There are so many thoughts swirling around in my head that I don't think I can get them out in any kind of orderly fashion. I almost want to give up before actually trying.

After much prayer, soul searching, and a hard drive crashing computer virus, I figured out what and how I feel about everything I've been blogging about most recently. Actually, it was a couple I saw at church that God used to usher in His clarity, but the lack of a computer freed up lots of time to make sure it stuck!

This couple, he looked to be of Asian decent and she was white. I was struck by their lack of physical similarities yet their mutual worship of God individually and as a couple. The worship of a God that I also worship. Although I don't know anything about them and their relationship specifically, I was struck by the thought of what God must think about their relationship. I'm fairly certain He doesn't see an Asian man and a white woman, but rather He saw two children worshipping Him and encouraging each other to grow in their knowledge of Him.

It was if I was seeing a glimpse of God's original design for the first time and it was such a beautiful and exotic picture. He created each and every person on this Earth. He doesn't care about skin color, background, finances, degrees, demographics. He only sees the beloved children He created, the children He wants to turn from their sin and seek His presence above all else.

I quite often succumb to caring more about what others think than what God thinks. I'm plagued by and overcome with false societal thoughts and opinions. I fear the struggle with prejudiced thoughts and attitudes is one that will constantly nip at my heels.

But I can say, only by the grace of God, that it's a struggle that won't dominate my life. I better understand what was meant when the adoptive dad said the only history his adopted son needs know is his [the father's]...as the son, a fully loved, completely accepted, and newly grafted branch in the family tree, his history becomes that of his father. The past is of no importance. The only thing that matters is what the father thinks and believes of his child; thus changing everything anyone, even the child, may think of himself. Nothing but my Father defines me. How I rejoice at that thought!

It's all about Him. Glorifying Him. Praising Him. Honoring Him. Representing Him. Sharing Him. Knowing Him.

Oh, that I might live a life that lives up to that...

This examination of my heart isn't fun or comfortable. It has kept my sin and failure ever before me. Which is a good thing, but it's so ugly and all I want to do it turn from it, to deny it's existence in my heart.

But I can't.

However, I have come to recognize, with a blazing new clarity, the miracle and amazing gift of the Cross. Jesus was fully aware of all this ugliness, this sin, this darkness in me yet He went to the Cross for me. I'm completely flabbergasted by His willingness to save such an ugly hearted sinner.

But I also need to figure out where these prejudices stem from and what I need to do to get deal with them, to push through my erroneous thinking. I don't like that part of me is less than Christ-like towards others. Have I allowed society to cloud my thinking? What in me struggles to accept those that aren't like me?

I was reading an article today written by a black woman about how a lot of women, but especially black women, have certain ideals of what they want their boyfriends and husbands to be and look like.

As a side note, I think this some of this stems from the proven fact that college educated black women outnumber college educated black men 3 to 1. As most people do, these women want to be with someone like themselves. Whether that means someone with a similar ethnicity/history, goals, salary, hobbies, or experiences their desire for comfortableness and similarity often causes them to look for what they think this "rightness" looks like, but their perceptions don't always lend to being a true representation. People are unexpected. There is no "typicalness" to bestow on every person, just our own stereotypes and prejudices. What is right about one isn't about another.

But I digress. The author goes on to say that this having standards is not necessarily a good or bad thing unless these women are dismissing great men, as many often do, because they don't look like the picture of the ideal man they hold in their heads. Something, she says, she knows from experience. She reflected on how she almost missed out on an amazing opportunity to get to know and date the sweetest and funniest man because of his looks. She said his dreadlocks were an immediate deterrent because she first wondered if he had a job, any education, goals, etc.

How often do I do this? How often have I not been intentional about meeting others because they don't appear to be people I would connect with? What fears and/or insecurities do I hold that cause me to stay away? From where is the root of pride that makes me think my college education, car, house, clothes, accomplishments, goals, etc. gives me the power to treat others as less than myself because they may not be as "educated" or "well off" as I am? And when it comes down to it, how educated or well off am I really?

And where in all the self focus is the love of Christ?

