Cloudy Night

As I lay in my bed last night, I looked out my window for the first time after dark. Normally the blinds are closed, but last night, I left them open. From where my bed sits underneath the window, when I am lying flat on my back, I can look up and see mostly open sky. A high rise in the distance intrudes upon my midnight show, and the lights from Culby glare in my eyes. But for the most part I am privy to a view of the deep blue night sky, a dark ocean for white ghosts to sail smoothly and silently upon, borne by the cool summer breeze. I watch, content for a moment, as the shadowy clouds slowly creep through the patch of night. The sky glows with the lights of the city beneath it, and the clouds seem more like smudges against the shimmering night waters- their shipness upsetting an otherwise still night. But I am thankful for the clouds and their slow voyage past my window. They give me a sense of peace, of normalcy.
I lay, gazing up at the clouds, thinking of all the things that normally plague my restless mind. I think of love, of God, of family and my longing to be someplace more like home. I thought about the blog I had last posted 'You expect too much'. I think about one thing in particular that I wrote. I said that I wanted nothing more than to be with Andrew. It is true, that at some moments I am so overwhelmed with my desire to be with him again, to have that peace and sense of security. I feel my heart swell at the thought of hugging him and never letting him go. My chest heaves as I try to contain my sorrow and longing and all the pressure of all my emotions wanting to break free and tumble out in my tears. It is true, that sometimes I think that I need Andrew, that without him I am incomplete and insecure. But as I lay there last night, watching the clouds and measuring their speed by how slowly they creep past my window sill, I felt a sudden sense of shame.
I thought back to David's words in his Psalm:
"...there is none who takes notice of me; no refuge remains to me; no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!'"
David, in this time of hiding from Saul, literally had no one to call friend. He had no one at all. Still, God, His Savior, was enough for him, in every sense. In reality, I am not alone, although I am now without the person that I love the most. And for me to think that I should say 'I want nothing more in this moment than to be with him again' instead of thinking 'I want nothing more in this moment than to experience You and Your refuge' seems outrageous to me. Jesus Christ holds the universe together by the power of His Word, and I cannot let Him fulfill any of my needs at any given moment? He is my Savior in all aspects. He loves me more dearly, more tenderly, more infinitely than any man will. He knows my needs before I do, before I have a chance to pray them. He takes care of the noisy pigeons squabbling underneath the Brown Line outside the window, and I don't think He is capable of taking care of me?
Today I read Psalm 144 and 145. Here is what struck me about 145:

"The LORD is gracious and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. The LORD is good to all, and his mercy is all that he has made... [The LORD is faithful in all his words and kind in all his works.] The LORD upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you you, and you them food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing. The LORD is righteous in all his ways and kind in all his works. The LORD is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. The LORD preserves all who love him, but all the wicked he will destroy."

This is absolutely beautiful and comforting to me. Yhwh is essentially my everything. He is all that I need at any given moment. I need to trust Him and surrender to Him.

You expect too much

You expect too much of me. How could You possible forget that I am nothing more than a weak, selfish human. I want nothing more in this moment than to take him back. Why would You deny me this? Why do You always ask so much?

A Severe Mercy

Today, in a desperate attempt at feeling peace and comfort amidst a storm, I read Psalm 142 and 143. They read:

"With my voice I cry out to the LORD; with my voice I plead for mercy to the LORD. I pour out my complaint before him; I tell my trouble before him. When my spirit faints within me, you know my way! In the path where I walk they have hidden a trap for me. Look to the right and see there is none who takes notice of me, no refuge remains to me, no one cares for my soul. I cry to you, O LORD; I say, 'You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living.' Attend to my cry, for I am brought very low! Deliver me from my persecutors, for they are too strong for me! Bring me out of prison, that I may give thanks to your name! The righteous will surround me, for you will deal bountifully with me."

"Hear my prayer, O LORD; give ear to my pleas for mercy! In your faithfulness answer me, in your righteousness! ...My spirit faints within me, my heart within me is appalled. I remember the days of old; I meditate on all that you have done. I ponder the work of your hands. I stretch out my hands to you; my soul thirsts for you like a parched land. Answer me quickly, O LORD! My spirit fails! ...Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way that I should go, for to you I lift up my soul..."

