Cliffwalking

The piece you're about to read is one I wrote about a year and a half ago.  I was going through a ton of change, heading to a new level in God.  Giving Him things I’d held very tightly.  God had me taking prayer walks through different parts of the city.  On one particular walk, I knew the destination at the beginning, but partway through, I felt like God was telling me to take a detour.  It didn’t make sense to me, but I figured, “hey, I’m following God, so I might as well follow Him this way too.  What’ve I got to lose?”  So I made the turn, and it quickly became apparent that I was actually going to get to my destination sooner than the previous route would have got me there.  In my spirit, I could hear God telling me, “See?  You’re worried that the detour is taking you farther away, but it’s actually bringing you closer to where I want you to go.”

That conversation inspired this, which I read at a Coffeehouse Fundraiser for the 2014 Philippines Mission Trip.

*     *     *

You’re so very near me.

We’re standing beside a precipice, so close to the edge, I think one deep breath might send me flying.  The deep breath before the dive…

You look at me with protective pride and say, “My daughter.”

You look at me with jealous fervor, “My bride.”

You whisper to me, “My protégée.”

Here I stand, emboldened by awe.  My God, my All in All.

You look at me, and I remember who I am, who I want to be.  When I look in Your eyes, there’s an ache in me that only sinks deeper as I draw closer.

You hold Your arms wide to hug me tight to Your side.  You hold Your arms wide to keep the world at bay:  “Nothing will snatch you from Me,” You say.

You clutch my hand and gently… insistently… pull me along this path I can barely see.  I ask you over and over where we’re going.

            It’s when I’m quiet I can hear you say like a lover, “Trust Me.”

It’s then You stand behind me, so close I can feel Your lungs expand with each breath.  You cover my eyes with Your hands.  I can feel Your right foot move forward, so I step with my right leg.  Not too far, partly because Your grip on me is firm, and partly because I don’t want to lose contact with You.

            “I trust You.”

I can hardly hear myself say it.  Again, with more fortitude.  “I trust You.”

Off to the side, I think I hear something.  What is it?  Some attacker?  A harmless animal?  I turn my head toward the sound, but Your fingers guide me back to center.  There’s a din up ahead, and fear of that sound makes me bristle, but You’re still right there.

            You are undeterred.

            I am locked into step with You.

            We are stepping forward.

“Oh, God, what’s going on?  I need to see where I’m going.”

“No, you don’t.  Trust Me.”

Something inside me starts to resist You.  Why can’t I see?  I have a right!  How can I show others the way if I don’t know how to describe the landmarks?  Before I realize what I’m doing, I’m prying Your fingers away from my eyelids.  I NEED to see what’s up ahead.

Just as one eye gets a peek, I hear Your voice in my ear.  There’s something there…in Your voice… like You’re more determined for me to make it than I am.  Your voice:  it’s not loud, but it’s so… strong.

            It makes me pause.

            “This is the way.  Walk in it.”

This is the way?  Something like a wave of certainty floods through me, and I’m suddenly so anchored in You, the edge of this cliff no longer taunts me.

How can I deny You?  I know how You see me.  You see worth in me when no one including me sees any.  You call me Wanted when I am rejected and forgotten.  No, to You, I am Wanted.

Walk in it?  The fear barking all around me grows quiet at Your command.  When we stand this close, there is nothing that can drown out Your words.

How can I deny You?  You love me and call me Loved when I KNOW  I am unlovely.

You, who teach me when I am dull and confused.  You tuck me next to You and explain mysteries.  To You, I am Confidante.

How could I deny You Your heart’s desire?  To walk with me on this perilously narrow trail, too insignificant to be called a road…

            …

            “If this is the way, I will walk in it.”

What Does My Worship Look Like?

What does my worship look like?

It has to look like more than a mere song and dance.  “I will not offer to God that which costs me nothing.”  It costs me girlish ignorance.  It costs my abdicating a task.  Instead, I find myself getting dusty, sweaty, and climbing scary heights.  I give up service, not because I’m scheduled to do it but because someone else needs it.

God, You want worship from a willing heart, one that counts the cost at the outset but doesn’t meditate on it every step of the way.  So, God, help me give to You something I have that You want.

A heart willing to die for You.

Is that so foreign then?

We say we’re dying for water or chocolate or fill-in-the-blank.  Sometimes we even say we’d die for You.  A death that is entirely too figurative for Your liking.  You’re looking for a heart that feels like it’s dying if I don’t aim to please You.  Maybe that’s the key.  It’s doesn’t matter as much what the target of the arrow is as where I stand when I shoot it.

