming real to me that I've made this decision to become a teacher and it's kind of freaking me out.
I remember how on fire I was to become a choir director when I graduated high school. I was involved in every choir imaginable and probably dreamt in eight part harmonies. I had so much vision, confidence, and passion. When I went to All-State Choir camp for a week, I sat wide-eyed, mouth gaping in rehearsals with Dr. Copley, just admiring her enthusiasm and wit as she directed us. I thought, That's going to be me someday! I want to be just like her!
I still have that fire, but I've realized it's taking some work to peel off the layers of insecurity that have built up over time to be able to stand firm in this decision I've made to return to school to get my teaching license.
Before I arrived at college, I wish someone would have warned me to make a conscious decision regarding whose academic lifestyle I will emulate. I will say even though I had many enjoyable moments loitering in the student union with buddies, my grades suffered, and that, I believe eventually led me to think I just wasn't cut out to be a choir teacher.
When classes got more difficult and demanding, I think I took one look and decided I couldn't do it. It was "too hard." Why should I do something if it's this hard for me? It must not be the right decision. I'm probably not meant to do it anyway because I'm already showing signs that I'm not capable.
So I switched my major to performance and dropped the education.
I wonder, if I had emulated the lifestyles of the music ed majors who displayed self-control, independence, and consistency in their classwork, preparation, and dedication, would I have stuck with it? Would I be teaching by now?
I realize it's not always healthy to be asking "what if?" in regards to one's past, but the conclusion I have come to is this: I allowed the influence of others and my own negative thinking to drag me away from my "first love." That girl who was so excited to become a choir teacher got dragged away and replaced with someone whose most-used word is "can't."
Don't get me wrong, I am quite thankful for all of the experiences I've had since I've been out of college because I've really grown in confidence and have become a much more self-assured person from all of the crazy jobs and roles I've had over the years.
Originally when I had begun writing this post I was thinking of Revelation 2:4 when Jesus says, "You have forsaken the love you had at first," and how it describes my diminished passion. But then I also remembered the verse in Matthew 13:22 where it mentions a seed (the Word of God) that was sown among thorns. It was not able to thrive because it was choked by "the cares of the world." I think that's me.
At 27 years old, I don't want to continue the cycle of "I can't" thoughts spinning in my head, paralyzing me from doing the wonderful things I was made to do. It's not going to be easy, but to finish well in this endeavor, I must continually transform my thinking from "I can't do this" to "I CAN DO THIS." I must remember my first love.
I remember how on fire I was to become a choir director when I graduated high school. I was involved in every choir imaginable and probably dreamt in eight part harmonies. I had so much vision, confidence, and passion. When I went to All-State Choir camp for a week, I sat wide-eyed, mouth gaping in rehearsals with Dr. Copley, just admiring her enthusiasm and wit as she directed us. I thought, That's going to be me someday! I want to be just like her!
I still have that fire, but I've realized it's taking some work to peel off the layers of insecurity that have built up over time to be able to stand firm in this decision I've made to return to school to get my teaching license.
Before I arrived at college, I wish someone would have warned me to make a conscious decision regarding whose academic lifestyle I will emulate. I will say even though I had many enjoyable moments loitering in the student union with buddies, my grades suffered, and that, I believe eventually led me to think I just wasn't cut out to be a choir teacher.
When classes got more difficult and demanding, I think I took one look and decided I couldn't do it. It was "too hard." Why should I do something if it's this hard for me? It must not be the right decision. I'm probably not meant to do it anyway because I'm already showing signs that I'm not capable.
So I switched my major to performance and dropped the education.
I wonder, if I had emulated the lifestyles of the music ed majors who displayed self-control, independence, and consistency in their classwork, preparation, and dedication, would I have stuck with it? Would I be teaching by now?
I realize it's not always healthy to be asking "what if?" in regards to one's past, but the conclusion I have come to is this: I allowed the influence of others and my own negative thinking to drag me away from my "first love." That girl who was so excited to become a choir teacher got dragged away and replaced with someone whose most-used word is "can't."
Don't get me wrong, I am quite thankful for all of the experiences I've had since I've been out of college because I've really grown in confidence and have become a much more self-assured person from all of the crazy jobs and roles I've had over the years.
Originally when I had begun writing this post I was thinking of Revelation 2:4 when Jesus says, "You have forsaken the love you had at first," and how it describes my diminished passion. But then I also remembered the verse in Matthew 13:22 where it mentions a seed (the Word of God) that was sown among thorns. It was not able to thrive because it was choked by "the cares of the world." I think that's me.
