There was a Girl Named Annie

Dear Diary, 7 May 2012

There was a girl named Annie...

"Annie"

There was a girl named Annie, she had a very pretty face
And not the way you think so let me see if I can try to explain it
She had a smile that could light up the room and if she moved it'd be moving in you
But she wasn't like a magazine, she was just plain Jane and her name was Annie

She never looked in the mirror, she never liked what she would see
And even if I tried to tell her, she never listened to a word I'd say
She always wanted what she never had, but never had what she needed so badly
Someone telling her she was fine and that's not right and it's why I'm saying

Annie don't be shy here, Annie don't just lie there, looks don't make the world go round but it comes around
Annie don't be shy here, Annie please don't cry here, I always have to stop myself
Cause you're beautiful

I didn't know if I could tell her, I didn't know if I could make her see
She didn't need to find her beauty, she didn't need to find a way to show me
They took her moments of feeling alive and made them moments of dying inside
She needed someone to scream her name, to take her pain and it's why I'm screaming

Annie don't be shy here, Annie don't just lie there, looks don't make the world go round but it comes around
Annie don't be shy here, Annie please don't cry here, I always have to stop myself
Cause you're beautiful

And Annie you are the one sight my eyes never tire of, it's like I cannot get enough of you
Annie you are the one song left in my symphony, like you were made for me

Annie don't be shy here, Annie don't just lie there, looks don't make the world go round but it comes around
Annie don't be shy here, Annie please don't cry here, I always have to stop myself
Cause you're beautiful

~

How many guys talk to girls like this? How many boyfriends look at their girlfriends and tell them that they are beautiful as is.

One Direction's song What Makes Your Beautiful has the same affect. Seeing what's on the inside, not just the outside.

"Charm is deceptive, and beauty is fleeting; but a woman who fears the Lord is to be praised." (Proverbs 31:30)

"Your beauty should not come from outward adornment, such as braided hair and the wearing of gold jewelry and fine clothes. Instead, it should be that of your inner self, the unfading beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which is of great worth in God's sight." (1 Peter 3:3-4)

A common misconception stems from misinterpretation of this last verse. It doesn't mean to not wear makeup or jewelry or to braid your hair, because that's just ridiculous. Rather, it means don't be defined by what you look like. Don't draw your worth from what you see in the mirror, because it will always disappoint you. And if it doesn't, then it won't last. "The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of our God stands forever." (Isaiah 40:8). This life is temporary, and so is everything else that shows on the surface. The stuff on the inside, the thoughts and questions, loves, ambitions, and motivations are eternal. They'll follow us even past death.

What that guy liked about Annie was who she truly was; he loved her heart. He didn't care about how pretty she was, but the depth of his love for her allowed for him to see her real self...and he thought she was beautiful.

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Jesus Loves Me...but Why?

Dear Diary, May 1, 2012

Jesus loves me, this I know...but why?

I’ve always wondered this but never given myself a plausible answer. This past weekend, my youth group did the 30 Hour Famine…a thirty-hour fast to raise money for World Vision. Guest speakers, including our pastor, came before our small youth group to lead discussions. One was the importance of life, and how we must have consideration for other people since God deems all mankind special. That’s when it came up: Why? Why does God think we’re special? Why does He give a flip about us?

Why do I have to give to God? I promise Him my heart, but then I go and defile it, giving it away to other people after I’ve sword to devote myself fully to Him. He forgives me when I turn back to Him, but then I go off again eventually. Why does God love me? I’m broken. I’m imperfect. I screw up all the time. Sometimes, I hate myself for messing up, for being flawed when I know the right way to live. “But I trust in Your unfailing love; my heart rejoices in Your salvation.” Psalm 13:5. There are moments, though, when I feel empty. What about me does God look down and say “that’s why I take care of her.”

One of the dad’s helping out during the Famine gave us the answer after he presented the ominous question, “But why does God love us,” followed by a silent room of teens glancing around at one another for the answer. “Because we are made in His image.” “Then God said, ‘Let us make man in our image, in our likeness…’ So God created man in His own image, in the image of God He created him Genesis 1:26,27.