Do I stand on a plain of thorny discontent?  Worship is pleasing God.  “Grumble, grumble, murmur” almost guarantees missing the target.

“Here is my heart.  It hurt to pull it from my chest, but here it is, God” means He smiles.

He accepts.

He meets.

He exults.

He gives me His heart in turn.

I will not offer to God that which costs me nothing.  Joyfully, I will delight in giving Him my heart.

Remember

Remember.

The chorus word God tells His people.  Remember who He is and what He's done.  Remember who they are in relation to and because of Him.

Um, me too.

I stand convinced I've been struggling with my identity so much for so long becuase I forget.  That also lines up with what God told me last fall:  Don't keep finding out who you are only to forget again.

I run around forfeiting my territory and my rightful claims on God's promises.  As a result, I go grasping for any facsimile that looks good at the time.  I'm left weak, bitter, adrift.  No wonder James 1:5-8 cuts me like a knife.  It's meant to.

No wonder I feel abandoned.  I've haven't been left; I've left.  That's the crux of the issue.  I run over every parcel of land, screaming, "God's left me.  He's failed me."  The fact is, I've deserted the place He prepared for me, where there is shade from the sun and cool water to drink.  If His embrace is my shield (Genesis 15:1), I've left His embrace over and over.

Then I get attacked.

When I leave Him, peace leaves me.  I'm open season for old attacks:  rejection, anger, pride, doubt.  Wow.  I don't know that I've ever seen it this starkly before, sans altar experience.  I've somewhat identified parallels between my relationship with God and Gomer's with Hosea.  Ouch.

Create in me a clean heart, Oh God,
And renew a right spirit within me.
Cast me not away from Thy presense, Oh Lord,
And take not Thy holy spirit from me.
Restore unto me the joy of Thy salvation,
And renew a right spirit within me.

"When the pattern is right, the glory will fall." --Joe Oden

God, I want a new pattern.

Taken from a prayer written on 27 March 2011.

Brainiactivity

It has been said that I only appreciate the intellectual side of life.  It is true that I luxuriate in the brainy parts of the universe around me, but I wanted to clear the air.  Yes, silliness and I are on friendly terms.

Exhibit A:  I like to text ridiculous slang to the person three feet from me when speaking is more expedient.  It is not unusual to find "wassup?" in my text history.

Exhibit B:  Especially when I know the person calling me, I will frequently answer with "yo!"  And yes, I still sometimes greet my mother with "yo, yo, Ma!"

Exhibit C:  I have a very good Tuscan Raider impression.  No one who is purely intellectual will pride themselves on an impersonation of a Star Wars character in Star Wars:  Episode IV:  A New Hope.  That is called geeking out.

Exhibit D:  Sometimes leaning against my friend is all I need.

Exhibit E:  I like to laugh convulsively with little to no provocation.  Sometimes I have an accomplice, but not always.  The word "asparagus" once set me off for 5 minutes.  There was a documented recording, but I believe that laptop has since been wiped clean.

Exhibit F:  Endless pleasure abounds from my own twist on 2 Timothy 4:20:  "I left Trophimus sick in my lettuce."  Something tells me my friends' laughter is borne of toleration rather than amusement.

Exhibit G:  The fact that I list movies like The Time of Their Lives (1946) and The Pink Panther (2006) as favorites should speak for itself.  By that same token, quotes like "buy you a soda after the game" hardly call for Mensa and yet are hilarious to me.

Exhibit H:  Roller coasters make me squeal with delight.

Exhibit I:  Nature takes my breath away.  The ocean, clouds, butterflies lighting on pansies, rainbows, and the storms that lead to them.  They're all more than the human mind can find words to encompass them.

Exhibit J:  It's a happy point of curiosity that when something falls between two people, that both bend to pick it up, and will frequently bump heads or hands in the process.  There's almost always an apology.  Why is that?

I hope these examples clarify the situation.  However, I reserve the right to revisit the subject should any rebuttals arise.  Until that time, you might say the defense rests.

Notes on a Rainbow

Timeline:

April - August 2009:  God makes a series of surprising promises to me, confirmed by multiple sources including the Bible and my discipler.

April 2009 - present:  I struggle with my impatience to receive these awesome prizes . . . er, promises at their appointed time.

