My Temper Tantrum (or The First Time God Told Me No and How He Used It To Teach Me About the Golden Season)

In 2012, I discovered that I was a spoiled brat. Before then, God had answered prayers with "not yet" or "wait" or "here's an alternative," but never blatantly "no." But in a four-month span, I got two blatant "no"s. And just like any other spoiled, misbehaving child that receives a "no" in response to something they want, I threw a temper tantrum.

When I dated my first boyfriend, my only prayer for our relationship was that God would move our hearts towards each other or move our hearts away from each other, but that we would both feel the same way about however our relationship would end. Our relationship was brief, but I fell hard for him. After four months, he broke it off. He didn't feel the same way. God had clearly answered my ridiculous either/or prayer with an equally nonsensical "no". I met this first "no" with confusion. I thought my prayer was simple enough, but things had gone sideways and I ended up broken-hearted and rejected. God must have had a good reason, though. So I continued on, confident that my story with this boyfriend must not be completely over because of the disconnect between my prayer and reality. (Spoilers: I was wrong.)

Four months after that, I went to Israel on a two-week pilgrimage as part of my grad school program. I went as one of just a handful of people without a companion in a large-ish group of people that had brought mostly spouses, with the occasional son or sister mixed in. I was very lonely, felt profoundly alone, and was still processing much of what God had to teach me in the wake of my first breakup. My roommate was another member of the group that hadn't brought a companion. Her husband, who had some chronic medical issues, hadn't joined her.

Halfway through the trip, she got a devastating phone call: he had been in a terrible accident on his motorcycle. Details were still forthcoming, but she spent that entire day waiting on phone calls regarding his condition and her ability to book an emergency flight home. Throughout the day, I spent most of my time praying for healing for her husband. I've never had much faith for healing. It's not that I don't believe God can and does heal, but I haven't witnessed it much, so it's more like not really believing that's something He likes to use me for. I think He can and probably will, it's just not one of the gifts I've operated in much. But this time was different. I was filled with faith that not only was God going to heal my roommate's husband's wounds from the accident, but would also heal his chronic health issues. I spent the entire day at war in prayer, completely filled with faith that the next call we received would be that he was healthier than before the accident.

But I will never forget when the next call came. Getting ready for bed that night, my roommate apologized for disturbing me, but said she'd probably be up all night and needed the TV on to distract her. I told her to do whatever she needed to do and put in ear plugs and rolled over and continued to pray. The leaders of our group, who had the cell phone which had been receiving all of the calls, knocked on our door around 11 that night--a late hour for this particular trip. I was excited and nervous. I continued in my prayers that we'd have good news. I waited anxiously as she talked on the phone and tried to understand what was happening on the other end of the call. She hung up.

"They're going to cut off his leg!" The sound of her distraught wailing when she uttered these words will likely be imprinted on my memory for the rest of my life.

I was shattered. In that moment, I was shattered for her. She took the next flight home. But as the rest of the trip went by and I was left to a room by myself, meals largely by myself, and sitting on the bus with no one next to me for most of the remainder of the trip, which left me hours on end to think (nearly always a dangerous circumstance for me, as when I get in my head, I go down a spiral that is incredibly difficult to come back from), I started to be shattered for myself. I had never in my life before (or since) had that much faith for healing or interceded so dedicatedly for it. And yet, there it was: a big, blatant "no".

I got home from the trip and my tantrum ensued. I gave up on God having a good plan for my life. To be totally honest, I gave up on God having any plan for my life. I still believed all of the truths that I had grown up with: He is omnipotent; He is omniscient; He is good. I was just somehow able to reconcile that in my head with my unshakable belief that His goodness and omnipotence didn't include me. This tantrum-induced belief had entirely stripped me of hope to the point that it broke me physically. After just a few weeks, I ended up with a migraine that laid me out on the couch for three days. My mom drove me to our holistic doctor who determined my pain was emotionally based. I essentially had two choices in front of me: continue to suffer or choose hope.