Today I find myself broken. God has pulled away the crutches that have replaced Him, leaving me with no one else to turn to. Almost literally. Yesterday, I found out that because of an online banking error, all of my money was moved to savings from checking, leaving me with just a few dollars in my checking account. I was unaware of this transfer, so I continued to spend money as if there was 500 dollars in my bank account rather than 10. Needless to say, I overdrew my account and lost almost all of my money in fees- leaving me with 200 dollars. Today, I owe Moody 700 dollars. I have no way to pay it. I can't even call anyone back home for help. My cell phone service was dropped today, presumably because my dad could not pay the phone bill. If he can't pay the phone bill, how on earth can he help me come up with 500 dollars today? The Gap didn't start giving me hours today. I work today, tomorrow, Monday, and next Saturday. And on this meager amount of hours, I am supposed to be able to pay off my debt to Moody. I am despairing. I feel like the only option I have is to admit defeat and go home. I will be getting 40 hours a week, but not until the week after next...
I find myself crying out to God, just as David did. I feel alone and helpless. I have a few friends to turn to, but they can't help me. I can't call Andrew anymore. I can't allow him to continue paying for my school bill. For once in my life, it is just me, and God. I pray that He can do a miracle, that He can provide for me 500 dollars to pay Moody today. My faith is small. Worst case scenarios race through my mind. What if I have to leave Moody? What if I can't afford to come back in the fall? How can I possibly survive a summer at home? How can I get a job? What will become of my future? How can I afford to stay in school? What will I do without the few friends that I have? I am scared. But I cry out to God. "My spirit fails! Let me hear of your steadfast love in the morning!" God, what are you going to do?

Yesterday I read "A Severe Mercy". Straight through. It was suggested to me by a friend. It is the story of Sheldon Vanauken and his wife, Davy. Sheldon and Davy share a love that is strong and passionate, obtaining a oneness that set their love apart. Their pagan love was sheltered in the Shining Barrier that they had created for their love. They were the epitome of 'us'. They shared everything with one another, the same interests, passions, dreams, and desires. One of their greatest desires was for timelessness. Together they moved to Oxford, where they met some Christians, who, to their surprise, actually made Christianity seem like something worth considering. Through the shepherding of their friends, and C.S Lewis, Davy and Sheldon came to faith. Their pagan love was now lost, and they came under the control of Christ. Davy gave her whole self to Christ. Sheldon did not. He soon became jealous of Davy's new lover. He loved God, no doubt, but not like she did. He wanted to ask her to stop reading the Word so much, to enjoy more poetry with him. He knew he could not ask that of her. Davy knew where Sheldon's heart was. She knew that 'us' was more important to him than God. It was becoming 'us and God', but it must be 'God and us'. She prayed that God would take her if it was necessary to allow Sheldon to give himself wholly to God. That their love would die so that he could know God more.
About a year later, Davy died. God gave Sheldon a severe mercy. It was through Davy's death, through the breaking of their Shining Barrier that Sheldon would come to know God has Davy had known Him. Sheldon had to let his love die, which was a painful process that took place for the two years following Davy's death.
This synopsis of course does the book no justice. It was beautifully written. I cried nearly all the way through it. I would not begin to compare my love with Andrew to Davy and Sheldon's love. They were lovers for over a decade, and Andrew and I were lovers for merely 2 and a half years. But I will not write off my own love as insignificant. As I was reading the book, I first had some peace about my break up. I thought to myself, it is possible to have a love like that- a marriage of true minds. I want to hold out for a love like that. Then as it began to talk about Davy's death and the collapse of all that Sheldon knew, I began to question my own decision of forsaking a love. I love Andrew Smith. I love him dearly. I want him in my life. I want him to love, and to be loved. I don't want to think about life without him. Yet, I see that for both of us, it has always been about us and God. And like Davy, I have always been closer to God and us. I didn't have it, but I believe I was closer. Andrew had become so much to me. He was my best friend. He was the one that I could call and talk to about anything and everything. He helped me pay for my school bill. He never let me go without. I didn't need to trust God for these things, because Andrew was these things. We both needed a severe mercy. Even now, my heart is sick with love that I can't have anymore. I have to say goodbye to Andrew and let our love die if either one of us is going to get to know God as our all and all.
God has brought me to a point in the last four weeks where there is no where else for me to turn. I am without any help at the moment other than His help. I am at the point where I cannot call to anybody for rescue except for my Savior. (What a novel idea!) I have to trust Him to provide, and if He doesn't provide, that He will be enough for me no matter where I end up. If I end up at home without any of my friends and my church family, He will be my sustainer and all that I need. If I stay here at Moody and work all summer long, He will be my provider and all that I need. I will continue to subject myself to His Severe Mercy until I can say with full confidence like David, "You are my refuge, my portion in the land of the living!"