"It is a peculiar sensation, this double-consciousness, this sense of always looking at one's self through the eyes of others, of measuring one's soul by the tape of a world that looks on in amused contempt and pity. One ever feels his two-ness, -an American, a Negro; two souls, two thoughts, two unreconciled strivings; two warring ideals in one dark body, whose dogged strength alone keeps it from being torn asunder."

-W.E.B. Du Bois, The Souls of Black Folks

I understand what Mr. Du Bois is talking about. I feel that I'm constantly pulled in a million different ways. There is a constant battle of what being black is and who I am, others perceptions of me as myself and then because I'm black, and my perceptions of others. And then my ultimate struggle lies in the knowledge that my perceptions aren't always Christ-like. How can I be a good or even decent Christian with these perceptions?

And by perceptions I mean prejudices.

I'm wary of large black men who, by my estimation, don't look like they have any goals or a job. I tend to think worse of black women who don't have "good" hair. I get disgusted with grossly overweight people. I tend to feel more comfortable around lighter skinned black people or those who seem to be more like me. I don't like "ghetto" black people, ghetto by my definition, and how I think their actions reflect on all black people. And I wonder how others perceive all blacks based on the actions of a few.

I'm feeling very hypocritical and exposed. I think I'll go ahead and call it a day...

Even now the insecurities and questions of my experiences plague me.

Am I good enough? Does being black hold me back? Will the fact that I don't know many goal oreinted black men keep me from getting married? Or will I marry someone not black? Am I prepared for the criticism that typically comes with interracial relationships? Do I want to bring children into that kind of environment? Why am I fearful of what others think? Whose opinion of me really matters?

And then there's the line of questioning in regards to wanting to adopt. I have no problem with the thought of loving a child with a different color of skin than my own, but can I do justice by that child? I know in my head that love transcends skin color, but do I believe that with my whole heart? Do I teach that child about their country and culture of birth? Or does my heritage and family become all they need to know about?

I think there is such a thing as innate cultural tendencies. I have a Korean friend who was adopted by a white family as an infant. The adoption agency told her parents that she, my friend, would sweat a lot and sing. Her mom thought it a racist comment until my friend sweated more than any of their biological children and she not only sang, but she'd correct others if they were off key. How could I, not being of the same culture, begin to parent such a child?

But as I verbalize questions and fears, maybe for the first time, I realize that these are questions not very different than what any parent asks. How do you parent a child with gifts and talents unlike your own? You never know until you're put in that situation, but you handle it accordingly because you love that child. I firmly believe being a parent is more than just being a DNA donor. A parent is one who will stand for, fight for, love, discipline, and nurture a child. It isn't simply a biological occurence. It is a delicate, loving, unexplainable, and intricate bond formed between an adult and a child regardless of skin color.

That's a challenge I would love to take on.

But I worry that my prejudices may stand in the way of being used in such a way.

Like I said, I grew up in middle class America with the majority of my friends being white. Any friend or crush of mine was most likely not black. There weren't many black families, especially young black families like mine, in our area. My brother teased me by saying I was more comfortable around whites than blacks, which to some degree is true. My friends in high school started calling me Samantha, what they described as an all-American white girl name, because it fit me better than my given "black girl" name. This moniker was further propagated, against the backdrop of the other blacks in my area, by my desire and drive to do well. My high school was in a small, country Texas town where many people didn't leave. Or if they did they came right back after college. I don't know if it was ever a conscious decision, but I knew that wouldn't be me. Plus, I had parents who pushed me to do well, who wanted more for me. So I took the AP classes, got involved with various organizations, got a part time job, and volunteered...I did all the right things for college applications. And was harassed by my black classmates for being "too white."

Where did I fit in? I wanted more than what I saw around me. I wanted more than what my parents had. They wanted more for me. We were infinitely blessed in that they were able to carve out a comfortable life for us, but they wanted more for us than the struggles they faced. But how do you become a successful when you feel that you don't fit anywhere? When you don't feel like you have enough or the right things to get ahead? My desire to be more put me at odds with a lot of the other black kids, but I never really felt as if I truly fit in with the other kids whose dreams were more in line with what I wanted.

How do you overcome that? Can I overcome that?