At 27 years old, I don't want to continue the cycle of "I can't" thoughts spinning in my head, paralyzing me from doing the wonderful things I was made to do. It's not going to be easy, but to finish well in this endeavor, I must continually transform my thinking from "I can't do this" to "I CAN DO THIS." I must remember my first love.
Friday, December 11, 2015
Sharing isn't caring
Whenever I post something on the internet, my intentions are that even if one person is encouraged by it--either by laughter, provoking thought, or simply being comforted--it's worth the post. But is it?I find myself posting all kinds of things mindlessly--videos, memes, quotes--all because it takes less than a minute to either send to someone or post to a wall; I end up doing this without serious thought. It's probably due to my short attention span and my knack for impulsive decision-making. In fact, when Facebook used to limit the number of characters in a status, I was relieved. I was scolded into being concise and discreet. I had to plan better if I was going to say something to the world.
Now, the possibilities are endless. There are no rules. Everyone is posting everything, all of the time. And that includes me. If we truly dissect what social media is on the individual level, it's really just a soapbox. It's the fabricated illusion of credibility--that what I say matters and can truly have an impact. Well that may be true, but what does that reveal about us? How many times a day are we posting to this digital realm--projecting our ideas, beliefs, sense of humor, and spirit out--and neglecting how we act upon them in the real world? Do they match up?
I write this to bring myself attention to the fact that "you are what you post."
Or, are we?
The internet gives us the tools we need to become completely perfect specimens (digitally speaking). Our quotes, memes, articles, and photos are the chisel and our personalized webpages are the block of marble. We get to be God. We get to create ourselves in the image we want to portray.My question is, how does our cyber image match up to our real image?
Bible verse after Bible verse, sometimes I embarrassingly do not spend more than two minutes reflecting on the glory and weight of what I am posting. These are words coming from the mouth of the all-powerful, all-consuming, relentless Creator of the heavens, my Savior, my closest friend.
Laura, I ask myself, did you apply this to your life before you posted it?
Today I posted a verse from Galatians 6:8:
"Whoever sows to please their flesh, from the flesh will reap destruction; whoever sows to please the Spirit, from the Spirit will reap eternal life."
The risk I take when I post this is that someone might think I'm preaching without taking this thought into consideration myself. I mean, that's what Christians are known for, right? Hypocrisy. Well, you got me.
Sometimes when I look back at past journals of mine I can see the hand of God moving in my heart, changing how I think and feel, and I think, wow, I should really listen to myself. There's some good stuff in here! Oh if I only felt that way if I were to scroll through my Facebook history!
What the digital world doesn't know is that I am actually posting this to help myself. I am here to tell you that it's true--I have been sowing to please my flesh a lot lately. (But I'm not going to spill my guts out to the rest of the world through a Facebook status. I'll save my blog for that.)
Lately I've been staying up unnecessarily, sometimes as late as 11:30 or midnight, scrolling through websites and comparing my life with others' (their digital lives, mind you). I obsess over how much food I eat and how little exercise I'm getting when I look at pictures of friends of mine who actually take time out of their day to contribute to their glowing tight thighs. I've been spending too much money on myself when I either should have been saving or giving it away. The list goes on forever. The bottom line is, lately I have been careless, thoughtless, and frivolous; I have been sowing to please my flesh. And I want to change that.
So here's my soapbox moment: if I'm going to post something, it's going to be because I have first reflected on it and have committed to make a change in my physical life to make it true for myself in my digital life. I do not want to live a double-life. I know I need to take a long, hard look at what I portray and compare what's actually going on in my heart, my actions, and what comes out of my mouth. It may be a harsh reality. But to truly care for myself and others, I have to reflect on my own heart before posting.
Remember, sometimes sharing isn't caring.
Monday, June 22, 2015
"Maybe"
What is it with this generation and not being able to just commit to something?
I know I have contracted this awful virus.
Afraid that there's always the possibility of a better option, we hold off to make any sort of decision, whether large or small. "I'm not going to say that I'll go to ______'s gathering on Tuesday night just yet because there might be something else that comes up. What if that turns out to be way better?"
We've become so obsessed with finding the utmost fulfillment for ourselves that we disregard important things like dependability, commitment, and sincerity and uprightness of heart.
We have elevated ourselves to such great heights that we believe that satisfying our desires is supreme; that we are entitled to lay aside anything that gets in the way of our enjoyment and comfort.
What then, will our relationships look like if we continue in this attitude of self-servitude?
Please, let's not be known as the "maybe" generation. Let's be the generation who puts ourselves last and others first. A generation who means "yes" when we say "yes" and "no" when we say "no." A generation that doesn't talk of ideas, but a generation who acts.