The Shining Barrier

Sonnet CXVI
"Let me not to the marriage of true minds
Admit impediments. Love is not love
Which alters when it alteration finds,
Or bends with the remover to remove:
O no! It is an ever-fixed mark
That looks on tempests and is never shaken;
It is the star to every wondering bark,
Whose worth's unknown, although his height be taken.
Love's not Time's fool, though rosy lips and cheeks
Within his bending sickle's compass come:
Love alters not with his brief hours and weeks,
But bears it out even to the edge of doom.
If this be error and upon me proved,
I never writ, nor no man ever loved."
-William Shakespeare

Love. It can not be neatly summed up or understood by the reading of words through a page. If we read of love all the time, but never taste it ourselves through experience, then we will never comprehend to what depths love can move. When I think of love, my heart shudders. My mind races with countless memories, and tears sting my eyes. The love I found was beautiful, was deep, was naive, was reckless, was a teacher- and under its tutelage I learned more in three years than under any other wise educator.
It has passed. As the blossoms of flowers and trees bloomed into erect tulips and sweet smelling umbrella's of shade, love resigned itself to a long bitter death. With one last sweet kiss on my wet cheek, my heart failed and the love that was sweeter than life itself bowed low, signaling the end of its passionate performance.
The 'Shining Barrier' at last yielded its walls, and in the rubble of the stones that I had undone with my own hands, I wept. I still weep. I love him still, and will for a long time more. My longing for him, for a love that can 'bear out even to the edge of doom' consumes me. Our love was not that fierce, our barrier not that strong. The strands binding us together were deep, but too few, and now they hang limp between us as time begins to first open the wound, and then in some far away time, heal it.

Walk Through the Dark

I step out into the cool night air and glance around. The lot behind the restaurant next door is fairly empty. There are people across the street getting into their car. Other than that there aren't many people out. It is late and damp, and I feel unsure as I head home by myself. I walk under the El tracks and sidestep puddles. As I stroll past the empty ball diamond, I take a moment to appreciate the shrouded skyline. The city is draped in a silvery mist, with the lights glowing dimly through. The Hancock tower bears a soft pink halo, illuminating the night sky around it with a purple tint. I look again at the street that I am walking down, anxious to be on the brighter street ahead. I notice that two men are walking ahead of me and are looking back at me. It makes me slightly uneasy, but as I approach the intersection, I cross onto the better lit, busier street and stay on the opposite side of the men. I feel foolish, being afraid of every unknown pedestrian out at night, but I feel it is better to be safe than sorry.
As I pick up my pace, now within a block of school, I take comfort in the fact that there is a couple just a few yards ahead, walking onto the Moody parking lot. I also notice that the two men cross back to my side of the street and stop ahead, under some small trees on my left. I follow the couple onto the parking lot, but their car is right at the entrance. I have to cross the empty lot by myself. Yet not by myself, because the two men follow me. At this point, my anxiety is rising.
"What up, bitch?" one of them shouts. I walk faster. Sweeting is right in front of me, and inside there will be a public safety officer. I clutch my bag tighter to my side and hurry towards safety. They are still following, but not quickly. I step for the sidewalk and one foot sinks deep into a puddle. Mud covers my foot and sandal. I don't hesitate. Within moments I am walking past Sweeting. As I glance behind me, the men trail off back towards the street. I continue on through the walkway past Doane and on towards the plaza. A few times I glance back, just to be sure.
When I get to the plaza I slow down. I am safe. My pulse slows as I walk into my dorm, now caring about only my muddy foot.

Unknown

It is terribly frustrating to be at a point in which there is nothing for me to say... My heart is heavy, and yet there are no words for it. If I sit and stare at the computer screen long enough, perhaps I will be able to formulate words from my catastrophic thoughts. At this point, to do so is simply a waste of my time.

