Wordy words

I have a love/hate relationship with words. I love the images that can be painted simply by stringing the right words together. I love the complexities of how one word, no matter its length, can have many definitions, and how replacing just one word in a sentence has the ability to change its entire meaning. I love that words give us a way of communicating, of expressing our inner selves, that we may be understood better by those around us. I love the creative power that words hold, giving us permission to write, rewrite, and write again, until they’re in just the right order to express the point we are trying to make.

But here’s the thing: we live in a society that speaks way more than it listens. If you don’t believe me, just look around. Look at the billboards everywhere when you’re driving to work, the adverts that pop up on the side of your internet browser, even your social media feeds are full of people’s pointless speaking. Our worlds are flooded by words, by the imagery they’re attempting to create, the stories they’re trying to tell, and the thing is, that anything in excess eventually begins to lose its effect. We’ve become desensitised to the extraordinary power that words hold, to the original intent of language.

When someone is speaking to us, how often are we really listening? We usually let our minds wander, we nod politely to show them we’re still engaged even though we aren’t, we abruptly change the topic when we lose interest in the conversation, we interrupt one another, and when we go home at the end of the night, how much of what anyone else said can we recall? Probably not a lot, I bet. But I’d also wager that you probably remember what you said, because we’re a society that love to talk. We learn by example, and when everything around us is drenched in vocabulary, we learn we have to fill the silence, we have to shout to be heard. The more words we say, the more likely it is that we’ll truly be heard, right?! I don’t think so.

I’d like to suggest that perhaps it is not how much we say that is important, but rather what we say. That the content of our words is much more crucial to conveying our point than endlessly stringing words together in the hope that someone might catch a few of them. We need to learn to listen to what others are saying, to observe and listen to what they’re not saying. We need to learn to be quiet and find an ease in the silence, to gather our thoughts and be concise and purposeful when we speak.

I realise the slight irony of this post, given that it is yet more words added to your daily life, but what I’m saying is not that we shouldn’t speak, but that we should think more before we do and decide what is truly important enough to be spoken out. Ask yourself, is what you’re trying to say actually going to make a difference to somebody’s life? Do the words you’re choosing paint an accurate picture of your meaning and intention behind them? I want us to be a society that listens, that has the ability to be comfortable in silence, and that thinks before it speaks. If we can do that, I believe there might be a few less lonely people in our world, and a few more people feeling understood.

From me to you.

I don’t like gifts. I don’t like the pretense. A gift for merely living another year? A gift for someone else’s birthday? Pointless. Selfish. Unnecessary.  I don’t like the obligation. I don’t like the expectation.

A thank you never comes across quite right. Over thanking seems fake. Under thanking seems unappreciative. The fine line between the two is an art form.

Whether giving or receiving, it’s all driven by a societal pressure encircled with an intense anxiety to please.

But there is one exception to this; a promise. A promise given to me by my Heavenly Father that contained a gift unlike any other. That gift is you.

You’re the gift I prayed for from the time I was a little girl, but that deep down I never expected to receive. You’re the gift that exponentially exceeded every expectation I had, that stole every ounce of my affection without even meaning to. You’re the gift God gave me to heal a piece of my heart, to help me feel the things I couldn’t feel on my own. You’re the gift that helped me to see my value by showing me that my heart is worth protecting. You’re the gift whose life is entwined with mine because of the Divine thread of God’s perfect plan. You’re the gift that taught me what real Love looks like, and you continue to teach me more every day. You’re the gift that has already given me so much, and the best part is that you gave it all without knowing. You’re the gift that is my most favourite of all, and that gift is entirely, unapologetically, you.

The thing with gifts, is that they usually require some form of reciprocation, and oh how I wish you would accept all that I desire to give you in return. But for now, I’ll make some promises of my own, so that one day you can unravel all the gifts I’ve placed inside of them.

I promise to be your earthly constant, the thing that keeps you grounded when everything around you is spinning. I promise to be unwaveringly consistent in my love for you, so that even in times when I don’t like you very much, you will never for a second doubt how completely you have my heart. I promise to never dwell on your past, but to appreciate it for making you the man you are today. I promise to be your family, to create a home in my heart for you so you will always know where you belong. I promise to try to be like Christ in the way I extend grace to you, extravagant and unreasonable in every way, finding new mercy every morning. I promise to be diligent in my preparation for all that lies ahead, and be unquestioningly obedient to whatever God asks of me. I promise to encourage and support all that God has called you to, and stand beside you in every season. I promise to always strive to be the woman that God has promised to give you, to never settle or be complacent, because you deserve my best. I promise you all that I am, all of my heart, I promise you me.

