Lent 12: prove it

This was a theme that came up on a panel I watched today: prove it.

There’s a temptation we each experience: to talk about doing some amazing project or some great idea we have or the book we want to write or the job we want to have or the trip we want to take.  And the challenge from the panel was – don’t talk about it, just do it.

There are no shortage of people in the world talking about the things they want to do, and some of us – as was pointed out on the panel – even confuse the talking with the doing.   Once we’re through unpacking an idea we sort of feel like we’ve accomplished it.

Lent 10 + 11: fitting in

(Okay. I’m a day behind. But who is counting??)

My job is keeping me busy this weekend, but I’m learning a lot and I’m thankful to have a job that keeps me busy. And, also, I’m busy.

I’m not sure what to write about. I have a lot of thoughts on my mind.

Mostly thinking about culture (since it’s what I’m getting my MSc in), and how great I am at adapting but how bad I am at belonging.

Lent 6: disappointment that binds

All this talk of disappointment.  How come?  What does it have to do with Lent or even the love thing I first was writing about.

Maybe not much for you, but as I said in the beginning, this Lenten journey is about me and Him and disappointment does have a thing or two to do with me and Him these days.

See, I’m usually the fastest to bounce back from disappointment, but for the first time am feeling its lingering effects.  Normally I am crushed and then rebound, but this time around I am seeing it: I am noticing a heart withdraw, withhold in a way that is new for me.  I’m seeing it in my relationships with people and with God, and so, this is a thing for us this Lenten season.

Lent 5: dealing with disappointment

If I were to answer yesterday’s Lent questions, the answers would fill many pages.

I had a roommate once who had a tendency to kill people in her heart. That’s what we would call it.  When someone caught her off guard, disappointed her, she would have to fight the instinct to just cut them off and be done.  Which was hard to fight, because she could do it. Amputate the pain and the relationship in the blink of an eye and move on.  A far more effective coping mechanism than mine at the time.  We used to talk about this sneaky and annoying enduring optimist crouching inside of me, who – no matter how I told her the truth of her foolishness, she would still hold out hope, still fight, still stay.