Xplosive Pizza Goldfish and The Hush Sound

"Hourglass" -The Hush Sound
As we sift through the hour glass
We realize that an hours passed
And not a person here is innocent
Were both as guilty as a sin
It must have rained all through the night
The tires just couldn't grip right
So I took another long sip
And wiped away my chapped lips
This is how it ends
We believe every lie and say we're just friends
How long will it last
Before we scratch all the scripts and we rework the cast
As the hour met the minute hand
We kept racing through this foreign land
With no direction or a telephone
Together we were all alone
That's when the puzzle was finally pieced
We compromised until our bodies seized
To some we seem like colder creatures, well
We were warm until we went to hell
Cast the first stone
Lets pretend that we don't have a
Past the worst one
Forbid forget forget that you exist

I stood by the tracks in the cool morning air. It was overcast, looking as if it could rain at any moment. I looked down the tracks to where they disappeared into the woods, thinking how different this was than Union Station. I can't even compare stations, because there was no station where I was at. Just a small structure to protect those waiting for the train from the elements. I noticed a cardinal several yards away. In front of me, the broken body of a little sparrow lay on the pavement. Its feathers fluttered in the breeze. The rest of it was still.
This time going back to Chicago was very bittersweet. I had a good time with my family. I had been able to eat dinner with Sasha. Going home to Chicago wasn't appealing at the moment. There would be no one waiting for me. No one to welcome me back. Just the cooler Chicago air and the blasted wind. I had a lonely train ride ahead of me, and a lonely afternoon beyond that.
When the train arrived, I said goodbye to my dad and took my seat on the train. I quickly dismissed the thoughts of regret and doubt that assaulted me. I was only feeling so dismal at the moment because I was lonely. Staying in Chicago for the summer isn't a mistake! I have a job... and a few friends...
Then once again, as it does at the most unpredictable moments, the grief of my breakup washed over me. It came in a wave and covered me with its cold, bitter water. The force of it left my mind and heart battered. He would have been there to welcome me home. He would have always been there to welcome me home. He could have been my home. No matter where I went, he would always be with me or waiting for me when I returned. He would take me in his arms and spin me around, or would give me a long kiss. He was my future, my security, my hope. He was the consistency that I needed. When I went home and had a miserable time, he was there to talk me through it. If there was no one else in the city to pick me up at the train station he would have been there. When my time at Moody is done and my friends have all gone away, he would be there. When I go back to Indiana and don't have anyone but my family to visit, he would be there. And that security is gone. In the hole that Andrew left behind I see my weakness, my loneliness, my neediness, and I am devastated. I could pick up the phone and call him, and take him back at any moment, and he would do so gladly. I stare at my phone with longing, but I know that I can't. So I resign myself to my tears.

Sweet Home, Indiana

It seems to me so strange that I feel just as comfortable and at home behind a John Deere tractor hauling hay, listening to Dierks Bentley, as I am riding the El through the loop, listening to Jack's Mannequin on my ipod...

There are things that I miss about the city when I am at home for a few days:
I miss the skyline and the feeling of people everywhere
I miss the excitement and energy and all that there is to do
I miss the beach
I miss the family that I have in the city

There are things I miss about the country when I am in the city:
I miss being able to see a full sunset
I miss the sound of crickets
I miss lightning bugs
I miss farm boys with their shirts off (ha ha)
I miss my family

It really is strange for me to never be fully happy no matter where I am. There will always be something missing for me. I guess it is good that I can go back and forth fairly often and literally enjoy the best of both worlds. Last night, I got to enjoy dinner with my dysfunctional family. Let me give you a taste of our dysfunctional conversation: (Thank goodness the food was good...)

Mom: My mom didn't like you, Terry. She always said I should just divorce you.
Dad: She liked me.
Mom: No she didn't. Every time I went down there she would always say, 'Why don't you just divorce him.'
Dad: That's not how I understood it.
(Meanwhile I watch my grandmother ((my dad's mom)) sitting across from mom with a rather pained look on her face. She quickly sides with my dad)
Grandma: She liked Terry.
Mom: No she didn't.
(There is no point in arguing with mom. The conversation switches...)