The moment of “yes”.

I need to write this down so I don’t forget. I never want to forget.

Hurt, confused, unsure of how I ended up here. This boy, I felt he’d betrayed my trust, yet it in no way lessened my affection for him. This boy I wanted to run from, this boy I wanted to guard my heart from, this boy God had told me to extend grace to. He said, “Extend the same grace to him that I have extended to you.” It’s nice in theory, but much harder to put into practice, especially when you’re hurting. Think about it; God knows all things, He knew we would reject Him, push Him away, run from Him, speak against Him, hurt Him, yet He still, with that knowledge, loved us so extravagantly that He chose to extend grace, not just once, but over and over. He gave everything of Himself to us. But why was God asking this of me?

My brain felt like it was slowly imploding, unable to comprehend all the words circling in my mind.

So, I drove, far, filled to the brim with questions of “why?” I found a spot, away from the world, away from the busyness, away from everything, only surrounded by God’s creation; stars, sky, and sea.

I wrote, pages and pages until my hands cramped and could no longer hold my pen, line after line of questions, pouring out my heart to my God.

I lay on my back, on the grass where I’d settled, gazing at the stars as I quieted my soul and let my heart find rest in the stillness of His Presence.

I knew He was with me, ready and waiting with answers. “God, I can’t shake these feelings. You’ve asked me to extend this grace to him and I don’t know why. There is something about him that I can’t let go of. I’ve asked you so many times to take these feelings if they are not of You, yet here I am. I don’t want any part of this if You are not in every aspect. I do not want to fall in love with someone else’s husband. This doesn’t make any sense.”

I paused, knowing what I wanted to ask, but not knowing if I truly wanted the answer. If it was a “no” then my heart would be devastated, but a “yes” would elicit more fear than I’d ever felt.

“God, is it him? Is he Your best for me? Is he my husband?”

Only one word followed, but when it’s God, one word is more than enough.

“Yes.”

That was it. The moment of “yes”.

And from that moment forward, God has been confirming His “yes” to me, over and over again. It’s been two years, and thought I have yet to see its fulfillment, His promise to me is just as true today as it was then.

“For all the promises of God find their Yes in him. That is why it is through him that we utter our Amen to God for his glory.” 2 Corinthians 1:20

“Not one word of all the good promises that the Lord had made to the house of Israel had failed; all came to pass.” Joshua 21:45

Learn to steward.

When I was in primary school, Grade 7 to be exact, we had a term of our schooling dedicated to a program called Stewardship. This program entailed each student being given a certain amount of money that they were to use to set up a ‘business’. Once a week, on a Friday lunchtime, we would set up our stalls and sell whatever we decided our ‘product’ would be to the other children in the school, whether that be food, or some form of craft, etc. Then we would use that week’s profits to fund the next week, and so on. The point was to teach us some money handling skills, but more importantly, to learn the meaning of being a good steward. At the ripe, old age of 11, I didn’t really understand the word’s meaning, I just thought it was a cool name for what we were doing, but recently, I’ve begun to understand the full weight of what being a good steward really looks like.

Steward: to take scrupulous care of that with which we have been entrusted. 

Lately, God has really been impressing upon my heart the importance of stewarding the promises He’s given me. I’ve found it to be one of the most frustrating things to know so wholeheartedly that God has placed this promise in my heart, yet see that the reality around me looks completely different. But we need to be careful what we’re focusing on. Rather than stewarding my frustration, I need to continue to steward the hope of the promise inside me. So, I began to ask the question, “how do I steward the promises I’ve been given when the impossibility I’m facing feels bigger than the capacity of my faith?”

There is one woman in the Bible whose life continuously encourages me, a woman who demonstrated tremendous amounts of faith in the midst of her confusion, a woman who understood that there is always a time of preparation that comes before the promise. That woman is Mary, the mother of Jesus. In Luke 1:26-38 we read about how an angel came to Mary and told her that she would conceive and give birth to a son, and that he would be the Son of God. She then informs the angel that she’s a virgin (talk about an impossible situation!). Now, I don’t know about you, but I had the ‘how babies are made’ talk many moons ago, and I hate to break it to you, but you kind of need a man AND a woman to make a baby. It should have been impossible for what the angel was saying to come to pass. If I was Mary in that situation, I probably would’ve laughed and told the angel to get real. Mary’s response?

“I am the Lord’s servant. May everything you have said about me come true.” (verse 38)

In my opinion, Mary is the ultimate example of what a servant heart looks like. She basically says, “if this is what God wants from me, then okay.”