Somewhere in between the two "no"s, I had decided to approach my discontent with the season I was in logically. The repetitive message delivered to me by mentors and pastors and friends was that life was about the journey. I was sick of the journey. But logic told me the journey ended when it reached its destination. So, fed up with the monotonous path I'd been on, I sat down with my journal and asked God to give me His "goals" for that season's journey. He answered with three goals.

When I was forced to face choosing hope over pain, I threw myself full-throttle into these three goals. God was very generous and gentle with me, because each goal had something practical I could do to move towards the destination. Two were about mindset and heart attitude; one allowed practical action in growing in the discipline of intercession. I couldn't accomplish any of them entirely on my own, but at least I had something to focus on.

In the midst of pursuing these goals, I got so lost in the joy and contentment of the rich rewards of obedience and intimacy with Christ that I actually entirely forgot about the goals. I was no longer looking for the destination. It truly had become about the journey. All of the truths those older and wiser and more experienced than I had told me became my reality. In fact, it wasn't until that season ended that I realized God had gently and faithfully led me through each of the goals; I had reached the destination and, true to my initial logic, a new journey through a new season to a new destination had begun.

But I learned so much in that journey that I don't even think about the destination any more. True, life is the journey. But even that framework for it makes me uncomfortable now because it's become so deeply a part of me that it just feels like life, rather than a journey to a destination. It just is.

Right around the same time I asked God for my destination "goals", I wrote a blog about golden seasons. In it, I stated:

 For me personally, I feel like my hypothetical "golden" season is when I have my first baby (probably when the baby's around 6 months old or so).

I'm still not there yet. But I was definitely wrong. Because somehow, in teaching me to thrive, find contentment, and deeply, richly, enjoy the journey--enjoy life--God gave me the key to the golden season.

Every season I've had since that summer when I lost myself in the journey has been a golden season. Not only has every season been a golden season, but every season more rich, enjoyable, and golden than the last. It is with great sheepishness that I include the quote about when, four-and-a-half years ago, I thought my best life season might be. But it feels deeply profound to me, as I haven't yet reached it, but have found the other seasons in between golden just the same.

So to any of you that told me hundreds of times to "eat what was on my plate" or "enjoy the journey," you have my deep apologies for my stubbornness in refusing to live the truths you so wisely imparted. But know that I have thought of each and every one of you since learning these lessons that I could have made so much easier if I'd just listened to you.

And to any of you that have already learned this key to the golden seasons, blessings on your current journey that you no longer even think about as a journey!

And, finally, to any of you that are tired of your journey and wishing you could hop on the next bullet train to your destination, I can't guarantee that you'll get everything you want if you just start trusting God and enjoying the season He has you in, but I can guarantee you'll have a lot more joy and even fun in life if you start to ask Him what His goals are for you in this season and pursue them with everything you have.

One Body, Many Expressions

I've grown up in the Vineyard. I went to the same church from the time I was only months old until I was 24. At that point, my now husband and I had started talking about getting married and decided that his church (also a Vineyard) was a better fit for us together as a future married couple. Just over a year ago we joined in a group of people planting a church in the city in which my husband and I had just weeks earlier signed a lease for an apartment. A Vineyard church plant. Suffice it to say, my experience of church liturgy, my theology, and my fundamental understanding of "church" has been and still is primarily influenced by Vineyard.

In 2011-2014 I was part of a program to earn my Masters in Ministry through a school in Canada. Though my professors were predominately (not exclusively) Vineyard pastors, my biggest personal takeaway from the experience was an openness and underlying appreciation for many denominations. This, in itself, was highly influenced by the assigned books A Generous Orthodoxy and How (Not) To Speak of God, as well as experiencing more liturgical church gatherings such as St. Croix Vineyard's Celtic service and the twice-weekly Spiritual Direction classes we took in our 3 two-week modules at SSU. Further supported by the inclusive and humble attitudes of the faculty, this girl that (up until that point) had only ever attended one church and (through the present) had only ever called Vineyard churches home suddenly understood other denominations to be family for the first time at the heart level.