At first, that brings a deluge of clarity. “Oh, I see! In His image, so He looks at us and sees a piece of Himself. That endears us to Him.” Makes sense. But wait…so, my face? God looks at my body, my image, and loves that? What about all the stuff underneath my skin, in my heart and in my mind, where all the real action takes place? Isn’t there some redeeming quality about my personality, about my ambitions, my likes, my dislikes, my talents, that God loves?

Actually, I battled this question last night. I felt very depressed, thinking that there was nothing really about me that God loved. Nothing that was different from anyone else.

This morning, He put a hand on my shoulder and said, “Really?” I didn’t expect to think about this topic or even to write about this, but the Lord works in mysterious ways. It’s not a physical image that God looks at. “But the Lord said to Samuel, ‘Do not look at his appearance or at His physical stature, because I have refused him. For the Lord does not see as man sees; for man looks at the outward appearance, but the Lord looks at the heart.’” 1 Samuel 16:7.

My heart. The part of me pulsing through my entire body, keeping me alive. My heart. Filled with all the things I keep inside, the thoughts no one else hears. God looks at that part of me, and He still loves me.

He looks at my heart, and He sees His image. “We have come to know and have believed the love which God has for us. God is love, and the one who abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him.” 1 John 4:16.

This isn’t something I can shed off, like the fleeting emotions of infatuation. This love is deep and entrenched in my soul forever. “For I am persuaded that neither death nor life, nor angels nor demons, neither the present nor the future, not any powers, neither height nor depth, nor anything else in all creation will be able to separate us from the love of God that is in Christ Jesus our Lord.” Romans 8:38-39. “’Though the mountains be shaken and the hills be removed, yet my unfailing love for you will not be shaken nor my covenant of peace be removed,’ says the Lord, who has compassion on you.” Isaiah 54:10.

It’s something special in every person. God delights in His chosen, but He also feels deeply for those who do not choose to ask Jesus into their hearts. “’As surely as I live, declares the sovereign Lord, I take no pleasure in the death of the wicked, but rather that they turn from their ways and live. Turn! Turn from your evil ways! Why will you die, O house of Israel?’” Ezekiel 33:11. (Just a side note, “house of Israel” represents the people He has created – people with a purpose, people created for a reason. That’s everyone!)

God loves me! “This is love: not that we loved God, but that He loved us and sent Hi s Son as an atoning sacrifice for our sins.” 1 John 4:10. If this doesn’t convince me that God loves me, then I don’t know what will. He shed His blood, he experienced excruciating pain for me. For you. He looks at your heart, and He sees a reflection of Himself. He remembers when He formed you, carefully, specially. He made you to look like Him, inside and out, and He gave you a future. He said, “I love you so, my dear. I will always be there for you, even when you forget that I’m always watching, always making sure that you will be alright. Nothing will ever diminish my love for you.”

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Life can get Emo

Dear Diary, 14 April 2012

Life can get emo...

When stuck in a rut, it's difficult to initiate the recovery process. We think "it would just be so much work" or "I could never do that...I'm not as good as that person." But that's so not true! Really, we are all equal sinners. Just because one person can write out her issues and the way she deals with them doesn't make her superior in any way. Rather, it is this inability to make ourselves whole that allows us to actually heal!

Don't think that your issues are small, and don't entertain the thought that you cannot recover from whatever you're dealing with. Instead, I challenge you to go against Matthew West's song and do go through the motions. Even if you don't feel like it's going to make a difference, still talk to God. Tell Him what you're going through, explain why you're struggling. He understands, and He listens, even when it feels like He doesn't.

Trust me, I have this problem, too. I pray and pray, but the results still seem unchanged. That's looking at it the wrong way though. We never can pinpoint how God is going to react; to do so would take away His sovereignty. But He does listen, and He ALWAYS answers. Yes, no, or maybe: Growing up, that's how I was told God would answer . But it's so much more than that!