Before I get any further, let me give a little background about myself. I am the product of a teenage pregnancy; however, my mom has consistently said she was estatic to learn she was pregnant. My parents got married when I was about 5 months old. They weren't the teen parents who, as most are often portrayed, got married out of desperation or a sense of duty. They really loved each other. My brother was born about a year later. No doubt there were some lean times, but we never really knew the stresses my parents were under. As an adult, I now can better understand my parents financial worries and fears, but as a child I was blissfully unaware of everything. I just remember being very loved and safe.

Fast forward several years. After high school I attended a private, liberal arts college where I graduated with a bachelor's in Liberal Arts. I've had the opportunity to be apart of some amazing things and hope to experience more. I consider myself to be an intelligent and well educated 26 year old black woman. My brother has been married for 3 years and they have a 2 year son and an 8 month old daughter. They are, without a doubt, the cutest kids you'll ever come across:)

Despite the less than ideal start, my parents overcame their poor pasts and successfully raised my brother and I in middle class America. We may not have had everything we wanted, but I can't recall not having the things we needed...love, clothing, food, protection, stability, and faith. I have led a very blessed life. Undoubtedly I, as everyone else, have been affected by the evil of this world, by the ability of the ones you love the most to hurt you the deepest, but when I consider where I could be, how my life could have played out, and thank God above for His deliverance and love.

I remember my first experience of racism as if it were yesterday. It's one of those things that leaves an indelible mark on your life. In this depraved world this occurrence is inevitable. I've wondered if there's some correlation between when and how this wound occurs to how jaded people become as adults. I'm not sure if there is a correlation. But I do know this wound was the first time I was made aware of my skin color.

Her name was Emily. She lived in our apartment complex and she was in my brother's pre-kindergarten class. I can still see in my mind's eye where we lived, where she lived, and where we were standing when it happened. I don't remember the circumstances of what brought it about, but I will never forget the 4 year old, who parroting her parents, said she wasn't allowed to play with little black boys. I remember standing there in confusion as to why she couldn't play with my brother. I will also never forget the following day when she came back to say she couldn't play with little black girls either. I don't remember what my mom told us after Emily's announcement, but I remember the confusion, the sadness, the internal questions of what was wrong with our skin, what was wrong with me.

There are numerous moments in a person's life that are burned into their psyche never to be purged. Hopefully most are joyful and happy. Some aren't. Some of my moments include the situation with Emily, the phone call saying my best friend had died, college graduation, the call to say my sister-in-law was pregnant, holding my nephew and niece for the first time. These are moments that have the ability to form you, but it's how you respond to them, I believe, that determines the outcome of who you are.

Although the situation with Emily was very confusing it never clouded my feelings of people, white or otherwise. Maybe it was the protection of young age that prevented me from fully grasping the gravity of the situation. Or that my family was close to other white families so it wasn't an issue of thinking everyone was like Emily's parents. I don't know. But I'll never forget that moment of innocence lost.

If you know me at all you know how much of a news junkie I am. Which is how I came across this article in Newsweek. It was originally posted in April 2009, but I saw it tonight on MSN.

Let me preface this by saying as a born again Christian, I like to think I don't see skin color. Jesus didn't act any different towards people based on their skin so I try to lead a life that emulates that. But I'm not completely convinced that I do.

Recently at church there was a discussion forum for those interested in foster parenting and adoption. Because I hope to get married and raise biological and adopted children, I went to the meeting and the issue of race came up. Of the three families who interracially adopted or are seeking to adopt, my focus is one the one white family who adopted a little boy from Ethiopia. Although I didn't have the chance to ask them to further explain, one of the things the dad mentioned was their having to face prejudices they held when looking into adopting a child from Ethiopia. I don't know the specifics of what these prejudices were, but having had the chance to observe this family, they also have an older adopted son from Russia, I am without a doubt sure of their love and commitment to Christ and each other. I've had the opportunity to work in nursery with their younger son and to see their interactions and it's obvious to anyone that the love between parents and child is deep, very real, and very much mutual. This further supported my thought that love can transcend a multitude of differences, but it also brought to the fore various "questions and fears" of mine. Since that meeting, I've grown to see that these "questions and fears" are, surprisingly, prejudices I struggle with. And I will attempt to unpack them here...tomorrow.