But the thing is, Mary didn’t just give birth right then and there, she had to wait nine months. There was preparation, there was a process. It is often in the process that we find ourselves most susceptible to doubt, uncertainty, anxiety, confusion, and frustration. It is in those moments that we are given the choice to bow our hearts again in surrender to God’s word, knowing that He is the same yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Your circumstances might change, but the promise God has put in your heart never will.

It is so important to steward the promise God has given you during the process. It is a gift from Him, something that God has trusted you to carry, something He has charged you to take care of, so it’s vital that when you accept that responsibility, you do everything in your power to care for and tend to your promise.

The process is the time when we build the strength to be able to hold up under the full weight of everything God’s promise holds. It is the time when the capacity of our faith grows, when we realise just our strength is not enough, when we begin to understand the importance of dependency on God, when our relationship with Christ grows the most. If we try to fulfill the promise in our own strength before it’s time, it’s like Ishmael coming before Isaac. In Genesis, we are told about the promise that God made to Abraham and Sarah, that they would conceive a child of their own, despite Sarah being barren. Rather than waiting on God , they took matters into their own hands and Abraham had a child, Ishmael, with his servant. Years later, God made good on His promise (as He always does) and gifts Abraham and Sarah with a child of their own, Isaac. This is the child that was blessed, this is the child that lead generations, this is the child that fulfilled everything God had promised to them. God is always faithful, so, in the process, we need to learn to be content waiting in God’s faithfulness.

However, I know firsthand how easy it is to be discouraged in that season of waiting, how difficult it can be to keep your faith high when your circumstances seem impossible to change, how disheartening it can be to watch the people around you step in to the fulfillment of their promises, wondering when it’s going to be your turn. I get it, believe me. So what do you do when you can’t see your promise growing inside you? Surround yourself with someone who is living in their promise, who has already experienced the goodness and faithfulness of God. That’s what Mary did. Her first response when she found out she was having a baby, was to visit her relative Elizabeth. Elizabeth was barren, she knew she wouldn’t be able to have children, but God had promised her a son. When Mary came to visit her she was 6 months pregnant, very visibly standing in the middle of the fulfillment of her promise. Mary could have chosen to be frustrated and jealous at the fact that she could not yet see her own promise coming to pass, but instead she chose to celebrate with Elizabeth. She chose to feed her spirit with hope and joy.

You, too, have this choice, the choice of what you feed your promise. When God has placed something within you, it’s going to take time and effort before you’re able to see it. When you’ve been entrusted with a gift from God , with His promise to you, it is your responsibility to care for it. Like a woman who is pregnant with a baby, you need to keep yourself strong in order for the promise to grow. You need to feed it with God’s truth, with faith, and with hope, rather than with frustration and disappointment.

So, back to my original question. “How do I steward the promises I’ve been given when the impossibility I’m facing feels bigger than the capacity of my faith?” Well it’s simple; I grow my capacity for faith. How do I do that? The same way anything grows, I feed it. When I focus on the truth of God’s Word, my faith grows. When I celebrate somebody else’s miracle, my faith grows. When I understand how good God is and how unfathomable His love is for me, my faith grows. It doesn’t happen overnight, it takes time. How much time? Who knows? But I do know that God’s timing is perfect and that He is always faithful to fulfill the promises He gives us.

“This vision is for a future time. It describes the end, and it will be fulfilled. If it seems slow in coming, wait patiently, for it will surely take place. It will not be delayed.” Habakkuk 2:3 NLT

You did good, kid.

Most of us tend to have a lot more patience with the pain of a process when we understand its purpose. It’s easier to push through the discomfort when you can visualise the reward at the end.

But what about those times when we don’t understand, when we don’t know the outcome, when we can’t see past our current discomfort?

I have recently had first hand experience with this particular type of uncertainty. The type of uncertainty that doesn’t go away when you take a step forward, the type of confusion that lingers in every corner of your mind, the type of anxiety that seeps into every passing thought, wondering if you will ever find the certainty you so desperately crave. It’s insidious and pervasive.

A few weeks ago, there was something that I felt God asked of me, a burden He placed on my heart. It was a task that made no sense to me, something I would never have done of my own accord, something that was so far outside my comfort zone that I knew if I was to go through with it, it would be all in God’s strength and not my own.

Needless to say, after MUCH thought and prayerful consideration, I stepped out in faith and obediently activated the word God had given me. It is human action that prepares the way for supernatural favour. Extraordinary moves of God often begin with ordinary acts of obedience.