An example: I have been wondering what I should major in when I'm out of high school. The question laid heavily on my mind. Initially, I gravitated towards teaching, but then I thought about the pay and the other options available, like a business degree. I prayed about it, and the way God responded was truly amazing. It's not like the heavens opened up and I was given this great revelation, nor did I suddenly have this supernatural understanding and I knew what I was supposed to do. No, it was more realistic than that. I started hearing stories that pricked my heart. I was realized the need out there, and the love that children in public schools need. I went to my cousins' school and saw one of their friends cling to their daddy because her own had died. I heard about neglected children in public schools, ones whose parents are utterly incapable, neglecting their children to the point of malnutrition.

The most obvious encounter was a speaker at my friend's church. Maybe I've already written about this in a past post, but this guy was a lot like me. He had planned on going into missions, but when his successful uncle in California offered him a position at Verizon, he began to doubt his choice. Finally, he decided: he would finish his obligations and then move out to California to live in his uncle's mansion. But it was that last obligation, that mission trip he couldn't get out of, that changed his perspective. God revealed to him where his heart was needed, the plan He had for Him.

It may seem like He's not there, like He's just pulling the strings and not actively involved in our lives. But really, He speaks in a "still small voice". Sometimes we look for a big sign, but God doesn't work like that. He is supremely capable to eradicate all that's hurting us, all it takes is "God, I'm drifting away; bring me back," which is what I was brought to confess on Good Friday. He is always there. We take Him for granted at times and forget the significance He has in our  lives, but He never loosens His grip on us.

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Constant

Dear Diary, 12 April 2012

What is constant...?

When everything else is changing

You are constant.

Lifting my eyes to see

Far beyond this misery.

(Constant by Building 429)

Every morning, the sky goes from a dull, grayish color to an exuberant canvas of light. Pinks, oranges, and yellows slowly grow up from the horizon like young plants, reaching further and further until the sun has covered the distance and is peering down upon you from above. Regardless of the past day, whether it rained or snowed or sunned, the sun will always rise again. It is a constant, and constants can be relied on to remain unchanging.

Trying to think of other things that are constant, the list is short. Matter, energy, light, darkness. These constants are very broad terms, however. When applying the “unchanging” test, more tangible things, like love and even hate, translate as constants. I know that my parents’ love is unchanging; I know that my friends’ love is unconditional. What more is there?

Dooms-day believers don’t even have the satisfaction of believing in a consistent sunrise. Every year, they come out with some explanation of how the world will end sooner or later. There is only one thing more constant than the sunrise. One thing that is not dependent on anything that happens, no matter what we do or say or how the world around us changes. We can screw up worse than ever before; we can launch nuclear missiles; we can look away s as dictators take over continents; we can deny the reality of it existing, but the fact still stands: God is constant.

There are days, weeks, months, that I feel a void in my heart. A void that is gaping and selfish, absorbing everything with a hunger that will not be satisfied. Doubts whisper through my brain, making me critical of myself and others. A nuance of numbness takes hold, and it spreads throughout my entire body before I notice. Before long, what used to be a fulfilled, happy life is nothing more than a shell struggling to keep a smile pasted on a fake mask.

Once I realize my depravity, I pray about it. I ask that I will be able to help others and not remain in this strange feeling of nothingness. I talk about it; maybe someone else will give me wisdom. My dearest friend suggested perhaps it was stress, my not wanting to face something, that prompted the slump. However, knowing the cause does not always initiate the healing.

The only thing that could truly penetrate the barricade around me was prayer. Still, in my heart, I barely felt a difference. Only a growing sense of hopelessness and paranoia. Scary how an invisible thing can have such great affect.

Finally, God must have reached down and knocked through that self-imposed barrier. It was like He said, “OK, that’s enough. You need to get back to reality now.” Reality. Such a frightening word, unless you have a constant to rely on.