So a year ago when I was offered the opportunity to serve a local Anglican church plant by leading worship, I didn't even think before answering with a resounding, "of course!" That became a once- and sometimes twice-a-month opportunity that has been nothing short of a complete blessing for me and the other musicians and worship leaders that have served with me. While leading Sunday mornings at the church is relatively routine, and not all that different from any other church I've ever led for, the high church holidays are an especially wonderful privilege to be a part of. In the last year, my husband and I have attended our first liturgical candlelight Christmas Eve and Easter services, our first ever Maundy Thursday service, and received our first cross-shaped ash marks on Ash Wednesday.

But the most profound experience I've had yet caught me entirely by surprise and pushed me further into a state of loving other denominations or traditions, although I prefer the term "expressions". I co-led worship for an infant baptism.

If you're not familiar with the Vineyard, the standard Vineyard stance is that we do baby dedications and leave baptism until an undefined age of reason (which I believe is generally left to the discretion of the parents). Baby dedications are fun and meaningful celebrations of new babies in the community that mark the parents' intent to raise their babies to love Jesus to the best of their abilities, through His grace. But this infant baptism had two aspects I had never experienced when witnessing a baby dedication: the absolute weight of the tradition and the wrecking sense of the presence of the Holy Spirit. (Not at all to say that the Holy Spirit is or was absent from baby dedications. But I believe it struck me more because of my background and my expectations of the moment that the Holy Spirit was so obviously present.)

I'm sure that infant baptisms vary widely based on the liturgy surrounding them. In the case of the one I was a part of, the presider states that the act is performed with the understanding that at some point the child will make his or her own profession of faith (which was an important distinction for my understanding of infant baptism). But the weight of the words the parents spoke blew me away. Now, to be fair, I am a person that puts a huge amount of emphasis on the words that are chosen and spoken. Perhaps not everybody understands this tradition the way I did. But, in essence, the parents are refuting Satan and sin and turning to Christ on behalf of their infant. To me, this is essentially saying that if my child were to die before the age of reason, I would stand before Christ in my child's place.

Even writing those words overwhelms me again in some small portion of the actual experience of the event. Regardless of whether my theology or Biblical interpretation allows for infant baptism, the Holy Spirit was undeniably present and the entire event deeply moving.

All of this to say one simple thing: don't knock it until you've tried it. I'm in no way supporting relativism or saying there are not major theological and Biblical understandings and misunderstandings that make church expressions loving each other a difficult and sometimes impossible task. Neither am I saying there is some core of Biblical truth that is the absolute minimum we all must agree on to "get to heaven." And I'm certainly not saying that just believing Jesus was a good man and discarding the rest of the Bible is enough. To be real, I don't believe it is at all my place to decide what theological tenets or Biblical understandings are necessary to being a Christian. In the same way, I'm not saying nothing is necessary to being a Christian. I am simply saying within the realm of Christ-loving church expressions, we should all be more hesitant to speak and more hasty to at the very least study and understand, if not experience. In many, if not most, cases you may find that just because someone else doesn't express their Christianity in the same way and may disagree on some minors or even majors doesn't mean they're not family. And you may find a deep love for symbols or traditions outside of your own expression. You may be surprised. But I'm reasonably convinced you will find unity and love in a way you may not have thought of or experienced before.

Thoughts on the Church and Singles

The young adult pastor at my church said something provocative at the homegroup he leads. He said something to the effect of, "The church makes unmarried people feel like less of a person because they aren't married." (I'm relatively sure those weren't his exact words, but it was definitely the thought.) The  (on the younger side of young adult) group gave a kind of unenthusiastic varied response. If my own response was any indication, they all felt slightly as if it resonated, but not sure enough to truly agree with the statement.

I have encountered this general feeling, though not necessarily by my church. The first time I felt discounted as a single was when a former mentor of mine (out of his own brokenness and wounding, I'm sure) told me flat out that if I were married, he could spend more time with me, but because I was single, it was bad for his reputation. (Score one for insecurities!)

