Waiting, in Silence

I am a problem-solver. Not a particularly good one, but a problem-solver nevertheless. Have you heard that dumb interview question, "Which would you rather have: a problem or a blank piece of paper?" I will always pick the problem. If you hand me a blank piece of paper all you're going to get is 11 poorly drawn cubes, maybe a spiral, and blood from the two papercuts I'm basically contractually obliged to get.

But when you give me a problem, I spring into action. I love problems because I love answers. And I love answers because I love knowing exactly what to do.

In the middle of uncertainty and struggle, then, I immediately go into problem-solving mode. When money gets tight, when sickness enters the family, or when I can't stand the thought of working another day at this damn job - I start googling, drawing charts, building spreadsheets. I make contingency plans. And if that fails, I begin calling people - the boyfriend, someone from church, my Dad - someone who can tell me what to do.

I've been dealing with some personal battles for the past couple of weeks, and I desperately long for someone to give me answers. At this point I might even take a bad answer, so long as I have one. But, for the first time, as I began writing the text or an overwrought email, I stopped myself.

As much as I want a plan, and as I sit in the still, small, and necessarily intimate space of my 450 ft studio apartment, I have felt the quiet conviction that God wants me come to Him instead. Where I would text someone, He wants me to sit down. When I start googling, He wants me to be still and pray. When I want to cry to a friend, He is asking me to cry out to Him first.

I felt affirmed in my conviction as I was reading Lamentations the other day. Of a suffering man, the author writes,

Let him sit alone and be silent
Since He has laid it on him. (Lamentations 3:28, NASB)

I don't know why I found this verse so profound, because as I mulled it over, I realize God has been speaking this message to me again and again, year after year, across the pages of His word.

The LORD will fight for you while you keep silent. (Exodus 14:14, NASB)

Cease striving and know that I am God. (Psalm 46:10, NASB), or
Be still, and know that I am God. (NIV)

Whom have I in heaven but You? (Psalm 73:25, NASB)

I don't have enough words within me to explain how hard and lonely it is to recognize and give up a reliance on human assurance. To put down the phone, shut off the laptop, and get down on your knees. To pray to a God that at times seems distant, while earthly advice seems so tangible.

But, at the end of the day and at the end of your life, it comes down to you and God. No one on this earth can fight the battles you will face. There is nothing in this world that can save you from your worst fears. The only hope you have is in Christ. God alone is the blessed controller of all things, and He demands your submission to His sovereignty.

So. We sit in our tiny, intimate rooms and quietly place our trust in a God who is far wiser and promises that every minute of waiting is for our good and His glory. We pray and cry out to a God that allows our suffering and sometimes meets us with silence, because we know we will not wait forever. We rely on a God who leads us down paths we do not understand, because He assures us that He is prospering us (Jeremiah 29:11), restoring us (1 Peter 5:10) , and fighting for us (Exodus 14:14).

We cease our striving and sit alone and wait on our God, because we know that our hope is not here.

-Britt

An Open Letter to No One // Edification

we heart it  via Darling, be daring.

Unless you've been living...oh, I don't know, nowhere, then you've probably heard about the Miley circa the VMA's debacle. That, in conjunction with her gratuitously sexual music videos and photos and erratic behavior, have driven her to the forefront of the public eye.

Recently, artist Sinead O'Connor facebooked an open letter to Miley Cyrus in which she describes how she is "extremely concerned for [Miley]" and blathers on about how Cyrus is being pimped, she is not caring for herself, she should use her talent instead of her sexuality, so on and so forth. Millions of people all over the interwebs have heralded O'Connor as some sort sort of martyr and mother figure for her deep-seated compassion and thoughtful advice to the younger artist.

Pardon my french, but I call bullsh*t.

A very public and open facebook post is NOT the appropriate forum to mentor or speak truth to a person in need. I find it troubling that so many people think that it is. (And based on Cyrus' defensive and questionable reaction, I would call into question its efficacy as well.)