He revealed to me that my problem was avoiding Him. Inadvertently, I allowed my schedule, my busyness, to place a gap between me and God until I was basically numb. Although I didn't notice it right away, the danger was real. Apathy is the most dangerous of emotions, worse even than hate, and the only way out was to admit my fault and to pray for redemption.

 “Science may have found a cure for most evils; but it has found no remedy for the worst of them all -- the apathy of human beings.” 

― Helen Keller 

I want to continue on this topic, but this post has become quite lengthy, so until then...

A note to my readers

Some comments that I receive resemble remarks like "I wish I had your faith." I wish to address these comments briefly.

First of all, really? I'm flattered of course, but you must realize that the whole reason I keep up this blog is because I'm a confused teenager who doesn't know heads nor tails of the world. In every post, I am searching for something constant to hold on to, and then I try to hang onto it once I've found it. It's not that I have great faith, because honestly I don't. Most of the time, I really suck at the whole "trust God with all your heart" thing. I thank God that all He asks is faith like a mustard seed because that's about all I can muster most of the time. 

Thank you for your comments, but know that I wrestle with my faith just as much as you do, if not more. It does comfort me to know that there are others who struggle with these same things, though, and I always enjoy your comments. Grasping the truths of the world is the most difficult and most unachievable tasks we shall ever endeavor, but I enjoy embarking on the journey with you all.

Love you!! You are all in my prayers. Keep trading yesterdays.

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He's Stronger Than All of It

Dear Diary, 5 April 2012

He is stronger...


"I wanna be bigger, stronger
drive a faster car..."
(Bigger, Stronger by Coldplay)

My little cousin once had shoelace untied. He fiddled with it and struggled with it until he was frustrated. Seeing his predicament, I went over to assist. “No,” he pushed me away. “I can do it.” We both knew he couldn’t, but he wanted to think he could so that he could “prove” his “independence.” That’s just how I am with God! When a problem hits me like an ocean wave, I brace myself against it, preparing to fight the ensuing battle. Really, I’m missing the point. As a Christian, it’s my job to step aside and allow someone else to take the wave for me. That “someone”, of course, is Jesus. He decided to serve me because He loves me, loves me enough to die for me. He has said things like “In this world you will have trouble, but take heart! I have overcome the world” and “Do not let your hearts be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in Me.”

I found something interesting in Hebrews a few weeks ago. Isn’t it funny how a concept you thought you’d mulled over umpteen times in your head can just suddenly hit you in a whole new way? Well, Hebrews 10: 12 says,

“But when this priest had offered for all time one sacrifice for sins, He sat down at the right hand of God.”

The key words there are “sat down”. After dying on the cross, Jesus sat down because His work was fulfilled. His one sacrifice was complete. He had come to the earth, the most lowly form the God of the universe could assume, and served us, such useless creatures that we couldn’t even live without the breath of God within us. And then, it was done. It is done.

Jesus didn’t die because He had nothing better to do one Friday afternoon. He died because it was His plan to die. Because He had to do something drastic completely separate from the way us mortals process life. King of the world, Creator of all things? Dying on the cross? What the heck?? No one knows exactly why God chose to glorify Himself in this manner. Of course, if we could understand it then that would defeat the purpose somewhat, but I think part of it has to do with the fact that our devotion would not be so personal and utterly authentic otherwise.

Still, I push Him away. Either that, or I forget to ask for His help. In cases like those, I’m like a person drowning in the sea within sight of a lifeguard. I’m kicking and frantically waving my arms, but I forget that my savior is mere meters away. All I have to do is ask.

Sometimes the lifeguard sees someone having issues and jumps in after them without being asked. Still, sometimes a drowning person can look at him and doubt. “Can he really save me?” This is the unspoken question in the back of my mind. “Can God really save me?” I’ve done so many things against Him, pushing Him away, discarding the plan He has for me, the instruction manual of life He has given me (the Bible, in case you didn’t get that). Yet, He really can. He’s stronger than all it, and the power of Jesus’ grace allows me to stand blameless before Him.