Flash forward a few weeks and, even though in my spirit I know that I acted in obedience to God’s word, I still find myself consumed with thoughts of doubt about whether I did the right thing. For me, a lot changed when I took that step forward. My faith grew, my relationship with God strengthened, I gained a new revelation of how deep His love and care for me is, yet physically, nothing changed. The situation I’m in is exactly the same. I think I expected some ‘big thing’ to happen once I’d done my part, but nothing did. That’s when the disappointment and doubt began to make their way to the surface of my thoughts.

I’m sure I’m not alone when I say that I find it extremely difficult to continue operating in faith when doubt begins to creep in. I’ve always has the perception that the opposite of faith is doubt, so in those moments of doubt, I often find myself feeling guilty, like I’m not trusting God enough, like if my relationship with Him was stronger I would be able to overcome doubtful thinking.

But this isn’t the case. The opposite of faith is certainty. The presence of doubt doesn’t indicate a lack of faith, it indicates a need for a God who sits above your situation, who knows all, who can breathe life back into the dead. It demonstrates our need for our Heavenly Father. It is in the process of uncertainty that God teaches us the most, that He teaches us dependency on Him, that He shows us His faithfulness and care. So, when we act out of certainty, we remove the opportunity to learn and grow. That is when faith diminishes. 

When God asks something of us, He will always give us back more than we’ve given. He cares so deeply for us and wants to shower us with blessings, far beyond what we deserve.

What God asked of me was, by no means, an easy task. It took a lot from me, spiritually, emotionally, mentally, and I’m not going to lie, I felt exhausted. But God, being the loving Father that He is, stooped down to whisper to me, “Well done, my daughter. You did what I asked, but now it’s time for you to rest.”

“He makes me lie down in green pastures, He leads me beside quiet streams, He refreshes my soul. He guides me along right paths for His name’s sake.” Psalm 23:2-3 NLT

He MAKES me rest, He purposefully sets aside time for me to be still, time for me to refresh in His presence. He leads me to quiet places so I can hear Him speak. He guards my spirit with His peace and fills my heart with His joy. He bestows a love on me that I simply do not deserve. How good is our God?!

I have gained a whole new understanding of how much my Father cares for me. My soul is overwhelmed with gratitude. There aren’t enough words to express the overflow of praise in my heart. The uncertainty is still there, yes, but my God is greater. He knows every detail and that is enough for me.

Rain down on me.

When I woke up this morning I pulled out my phone and checked the weather, and to my delight, discovered the forecast was rain.

I have an affinity for rain. When it’s dark and miserable and gloomy outside, most people tend to reflect that in their mood, but not me. I love it.

The smell just before the downpour, the sound of rain hitting the roof, the feel of drops beginning to fall on your face, the way the world seems to sparkle when the sun peeks through the clouds just after it’s rained, it’s magical.

I have fantasies about being spontaneously whisked outside by my boyfriend in a rainstorm just so he can kiss me. All throughout summer I dream about cold, rainy winter nights snuggled under blankets, drinking cups of tea by the fire, listening to the rain pound on the roof. I long for the moments when I can dance in the rain, not having a care in the world, just for that minute. In a strange way it makes me feel understood, like I’m not the only one carrying darkness with them.

Usually, people only see the darkness. They focus on what rain takes away, rather than seeing the opportunities it brings. It makes people feel uncomfortable because it’s a force outside their control, they can’t simply will the rain to stop.

To me, that’s the beauty that comes with the darkness, the beauty that comes with the rain. It’s forceful, it’s consuming, it’s powerful, it’s tempestuous. But it’s also life-giving and reviving, and it brings with it a reminder of the Creator. God’s love for us is like the rain. It’s powerful, it’s consuming, it’s reckless, it’s life-giving, it’s uncontrollable, it’s restoring. It washes over us and seeps into the dry and damaged parts of our lives, refreshing them with new life, over and over again.

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness.” – Jeremiah 31:3 NIV

Unlearning the learned.

Frustrated. Annoyed. Disconnected. Aggravated. Isolated.

These are just a few of the words I use on a regular basis in relation to who I would consider my circle of friends. But, I am in a state of constant battle with this because there’s a guilt that follows whenever one, or all, of those feelings decide to make an appearance. “They’re my friends, I shouldn’t be annoyed and frustrated with them.” But nevertheless, the reality is that I am.

It wasn’t until a recent conversation that I started to put a few pieces of the puzzle together.

I had an epiphany of sorts recently that, if a few things in my life don’t drastically change, the direction my life is heading in is not leading where I want it to. I carry a lot of hurt and brokenness from my childhood that has shaped how I live my life as an adult and how I perceive and interpret the world around me. And they’re not good perceptions, they’re damaging, not only to me, but they have the potential to affect and hurt the people around me if something doesn’t change.

