I forgot Jesus was my Comforter because my mouth freakin’ hurt.

I like, I need, I want, I choose. Four different prefaces we often jumble to equate one value, and when in honest perspective, each make us very different kinds people.

I like coffee. I need friendship. I want unlimted data for my phone. I choose to follow and trust Christ. What a scale of varying desires and what a responsiblity I have to embody as I serve as the gauge of these very things that can make or break my day. Or in this case, my back molar.

This call to responsibility is ever so present since perspective itself has come to mind as of late due to a recent root canal that has bestowed me with it’s annoying and painful presence. Some of you might feel bad for me while others might think I’m greatly blessed (and couldn’t care less because you know worse pain) BUT the point is, there is a lesson somewhere between the cursing of the sky and the crying of the face that I want to surely make note of.

Already I can tell you, when my perspective if off, I’m WAY off. And I forget about Jesus as my comforter because my mouth freaking hurts. 

Like most of us who know when we are about to sneeze was my inconsolable desire to have a really good cry during this dental drama. I’m regretfully regretting my baby cries by way of this blog, but here it is and here I am, so bear hug me man.

As I sat in my living room waiting for my third dentist appointment (in 36 hours) to finally get my root canal, hands cupping the left side of my mouth and hair tied in a greasy high bun, the initial subtle dampness below my eyes trickled and turned into the inevitable and long awaited flood. Relief and clarity sprang up and holy perspective revisited my understanding. It is SO easy to get into a posture of self-pity when you’re in pain and feel weak. In addition, it’s even easier when you don’t have insurance or your mommy, lover or bff  around to take care of you. All of a sudden, a bummer of a circumstance is propelled into a lens of ultimate pity turned anger turned river of tears. Enter the visual I painted so humbly for you.

Suffering is hard, but this all challenged me to become more acquainted with suffering well–because when we do, we are bound to forego all that other stuff that involve things like forgetting Jesus. When we suffer well, our focus is on our Comforter more than our discomfort. When we suffer poorly, essential tools turn into a bad thing. In my case, independence was branded by loneliness. Absurd questions came into play such as “how come I have to do this all myself?” when really, it was simply a poor question asked by a poor spirit.  The challenge lies in the awareness and action to make certain that ( in my case) independence would  lead to a final dependence on God and not resentment in my solitude–in my aloneness but fulfillment in his peace, his presence.

And though this is a pretty sad scenario, and I do think we are allowed to be sad, the ultimate sadness is actually forgetting the ultimate Comforter when we find ourselves with such a poor stature which is the inevitable poor spirit. This kind of spirit is forgetful, it’s jealous and it’s really angry. It’s stuck. That how you know when you don’t suffer well I think. And in no way does this spirit welcome the kind of healing that it necessary for relief and clarity to enter.

I’d like for this pain to go away. I need this pain to go away. I want  pain to go away. I choose to let God take care of this pain. When I rely on the first three, I’m the kind of person who kicks and screams and forgets and gets stuck. When I’m the last, I’m the kind of person who knows comfort and suffering is a hand in hand kind of thing.

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We Pack, We Unpack

Marked with emotions that have been best expressed in solitude, this month has been  both trying and treasured.

From conversations with best friends, family, pastors and with that one big tree in my neighborhood, I’ve gathered enough information to conclude that I am first and foremost loved and cared for.  No newsflash, but a memory that has seeped away into my consciousness making it difficult for me to acknowledge it as often as I should.

When change is subtle, at it’s height it’s incredibly emotional. I can’t tell if this change is subtle or not, but everything surrounding it does not feel that way. Then again, I’ve cried at the most obscure times this past month, SO I actually can tell.  I feel with this change comes this greatest responsibility–and that is to be responsible for myself. It helps I guess that my mom has been reminding me that I will have to buy toilet paper now and that I should stop at stop signs because the tickets are almost 300 dollars to date. God bless her heart. Folks, these are signs of when a momma lets her child go out into the wild. And the wild it is, because moving out (sans the college and abroad trips kind) is wild. Like unknown, make your own food, pay for toilet paper, wild.

The reality of it all though vast has framed my life in a way that is notably influential. And to have the power of affecting others (and more so myself) is a power that has turned out to be incredibly fragile. Yet whether heavenly or hellish, my roller coaster heart is truly on it’s way to  finding an altitude of acceptance and peace all beheld by a stubborn risk.

And since circumstances change so often, I suppose what this all really is, is the battle of the flesh and the bone inside of me functioning and living out these  systematic meets abyss-like changes gracefully and well. Things change. We pack, we unpack. So in this process of packing my things, thoughts of my source of strength unravel and I see a God that has remained throughout all circumstances and transitions. I’m simply moved to meditate on His faithfulness, because throughout all my roller coasters of emotions, of relationships, of dreams–of all the change, is the steadfastness and faithfulness of God.

This month has easily propelled me towards this prayer for June and beyond.

That God’s faithfulness—whatever, however, whenever it decides to be the obvious and blatant truth that it is, may it be unrelentingly attached to my spirit and be ahead, before and beside me.