soli deo gloria

Three and a half years ago, I was real confused. Primarily on this point: my cousin killed himself one January afternoon. For no apparent reason.
"God? Hello? I know you're there, but what the heck are you up to?"
There was a lingering question mark woven into every bit of consolation I received. It's true; we have no idea why crappy stuff happens. It's not God punishing us or anything-- this world is tainted by sin and therefore just kind of inherently sucks at times... A lot of the time. But was that all the comfort we would get, really?
"Your cousin shot himself in the head? Yeah, bummer dude. Isn't this world just the worst? Heaven will be better, just you wait..."
If that was all I got, I'm not sure how far I would have made it... I went to work as a cook at Hidden Acres six months after that, and I kept all that shenanigans to myself. No body wanted to hear about my sad miserable life. I wasn't there to drag everybody down, I was there to encourage the body of believers!
Grace's Flawless Plan #38: Uplift others, mask your own grief because it's just a hindrance to your ministry.
Yep. That went well... Until it didn't, which was almost instantaneously. Sure, it was with astonishing ease that I pretended to be super encouraging happy outgoing bubbly Grace. And then... the freezer was where I went to cry.
"My cheeks are red? Oh, it's nothing-- I was just in the freezer."
I'm an expert mask-designer. I wore them all summer long, until one night I went to chapel and heard the testimony of a counselor named Caitlin. Two years before that, her cousin shot himself in the head. The outrageous parallels between our stories still freaks me out a little bit... Although now I know that she was strategically placed in my life. She comforted and encouraged and gave me scripture and told me about God's love and purposes. God gives us pretty good smacks upside the head sometimes, doesn't He?
"You're trying to go through this on your own? Really? You're my child: run to Me. You need to confide in others who love Me, too. You can't do this on your own. But I'm here, and I'm sufficient."
Amen. For the past three years, that was where my testimony ended. That was the conclusion, and it was good. God places people in our lives to comfort us. We can rely on Him to get us through the hard stuff in this world. Yay God.
That sounds sarcastic or something.. Do I sound sarcastic? I can't express my sincerity: It was huge. I was gently and lovingly guided back to the cross by the strongest, most irresistible force in existence. He pulled me out of the ashes and gave me a renewed hope and trust in Him and His promises for our lives. God is GOOD.
But where my faux-sarcasm stems from is this: I seemed to think I could catalog His goodness. That I could look at each hardship or trial and then scroll over to the resolution column and check off each individual instance where His loving kindness prevailed. 
Hardship:           Cousin died
Resolution:     Drawn closer to Christ.
Amen, closed case, the Lord is awesome.

Uhhhh, no. I don't get to confine the Creator of the Universe to an Excel spreadsheet. I don't get to pretend I'm bigger than Him. I don't get to dictate how He uses my experiences. I don't get to control or plan or even fully understand the ways He works.

This summer I had a camper whose best friend had committed suicide a few months before camp. And I was able to tell her exactly what she needed to hear, because I knew what would help and what wouldn't. I knew what promises of God she could cling to and what scripture would be able to pull her through it all. I looked her in the eyes and told her with all honesty that I knew exactly how she was feeling. 

And I KNOW that girl was placed in my cabin. Strategically. Because my gracious, loving Creator had spent the last three years equipping me, through trial, for His ministry.

By His plan alone, for His purposes alone, to His glory alone.

Don't diminish what God can do. Don't minimize His power or His movement in our lives. I mean, really. Who are we that He even cares for us, that He even chooses to use us?

how fickle my heart; how faithful his

I say I know God's plan. I say I'm ready, ready for my life to begin.

When did I start thinking my life hadn't already begun?

I've been wasting away in this stagnancy, thinking that some event or another will mark the start of it all. How have I been content in that? How can I sit and wait on another person to... to what? Make me feel more complete? Make me feel valued? Secure? What evidence has anyone ever seen of the things of this earth offering true satisfaction, true comfort, true peace? It's funny, really. I get into power struggles with the one who created me--- and I consistently lose. But the more I surrender to God, the more He breaks down the things I try to find security in. And the more He takes my comfort blankets away, the more I realize that He is enough. HE'S ENOUGH. What in the world is the matter with me that I can't just abide in that?