Is there a parable that can further explain Christ's love for me in a way that I can better understand it as a single woman?

I was talking to two friends and somehow that question came up. I feel like marrieds and parents have a better hands on grasp of what it means to love. Only a parent can begin to truly understand what it was like when God had to turn His back on His Son. And only a married can relate to being pursued and desired like a bride and groom.

I don't have those experiences. But parents have an entirely different perspective as they have the ability to better understand what God must have gone through when turning away from Jesus because of the sin He took on. And the same for marrieds. Jesus' metaphors of the church being the bride and He the bridegroom mean more to one who has pursued and one who has been pursued.

I don't think He forgot about or is prejudiced against singles. I'm just wondering where is the 'ah hah!' moment that it seems marrieds and parents have that I don't as a single woman?

I was rushing from one thing to another the other day, but needed to shower. As usual, I was behind schedule and in a frantic rush which is never good when I'm trying to not cut myself as I shave. But I finished in record time and got out of the shower. Unfortunately, it was as I was towel drying my hair that I realized I hadn't actually washed me! My hair was clean and my arms and legs were shaved, but that's all I'd done. Argh. Back in the shower I went.

And that pretty much sums up the whole of my life right now.

Failure, real or perceived, is one of my biggest fears. I constantly struggle to find the balance between surrendering my life and goals to God while realizing my responsibility to make plans. I don't want to be that person who prays and prays for God to reveal His plan, but never moves. He has equipped me with the tools to act. Through prayer, spending time with Him, and seeking gut-wrenching honesty and wisdom from those I respect I test those plans against His Word. But like anyone else, I'm not a fan of those plans being thwarted. Or disappointing those who may be depending on me. Or explaining why plans I had spoken of didn't work out the way I had described.

True or not, it all translates as failure to me. It feels like failure of my faith, my ability to plan, my person. It scares me. And although I'm not proud of it, I've come to realize that it's not only the fear of man that I need to deal with, but that this is a fear that's larger and more prominent in my life than my fear of God. I wish I could just be over it, but I don't know how to get past this.

I honestly don't think God causes bad things to happen in my life in order to teach me a lesson or to make me bend to His will, but I struggle with the thought of His using the very object of my fears, failure, as a way to teach me how to depend on Him. In one sense I think walking it out it is a logical way to face and get over that or any other fear, but that isn't always the best way to handle something. I realize a fear of something that has such a grip on my life is crippling and lends itself to putting God in a box He was never meant to be in, but I'm not sure how to "get over it."

But regardless of my philosophy of fears, I've found myself where I never wanted to be...failed. It's at this point, in an effort to encourage myself, that I'd love to insert some inspirational quote about failure making one stronger or some other such crap, but I can't. Failure isn't fun or easy. It can't be summed up by quoting some lame cliche. It hurts like hell. I wish I could blame it on someone or something else or take comfort in the fact that I'm not completely responsible for these current circumstances, but I can't do that. I just want to lash out, to make someone feel the same pain I feel. But I can't do that either. I'm finding that grieving and being angry while not sinning is very hard and with it being at a time that I'm already feeling kicked and bruised I just want to give in to my flesh and rage...against anyone or anything.

In my struggle with wanting to divert responsibility, my mom urged me to read Psalm 51. It's David's response after Nathan called him out on his sin with Bathsheba. When Nathan first came to David he told him a story of a rich man, with lots of sheep, who took the one beloved sheep of a poor man to feed to his guest. David, seemingly very right in his outrage, said the rich man had to pay retribution for his actions. What David didn't expect was for Nathan to say he was the rich man-he acted no differently with Bathsheba than the rich man with the sheep.

When she told me what Psalm 51 was about I was ready to mentally check out. Why would I need to read that? I didn't kill, steal, or fornicate. But I read it.

Have mercy on me,O God, according to your steadfast love;

According to your abundant mercy blot out my transgressions. Wash me thoroughly from my iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin!

For I know my transgressions, and my sin is ever before me.
Against you, you only, have I sinned and done what is evil in your sight, so that you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment. Behold, I was brought forth in iniquity, and in sin did my mother conceive me. Behold, you delight in truth in the inward being, and you teach me wisdom in the secret heart.

Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean; wash me, and I shall be whiter than snow. Let me hear joy and gladness;let the bones that you have broken rejoice. Hide your face from my sins, and blot out all my iniquities. Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me. Cast me not away from your presence, and take not your Holy Spirit from me. Restore to me the joy of your salvation, and uphold me with a willing spirit.

Then I will teach transgressors your ways, and sinners will return to you. Deliver me from bloodguiltiness, O God, O God of my salvation,

and my tongue will sing aloud of your righteousness. Lord, open my lips, and my mouth will declare your praise. For you will not delight in sacrifice, or I would give it; you will not be pleased with a burnt offering. The sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise (vs. 1-17, ESV; underlining mine).

...my sin is ever before me...you may be justified in your words and blameless in your judgment...create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me...the sacrifices of God are a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, O God, you will not despise...

These verses remind me that regardless of my or anyone's actions in any situation, I was born with a sinful nature. My sin is ever before me and always against Him so He is completely justified in any words about me and His blameless judgment of me. So regardless of who is "right" in this particular situation, I'm still woefully short on "rightness" in other more important areas. So essentially, I've already failed. My sin separates me from perfect harmony with my Abba.

I'm an eternal failure. Huh. That's exponentially worse than my original fears. But it comes with a sense of relief. He already knows the ugliness in me yet He still went to the Cross. He saw something, He saw me and felt I was worth an unimaginable death.

Praise God, from Whom all blessings flow;
Praise Him, all creatures here below;
Praise Him above, ye heavenly host;
Praise Father, Son, and Holy Ghost. Amen.

The wanderlust is back. Actually it's been back for a while intertweaving itself between my conscious and subconscious thoughts. I'm ready for another adventure, to go somewhere. It's very tempting to go meet my family when my lease runs out at the end of next month. Or maybe DC. It's hands down my favorite city and I have a few friends in the area who would be great contacts/resources. Goodness knows I've already been looking.

I wonder what's next...

When my family moved back to Texas I knew I'd miss them, but I never thought the depth of missing them would be like this. I love my family. Always have. But in the last two years we've all grown closer than ever before. It's not always been fun or easy...there have been arguments, hurt feelings, anger, frustration. But there has also been lots of unconditional love, forgiveness, restoration, healing.

Quite honestly I never thought it could be this way. I spent a lot of my growing up years trying to distance myself from my family. God has recently been showing me the walls I've put up between me and my family, why they need to come down, and ways in which to do that. The openness and honesty I now share with my family, both of my parents, my brother, and sister-in-law, is amazing. My mom and I have had a pretty solid relationship since college, but it's gotten even better. I've made an effort to open up and share things with her and my dad that in the past I'd have kept to myself and it's amazing.

God loves community. And He put me in the midst of an awesome one. Unfortunately, I've neglected them for wanting what and who I thought was the perfect community. The older I get the more I realize that other than God there is no one in this universe more important than my family. I cannot even begin to express the gratitude and love I have for them, for their forgiveness.

I was talking to a friend and I was telling her how even though it was ridiculously short I was so grateful to see my parents last month. I'm so thankful that God put them in my life as a physical expression of His love for me. I can't even fully wrap my mind around how much my parents love me and their love is only a small drop in the bucket of how much God loves me and wants me. It hurts my heart to think I'm loved that much, to know Someone would literally die for me. Wow. May my life be an expression of gratitude and thankfulness for this amazing, undeserved gift.

Today was a pretty crappy day. Actually crappy doesn't even begin to really describe it. It was the kind of day where you look up to see the bottom. But even then I saw God's hand in my life. Not in the overabundance of blessing, life is ridiculously easy right now kinda way, but He was working all the same. Maybe I'll talk about it after I decompress and can look at things logically. Now is not that time. I've pretty much done nothing but cry the last 2 weeks. Life is stressful on all sides at the moment. But right now, I've washed off the makeup, pulled my hair up, I'm wearing my favorite sweat pants that are at least 2 sizes too big, eating a bowl of cinnamon toast crunch, and watching a movie. I am very happy right now. Happy indeed.