The drive home was beautiful. The sun was sinking over the cornfields in the west, hidden by walls of great clouds. There was a break in the clouds, and the sunlight poured through in shafts, falling in beams from the heavens, looking glorious. Shades of blue and pink stained the sky and the clouds and I thought out loud, "Definitely no creator behind that..." I enjoyed the car ride silently appreciating the handiwork of God, admiring the rays of sun that dotted the western end of the world.

Today, I drove back to my grandparents house for lunch. I dealt with the normal barrage of questions concerning my sudden break up.
"How did Arni take it?"
"Okay I guess."
"Whose idea was it?"
"It was kind of mutual, but my idea."
"Are you done for good?"
"Probably, grandma."

I don't need to be constantly reminded of what a great guy he was. I wish that we could have worked out. I already feel like crap about it. I broke his heart. I broke my heart. And apparently I broke the heart of his family and mine as well...

After eating lunch with my grandparents, they wanted to go the Ladoga Cemetery. I remember the last time that my grandma asked me to go the cemetery. It had been years ago. I sat on the laundry machine in the laundry room. She had explained to me that her and grandpa's head stone had already been placed at the cemetery. The thought of seeing their graves made my stomach turn, even though I knew they were alive and well. I didn't want to think of my grandma and grandpa dying. So as a young girl, I fought back tears and politely declined going with them to place flowers of the graves of my great great grandparents. My grandpa assured me, "There ain't no ghosts out there!" I meekly replied, "I know." My grandma hushed my grandpa, seeing my distress, and allowed me to stay home. I didn't even want to ever drive past that cemetery again.
Now, as a twenty year old, my grandma ventured asking me again. "We sure would like it if you would come to the cemetery with us." I balked. I thought about it for a moment. Maybe I wouldn't have to see the tell tale head stone. Perhaps I could just occupy myself reading the engravings on others. My grandpa spoke up. "There ain't no ghosts out there!" I meekly replied, "I know." My grandma hushed grandpa, and waited expectantly for my reply. I thought to myself, 'You are twenty years old, Sanyelle! You can handle this.' I accepted.
Upon arriving at the cemetery, I looked out across the small plot of land that it occupied, between a corn field and the woods. I noticed some confederate flags marking three graves. This concept is so strange to me. Indiana is very much a part of the north. I wonder if these were soldiers who fought in the civil war for the south. I wonder if that was so, if they turned in their graves at the notion of being buried in the north.
I noticed monuments with the urn partially covered with a veil. I could vaguely remember looking up that it meant after I visited Graceland Cemetery in Chicago. I asked Cha-Cha what it meant, just to be sure. The urn or vase represents flowers or leaves, which represent death. The veil represents mourning. Another interpretation of the common symbol is the departure of the soul from the body. On one of the monuments, engraved in the marble was a quote that I could barely decipher.
"Watchman, tell us of the night what its signs of promise are beyond the ------- of this veil, lo the morning dawns."
Watchman Tell Us of the Night is a hymn, but only the first part of this quote is part of the hymn.
I wondered across the breadth of the cemetery after stopping at the grave of Dessie Mae and Jesse E. Spencer, my grandmother's grandmother. As I walked across the cemetery, I paused at a small stone marked with color. It read the name of a girl with only one date: January 5, 1989. She was born 21 days before me. She would have been 2o years old like me. I wonder what pain she was spared from in only having one day on earth, if she even had that. I looked up, and noticed the stone to its right. On it read:
Marylyn Sandusky and William Sandusky
Parents of Janet and Terry

I paused and allowed my eyes to linger. I swallowed, turned, and walked away. The sun was incredibly hot. I was uncomfortable. I watched as my grandma and my great aunt swept off the head stones of their parents and cousins. I was intrigued as my grandma walked over to her own head stone and swept it clean and remarked about the bird droppings on it. "The birds are already after us!" she joked. I wasn't all that amused.
I'm not bothered all that much by death. Cemeteries don't creep me out. I just don't like being reminded of the fact that my beloved grandparents won't be around much longer. Aside from the absurdity of one very much alive person cleaning off their own head stone, the cemetery was rather peaceful. I reflected on the idea of the finality of death. Someday, my body would be buried in the earth, but it wasn't all that significant. The beauty of the death is the life that I know I will have beyond it.
I will be with my grandparents and parents. There won't be dysfunctional conversations around the table at the Marriage Supper...
On the drive home, I rolled down my windows and enjoyed the smell of country and summer. I listened to Bubble Toes and sang along happily. When Big 'N Rich came on, I indulged, with a sense of abandon.
This is my life... full of moments that are unique to only me and at the same time, common to all humanity.