Other than that one experience, I have never encountered being outright disregarded as an unmarried person. However, the church has almost entirely fallen short of making me feel supported and valued as a single. My mom and sister and I have recently been re-watching 7th Heaven. Now that I'm not a child and actually pay attention to the underlying themes of the media I entertain myself with, I realized that the creator/writers of the show seemed to have one prevailing message: the church's mission should be to do no harm. While I'm guessing these people must have had bad experiences in church to come to this conclusion, I believe this is a far from accurate portrayal of the church's mission. As regards singles, I believe doing no harm is almost as harmful as harm. (Good luck with that one.)

See, my church doesn't have a singles ministry. (With good reason, which I will address later.) We have a children's ministry. For people with kids. We have marriage conferences and young marrieds' home groups. For married people. We have family homegroups of all shapes and sizes. For families. But what do we offer singles? Well, if they're in the right age group, we offer them young adult community, though that's hardly exclusive to them. If they're not, we encourage them to become part of a "normal" (by normal, I mean not "special interest") homegroup.

Again, I ask. What does the church offer singles? I guarantee you if I went to one of the pastors and asked what the benefits of being single in the community are, at least one of the answers would be, "More time to serve." True? Yes. Helpful? No. And actually, a more accurate answer would be "more time to serve the church" as I'm sure any wife would tell you she has PLENTY of opportunities to serve at home she never had before. This is unhelpful for a couple of reasons. First, it comes off a tad manipulative. Though it is true that serving fills you and blesses you often more than receiving, being told that God's keeping you from serving one person so you can serve multiple people is less than incentive to be content in the season in which God has you.

Second, as a single watching many of my married friends enjoy the opportunity to be involved in married groups, I have to wonder why the church doesn't provide the same type of support to its singles as it does to its marrieds. Quite succinctly, there is no benefit in (my) church to being single. We get left out of more things than we get included in without being offered anything specific to our unique place in life. Some of us fill this need by finding peers and/or mentors to encourage and support us. Others find no way to fill the need. Some do go the route of serving more and end up being blessed beyond measure, but still finding themselves lacking something. (And I'm sure there are more categories that I'm either unintentionally ignoring or don't know about.)

As any married person will tell you, there are benefits to being single, just as any single can immediately point out the benefits of being married. But similarly, singles have certain common struggles just as marrieds have certain common struggles. I see no reason why singles should be left to figure it out on their own when marrieds get all the support in the world. (I'm not saying at all that marriage isn't hard or isn't work. What I am saying is that life is sometimes hard and sometimes work. Being excluded from groups because of something that is completely out of our control without being offered something else is hardly what we need in life when we're already dealing with things we have no control over and being left out.)

However, I take great issue with singles ministries. I've never really seen it done well. Now, I don't have much experience, as my own church has no singles ministry. But I have a few observations based on three experiences: (1) a girls' book group studying Lady in Waiting, (2) a singles' retreat with another church, (3) the same retreat a year later. I've found similar things in all three groups. With almost no exception, the people fall into one of two (if not both) categories: broken spirited from shattered dreams of marriage or looking to find someone. I have been both at one time or another--the broken-spirited dreamer and the husband hunting missionary/camp counselor. (What an incredible waste of my time.)

We don't need to be a Christian speed dating service. Similarly, we don't need to be offering a place for people to simply commiserate. I'm not at all saying that we should only be in community with people exactly like us, either. But there are some groups that have unique needs. I am simply pointing out that people that don't get married at 19 in the church are probably one of them.

Yes, yes. I hear MANY of you saying, "You're only twenty-four! You're not that old!" No, I'm not. I'm really not. But I am in an awkward position of having most of the friends my age be married and most of my single friends be much younger. While occasionally a married woman saying, "I know exactly how you feel. I felt exactly the same way and then I met [insert name of husband here]!" is hope-giving, more often, it's not. It's easy to look from the other side of an unmet longing and be able to promise that God will provide. I feel a lot more encouraged when a single older than me can look at me and say, "I'm not married yet even though I want to be and Jesus is still providing for my needs."

