Levi.

(I started writing this two weeks ago. And just got around to finishing it.)

Today at school was such a heavy day. Another senior at our school died on Saturday in a car accident.
For most of us, there are no words to accurately describe the loss we feel, but cling on to the knowledge that the whole school shares in the grief. There is no doubt Levi made a profound impact on our lives. But many of us are at a loss for what to feel, and a lot of questions spring up. I've heard so many, "Why did God do this to someone so young?" questions, or simply the pithy "Why?" that accurately describes the lack of words we face as we grieve. I've heard God's name mentioned in more status' over this than I've seen in awhile. I've seen a lot of Bible verses, encouraging words, and also a lot of blame toward God. And I'm definitely not going to write a blog saying how to deal with such a loss, I think time has to run it's course as we all pray and love each other through it.

I wish all of us could understand God's perspective. He promised our life would be "but a breath" (Psalm 39:5), but when someone is 70-80, it seems okay that they die because they've lived a long life. But when kids and teenagers like Levi die so unexpectedly, it seems unfair. In actuatlity, though, life is just a breath no matter how long. Eternity is well, FOREVER, and our finite brains can only understand what we know, which is this breath of a life we know. We can only understand so much, we are so trapped in this concept of time we know. We know one time, and how worldy our perception is. Yet, it is all we can understand... Indeed, we are trapped.

It is okay to be grieving though. I hate when people pass death off with, "well, they are in a better place now, so let's all rejoice." As true as that may be, it is our nature to mourn when there is death. Even Jesus cried over his friend Lazarus when he died, though he knew fully well that he would be raised from the dead in a matter of moments. In Ecclesiastes, Solomon writes, "(There is) a time to be born and a time to die... a time to weep and a time to laugh, a time to grieve and a time to dance." (3:2;4) When Jesus was crying, many people said, "'but this man healed a blind man. Couldn't he have kept Lazarus from dying?' (John 11:37) This is exactly the same question we ask God after any death. "Why God? Why so young? You did (Fill in the blank here) so why couldn't you (fill in the blank here)?" And as much as we want to figure out why things happened the way they did, God wants our hearts and our lives and to trust Him with the things we don't understand.

I don't think Levi was supposed to die. But he did, and although it hurts incredibly, God is Holy and omnipotent and still fully powerful. And who are we to tell God what He ought to have done? Now is the time to grieve and mourn. But there will be rejoicing and I think a lot of lives saved through the tragedy. What an incredible man Levi was, we will miss him terribly.

Rest.

Rest(n):Relief or freedom, esp. from anything that wearies, troubles, or disturbs.

Here is the dictionary definition for Rest.
My definition for rest is... non-existent.

Today was the first day for a few months I haven't had to work, and I haven't had to babysit. I had no idea what to do with myself. I sure "rested" by sleeping in until eleven, and then did my routine of laundry and chores and then went to the mall with my sister. But when I was by myself, in my room, doing nothing... I cried. Nothing happened at the mall, nothing happened yesterday to make me sad, but when I had nothing to do, emotions just flooded me.

I am busy all the time. My schedule usually consists of: School, work, homework, God time, sleep. Weekends: Clean my room, do my chores, do laundy, do my homework, work, God time, babysit, sleep. Repeat.

And I am exhausted. My Spirit is so tired and overloaded with schedules. I was talking to my sister about this,and she asked me, "Are you tired often? I'm going and going yet God is providing energy for me. It's good." And as I read that, I pondered the question and chuckled to myself. YES. I want God to provide energy for me, because I'm just exhausted!

I'm realizing rest is letting God take over the busy parts of my life completetly. Because there is no doubt that all of that is tiring, but God is bigger and desires that we find our rest in Him.

I wrote a song today when I was realizing this need in my heart for rest:

The way you love my Lord amazes me.
The voice I hear you speaking, it captures me.
How I long to be with you and finally see
Your majesty, your beauty.

I will not rest, 'til you're here with me, and I finally see your face.
I will not rest, 'til my throat is dry, proclaiming I am yours.
I will not rest, 'til I've stood the test and finally I'm home.
So come and live where only you can give me rest.

Only God can give me that rest the dictionary is talking about: the rest that frees us from wearies, troubles and burdens.

"Find rest my soul, confess your weary, surrender all, embrace your healing..."

Genuine.

I want to be that word. Genuine. I want to be a lot more honest than I am right now.

That's all.

Sometime I'll have to do a blog on insecurities. I've been meaning too, but I haven't been getting around to it. Honestly, I am burnt out right now and just need to sleep.

Yaaay honesty.

Stories.

