Please, come back for them.

Don't come back for me.

Come for the father who carries his disabled son through triathlons.
Come for the babies whose daddies don't come back from war the same, if at all.
Come back so my friend can see his mom again.
Don't come for me, but for them.

Come for the daughters who think touch equals love.
Come for the ones whose shattered homes cannot show them how to love.
Come back for the one who was so beautiful, then one car collision forever changed what's normal.
Don't come for me, but for them.

Come for the singing African babies, born with a death sentence.
Come for the ones who know nothing but hunger pain and cold concrete, just down the street from my hot chocolate.
Come back for the those who lived in shacks, and now the rubble of shacks.
Don't come for me, but for them.

Doubt.

Sometimes I doubt God.

I doubt why He loves me. People say, "He created you, so that's why He loves you."

I don't love everything I create. I know some people who hate what they've created.

Remembering that we are made in His image, that we bear resemblance to God, does help some. That feels pretty special. But it doesn't quite clinch it every time.

So in my mind, just because God created me doesn't mean that He automatically loves me.

But that wasn't all He did.

He could've just let us go about our sinful business, especially after we turned our backs on him, first at the Tree, and then countless times after that. Even after He gave humanity a second change via the ark. We messed up again, and He could've thrown up His hands and let us run a muck, or wiped us all out and started over.

But He didn't. He didn't abandon us, and he didn't give us a mediocre treatment.

He sacrificed His son, His only child, just so that we could be saved from ourselves.

And all I have to do is believe.

Believe through my doubts, that even those can and will be wiped away. Because belief is contagious. It's like anything you practice: the more you practice, the better you are at it. Especially, it seems, when you share it with someone else.

I think that's been one of my problems lately. I haven't been connecting with many people on a spiritual level. And isn't that the most important one? I know it is, but this thing called University Living gets in the way, but I'm tired of that being an excuse.

I'm also tired of the Adventist bubble. (This post should probably be separated into three, whups.) This has been on my mind a lot lately, and my friends seem to agree. I have never done anything outside the SDA world, except a one-week theater camp when I was 13. Don't get me wrong, I love Adventists, I believe in Adventism and our institutions, I am grateful for all my experiences and my upbringing, and that I have been kept safe in the bubble all this time. But I think it really stunts my growth sometimes. I don't want that to be an excuse, but I'm tired of trying the same old things and getting the same non- or blah-results.

A friend has encouraged me to go back to the basics. And when tempted with sin, to not focus on the sin itself, but the voice in my head that tells me I'm not worthy of God's love.

"Submit yourselves, then, to God. Resist the devil, and he will flee from you." -James 4:7

The Message paraphrase says to "Yell a loud no to the Devil and watch him scamper." I like the imagery of a weak devil.

This is a little ramble-y, but I've just been working through some thoughts. Your suggestions and prayers and testimonies are welcome :)

Tangibility.

So I'm a very touchy person:

I can't cut the habit of twirling my hair in my fingers.
I love playing my guitar really loud and feeling it vibrate against my body.
I have a bad habit of fingering the remaining pages of whatever book I'm reading.
I used to crunch massive quantities of ice.
My number one love language is physical touch.


I'm also very into the other senses:

I have to smell new foods before I try them (IF I try them!).
I love to taste my favorites foods!
I love designing and appreciate good design, as well as using as many colors in my wardrobe and on my homework (what am I, in third grade? =P).
Music is most definitely at the core of who I am.
One word: skydiving!

I don't know if everyone else relishes being in tune to their senses, but I certainly do. We discussed in a class recently that the more sensory an experience, the fuller it is and the more it means to you.

I think this is one reason that, at least for me, it's so hard to trust God. He's not tangible. I can't enjoy touching Him; I can't smell Him before I take Him in; I can't hear what He says to me. As someone who relies on and enjoys my senses (I just twirled my hair), it's hard to rely on someone whom I can't sense.

Or can I?

Have I not stared out over a valley or a waterfall, in awe of what my Creator created for me to see?
Have I not felt God's presence when someone comforted me with a hug in rough times?
Have I not been in awe of the endless varieties of foods and combinations of tastes?
How many times have smells triggered powerful memories of spending time with God in the mountains?
Has a piece of music not stirred to me to tears, praising God for the beauty that I can hear?
Better yet, how many times has someone encouraged me or preached a sermon that has changed my heart?
Touched my heart?
That's the best sense.

And to take this one step further, from an earlier post, I can apply this verse:
"Therefore, whether you eat or drink, or whatever you do, do all to the glory of God."
1 Corinthians 10:21

Musterless.

Why is it that in my dreams I never have been able to muster up the strength to hurt someone?

I mean when the situation calls for it, when I really need to hit or kick someone, I can't make my blows land effectively. 

The other night I dreamed I was being attacked by a man, and he had me on the ground. I was wiggling and trying with all my might to kick him away, but I just couldn't kick him as hard as I know I could in real life. When I woke up, I realized this is how it always is when I need to attack in my dreams. Why am I musterless? Has anyone else felt this way?