I got to see my parents this weekend. It wasn’t for long at all…maybe a hour tops. They were back in NC for a marriage retreat that they had paid for before they moved back to Texas. They really wanted to be at the retreat so they came back. After it was over I drove and met them before they had to get back on the road.

It was the most wonderful and the hardest hour of my life.

There is nothing more comforting or welcoming or safe than being wrapped up in my parents arms. I didn’t have to be strong or brave. I didn’t have to worry about bills or deadlines or errands. I got to be their little girl again. And as it has become my new MO, I cried like a baby.

And it was just what I needed.

I realized two things though. First, home really is where your heart is. Corny I know, but it doesn't matter where my parents live, how big of a house anyone has, what jobs we have, home is being with my family, in my parents arms. Even if it was just for a moment, my heart sighed. I was safe, protected, and at rest. Second, as wonderfully great as it was to see my parents, it made me realize, again, how much God loves me. In that moment of having to say goodbye to them again, for the second time in as many months actually, I understood heartache. The separation felt like it was going to be my demise. My separation from my parents was due to life...jobs, callings, responsibilities. Jesus' separation from His Father was through no fault of His own.

He had done nothing, but obey, love, and cherish others. In that moment, as He hung on the cross, He wanted to be with God, He wanted to not be alone. But He willingly took on that loneliness and pain so that I wouldn't have live with that I wouldn't have to bear that. That's some seriously intense love.

At a recent coffee date with one of my faves, living the life we were created to live came up. We agreed that we feel God calling us to live above and beyond where we are now, but that the thought of what that means is very scary.

God has glaringly brought it to my attention that I’ve allowed that fear and the worship of man to control me. It breaks my heart that after all the years of being a Christian I still consistently struggle to keep God first in my life. Although I think anything that brings me to a place of repentance is a good thing, it still hurts. And when others are hurt because of my sin it seems even worse.

I realize that everyone must make their own decisions, but I also know that my actions do have an effect on the lives of others. And although Christ saved me from a life of guilt because of my actions, I still feel it. I realize that just as God offered me opportunities to change and obey Him, no doubt He also presented others with similar opportunities to obey. But when I see how my disobedience, regardless of anyone else’s, ripples out to those in my life, my heart breaks. And when my disobedience combines with someone else’s it’s even worse. Which is where I am right now.

I’ve been given numerous opportunities to speak truth, but I instead chose convenience, the path of least resistance, comfort. And I didn’t live up to my God given role. And I feel as if I failed God, others, and myself.

Perhaps God doesn’t consider it a failure. But I think of being a kid and my parents wanting me to do my chores. They didn’t want to do them later, they wanted them done now. They took delight in my obedience. Of course, there were times when I’d not do them right away and they’d fuss. Sure, I might have gotten them done eventually, but after having to say something several times it would seem the delight dwindled. Did they still delight in my obedience when it came after much disobedience? It seems very doubtful.

And that’s how I feel right now with God. I can’t imagine Him being pleased with my just deciding to get in line with what He wants when it was preceded with much disobedience. I know He loves me regardless, the Cross is a huge testament to that, but in my human thinking I can’t imagine Him actually being pleased with my delayed obedience. Forget pleased, I can’t imagine anyone even caring that I just now decided to obey. I know His ways are beyond my comprehension, but I’m having a hard time accepting His forgiveness. And that it hurt others of His creation at the same time seems so much worse. I feel like I’m 0 for 2.

My heart hurts. It aches for the others I hurt by my disobedience. It bleeds for my own pain. I was warned of this, encouraged to turn from it, but I didn’t see it as disobedience. I didn’t view it as sin. So I kept on. And with all things, I was forced to reckon with my decisions. Not an easy or comfortable thing to do. And not just one decision, but multiple decisions that have broken my heart. I wish I could have a good cry and maybe ease some of this pain, but no luck. I feel no comfort.

“O Lord, how long will you forget me? Forever? How long will you look the other way? How long must I struggle with anguish in my soul, with sorrow in my heart every day?” Psalm 13:1-2

This taxes thing really has me all...I don't know...questioning. I had the chance to talk with a couple of friends about it. Both said they've never given enough for it to really make a difference when filing taxes, but they do claim their tithes. When questioned further, one friend was taught that claiming their donations and possibly getting money back was an earthly reward for obeying God. The other didn't really say much, but somewhat agreed with what the first said. Logically speaking, I can understand that teaching, but Biblically I don't see any basis in which to teach that. And it's from that standpoint from where I want to solve this.