It’s difficult to write about this part of my life in just a few words, so let’s just say that within the first 16 years of my life my mother contributed a lifetime’s worth of damage to me. She was extremely emotionally abusive, manipulative, entitled, absent, erratic, and a lot of the time just downright cruel. Any opinion expressed was demanded to conform to her own opinion, any hint of a feeling or emotion was either completely dismissed or manipulated into invalidation. It was like a game and she was the puppet master, controlling everyone and everything around her. She played by a different set of rules which consequently lead me to a sense of extreme inferiority and inadequacy. Nothing in my life was ever good enough; not pretty enough, not working hard enough, grades aren’t good enough, not skinny enough, the list goes on and on. And to top it all off, I was constantly reminded that all of her problems (her health, her weight, her marriage, her relationship with my siblings, and whatever else she felt like adding to the list) were all my fault.

Your mother is supposed to be someone you trust, someone you can confide in, and whose opinion and beliefs about you help shape how you see yourself. So when you’re consistently told certain things, pretty much since birth (my earliest memories go back to when I was about 3 years old, so it was definitely a while), and they’re coming out of the mouth of someone you’re told you can trust, it’s very hard not to begin to believe the things being said. They are things that have stayed with me to this day and continuously echo through my mind.

The most frustrating part is that I know logically that the things said to me aren’t true and that none of it is my fault, but the way I feel tells a different story. Maybe now you can see why I hate feelings so much. They’ve never lead me anywhere good and it’s usually easier to refuse to feel them.

I’ve now reached a point in my life where I’d like to be in a relationship, get married, have a couple of kids, that whole deal. However, I realised that there is absolutely no way I want to inflict my dysfunction onto my husband, much less my children. Which means that if I want that life, there is some serious work to be done. It’s definitely not easy or comfortable, change never is, but God has already started to reveal areas in my life that need some work.

Which brings me back to friendships.

The aforementioned conversation brought to light a few (more like a dozen, ha!) issues with my friendship group. The somewhat comical part is, it’s all self-inflicted, I just didn’t realise I was doing it.

In Psychology there is a behaviour model referred to as schemas. A schema is a pattern in life that starts in childhood and reverberates throughout our lives. It begins with something that was done by the child’s family or by other children, and eventually this pattern becomes part of them and determines how they think, feel, act, and relate to others.

I’ll let you in on a little secret, we all have schemas, at least to some degree. Our childhoods and our past experiences shape who we are and our attitude towards the world. But for me, these attitudes and behaviours control me and that’s where the issue lies.

I push the people that are closest to me away because I have an expectation that they’ll leave or abandon me.

I see close relationships, not as a place to relax and be vulnerable, but rather as dangerous and unpredictable and as something to be avoided.

In conflict, I emotionally dissociate myself from the situation because it creates an illusion of separation between that situation and the rest of my life.

I have accepted that no one will ever be able to fulfil my emotional needs, that I’ll never be heard or fully understood, despite desperately craving that understanding.

I have an innate, built-in belief that I am defective and flawed, and that if those defects are exposed to people they’ll inevitably reject me because of them.

I feel different to other people, like I’ll never fit in, so I perpetuate it by surrounding myself with people that are unlike myself to validate that feeling.

I surround myself with emotional people because I interpret emotion as weakness and it gives me a sense of superiority, which is me overcompensating for my feelings of defectiveness.

I have a consuming need to be in control of my emotions at all times and put an excessive emphasis on logic and rationale while disregarding emotional needs.

Obviously, these are not my most flattering qualities, but they all stem from feelings of neglect, invalidation, abuse, shame, and inadequacy. I completely understand how it is I’ve come to hold these beliefs about myself and the world around me, but I’m desperately trying to change that.

What I’ve discovered is that, in setting people around myself that are very different to myself and highly emotionally charged, I’m feeding my own flaws. Without realising, I’ve given myself the perfect excuse to not be vulnerable with people, to not get too close, I’ve intentionally placed certain people in my life that I know will never be able to fully understand me to further validate my feelings of defectiveness and isolation, and I keep everyone at arm’s length, never letting anyone get a glimpse at who I really am, so that they can’t hurt me if they walk away or abandon me. I am in complete control of every relationship in my life. Of course I’m going to be frustrated all the time when I’m literally surrounding myself with friends that are completely incompatible with me!

Now is the time to practically change a few things. I’m branching out, testing new friendships, reconnecting old ones, and seeking guidance from people older than me that model a life I wish to emulate. In doing this, I’ve noticed that by immersing myself in a group of people that have a lack of maturity, both emotionally and spiritually, it has bred immaturity in me. Well, maybe not bred it, but it’s certainly stunted my growth, specifically in those areas.