I'm becoming increasingly aware of my own insufficiency; it's SO evident to me. I live for the moments when I realize my weakness is His strength. I just want to soak that up... I really do. I long for the ability to recklessly abandon everything. But again and again, in my idiotic unfaithfulness, I try to take control of my life. Struggles consume me and I finally give them over to God, but I still won't let Him have my future.

He's the Author of the Universe. What's wrong with me?

I found this note stuck in my bible, a prayer I wrote down last summer while I was counseling at Hidden Acres-- the same thing I'm doing this summer. It was pretty long, but this particular piece caught me:

I want so badly to know what's in store for me, but I know that if you showed me a glimpse of the future, all I would do is become impatient with your timing: and your timing is perfect. Lord, allow me to be content with waiting, with trusting and not knowing what's around the corner. Give me peace; quiet my heart.

It hasn't lost any truth.

My name is inappropriate on several levels.

/greɪs/ Show Spellbut mostly just this one: 

grace [greys] noun, verb, adjective: graced, grac·ing, grace·ful

noun: freely given, unmerited favor and love

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

"Did any of you guys ever play Destiny when you were campers?"

"I did! I converted you when I was 13, Katie Northey."

"Did everyone hear that? Grace Stephenson saved me. Except that's a lie,
cause only God can save people..."

And from the back of the chapel we hear a group of boys shouting,
"SAVED BY GRACE!"

The response from Katie: "Darn you, quick-witted boys..."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Occasionally people make silly puns, or point at me when they sing about grace in church, and I generally dismiss their childish humor. Recently, though, it's been growing, nagging at me-- the actual implications of my name.

What is the power and the legacy of that word-- that name? 

"Oh, what's in a name?"

GRACE

It defines me, but it also gives meaning to something with eternal implications. I have, with increasing intensity, felt unworthy of the name my parents gave me.

Grace.

God's grace.

The completely free and undeserved gift from our Creator to His beloved, albeit sinful, children. This concept saved humanity.
MANKIND HAS BEEN SAVED BY GRACE.
I am a tiny, worthless fleck of dust
when measured against the word that was given to me at birth.

I don't claim any ownership of it. I wouldn't be capable of that... Sometimes I feel a silly burden from it, when I start feeling as though my sin could somehow taint the nonbeliever's image of perfect redemption; if that isn't irony, I don't know what is... I portray the meaning of grace in their eyes, and it has nothing to do with it being my name: I'm sinfully human just like everyone else, the thing that makes a difference is the freely given, unmerited favor and love I receive daily despite my worldliness. My shortcomings only highlight my gracious Savior's selfless love.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Unashamed by Starfield

I have not much to offer You

Not near what You deserve

But still I come because Your cross

Has placed in me my worth

Oh, Christ my King of sympathy

Whose wounds secure my peace

Your grace extends to call me friend

Your mercy sets me free

And I know I'm weak, I know I'm unworthy

To call upon Your name

But because of grace, because of Your mercy
I stand here unashamed

Here I am

At Your feet

In my brokenness,

Complete

- - - - - - - - - - - - - -

With something as small as a name tag,
I am carrying around an idea powerful enough to bring me to my knees. 


I feel alienated from it.

dependent upon it.
undeserving of it.

an overwhelming affection and gratitude for it.

Has anyone else noticed how long my recent posts have been?

Yeah, me too.

I thought it was time for some lighter material.

Or maybe not lighter.

Maybe just less.

Gainer showed me this video.

And it made me extremely happy,

like,

happy-tears, bubbly-feeling-in-your-stomach,

can't-wipe-that-stupid-grin-off-your-face, happy.

I'm not sure why.

Me and paper cranes, we go way back...

Freshman year I watched David Lee make one

and I figured out how.

There are now flocks of flamable birds on all my teachers' shelves.

Dozens made every day.

I do it now without thinking about it.

But when I do take the time to think about it,

I find that there's something endearing

about my frail attempts at creating an imitation of life,

those little folded pieces of winged paper;

like a child playing,
pretending to do their parents' work.

I used to pretend I was an architect, like my dad...

All I would do was color pictures on old blueprints.

Things haven't changed much.