Like the lifeguard, God is underestimated, too. When I look at the stories in the Bible, like that one about Peter and John, I can’t believe the unrestrained faith they have. Of course, they had seen Jesus themselves. Peter had personally experienced the affect of being forgiven by Jesus. But still, there are others without that benefit who have gone on to accomplish miracles beyond my realm of thought.

Why can’t I just trust Him? Why must I try to do everything on my own first, and then, once I’m all burnt out, go to God? He has told us, “My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” (1 Corinthians 12:8). His power is great, encompassing all, holding all things together. Who am I to doubt its validity?

“Who has a claim against Me that I must pay? Everything under heaven belongs to me,” God laughs in Job 41:11. Later, through Isaiah, He added, “Who has understood the mind of the Lord, or instructed Him as His counselor? Whom did the Lord consult to enlighten Him, and who taught Him the right way? Who was it that taught Him knowledge or showed Him the path of understanding?”

God holds me in His hands. Like Job, I am forced to admit “I spoke of things I did not understand, things too wonderful for me to know.” (42:3). Throughout my days, when I’m drowning or I’m living it up, I need to remember that “The Lord is righteous in all His ways and loving towards all He has made. The Lord is near to all who call on Him, to all who call on Him in truth.” (Ps 145:17-18)

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Where's Your I.D.?

Dear Diary, 31 March 2012

Where's your I.D.?

Today, what’s the big scare when somebody steals your wallet? Not that your cash is gone, although that is concerning, too. The biggest issue is identity theft. People steal other people’s place in the world, simply by taking a few pieces of plastic. On TV, people cry and solemnly tell of how their lives were turned upside down by this kind of theft. Overall, the commercial industry is trying to say, “without your I.D., you don’t have a life.” Well how flimsy is that? I mean, all I have to do is lose my driver’s license and debit card, and then my life is ruined?

Perhaps it isn’t as dramatic in reality as they portray it on TV, but there are other parts of life that revolve around this same concept. What if my house burned down? What if my best friend moved away? What if I lost my writing arm? What if one of my parents got cancer? What if, what if, what if. The solution is not in purchasing any kind of insurance that promises to guard against disaster because disaster always finds a way to strike, no matter what measures are taken to prevent it. Instead, I should find something else to vest my person in.

Last night, my youth pastor was talking about identity. He shed light on the fact that identity is the only thing that we have that is truly ours. Of course, as Christians we have surrendered our identities to Christ, but still, we have a say in how we allow our identity to form, even as Christians. If we do not give it to Jesus, then we continue to hold on to it, keeping from reaching its ultimate potential. The fashion world vies for our loyalty. “Come down this path,” they say, without actually saying it at all, “We will make you feel better about yourself.” And like a blind sheep, I follow the voices.

Thinking about who you really are seems a bit cliché on the surface, but underneath, it is actually deep and thought provoking idea. What things define you? Your parents? I would venture to say that many teenagers, including myself, are more influenced by themselves than their parents – or rather their impulse to be independent from their parents. How about friends? They can have an influential sway in your stance. Clothes? Technology? Laziness? Emptiness?

Try to describe yourself. For some, this is easy. Jot down a few conceited remarks and you’re done. But look a little closer. Are these things really true, or are they the reality that you want? Finding who you are requires more. Some people may find this hard, like me. I think about the things I want to do, the things I love. My family, my friends, writing, music. Still, what a pathetic identity. It appears to be vested in all material things, and even people can be counted as "material" since, let's face it, people don’t last forever. If you’re a believer, then all your fellow believers will someday live with you forever, but people die, people move, people have fights and split apart. Not saying that this will happen to everyone you know – sheesh, I sure hope not! But there has to be a deeper identity than just “I love my friends.”

What things are affected by our identities? In short, the way we look at the world. So examine the way you look at the world. How do you see things? What colors, what perspectives, filter through your vision? Ask yourself questions you never thought to ask before. Ask the big question WHY. Without a reason, there is no purpose. Find your reason for things, and it will suddenly become so much clearer. Why do I like this song? Why did I buy that t-shirt? Why don’t I clean my room? Why do I love this person? Why do I worry what people think about me?