“It has been said that it is the intensity of years and not their extensity that is a true measure of maturity, for maturity is an attitude of life. It is our attitudes, not our arteries, that determine the quality of our life. Our age is beyond our control, but whatever our age, our attitudes can be changed by the power of grace and a holy purpose” – J. Oswald Sanders

Moving forward, it’s time to grow. And the only way to do that is to cut back all the branches in my life that aren’t bearing any fruit, the ones that have stopped growing, so they can become healthy again. In John 15:1-4, Jesus says,

“I am the true vine, and my Father is the gardener. He cuts off every branch in me that bears no fruit, while every branch that does bear fruit he prunes so that it will be even more fruitful. Remain in me, as I also remain in you. No branch can bear fruit by itself; it must remain in the vine. Neither can you bear fruit unless you remain in me.”

You can do all the pruning you want, but it you aren’t connected to Christ, the Source, then it’s merely wasted effort.

There is, of course, a practical component necessary to this pursuit of mine towards spiritual maturity, but it is only fruitful if it results in increased likeness to Christ. Spiritual maturity is simply Christlikeness.

“But that’s no life for you. You learned Christ! Since, then, we do not have the excuse of ignorance, everything—and I do mean everything—connected with that old way of life has to go. It’s rotten through and through. Get rid of it! And then take on an entirely new way of life—a God-fashioned life, a life renewed from the inside and working itself into your conduct as God accurately reproduces his character in you.” Ephesians 4:20-24 MSG

And as I become more like Christ, my defects, flaws, imperfections, misconceptions, hurt, brokenness, frustration, anxiety, it all begins to fade away, being replaced with His incredible, transforming grace that covers all.

The intention behind action.

Just as a general rule, I hate being touched. Stroking, patting, hugging, sitting a bit too close to someone so your shoulder’s are touching, accidentally grazing someone’s leg under a table, just no. I like my personal space, I’d even go so far as to say I love it. If I can put my arms straight out from my body and spin around in a circle and not touch anyone, that is the amount of distance I desire at all times.

For example, I am not that ‘touchy-feely’ friend that needs to be intertwined with someone while watching a movie on the couch. Some of my friends are though, they’ll lie on each other’s shoulders or laps on the couch, or play with each other’s hair. They claim it’s comfortable and that it’s a part of friendship, but I’m just not buying it. Whether or not I let you rest your head on my shoulder should not dictate the level at which you perceive my fondness towards you. (By the way, I feel like this is definitely a girl thing. I can’t imagine a group of guys lying on each other on the couch or stroking each other’s hair, but I assure you, for girls, this is a perfectly common occurrence.)

It’s a pretty common greeting to hug someone you know upon seeing them. Now, I’m not rude, if you comes towards me with arms outstretched, I will hug you back (otherwise it’d be a pretty awkward encounter and I’m not so keen on that, ha), but I’m very rarely the one to initiate a hug. I just don’t see the point.

Gary Chapman wrote a book called The Five Love Languages where he discusses the different ways in which people like to receive affection. In other words, the acts that make a person feel the most loved and appreciated by someone they care about. The five categories he presents are Words of Affirmation, Quality Time, Acts of Service, Gifts, and Physical Touch. He explains that most often we tend to express love in the way we wish to receive love. There’s actually an online test you can do if you’re interested in finding out more. http://www.5lovelanguages.com/

After all I said before about not liking when people touch me, it might come as a surprise to you that I actually score very highly on the Physical Touch scale when it comes to giving and receiving affection. But, how is it that a person can love and hate touch simultaneously?!

I probably should have clarified earlier, it’s not the actual touch that bothers me, it’s the intention behind it. Don’t get me wrong, I still don’t like people touching me unnecessarily, but if the intention is right, I welcome it.

Someone hugging me to say hello falls into the same category as when someone asks how I am. They’re asking out of routine, out of habit, because it’s the socially required thing to do, not because they are genuinely wanting to hear about how I’m going and what’s happening in my life. I’m not saying this is always the case, but the majority of the time it is. The same motivation lies behind hugging someone to say hello/goodbye. They’re not doing it to specifically show you affection, most of the time it’s habit, it’s just what they’re used to.

I think that when you live life this way, your words and your actions lose their impact over time. When I initiate a hug towards a friend, they have no doubt that I’m doing it because I genuinely care about them and am trying to demonstrate that care in a way that words can’t do justice to. If I hugged them all the time, that message would lose its clarity.

The same goes with our words. When you ask someone how they are, don’t just ask because you feel like you should, show them that you’re actually interested in their answer.