I don't want to focus on the tabloid, star-studded, gossip-y controversy (i mean i totally do, but not right now), but rather the mentality driving a lot of the public response.

There are two very basic things we need to call out here:

•  If someone needs guidance or counsel that you are in a position to provide, a discrete and personal conversation will go a lot further in demonstrating your concern and compassion. Leave loud public announcements and open letters (that are really more about you and your highly publicized "compassion") behind. It seems a little Pharisaical, don't you think?

 If your brother sins against you, go and tell him his fault, between you and him alone. If he listens to you, you have gained your brother. 
Matthew 18:15

•  All guidance and advice should come from a place of love.

Let all that you do be done in love. 
1 Cor 16:14

...Knowledge makes arrogant, but love edifies. If anyone supposes that he knows anything, he has not yet known as he ought to know.
1 Cor 8:1-2

How do we ensure that we are speaking out of love?

I would humbly suggest that we look at our relationship with the person to whom we are speaking. Do you have any actual knowledge about this person's life or struggles? Have you truly lived life with them? Been there when they've hurt, rejoiced when they've rejoiced? Have you built a foundation for a conversation, not a lecture? Preaching at someone is not loving. Building a sincere and genuine two-way relationship, one in which you listen and talk, is.

I've been a person in need of guidance and instruction. I've been entrenched in sin and had people speak Truth to me. But the advice and support that's meant the most has been given by people who loved me well. The ones who held their hand out when I was in need, who rejoiced with me in my blessings, and intentionally invested in my life...it's never been the ones who arrogantly step in only to  counsel and then step out again.

To the self-righteous open letter writers, to the people who are professional hand-shakers and five-minute conversation-havers in between the pews, to the Sunday School classmates who collect prayer requests like Pokemon cards but never follow up:

Just because you have an opinion doesn't mean it's your place to say it.

Counsel and advice should always be rooted in Love, and Love requires investment. 

Ok, that's my last open letter.

-bRob

Is there Room for Grace in an 80 hour Work Week?

Where does my faith fit into my work-dominated life?

In many ways, the Lord has crafted me for this sort of work environment. Being in consulting is a high-intensity, intellectually challenging, fast-paced, continuously changing calling. All of which I craved coming out of undergrad.

I truly enjoy what I do. But more and more, I wonder how, in a job that requires a high degree of aggression, competition, and sacrifice, I am supposed to embody the grace, humility, and meekness God asks of His followers.

After a non-stop month of constant sleep deprivation, working all weekend, dealing with terrible coworker drama llama, blowing off my family and friends because I have a lifetime supply of excel sheets to sift through, completely blowing my diet out of the water and living on diet coke, sandwiches, energy drinks, and thai food...I'm exhausted.

oh...and I've completely turned into this kind of jackwagon:

Not by choice, mind you. I hate interrupting conversations and interactions with work calls, but, candidly, when your boss calls you about something last minute, what are you supposed to do??

I'm in a very confusing place right now. God has given me this personality and work ethic and drive that make me a good fit for consulting. And I don't think being a blunt, ambitious person is inherently wrong. I truly believe that God has put me here, and these parts of my personality that might strike some as abrasive have served me well in this environment.

But what I don't know is how to do these things with the grace of a woman of God. How do you turn the other cheek while still protecting yourself against a manipulative coworker who is attempting to undermine you? I've actually had a few people suggest that negotiating raises and salaries is greedy, but I believe there's something to be said for defending your worth as an employee. But where is that balance? And how do you make intentional time for friends, family, and, most importantly, the Lord, when you pound back energy drinks just to stay awake? How do I find the stamina to glorify God through my work when quite frankly I can't even get to all of it? Where does a healthy and necessary dose of ambition and aggression meet grace and humility?

And I think what worries me the most is that I don't have any godly examples around me. It's no secret that consulting can be a very secular, worldly career, and though I'm fortunate to be in a firm that is a far cry from House of Lies, consultants that openly identify themselves as a Christ-followers are few and far between (not non-existent, mind you, but certainly scarce). I don't think these intense, competitive professional careers are inherently antagonistic to a godly way of life, but why do I feel so alone in this? And how....do I do it?