Despite not feeling as if I'm any closer to an answer, God has used this as an opportunity to show me areas of pride in my life. To be convicted of sin so that I may become more like Him is definitely a good thing, but not necessarily fun or easy. God showed me where even in my not talking about my donations to others, I took an inordinate amount of pride in seeing what I gave each year. It's one thing to be excited to see how you've been blessed and have been able to bless others, but it's a completely different to look at it as if you've done something yourself...which is how I acted. My attitude embarrasses me, but it has also brought me to repentance.

So, I don't have an answer. I've not really prayed and sought God's voice on this issue as much as I'd have liked, but I'm okay with that. That's not to say I won't continue to pray about it, but I've come to a decision that I'm content with. Maybe God will change my heart on this. Or maybe someone will be able to explain their reasoning in a way that would get me to change. I dunno. But I'm okay with where I stand on the issue. Because if nothing else this journey brought me to repentance...and there's nowhere I'd rather be than at the foot of the Cross.

I did my taxes the other night. I had previously done them, but couldn't get the feeling that I'd done them wrong out of my head so I redid them. And I was right. I had done them wrong the first time. The large refund I thought I was getting isn't going to be large at all. And having grown up in Texas, where there are no state income taxes, I was quite annoyed to find out I owe the state of North Carolina money. Not cool.

But what struck me was after finding out I wasn't getting back as much as I thought, I wondered how much that would change if I claimed my charitable donations!?! Ahhh! The very same thing I recently said I didn't feel right about I was now considering. Okay, maybe not actually considering, but I at least thought about how claiming those donations would affect my return.

I'm not a money hungry person, but I do enjoy getting money back every year. And I definitely prefer to get money rather than pay the government. If it's between getting or paying, I can understand why someone might claim their donations. It's not about the money, which is what I would have said, but in truth, it is. When faced with maybe having to pay or claiming donations and getting some money back, anyone would rather get money back.

But I'm still at a loss as to how this affects me as a Christian. What does God feel about this? Is there Scripture that supports or condemns this practice? I'm gonna continue to search my heart and pray on this...

He is no fool who gives what he cannot keep to gain what he cannot lose. ~Jim Elliot

I quite often question if I lead the type of lifestyle that Jim Elliot speaks of. When considering this, one of the first things that comes to mind is money. And regardless when I ask the question or how I answer it, the subject always come up again every year toward the end of January...when I get a "giving" statement from church listing my financial contributions throughout the year. And I'm never really sure what to do with it. It's not that I don't appreciate that someone took the time to note my contributions because I do. I know it must take hours upon hours every week to record all that information on each parishoner. I just wonder as to the purpose of it.

I must admit to being somewhat ignorant when it comes to taxes. I do know enough to file my own, but I also ususally send the paperwork to my dad to double check it for me. That being said, I don't really understand "claiming" charitable donations. It doesn't seem very charitable to me if you give something only to later announce to the IRS that you gave and you want credit for it. But again, I don't fully understand what it means to claim something so maybe I'm looking at this wrong. It does bring up questions though. Like, does the government even allow people to file their tithes as charitable giving? What would be the purpose of claiming one's donations? In light of the Bible, would or could that be seen as someone putting more importance on money, a temporary possession they will one day no longer have, over the Gospel, the eternal prize? Most importantly, how does God view this topic?

Personally, I've decided not to do anything the statement. For various reasons, I don't feel right about claiming or seeking a return of monies, if in fact that's what it is. It doesn't seem right to ask the government to go easy on me because I gave. To me, that negates the sacrificiality (pretty sure that's not a real word, but whatev) of giving. But, why do I feel that way? I can't think of anything in the Bible that specifically addresses this topic, but, if my perception on the topic is correct, it still rubs me the wrong way. And I do know of several Bible verses that speak of the pitfalls of caring too much about money.

This isn't to say I think those people who claim their donations aren't good Christians or good people. It's just different than what I do. And that intrigues me. I would love to have the opportunity to discuss with someone our differing opinions on this issue.