I don’t want the people around me to ever question the intention behind my words or actions. I want to be perceived as genuine in all I do. My aim is to live my life with integrity and sincerity. I implore you to do the same.

Cakes are overwhelming.

Recently, a good friend of mine asked me how I was going. I brushed her off with the typical, “I’m fine” but she persisted a little, gave me a knowing look, and said, “yes, but how are you?” I knew that her question was out of genuine care and concern for me so I wanted to give her an honest answer. But all I could muster was,  “I’m okay, I’m just…overwhelmed.”

I’ve come to the realisation that I use that word a lot. And it’s not my way of giving a vague, cop-out answer to a friend so they won’t know what’s really going on in my life, or that I can’t be bothered putting together a concise sentence. When I say I’m overwhelmed, I actually have no clue how I am.

There are so many thoughts and feelings swirling around inside my head at every given moment, that’s it impossible for me to isolate just one. It leaves me feeling tense, anxious, frustrated, and inexplicably overwhelmed.

Overwhelm:

• To bury or drown beneath a huge mass of something.
• To have a strong emotional effect on.
• To be too strong for; overpower.

Three definitions, three very accurate descriptions of how I feel; drowning, overpowered, emotional.

The real problem comes in that I don’t know exactly what is contributing to this feeling so I don’t know how to fix it.

Maybe a metaphor will help to explain this.

Imagine you’re standing in your kitchen, you have a bowl of cake batter sitting on the bench in front of you. Now try and name all the ingredients in the bowl..…you can’t, because you don’t know. You can take a guess at what some of them could be. You’d probably assume there’s flour, sugar, maybe an egg, but you don’t actually know. So next you attempt to separate the ingredients back to their original form because then you’ll know what’s in this cake batter. But you can’t, because once all the ingredients are mixed together in this one, big bowl, it becomes impossible to identify or isolate just one ingredient. So what you’re left with is the frustration of not knowing and a sticky mess.

What I’m left with, is the frustration of not knowing and a sticky mess. No one thought or feeling can be isolated from the others once it’s been added to the rest. It’s been mixed around with all the other thoughts and feelings and become entangled and impossible to separate.

I can take a guess at what some of the contributing factors may be; hurt, isolation, frustration, panic, inadequacy, the list goes on. But, in reality, there is no sure fire way to know exactly what every contributing factor is.

I actually have no solution to this one. No answer, no way out. I’m literally just left with my thoughts and feelings wreaking havoc in my mind.

The only comfort I have is in the Comforter himself.

“Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.” Psalm 23:4 NLT

I am continually grateful for a God who is never far, who is always right beside me, who always protects, always comforts, always leads. I am never walking into the unknown because my life is in the hands of a God who knows it all.

“Don’t worry about anything; instead, pray about everything. Tell God what you need, and thank him for all he has done. Then you will experience God’s peace, which exceeds anything we can understand. His peace will guard your hearts and minds as you live in Christ Jesus.” Philippians 4:6-7 NLT

How’s that for a promise? A peace that goes far beyond anything I can understand, a peace that will guard and protect my heart, a peace that makes a way to trust. A peace that is overwhelming.

Love like that.

All good love stories start with etymology, right? Ok, maybe not, but this one did.

For those that don’t know, etymology is the study of the origin of words and the way in which their meanings have changed throughout history, and it is something I find highly fascinating. I happen to share this fascination with a friend of mine (yes, it’s a male friend…) and, oddly enough, it’s one of the reasons we became friends in the first place. I mean, who else were we going to share all this cool word stuff with, right?! (Please know that I used the word ‘cool’ very loosely just there. Ha!)

But just for today, I’m going to let you into our little club and tell you a little bit about love. You know, that four letter word that we’re all secretly terrified to say? Yeah, that one.

In English, we use the word love in a lot of different contexts. You can love a movie, you can love a friend, you can love your family, you can love food, you can love your spouse. One word, different meanings. It can get confusing.

Personally, I think that we should take a page out of the Greek’s dictionary. There are four words in Ancient Greek which can be rendered into English as “love”. Storge refers to familial love; Philia to friendship as a kind of love; and Agape refers to selfless love. But the one I want to talk about is Eros, which refers to romantic love or desire.

But before I do that, let me give you a little insight into why I’ve been doing this research.

Now, I mentioned earlier that there was a love story to be told and I’d be doing you all an injustice if I just mentioned it but didn’t elaborate, so allow me to give you the run down. But before you get too excited, I should warn you that this story doesn’t exactly have a happy ending.