With a transparent purpose and a clearly defined identity, life is suddenly free. The chains are thrown off, and we are allowed to actually live life. To appreciate things, and to know why we appreciate them. It isn’t a permanent condition, however. The process of finding ourselves is always in pursuit because we are always changing. For a Christian, you should be constantly changing in your relation to the world in accordance with your relationship with Jesus. For teenagers, your stances are just forming, so there’s no telling if that one thing you believed all your life will still influence you in the future. Ask yourself questions – you may be surprised how little you and yourself talk.

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Obviously, I have an affinity for manga art right now.

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Living Behind A Page

Dear Diary, 16 March 2012

(Living behind a page...)

Words have the ability to embody everything in the whole world on a single piece of paper. They can express the deepest of emotions without sounding contrived; they can convey the most pure and most honorable of actions without uttering a sound. They can make a girl fall in love without ever being kissed; they can ignite within the soul a rage without an act of instigation. On a page, words can reach into the confounds of the mind and pull out something nobody knew existed. While the tongue is a part of the mouth, sharp and piercing, the pen has a way of softening the bite of thought. Thoughts flow from the brain to the page like a water current swept down the slope of a waterfall. What seems calm and undisturbed becomes a roaring deluge.

In my head, thoughts seem so much clearer. During an argument or discussion, some nugget of wisdom may pop up, and I think to myself, "What a great point!" But sadly, by the time that thought has traveled its way to my tongue, the words are halting and broken. In the end, the point never comes across as clear as I think it was in my head. However, though a longer trip from hand to temple, my thoughts usually manage to cross that distance in one piece.

Why I started writing may be attributed to this fact. Because I have somewhat of a speech impediment, always tripping over my words and stumbling through half-thought cogitations. Where the meaning may suffer in speech, the moral is sure to translate through the pen. Not to mention that my brain flows freer in text than with tone.

People at church, relatives in the family, friends here and there: they all preach the message of use your gifts to glorify God. Do what you can to help others, they say. God beseeches us to carry out his work among men. More often than not, though, I wonder what could I do to that end? What do I have that I could possibly make a difference to somebody else? Accurate though it may be, writing is only effectual when there is a reader. I cannot hand out pamphlets to everyone I meet.

There is a draw-back to this truth that I live, this written world that I perceive. I cannot live my life behind a page, although it is hard to come out from behind it. Words...they are powerful, but they are not mine. I cannot bend them to my will as I can the plot of a story. They have lives of their own, affecting those whom they touch. Each already possesses its own meaning, a meaning I cannot alter. From my mouth, these words seem trite, over-used, banal. Nobody likes the voluble little library girl, spitting out words she has only read in books and knows not how to correctly pronounce them. Who does not know how to intricately arrange them in speech, which has no backspace key.

Life is lived face-to-face, not through an alternative world of writing. By no means am I degrading writing, for indeed it is largely my life. My dilemma remains, however. Knowing how to write is only as effectual as the reader reads. Once interest is hindered, the spell is broken. During that time in between, the writer has only minutes (perhaps less) to weave a reality alternative to this one. From one person to another, this magic has no bond. Beside my friend, she had no knowledge of my love for her besides that which I say. Words on a page may hold meanings in and of themselves, but the actions behind them reinforce their original intent and transpose them into a reality that is living and breathing.

Courageous as writing is, it takes a deal more to make writing meaningful. It takes guts to go outside the dull monotony normalcy, if that is what your writing intends to accomplish, as most writing does. To curve the average road of unswerving redundancy, characterized by lack of feeling and emotion. For writing to have substance it must have heart, and heart is so alive it cannot be created out of nothing.

I must break from this prison of fear, fear of the unknown, of what these words put to use could achieve. A scientist may construct the most astonishing of inventions in blueprints, but without the science to reinforce his idea, the concept is null. What point is there? Without the possibility of being real, whatever is on paper has no purpose.

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