Which brings me to my specific role: I can stand up for the single girls around me and say that Jesus has a timeline and His timeline is GOOD. I can stand up for the single girls around me and say that He wants to the be the hero of your heart and he wants to consume more of your heart and more of your time than you're currently giving Him. I can stand up for the single girls around me and say that as long as He keeps us single, He will provide for our single-specific needs (in one way or another).* (I recognize that I just got unintentionally sexist. Being a girl, I obviously have no idea what the insecurities of a single man may be. If these speak to any single men reading this, then wonderful! If they don't, I encourage you, single man, to stand up for the single men in your life and speak truths to them that speak to your [collective] unique insecurities.)

I don't know how to make singles like me feel valued. I don't want to exclude my married friends any more than I enjoy being excluded. But I do want to find the answer. In fact, I am determined to find the answer. And I want to find it while I am still single. How do we, as the church, support and encourage singles in this unique season of our lives without devolving into husband- or wife-hunting and commiserating?

Why It Matters

One of the quickest ways to raise my ire (immediately) is to say, "_________ doesn't matter as long as people are worshipping." I've heard multiple words put in place of that blank. And all of them infuriate me.

I realize what you're about to read borders on a slippery slope argument, but bear with me. I think it's a logical question to ask. To those (worship leaders particularly) who would say this phrase, I ask: What does matter? And, then why are you leading worship?

If [it] doesn't matter as long as people are worshipping, why do we have a live band? Worshipping to a recorded CD would ensure that EVERYBODY knows EXACTLY how the song goes EVERY time. If [it] doesn't matter as long as people are worshipping, why do we have music? Silence and/or reading scripture are just as important acts of worship. If [it] doesn't matter as long as people are worshipping, why do you learn your instrument, take voice lessons, or sing pre-written songs? If [it] doesn't matter, why do you do anything you do as a worship leader?

People worshipping is the goal of every worship leader. So does it matter how you get there? I would argue yes. I would argue that if it doesn't, the role of worship leader is actually pointless.

If you've been leading worship for any period of time, you've most likely experienced that moment of split-second decision: do I end the song here or repeat the chorus? Do I build back up again into the bridge? Should I throw out my fifth song and take more time on the third one? Do I entirely swap my last song for a song the band may not know? I make these kinds of split-second decisions almost every set. Why do we have to make these choices as worship leaders? Because our role is to use music to help facilitate a group of people worshipping God--to help minimize distractions and pave a road for people to follow into the presence of God.

I believe every decision and non-decision we make as worship leaders either furthers this goal or hinders it. We use music because God has built (most of) us with a peculiar sensibility to music that other mediums can't quite reach. We sing pre-written songs with lyrics available (most often) so that everyone can join in (facilitating a group). We learn our instruments and have rehearsals so that we play well and play together (to minimize distractions). Everything you do as a worship leader should serve this purpose, or perhaps you should rethink it.

I have a handful of soapboxes as a worship leader. These are things I've preached for all my seven years of mentoring younger worship leaders. And they all serve this purpose. In no particular order:

• Learn your music and lyrics and be "off-book" as much as possible. (I am peculiarly gifted in this in that I pick up songs very quickly and memorize very easily. I recognize that not everyone has the ability memorize quickly or easy--especially playing and singing at the same time. Also in my experience, it's easier for guitarists to memorize chords than it is for pianists. If you are not so-gifted to memorize easily, I'm not saying give up worship leading. I'm saying do as much as you can. If you can't memorize, don't. But if you can, don't rely on sheets simply because you can.) This not only minimizes potential distractions (paper shuffling between songs or the dreaded forgetting of lyrics!), but also makes you a better worship leader. A leader by definition goes before and has followers. A song leader simply lets the people s/he's leading know where the song's going. A worship leader is letting people know where the worship is going. And in order to lead you must also be there. Getting rid of dependence on chord sheets (as well as better-learning your instrument) gives you the freedom to worship as you lead. Because if you're not worshipping, you're not really leading worship. In addition, this allows you to be more spontaneous. If you feel like God is calling you to play a specific song that's not on your set list--or even just feel like it's appropriate for the sermon topic or where you think God wants to take the people--you can play it without having to send someone to the computer, file cabinet, folder or, worse, your car!
• As well as possible, make your set seamless. This is obviously much contested. I know many worship leaders that don't, I know a handful that do, and I know a few that did at one point and don't anymore. (I know a worship leader in each of these categories I would consider to be an effective leader. It's not a make-it-or-break-it type deal. But it helps minimize distractions.) To me, this doesn't always look like playing a whole set in the same key (though that's the easiest and simplest way to do it and is what my sets usually look like). Playing in relative keys is a possibility (such as D and G or E and A). If you're playing with a band, have the synth player/pianist/lead guitarist/backup acoustic play something while you move your capo around. But never have silence because you had to move your capo. Intentional silence is a tool that, well-placed, can bring an extraordinary moment to a set. But silence simply because you have to move your capo is distracting and sometimes awkward. I feel similarly about prayer. Prayer is a gift and a tool and has its place in a worship set as well, but should be intentional, not as a mask for an awkward song transition. This removes distraction and creates a path of worship, rather than stairs or several boulders to be climbed over.
• Learn songs as close as possible to the way the original artist did it. (Or, in some cases, whatever recording your congregation is most familiar with.) If every worship leader at a church plays a song the same way, no one will ever be confused. You're leading a group of people. If the worship leader before you doubled the verse every time, double the verse or you'll lose your people. Not that losing your congregation means you're a bad worship leader. But if you can avoid it, do. Have you ever experienced that awkward moment where you're not the worship leader and you thought s/he was going somewhere s/he wasn't and were left singing out the wrong part while nobody else was singing? I know I have. Try to avoid doing this to your congregation. Remember, you're leading. So lead. If you're doing something out of the ordinary (such as repeating a line that's not usually repeated), let them know.
• Play only songs that are in line with your church's (and hopefully your) theology and, as much as possible, songs that you can worship to. Think very carefully about the words you're asking your congregation to sing. Just because it has a catchy melody or makes people cry doesn't necessarily mean it has solid theology. Again, you're leading people, so make sure you're leading them correctly. You have authority as a worship leader. People will sing what you have them sing. Let them sing truth. Playing songs that you can worship to, similar to being off-book, makes you a better worship leader. You can't lead people somewhere you're not and playing songs you can't worship to makes this very difficult. Brian Doerksen, I believe, calls it "owning" songs. Make sure you can "own" the songs you play. Occasionally you'll have to play songs you don't necessarily "own"--if another worship leader has introduced a song, sometimes you should be a team player and play it for the sake of the people or if your pastor has specifically requested a song you don't necessarily "own". But in the songs you choose, choose songs that you can lead well.
• Trust your band (if you have one). Give them a general idea of where the song's going. If you have a specific idea in your head, communicate it. But trust them to do what they do best. Micromanaging your band will only exhaust and frustrate you. I'm not saying don't train them. If you have a new drummer, you may have to tell him/her exactly where you want the kick (1 and 3 or 4 on the floor?); if you have a vocalist that's never sung background, tell him/her where in the song to come in or if you think the other harmony would sound better in his/her voice or give the song more dynamic. But eventually, if you've trained them well and they're a good fit for your team, you should be able to let them do what they do best--they trust you to lead, don't they?

Some if this may sound very harsh or even impossible. These are things that are important to me and, yes, I've broken just about every "rule" I have at some point. But these are simply examples of my intentionality in leading worship. Yes, I do believe the songs we choose matter because we're teaching theology, authoritatively inviting people to sing with us, and leading people into the presence of God. I do believe that whether or not the leader can sing on pitch matters because some people in the congregation will be distracted if s/he can't. I do believe that playing and singing a familiar song in a familiar way matters because we're asking people to join in with us.