This story starts with your typical girl meets boy scenario; girl moves interstate, girl meets boy, they hit it off, become best friends, girl likes boy, boy claims he doesn’t like girl but continues to show girl affection at any given opportunity (confusing much?), boy moves away (to girl’s hometown just to add some irony), still best friends, girl moves back home, together again. This is usually the part of the story where the boy realises he’s been madly in love with the girl the whole time and they live happily ever after, but that’s not how this story goes.

In case you hadn’t put two and two together by this point, the aforementioned girl is me, and this boy has consumed my thoughts for almost 18 months now.

I’ve mentioned before that I am not an emotional person, so I’m not going to gush about how amazing and incredible and wonderful I think he is, I’m just going to give it to you straight. I love him. I’m in love with him. Completely. And since he’s made it clear that that is not a feeling we share, I’ve done everything I can think of to push those feelings far, far away. I don’t know how to deal with feelings at the best of times, let alone when they aren’t reciprocated and put me in a vulnerable position, so the sooner I can toss whatever I’m feeling, the better.

Yet, in spite of my best efforts, those feelings have not gone away. If anything, I think they’re probably just stronger, dammit!

So, I did what any true thinker would do and started to attempt to logically scrutinise my feelings; Maybe it’s not love? I’ve never been in love before, so maybe I just think this is what love feels like? If I research what other people’s experience of love is, then surely I’ll realise that I don’t actually love him and be able to drop this, right? I think you get the point.

So, now we come back to Eros, the romantic love or desire.

C.S. Lewis wrote a book called The Four Loves where he explains the four different types of love as found in the Ancient Greek language. This is an excerpt on how he describes Eros:

“For it is the very mark of Eros that when it is in us we had rather share an unhappiness with the beloved than be happy on any other terms. Even if the two lovers are mature and experienced people who know that broken hearts heal in the end and can clearly foresee that, if they at once steeled themselves to go through the present agony of parting, they would almost certainly be happier ten years hence than marriage is at all likely to make them – even then, they would not part.

Even when it becomes clear beyond all evasion that marriage with the beloved cannot possibly lead to happiness – when it cannot even profess to offer any other life than that of tending an incurable, invalid, of hopeless poverty, of exile, or of disgrace – Eros never hesitates to say, “Better this than parting. Better to be miserable with her than happy without her. Let our hearts break provided they break together.” If the voice within us does not say this, it is not the voice of Eros. This is the grandeur and terror of love.”

“This is the grandeur and terror of love.” One sentence sums up everything thing I feel about this man. It’s terrifying; I’m scared I’m going to lose his friendship, I’m scared he’ll find happiness with someone else (honestly, I think I’m more scared that he won’t find happiness), I’m scared I’ll love him forever and he’ll never love me back. There’s a thousand anxious thoughts that cycle through my mind, yet in the same breath, there is a grandeur found in love. There is a constant hope, a blissfulness, a joy. It is a privilege that we were created with the ability to love another person with such immensity and I consider it an honour that I get to love him like that.

So I might as well just face it, despite my best efforts to try and convince myself I don’t, I do love him. Truly and deeply. I didn’t mean to and I’m not exactly sure when it happened, but it did. I guess that’s why they call it ‘falling’ in love. It’s not planned, it’s involuntary, you just…fall.

Yet I can’t help but wonder, how is it that someone who is usually very unemotional has the ability to feel something with such intensity?

^“We, though, are going to love—love and be loved. First we were loved, now we love. He loved us first.” 1 John 4:19 MSG

It all comes back to Jesus.

Over a year ago now, I was praying one night about all the things I was feeling for this other human and the confusion that came with that. I was terrified because it was the first time I had felt anything in a really long time. I had done such a good job at shutting everything out that, by this point, I was completely devoid of emotion. Even a hint of this feeling sent me into a panic because I had no clue what to do. But amidst the flurry, God gave me this scripture.

“Observe how Christ loved us. His love was not cautious but extravagant. He didn’t love in order to get anything from us but to give everything of Himself to us. Love like that.” Ephesians 5:2 MSG

Jesus has called me to love like He loves. And in that moment he was calling me to love this boy with a love that is so extravagant, so intense, so entirely selfless. A love that is without fear. A love that remains steadfast through hurt and through trial. A love that demands vulnerability in the face of anxiety. It’s a love that only comes through complete surrender and dependency on Christ.

So, in my weakness, my fear, my confusion, my brokenness, I chose to trust my God, I chose to love. And it’s a choice I continue to make. All the time.

I may not like how this situation is at the moment and I may not understand why God asked this of me, but one thing that I’ve learnt is that as I pour out my love in obedience, God comes in and drenches me in His love. And it is a love that consumes me, overwhelms me, and fulfils me like nothing else.

So, nameless boy, my best friend, I love you.