year of the sevens.

Introducing yourself to other people is kind of weird, especially when you’re all sitting in a circle for small group. I mean, what do you normally tell a stranger, other than your name, which they will probably forget–especially if you’re with a bunch of other people? Hello, my name is Grace. Hi… I’m Chris. Jerry. Susan. I’m Megan. Uh, Steve. I’m Ellen? Jack Anderson. Greg from Havertown. Jessica… Hi I’m Ben. And I’m Kevin. You get the idea, it can be a little overwhelming. At one point in time, I used to repeat a well-rehearsed paragraph of information to others when I introduced myself to them:

“Hi, I’m Grace… I was born on the 7th day of the 7th month in the 7th year of 1980; I weight 7 pounds and the first letter of my first name is the 7th letter of the alphabet.”

If they didn’t remember me for my pretentiousness, they would have at least remembered me for all those sevens. It’s been a few years since I’ve pulled that riff off on anyone (I started to feel stupid; though it makes for good trivia). I’ve had people come up to me and tell me how lucky I must be; superstitious folks who’d gaze at me as if I were a talisman, old Chinese people who’d grin and remark that it must be because I was born in the year of the Rabbit. Weird, right? I guess I asked for it, for not having been able to shut up about myself. Oh well.

I’ve thought about the odds of being born with that many sevens in my life from time to time.  There have definitely been times when I scoffed at the idea of being super-blessed; times when life seemed completely meaningless and without direction.  And there have definitely been times when I smiled inwardly out of recognition for the super blessings that I’ve been given; times when I have been graced to see the beauty of God’s love.  With the year of 2007 closing in on the world, I couldn’t help but smile as I recollected exploits big and small from my past twelve months of living and breathing air.  This year in and of itself has been one that began in loneliness, confusion and despair: I doubted God’s love more than ever and kept my heart behind iron bars; I lost all sense of who I was and what I was born to do.  But with the incredible gift of time and grace, God–who never ceased to love me and to accept me for who I was–gradually showed me the way in which I was supposed to climb.  Miracles happened, friendships made, favor gained, opportunities opened, wisdom abounded, relationships redeemed; I was being restored.  I saw more of my weaknesses, more of my strengths; I found the voice that I never thought I’d find and stood up for things like truth and justice, love and hope.  I learned how to fight for what I love, those whom I love; I learned how to claim victories that which were mine in Christ.  Not that any of these are mastered, of course.  No… this is just the beginning.

I turned twenty this year on 07-07-07, a date that will occur once more in a hundred years.  Two decades of life already lived; two decades of choices… making mistakes, laughing, crying, being rejected, knowing joy, being accepted, addictions, idolizing, seeking, growing, escaping, winning, being jealous, telling lies, doubting, trusting, surrendering, being forgiven, being blessed–and blessings, blessings, blessings…

I’m not one to really champion New Year’s Resolutions.  I think they’re kind of tacky; like this is the one day of the year where we’re all going to consider ways in which we can improve ourselves.  I heard an awesome quote this week at a missions conference I am currently attending: “There’s a big difference between talking about something and then actually doing it.  Doing is much more important than talking.  But what is even more important that doing is being.  Being is much, much more important than doing.”

God, I want to be eager to listen, eager to hope; eager to learn and eager to grow.  I want to be slow to anger, slow to resent; slow to judge and slow to speak… prone to be joyful, prone to seek wisdom; prone to laugh and prone to simplicity.  Make me quick to let go, quick to forgive; quick to love and quick to follow You… but most of all, I want to be bold to be bold; bold to dream and bold to believe, bold to sacrifice… again and again and again.  I can’t achieve any of these things on my own… but when I am rooted in You, all of these things are possible.  Help me just to be.  Thank You for a year of the sevens, a marvelous and amazing ride of letting go again and again only to see in the end just how much more blessings I am able to reap.  Lucky girl, indeed.

You don’t need a bunch of sevens to be blessed.  You don’t need a lucky number nor do you need a lucky charm.  Ask and seek the Author of the Universe who gives and takes all… your eyes will be opened like they’ve never been opened before.  Instead of doing things in order to be blessed, just go and be blessed.  Happy New Year’s.

risky business, love is.