Stories. I love stories. I love hearing stories from people. My new favorite activity is to ask older couples their love story. I love hearing my parent's love story. The way they light up when they talk about how they met and how they fell in love, and how they have the little arguments over the most minute detail when one of them tells it is so precious to me. I ask them questions all the time just to hear them light up again.
I asked my aunt and uncle how they got engaged and this was how it went down: My Uncle started off smiling and then he said, "Well. I was going to take her out to dinner, and I was wearing a beige suit..." And my Aunt interrupts, "No, it was a white suit, dear." "Really? No. It was beige." And then she ponders it... "No! It was just a simple black." And then they both laugh, lost in the memory.
I love asking the story behind how the guy asked the girl out, or how they got engaged. People love to tell their stories. And my new goal is to get people talking about their story. (And not just love stories- I mostly mean our life story). Let's be honest: We like talking about our lives. We like telling people how we grew up and the little things that tick us off, we like people to laugh at our embarrassing stories. Because it all shows the person we are. Why we are. How we became the way we are. And people's stories to me are significant.
Sometimes, we even tell other people's love stories. I recently heard my best friend tell me about her boyfriend's parents love story. When we (and maybe I'm only speaking to girls...) hear these stories, we long for that kind of story. Something within us starts to think, "I want that kind of love." And our story is no longer significant. This, of course, is always dangerous. Comparison to another story always sets up for jealousy and insecurity and a need to measure up.
However, I wish we could tell our testimonies more like love stories. We remember everything about love stories: How they met. How they learned they liked each other. How they started dating. How thy got engaged. Etc. We know every tiny detail because we love them and we love the story. If I could sit in a room with a bunch of high school girls, I'm sure we could have hours of conversation about our first kisses. And they'd all be different, and I'm sure no one would've just forgotten it. But when we tell our testimony, why don't our faces light up at the mention of Jesus saving us? Are we so in love with Him to recall all of the times He's romanced us, or spoken directly to us? Can you recall when you first personally met Him?
I want to light up the way my parents do at the mention of my Love's name. I want to hear the love stories of Jesus from my friends. All Jesus did for us was a love story. John 3:16, so familiar, "God so LOVED the world... He gave Jesus." To save us. To love us. To win us back. What an amazing love story; that the God of the ages would send Jesus to win back His Bride.
And our love story with Jesus cannot be fed by a desire to have someone else's story. No two stories should be the same. If we are content with hearing one story of Jesus' incredible encounter with one person, we have instantly lost the connection that Jesus so desires we know of Him.
Certainly, the love we know between a man and woman is an incredible thing. But I think it's an illustration of God's love for us, and our testimonies should just bleed with the knowledge of that love.

I don't want to ever forget he day Jesus saved me. I want to proclaim my story. And I want to know yours. (whoever you are.)

Paintings.

I have a control problem. Yep, I like it. I like knowing what to expect. I like knowing that if I do A, the outcome will be B.
God never intended this for me. God doesn't ever desire we reign over His plan for us.

I went on a run at sunset and ended up at the football field. I sat down and watched the sunset and closed my eyes thinking of the incredible artist God is. And as I was sitting there I got a picture of me painting on an eisel. As I stood there I was so concentrated on drawing the perfect picture. My mind was set around my perception of beauty, and I would not rest until this picture was captured on paper. But as I tried to draw, my hand was violently shaking, and all my pictures were messed up. I threw away paper upon paper ad got so frustrated. Finally, I stared at he paper crying, but kept painting, determining I would get it right and beautiful one of those times.

Then a man behind me came up and told me, "Wow. What an incredible painting." And I stared at him and I said, "No. Are you kidding me? Once it starts looking beautiful, something wrong happens. And it's ugly again." Then he came closer and said, "Isn't beauty in the eye of the beholder? All you need is a steady hand."
Then he took my hand and started painting with me. Once he was done, he stepped back and I was confused. This painting was not at all what I imagined. This picture encapsulated no beauty of mine. It was abstract and confusing to look at. I didn't like it and got frustrated.
"Thanks...But I think I had a different idea..." I started.
"Of beauty? Yes. This is not at all your idea of beauty. But no matter what you paint you can't paint it without a steady hand."
"Oh yeah? Watch me." I told him defiantly. I could draw a beautiful picture.

Over and over again I tried and failed and finally looked over at him and asked him, "Will you help me?" And he smiled and took my hand and said, "Are you willing to give me the paintbrush?"

I would love to tell God, "Of course! Here you go. I want none of my plans. Take it, it's yours." But I need to be genuine and say that I really don't know how. It's not Him drawing a picture WITH me,like the first time, but it's Him completely taking my paintbrush. But never without my consent. God can never take my life over if I don't give it to Him. But this is what God desires of me. That I would be able to surrender all of my plans and give Him what belonged to him the in the first place.

The picture I paint will always be so messed up. And even if the picture God paints isn't beautiful in my eyes, God knows what He's doing. And I don't. And it's incredible that God finds my failed attempts beautiful. He loves me, this I know!