I sometimes feel like a vagabond. By it's definition, a vagabond is "an itinerant person." Historically, the term was derived from the Latin meaning "purposeless wandering." My personal favorite definition, however, stems from Arthur Rickett's 19th century defintion in his book aptly titled "The Vagabond in Literature." Rickett defined a vagabond as one "born with a vagrant strain in the blood, an unsatiable inquisitiveness about the world beyond their doors."

That's how I feel. I have an unsatiable desire to do, to be, to know. I'm not sure quite what stokes that fire however. Sometimes, it feels as if life is like running on a treadmill. You keep running and running, but you stay in the same place. I want to go, to see, to be. It's not just some desire to be popular or rich. I want to fully live, experience. It's in my blood. It's as if every single movement is urging me to go further, do more.

But I'm not sure how to respond.

So, I find myself in a mediocre job, doing mindless work, at the typical 8-5 Monday through Friday office, punching the clock for "the man."

And I'm about to lose it.

I was recently talking to a friend and we were both saying how we feel God urging us to live radical lives, but fears have kept us from doing what we feel. Although it was great to know I wasn't the only person feeling that way, I knew I had to make a decision based on me and God and no one else. After that conversation I came to the conclusion that living without family, friends, things, and earthly comforts, but in an amazingly wonderful relationship with God was worth any and all sacrifices I would have to make.

Yet here I am in the same place...poised to go, although I don't know where, but with no plan. Hating the monotony, but not having the know how to change the situation.

But even in this barren place, I know He is here. I can't see Him, but I know. As surely as I know the voice of my mother, I know His thoughts are about me. His arms are around me. Nothing happens outside of His control and knowledge. He is here, even in this.

May this "unsatiable inquisitiveness about the world beyond my doors" lead me to the cross. And not just lead me there so that I can get my spiritual boost, but may I be there to support and hold the hands of others who also need answers to their heart questions.

The sacrifice you want is a broken spirit. A broken and repentant heart, O God, you will not despise. Psalm 51:17

I often get caught up in thinking that only the "important" things, as I deem them, matter to God. But that's not true at all. Take today for instance.

I'm taking an Anatomy and Physiology II class as a pre-req for nursing school. I originally enrolled in a T/R class because the M/W class conflicted with a Microbiology class I needed. I ended up not registering for the Micro class, but kept the T/R A&P. As I was sitting in class last night it occurred to me that I should try to get in the M/W class because it would give me a little more flexibility in my schedule. As it stands, on Tuesdays I leave home about 7:35, work until 5, straight to school, and from school straight to Bible study where the earliest I'd get home is 9:30 or 10...if I didn't stick around and talk. And Thursdays after work was class and then lab until 10:15. And that also meant missing worship and missing "The Office" party with friends. Sad times.

But I "got the idea" to email my professor and call the school to see if I could change my schedule. My prof said I'd need to speak with the department head and the school said it was too late to change. After sharing my reasoning with the Bio department head, via email, said it was too late. I shot back a quick reply saying "oh well, but thank you for your time." She then replied and said I could ask my prof if I could unofficially switch classes. Meaning, all the material is the same so although the school has me enrolled in one class, if it was okay with my prof, I could attend the class that I really wanted. I emailed my prof telling her what the department head said and she said that was okay! Starting next week I'll be in the M/W class...this means I won't be rushing everywhere, I have a good friend in that class which should be fun, and I'll be done with "going" to school on Wednesday night instead of late Thursday night. Yay!

I am humbled and awed that God loves me so much that He places things on my heart that He knows I'll enjoy. If it were in my own strength the emailing might not have gone so smoothly. Or I would have never thought to try to change classes in the first place. But God, knowing the depths of my mind, heart, and soul, knew a schedule change would be something I would take pleasure in. And He gave me the means to pursue that gift.

He amazes me so much. I am constantly in awe of the immeasurable depths of His love towards me. That I most often only barely press into it is such a loss. To know and dwell in the greatness of His glory and love...I can't even begin to imagine what that will be like.

Abba, my desire is to pursue a oneness with You with reckless abandon. May I toss everything aside to be where You are.