The Main Street Christmas lights sparkle in my window, reminding me of the time that has passed and the time that has yet to come. I cannot believe the first half of my third year at college has already flown by: I could’ve sworn that it had only been a few days ago that I had moved into my dorm, that I had enrolled for classes and gotten my schedule to teach. Somehow, in the past 3.5 amazing months of life, there have been many Large Groups, many Great Conversations, several exam-grading sessions, many random conversations about God, miracles both big and small; too many memorable coffeeshop conversations and unforgettable study breaks, great friendships and lessons learned the hard way, many intimate moments with God and with music in front of the piano at the CFA late at night; a gazillion number of meetings and doodle sessions, unexpected gigs and concerts, several difficult confrontations, many moments of doubt, confusion, and stress–which were always accompanied by the glorious moments of faith, passion, and love. I’ve entered new chapters and created new memories; I’ve grown painfully in some places and through it all, I have learned to love God all the more.I never cease to be amazed by God when I take a conscious step out of my little world to get a glimpse of the Bigger Picture. For those of you who did not know, I have a writing and thinking fetish; it brings me great joy to mull and muse over life and love, whys and hows. Not to turn this into some sort of confessional or anything–but sometimes there is nothing I look forward to more at the end of the day than sitting still with my black book and my pen, being open and attentive to my heart when it is most alive. Though my love affair with writing did not start until my freshman year of college, I began my 8th volume of Grace’s-Life-In-A-Book at the end of May, this year. An excerpt:

“It’s funny how you are most aware of your heart when it is hurting–kind of like how you notice it with renewed energy when you are in love. In this moment in time, I am more awakened to the deepest corners or my aching and hurting heart than I have ever been before. I am freezing and melting all at once; dying and living all at once. I don’t understand, God… help me understand. I know I need to be restored.” – 6/2/07

The tidbit above was written during a time of heartache and pain. But in so many more ways than one, God has since then taken so much of the restoration of my heart into his own hands. I have journeyed long and far since June, with God’s love navigating me through dark valleys and rugged mountain ranges. Through it all, I have learned that restoration does not occur without risk; perhaps one of the hardest things to do in life is to trust yet again after you’ve been hurt. Our hearts are fragile stuff… one bad experience with love can shut us off from feeling for a lifetime. I am reminded of a particular scene in Home Alone 2 from a late-night movie that occurred with a few friends about a week ago:

Referring to her homelessness, the Pigeon Lady says, “I wasn’t always like this… I had a job, I had a home, I had a family. And then the man I loved fell out of love with me. That broke my heart. When the chance to be loved came again, I ran away from it. I stopped trusting people.” It is at this point that our little hero, Kevin McCallister, brilliantly replies, “No offense, but that seems like sort of a dumb thing to do.” The Pigeon Lady then confessed, “I was afraid of getting my heart broken again. I’m just afraid if I do trust someone, I’ll get my heart broken.” (Here comes the hammer…) Kevin looks at her, and then replies once more with that unperturbed honesty and faith of a kid: “I understand. I had a nice pair of Rollerblades and I was afraid to wreck them, so I kept them in a box. Do you know what happened? I outgrew them. I never wore them outside. Only in my room a few times. If you won’t use your heart, who cares if it gets broken? If you just keep it to yourself, maybe it’ll be like my Rollerblades. When you decide to try it, it won’t be any good. You should take the chance; you’ve got nothing to lose.”

True story, eh? Looking back at the size 7 footprints I’ve made since June, I can think of many times when I’ve voluntarily shut myself from others out of fear. I have been convinced that it has been too hard to forgive, too difficult to forget; too draining to remain open, and too taxing to feel. I have resolved never to love, never to be misguided; I have vowed never to risk, and I have been more than determined to have a will that was stronger than my heart. Love I could do without, I thought; it hurt too much.

But as the tiny Christmas lights dance in the distance, I am reminded of the biggest risk in love ever made in history. Isn’t that what Christmas is all about? God knew we weren’t ever going to be able to get it right; he knew that we needed help. So he sends his Beloved, his One and Only Son, to us in the form of a human baby; the most precious Christmas gift ever known to mankind. To what extent, and to what length, did God have to go through in order for us to know that we are worth it to him, that we are worth loving? And he did this for us with the knowledge that, thirty-three years down that road, he would watch from high heaven as the recipients of his Gift beat, flogged, humiliated, maimed, and crucified his Son. If God sent Jesus to us with all of this already in mind, how can I stand here and not be ashamed of my unwillingness to love in the likeness of that wonderful, wonderful sacrifice?

Today, I am not the person I was when I wrote in my little black book on June 2. Today, I am once again, absolutely in love with life–I am so thrilled to be able to feel and to dream, I am so blessed to be able to know joy and to have hope; I am so thankful to be able to love. What a scary and risky business, love is! But I am determined more than ever to let my Lord and Savior, the Love of my life, permeate my broken heart with the most amazing love of all. That alone gives me every reason to risk and to love on my way to being just a little more restored.

It’s 3:11AM on Monday morning. The sun will rise in a few hours… and I will have yet another day to explore the infinite love of God; I will have yet another day to make decisions based on my determination to be guided by God’s love alone. But for now, it’s good night… sweet dreams all around.