(If you don't believe in God or promises from Him, don't feel excluded.  I hope that you read this and glean value from it.)

A thank-you note I've drafted to God any number of times since April:

Dear God,

Thank you very much for the lovely promise you sent me.  I look forward to using it daily, as I have gradually become aware of what a great idea it is You have for me.  I'm excited for the opportunities this holds and the adventures it implies.  Especially appreciated was the double rainbow (of course You know how much we both love rainbows) You sent me in November as a reminder You don't make offhanded offers.  My one request is that You speed this whole process up.  After all, this whole plan of Yours is brilliant; I just want to make sure I get to those promises soon so I can enjoy them do Your will.

Grace and Peace direct from You,
Valonna

The response from God any time I stop to listen:

Dearest Valonna,

Beloved Daughter, I am pleased that you like My gift so much.  When I see your excitement and hear your anticipation, I am filled with pride to call you Mine.  Never for a moment doubt the pleasure I receive when you appreciate even the smallest gift.  Do not be impatient though, My love.  Think of this promise as a rainbow, and don't focus on the pot of gold at the end.  Stop for a moment and really look at the rainbow.  Drink in its beauty.  Luxuriate in its nuances as one color flows to the next.  The gold is a reward, but it is not the only thing of value, and I must caution you:  you won't receive it if you don't follow Me to the end (it's far too dangerous to go without Me).  So again, I ask you to savor this promise and be at peace.  I will not lead you astray, and I promise not to take too long.

Your Loving Father,
God (AKA Abba, YHWH, etc.)

Well, crap, He's gone and called me out with one of my favorite "objects" in nature.  And sure enough, I do like the look of rainbows more than a pot of gold, and He knows that.  But shh, don't tell the leprechauns; they show their foul tempers when you impugn their hoards.

So . . . look at the rainbow.  Stare at the pretty colors.  Watch the rainbow . . .  and basically ignore the pot of gold for now.

So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, good-bye . . .

With 2009 coming to a close, I couldn't resist listing a few developments and surprises that caught me this year.

• Went to Tahoe and intentionally spent the weekend in the motel room (next time I'll snowboard), January.
• While ice skating, I took a fall that caused someone to come up to my friend and say, "Wow, that was quite a fall."  Considering the left side of my back hurt for 2 months, I'd have to agree. February.
• Received a prophetic dream, April 21.
• Bible college.  Got that message in May.
• Began a love affair with the beach and walking in the surf.  First official date:  Memorial Day.
• Visited my hometown for the first time in 3 years, along with a first-ever visit to my dad's grave, June.
• Fired for the first time.  When it happened, I texted practically everyone I knew--joyfully.  July 13th.
• Modeled.  Me:  Miss Camera Shy?  Shocking!  August.
• Stopped fighting the idea of becoming a missionary, August.
• Sold/gave away every movie I own, September.
• My bag with my wallet and journal inside it was stolen.  I was most traumatized about the journal.  September.
• 90-block prayer walk to and from the beach with a good friend, October.
• Different prophetic dream confirmed by Christmas gift.  When I opened the package, I couldn't help laughing and thinking, "Really, God?"  December 30th.

Thank you for joining me on an abridged tour of "That'll never happen" and "Let me tell you what happened" and "Whoa!  What just happened?"  This may not be the most poetic reading ever, but I believe it's important to see where you've come from and where you're headed.

Sometimes you see your future begins in the past.

Way with Words

1) To many who know me, I am renowned for loving words and using some pretty obscure ones.  Yay!

2) To a fairly small number, I am also known for being positively oblivious to male attention. . . .  Yay?

Allow me to unite the two characteristics in one tale:

Once upon a time, I worked in a fairly prestigious department store's lingerie department, specializing in fitting women for bras.  During the post-holiday-rush of January, I began talking to a man whose daughter my coworker was helping.  It was dead; I had nothing more pressing to do.  Somehow, we started talking about dictionaries.  For some, this would appear a strange conversation, but remember point #1.  Eventually, I shared my views on the hierarchy of English dictionaries (unabridged OED, Webster's 2nd International (out of print), Webster's 3rd International).  He asked me to write down my suggestions, and I used my business card to do so, adding a few extras.

I am a nerd.  I am aware of this.

Time passed, and I thought no more of that day.  Then, one Saturday in April, I came back from my lunch break to find a call holding for me.  "Hello, Valonna, this is Mike X.  You might not remember me, but I was in your store a while back with my daughter."  Okay . . .  "Your card's been following me around . . ."  It grew legs and walked?  " . . . and I wanted to ask you a few questions about these suggestions."