I know I have contracted this awful virus.
Afraid that there's always the possibility of a better option, we hold off to make any sort of decision, whether large or small. "I'm not going to say that I'll go to ______'s gathering on Tuesday night just yet because there might be something else that comes up. What if that turns out to be way better?"
We've become so obsessed with finding the utmost fulfillment for ourselves that we disregard important things like dependability, commitment, and sincerity and uprightness of heart.
We have elevated ourselves to such great heights that we believe that satisfying our desires is supreme; that we are entitled to lay aside anything that gets in the way of our enjoyment and comfort.
What then, will our relationships look like if we continue in this attitude of self-servitude?
Please, let's not be known as the "maybe" generation. Let's be the generation who puts ourselves last and others first. A generation who means "yes" when we say "yes" and "no" when we say "no." A generation that doesn't talk of ideas, but a generation who acts.
Saturday, March 7, 2015
Poured out
This week I was grabbed by this thought: when I give my time and resources to others, am I only giving when it is out of abundance, when I have a "surplus"?
Meeting the needs of others should never be dependent on whether or not I decide if I want to give at that moment. I am called to be generous. I am called to be poured out as a living sacrifice because that's exactly what Christ did for me.
The Father lavishly gave me freedom and life through the death and resurrection of his Son. I did not earn life, and yet He gave me life. Why would I withhold anything for myself, knowing that I have received such a precious gift? Does a person need to first "earn" my time with them? Does giving need a valid argument or supporting facts? By no means!
I am called to be poured out because it was He who was first poured out. When my bank account is dwindling and my eyes are strained, my head aching, and mind numb, that is when the Lord still calls me to give. Give when I have nothing left, because that is exactly what I have: nothing.
When I can admit this, that I have absolutely nothing to offer, that is when He is able to do His work and incredible things happen. But only when I am fully and completely dependent on Him. And guess what? He fills me completely with whatever it is I am lacking and the results are always miraculous.
"A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which amount to a cent. Calling His disciples to Him, He said to them, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on.” Mark 12:42-44
I don't want to miss any more opportunities where God could use what little I have. I don't want to withhold simply because I do not "feel" like giving. People cannot wait for my leftovers; people cannot wait for my selfish heart to turn towards them.
Here's to being poured out, no matter how I'm feeling.
Cheers
Meeting the needs of others should never be dependent on whether or not I decide if I want to give at that moment. I am called to be generous. I am called to be poured out as a living sacrifice because that's exactly what Christ did for me.
The Father lavishly gave me freedom and life through the death and resurrection of his Son. I did not earn life, and yet He gave me life. Why would I withhold anything for myself, knowing that I have received such a precious gift? Does a person need to first "earn" my time with them? Does giving need a valid argument or supporting facts? By no means!
I am called to be poured out because it was He who was first poured out. When my bank account is dwindling and my eyes are strained, my head aching, and mind numb, that is when the Lord still calls me to give. Give when I have nothing left, because that is exactly what I have: nothing.
When I can admit this, that I have absolutely nothing to offer, that is when He is able to do His work and incredible things happen. But only when I am fully and completely dependent on Him. And guess what? He fills me completely with whatever it is I am lacking and the results are always miraculous.
"A poor widow came and put in two small copper coins, which amount to a cent. Calling His disciples to Him, He said to them, “Truly I say to you, this poor widow put in more than all the contributors to the treasury; for they all put in out of their surplus, but she, out of her poverty, put in all she owned, all she had to live on.” Mark 12:42-44
I don't want to miss any more opportunities where God could use what little I have. I don't want to withhold simply because I do not "feel" like giving. People cannot wait for my leftovers; people cannot wait for my selfish heart to turn towards them.
Here's to being poured out, no matter how I'm feeling.
Cheers
Thursday, January 15, 2015
Give me a beat
There's that famous phrase one can use when describing an oddball, quirky person: "She marches to the beat of her own drum," or "she waltzes to her own tune."
Lately I've been trying to figure out how I become motivated. If I am unmotivated, what is the catalyst that ignites me?
After doing some soul searching, I've come to realize that yes, I am a motivated person, but usually with the help of another person, by encouragement and suggestion.
If I march to the beat of my own drum, I think I just need someone to click me off. If I waltz to my own tune, I need someone to hum something first.
Lately I've been trying to figure out how I become motivated. If I am unmotivated, what is the catalyst that ignites me?
After doing some soul searching, I've come to realize that yes, I am a motivated person, but usually with the help of another person, by encouragement and suggestion.
If I march to the beat of my own drum, I think I just need someone to click me off. If I waltz to my own tune, I need someone to hum something first.
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