the words that carry the hope

• only love can save us all
• thirty before thirty
• [almost] 100 things

01-08-10

waking up and right on time

As you can tell by my previous post, I’m a “resolution” person. Yes, I (*gasp!*) make New Years Resolutions. I’m not ashamed. It seems that so many people are anti-resolution these days, but I like to make goals. I like to write things out on paper [or on my blog] so I can see them. I am the list-making queen, just ask my mom. Side note: do any of you have a list of procedures to complete when you’re getting ready in the morning? No? Oh, right, me neither…moving on! I mean who does that!?
So, fresh. New Years, of course, is a fresh start. January 3 also marks the anniversary of my birth, so that’s another fresh start for me. I like it. The Type A in me would rather my birthday be on January 1 to make things all even and stuff, but it’s close enough. I’ll take it, because I usually love my birthday!
However. This year, I didn’t exactly celebrate my birthday. Instead I chose to have a pretty bad attitude. I can blame the lack of sleep the night before (I had visitors!) or the lack of healthy eating or even hormones, but the truth is, I mourned rather than celebrated. Oh, I had everything to celebrate: two NY friends cared enough about me to come visit, two other friends had a pancake breakfast in my honor (and in honor of their new griddle), I was surrounded all day by people who love me and wanted to celebrate me, it was Sunday so that meant birthday at church (and I love my church), not to mention the fact that I’m alive and Jesus loves me. But I was bummed. I wasn’t feeling it. I focused, instead, on everything I am “without.” I wrote this in my journal: “I can’t help but feel disappointed to be where I am today – sometimes life doesn’t turn out the way we hoped and dreamed, and today that’s hard to take.” (Ugh, so ungrateful!)
I came to school this week feeling completely worn out, having extreme difficulty concentrating on anything else but me, me, me. And then I read this:
“…I want to be someone else…I want to be someone who operates out of love and not fear of what someone will think or what the future will be if I don’t make it happen. I want to change from the inside out.” (Thanks, Rach…and perfect timing, Jesus)
I was feeling pretty disgusted with myself and how I didn’t choose joy on Sunday.  So at first, I decided that I would make a list of who I want to be. Surely a list would help…and I would pray through the list too to make it super spiritual! Yeah!
But then I woke up at 3:30am on Tuesday morning after reading that blog post. After I got over being annoyed that I was awake, I began to pray about what God wants from me. And I realized – I can make all the lists I want, but when it comes to my character, lists will forever be inadequate. God wants more from me than my lists – he wants my heart. I’m learning that giving Him my heart is a choice to let Him infiltrate the parts of me that are still dark.
I did Beth Moore’s Esther study this summer and into the fall (because I’m a slacker it took me a long time). I highly recommend it. One of the things I took with me was from Romans 8:32, which says “He who did not spare his own Son, but gave him up for us all—how will he not also, along with him, graciously give us all things?” Beth adds, “all other gifts being not only immeasurably less than this Gift of gifts, but virtually included in it.”
And gah, I love that. I love that He draws me into Him, even in my absolute selfishness. Even when I believe the lie that my plans are better than His and begin to follow my own way, He guides me back to Him. He continually gives me a fresh start, a clean slate, and forgives me for my faithlessness.
So, instead of making my list about who I want to be, this year I’m going to stick with asking God who he wants me to be. The answer is immeasurably more than I can imagine.

(title song: from ‘waking up’ by onerepublic)

This post is part of Blog Carnival v2 hosted by my good friend Regina…for more posts on “Fresh,” head over to her blog.