"Okay, how can I help you?"

I won't bore you with the details of how I waxed poetic on Samuel Johnson's definition of "bustle," but I do remember thinking, This guy sure is interested in dictionary comparisons.  We finished, and he was very grateful for my time, saying, "Well, thanks for taking time out of your day at work, and I'm not at work, but I understand, and thank you. . . ."

After hanging up, I went to talk to my coworker about how cool it was that someone called me back to ask advice about dictionaries, recounted the whole conversation.  She smiled.  "What I like about you is how sweet you are."  Eh?  I was just sharing information.  It's what I do.

I told that story several times over, to some of my best girlfriends.  Then, when I told my roommate, she burst into laughter and said, "Valonna, he was interested in you!"  Huh, what?  But he was talking about dictionaries.  She told me not all men are direct, told me to ask any of my guy friends what they thought of this scenario.  So a few days later, I was hanging with one of my best buddies, and before I even got to the halfway point in my story, his face said it all.  But just in case I was still lost, he summed it up with one embarrassing observation, "I know of only one other person who's more naive than you."  Yay . . . ?

My mom's told me multiple times that I am my father's daughter, referring to the fact that he was never aware women ever looked at him with any interest.  Oblivious as can be, I am his female counterpart.  And I really can't see how it's beneficial except to keep the ego in check.  But I can say it came in handy:  a few of my friends were talking about how one of them had been hit on while riding MUNI, and one person asked, "What about you?  Do men try to pick you up on the bus?"

"Well, funny you should ask.  I can't answer that question, but I do have a funny story."

Yet Another Awkward Epiphany

You know that point in fiction where the character speaking gradually slows to a halt, mid-sentence, goes slack-jawed, and does a mental about-face? It's smooth, seamless, and a dozen other things that make the audience wish they had an epiphany every hour, on the hour.

Well, ladies and gentlemen, that has never happened for me. Reality is usually messier and--without fail--more embarassing. Take my complete lack of humility in career transition for instance. It should have gone something like this:

Valonna: Good morning, God. Love ya. You're awesome, which you know of course, 'cause you know all. I was thinking about trying to find a new job that's right for me, suited to the talents and passions you instilled in me. I ask most humbly for your blessing in the search, transition, and new adventure. Guide me, and I will follow you.

God: Thanks for coming to me with this, Valonna. I love you, and I'm always happy to give you your heart's desire. And I'm sure I don't have to remind you that I'll make certain the timing is perfect for my plans before you see much happening on your end.

Valonna: Oh, absofrigginlutely. You're infallible on that score, never late, rarely early. Just keep talking me through the process so I don't go batty.

God: Of course.

Instead, the conversation went something like this:

Valonna: Oh, yeah . . . God, I've decided you will bless me with a new and completely friggin' awesome job. You couldn't have given me these talents and passions for no reason, so I will let you do your thing and hook me up. I expect everything on my timetable and on my own terms. Naturally, this will be a stress-free and easy process.

[God rubs his forehead, chuckles ever so minutely, and grins at his Son.]

Valonna: [looks around for source of laughter] . . . God . . . ? God . . . ?

Um, yeah, humility is never my forte. And in a meeting Wednesday, mid-sentence, nearly slack-jawed, I found myself stricken with Epiphanitis. (Thankfully a pretty mild bout, whose side effects happen to include a runny nose.) I've been expecting all this blessing from God, wrestling around with Him, struggling to keep up my faith. All without ever asking Him for the blessing, without exercising any real faith. Now I'm pinned, convicted, rather humbled; embarassed as usual.

Thankfully, God's not too into embarassing me. That's all my own doing. He was totally cool when I went back to Him and said . . . .

Really? You expect to eavesdrop on all of a girl's conversations with God? Nope, no verbatim recountings on this one. Suffice it to say, we're cool, we've discussed timing, humility, etc. I know I'm decidedly in the dark on some things, but He's drilling me on how to get over it. Namely, He's whispering in my ear, "Chill out. Don't worry. I won't leave you out in the cold. I didn't give you those talents and passions for no reason, but you don't see the full picture. You'll come along fine. Stick with Me, and you will be blessed, just by virtue of hanging out with Me."

Huh. You got a soundbite after all, and yes, He really does sound like that.