All that to say, learn your craft, be intentional, and, though not necessarily indicated by the disproportionate amount of harping on mechanics, most importantly, ask God what He's doing with your people. As much as you care, He cares more. And He knows where every person is at that will be hearing your worship set. And He can tell you. And He often will if you give Him the chance. All the rules and guidelines in the worship handbook can't hold a candle to following the voice of God--even if He does ask you to play a song you haven't played in four years in the middle of a worship set.

The Reward for Contentment

Or (Un)Helpful Things Married People Say

For a while, the advice I received most regarding being single (and, often, leading a worship team) was, "I've found that it wasn't until I stopped wanting something that I got it." Now, well meaning as this advice is, it puts the potential follower (meaning, of course, me) in quite the conundrum. If I want it, then I won't get it. So the logical conclusion is to stop wanting it. But if I intentionally stop wanting something simply to get it, don't I still want it? And outside of the unfortunate damned-if-I-do-damned-if-I-don't repercussions of this advice, it never quite sat right with me as far as my loving, faithful, promise-fulfilling God goes. Why would a God that loves me and knows what's best for me always only give me what I don't want? The problem I have with this advice, as I will explain later, is mostly in the phrasing, not the concept.

The most recent thing married couples (specifically married women with young kids) have repeated to me has been: "Enjoy being single while it lasts." No matter what season of life you're in, hearing this, again, well-meant advice is not something you want to hear if you are at all dissatisfied with said season.

When I've expressed this annoyance to other married couples (who would say no such thing), most have tried to sway my thinking by delineating all the downsides of married life or child rearing. In my current life season and state of mind this is quite unhelpful. To an outsider who so desperately wants to be in, even the worst looks golden.

But there is no golden season.

There is no season of life where everything finally feels like it all fits. (Which, if you think about it, is kind of blessing in disguise. If there were such a season, life would pretty much suck once that season was over and you still had to keep on living.) For me personally, I feel like my hypothetical "golden" season is when I have my first baby (probably when the baby's around 6 months old or so). But I'm sure when I get there, I'll miss getting 9 hours of uninterrupted sleep or deciding I don't want to cook dinner and eating carrots instead or being (at least somewhat) guaranteed a block of undisturbed time with my husband.

But even that "golden" season won't be golden if I don't learn to make this season a golden season. Living every season the way I am inclined means even my hypothetical golden season would be almost entirely missed by wishing for when my first kid can walk or use the toilet or dress herself or, on the other end, looking forward to my second kid and having a baby again. (This is all beginning to sound a little like Click to me.)

Instead of there being no golden season, what if every season is a golden season?

See, the heart of the first piece of advice is contentment. But getting what you want isn't the reward for contentment. Contentment is the reward for contentment. Once you truly get to that place where you are content (cynically put in the previous advice as "not wanting it anymore"), whether you get it or not doesn't matter. Because you are content.

So, what is the lesson in this?

For single people, learn to make every season a golden season.

For married people, perhaps this is the advice best offered to single people (or anyone for that matter):

Enjoy the season God has you in

because if you spend your life

running ahead of Him,

even if you get what you think you want

you will never enjoy it.

Like a Zipper

"What if things are actually falling into place?"

This is a recurring question in my conversations with God as of late. This familiar conversation ("I feel like everything's falling apart." "What if it's actually falling into place?" "Well, maybe I'd rather have it actually fall apart so I'd feel better.") has taken place multiple times over the last month or so. It's a very small picture of the circular pattern of thought that's been hamster-wheeling through my head about God's perspective and free will versus predestination.

When I was (much) younger, I spent a good deal of time on a message board community based on the audio series Adventures in Odyssey. My favorite board was the debate board (which really shouldn't surprise anybody that knew me between the ages of let's say 11-17 or so). I distinctly remember the topic of predestination coming up a handful of times and a few of them got particularly ugly. I've been fascinated with the tension of this discussion ever since. Not because I want to explain it, but because the very nature of its inexplicability speaks something very special to me about the sovereignty and mystery of God.