In a world full of wolves, how am I supposed to be as shrewd as a serpent and innocent as a dove? It seems like a juggling act that I haven't quite grasped.

Here lies a post without resolution. I just don't know.

-bRob

Pondering Heaven

Sometimes I ponder (nachdenke) about Heaven. And, by extension, I acknowledge the fact that there is a Hell, but I spend less time pondering on that, because by the grace of the Good Lord I am not going there.

A [Christianly] friend once told me that she read a book about how a man went to Heaven and was stounded by what he saw: everyone was in a youthful body ( 1 Cor 15:52-54), and each man did whatever he did on earth, but was a billion times better at it. And I believe it.

I naturally wonder what I would do in heaven. I used to fear that there would be a lot of churchly singing and harp playing and maybe we'd eat some goldfish, like at VBS, which as you might imagine sounds really boring. I bought that Randy Alcorn book about heaven four years ago...and maybe after four more years I'll actually get around to reading it.

But, anymore, I don't think Heaven will be all that boring. I bet it's beautiful, and I bet I could travel all round Heaven and meet all sorts of people with different stories but still with one Truth.

I love hiking and canoeing on a lake and rafting down rivers and being in the desert and seeing a cactus and going to Alaska and standing by a glacier and swimming in the ocean and not getting stung by jellyfish. And I think I love these things because they are so organic and simple, and it makes me think of God. And about the raw vision He had for our brand new earth. What a Visionary, He is.

I hope that Heaven is like that. With raw, organic creation, unblemished and unbroken. And I will climb mountains and swim in streams and jog in fields, worshiping with my God and brothers and sisters, free from strife and angst and fear of not getting that promotion or gaining 43 more pounds.

I ponder Heaven a little more intensely when I feel like I'm going to die, truth be told. This past Thursday I had a really rocky flight. The whole plane was silent as we rolled up and down the sky, and being both morbid and a pessimist, I broached the idea of death...in the way only a twenty-something-year-old in good health who knows deep down that This plane will probably not actually crash could.

I wondered What if I actually die right now. And in my naive young way, I replied, I don't actually have anything to lose. Death has lost its sting.

Meeting God is going to be beautiful. Either way it's a win, right? I live a little longer or I go hike mountains and forge rivers with Jesus. Maybe climb a tree. WHO KNOWS.

I hoped my family wouldn't be sad for too long. I hoped they would think about how happy I was in Heaven, not listening to harp music, and I hoped they realize they would be joining me in their own time. We'd meet inside the pearly gates and I'd give them the grand tour and show them all the amazing things, only I'd probably have eaten all the good food already because I am a Baptist after all.

And I imagined walking through those gates and seeing my Grandpa for the first time in years, only healthy, before the cancer, and younger and more handsome than I'd ever remembered. And he'd smile his cocky grin and say, "Hey, Britt." And I'd probably rattle on for a while and tell him how I'd sometimes thought of him, like at graduation or during exams, because I knew he'd be thrilled I became an engineer. It brings tears to my eyes to think I'll see my Grandpa again, and we will be at peace together.

As the plane continued to toss about, I thought about one member of my family. The one with a hardened heart, who fights and rejects God and faith and wants nothing to do with our soft Christianity. And it pressed heavily on my heart to know that, if I or he died today, not only would I not see him in Heaven, but he'd be somewhere terrible, in unending agony. I didn't know what to do other than pray. I hope the Lord saves this burdened soul of his. I pray the Lord shows me how to help.

I'm guess you figured out that my plane did not, in fact, crash. I loosened my grip on the seat and read and did some more pondering. While it would be naive to pretend that plane ride was a true brush with death and that I was so so faithful and godly that I barely even got scared, I have no doubt that when death does come, I will only have greater things waiting.

Death has no sting.

-bRob