For another (seemingly unrelated) piece of the puzzle, I go through seasons where I have a passion to wrestle in prayer. Unfortunately (or not?), my heart is usually not in praying for the nations or the lost (yet), but for the people in my life and their life situations (as well as my own). Last night, as I was writing a list of the things that are currently on my heart, I started to muse on the idea of wrestling in prayer. I know two seemingly contradictory facts: (1) God is sovereign and all-powerful; (2) He invites us to participate with Him in prayer.

Now, how can our prayers change anything when God has all the power to do whatever He wants and knows exactly what's going to happen? His plan can't depend on the participation of people with free will because then He would cease to be all powerful, given that the plan would fall apart if the free will of the people didn't line up with His (sin?). I can feel my brain getting dizzy even as I start this spiral of thought.

In any event, however it works, whatever the reason, I do believe that God hears our prayers and that persistent prayer can change things. How? I don't know. Maybe because God "foreknew" that a particular person was going to pray for a particular thing and accounted for it in His plan. But what if that person decided not to pray that thing for whatever reason that day? Would it change God's plan? No, because God would know the person wasn't going to pray it. This, again, is where my brain starts hurting and I fall back into blissful dependence on worshiping a God surrounded by "clouds and thick darkness" (Psalm 97:2).

What does this have to do with my dialogue with God (or a zipper!)? I feel like things are falling apart. But my sovereign, mysterious God knows exactly what's happening. He can see from the beginning of my life clear through to the end and knows with complete clarity and infinite wisdom what pieces are falling where and how close (or far) they are to (or from) where they are supposed to be. What if when I felt most like everything was falling into place it really was the furthest from where it was supposed to be? What if when things feel least peaceful or most tumultuous they're actually much closer to where they are supposed to be? (I'm not trying to say at all that this is a standard for all situations or all individuals, though there is a prevailing truth that God is closest to the broken and weak, so maybe I'm not as far off as I think I might be.)

God hardened Pharaoh's heart (Exodus 10:1, which is remarkable to me because God even gave Moses a reason why He was doing something that seemed a lot more like "falling part" than "coming together"). God gave Daniel favor in the eyes of his superiors (Daniel 1:9). God can change the hearts of people. What God wants done, He will make happen. Does that mean I believe that every person that doesn't do what I think they should has had their heart hardened by God? No. Not at all. Does it mean that I think every time I have favor with someone God has divinely and miraculously moved? No. That leans a little too much towards the God is to us as we are to Sims argument for my taste. But I do very much like the idea that God has the power to change people's hearts and will exert that power if necessary. It makes it much easier for me to believe that I'm actually in the middle of a plan that is going somewhere, rather than a forgotten afterthought.

So what about the zipper? What is a zipper, exactly? Two separate pieces of fabric that have to be precisely lined up (have you ever tried to sew a zipper onto clothes?), shaped properly, and brought together by a third piece. (See where I'm going with this?) While I was praying earlier (yes, that "falling apart" dialogue may have been the origin of this line of thought), I saw a picture of a zipper... working like a zipper should: bringing things together. What if things are actually coming together? What if I'm one of those pieces of fabric--precisely lined up and shaped properly--in the process of being brought into place by a third piece? What if the feeling of everything falling apart is the very real feeling of being stretched and pulled apart from whatever's on the other side of the fabric?

I'd Rather Be an R Than a Z

aka The Embarrassingly Contemplative Thoughts Mandy Has While Playing Words with Friends

I was looking over my letters the other day and thought, "Stupid R. It's not worth anything. Why do we even have Rs. Rs should be struck from the language. I would really hate to be an R, if I were a letter."

Then, I realized....

Rs are really useful and it's often difficult to make words without Rs and other low-scoring letters. This is why they score so low. But think about it . . . Zs are a flash in the pan, one-time-use type of letter. Sure, they score a lot, but their use is very limited and quickly outlived.

I'd much rather be an R.