Is it better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all?

I recently found some 'journal' entries from a writing class over a year ago. One of the first ones I found dealt with my relationship with Arni. It is interesting to me how things have progressed since the time I wrote the journal:

"So, now to the boyfriend... We have been talking a lot lately, trying to figure out if this relationship is going to work out, with our differences. I wonder if maybe I should stay single because my 'fiercely independent personality' seems to buck at any thought of submission to anyone. But then I see what having Andrew in my life has done for me, and it has done a lot of good, especially now. Our relationship has taught me so much. I'm learning a lot about love and sacrifice and definitely a lot about communication. I feel and think about things so strongly, and I do not keep my thoughts or my feelings to myself. I let people know exactly what I am thinking and what I am feeling. Unfortunately when I tell Arni what I feel and think, he interprets it as me telling him what to do. For example, he wants to go to state school before going to Moody. I want him to come to Moody for a year for multiple reasons. When I tell him that, in a rather passionate, emotional way, he feels pressured to do what I want, and therefore, controlled. I am learning to communicate my passionate thoughts and feelings in a way that doesn't come across as manipulative and controlling. But, for all I know, I could be manipulative and controlling-... I don't want to be though. I know what it is to be the one manipulated and controlled. So, Arni and I are struggling to see if we can learn to communicate and blend our personalities (flaws and good traits alike) in a way that works. If we can't learn how to make it work, I can see it becoming [a very ill suited marriage], which I don't desire at all. Things are getting so much better between us though, and we are learning. Maybe this can work. I love him."

I am shocked as I read this. I am telling myself how foolish and ignorant I was as I wrote this. Of course, hindsight is 20/20. Do not doubt that I love him and we had a great relationship, but the issues were apparent, and they were significant. I did learn a lot about myself, and I learned a lot about what I need in a guy. It is apparent that I need a guy who will not let me walk all over him. I need a guy who knows who he is so that he isn't subject to my passions and my desires and my will- he will have his own. Granted, I want my husband to be able to appreciate my passions, desires, and will (most of the time), and I want him to respect me. But I want to know that he is so assured of who he is, and founded in Scripture, that I can still trust him and follow his lead even if I don't agree. I need a guy who won't be afraid to call out the crap in my life instead of passively watching me struggle to figure it out on my own. If I am being manipulative, I want to be confronted. I want a man who will challenge me. He will have his own opinions and he can challenge me with them. He will be excited about what God is doing in his life and will challenge me with that as well. He will be very intelligent. He will care about theology, philosophy, and literature. He will try to understand my fears and he will not brush them off. He will show me how my fears are unfounded or how they are, and he will protect me. He will know that I think that I know what's best for me, and if he knows I am wrong, he will lovingly point me the right way. He will know I think that I am strong, and even though I am not always, he will let me think I am, all the while being the support that I don't think I need. He will always remind me that he is not my everything, and he will always point me to the One who is.
He will pursue me, and allow me to enjoy being pursued, and being the woman. I will learn to rest and not be in control, because he knows what he is doing.
I don't want to wait for this. Part of me wants Andrew to be that man. But he is not. I need to have faith that God will provide a man like this for me, and we will have a blessed marriage. In the mean time, I will continue to learn and to grow and find my everything in Christ, and Christ alone.

Who I Am Hates Who I've Been, And Who I Am Will Always Ever Make Me...

I wish that I could properly capture all of the thoughts constantly racing through my mind and bind them. Place them on a page, proper and pretty, with all the correct punctuation keeping them in line. Rather than having them untrained, overpowering in their confusion and chaos, I would have them neatly lined up in such a way that I can begin to understand myself. Instead, I try to focus on school work, while in my mind's eye I sit back exhausted at the exertion of trying to focus when my mind races constantly, never taking time to breathe or learn who I am. I want to learn, constantly. I want to learn about the world around me, while trying to comprehend how I fit in, the insignificant person that I am. I want to be found significant by someone else. I want to understand God better and who I am to Him. I want to understand His person and His work. I want to be able to, just once, think about just Systematic Theology instead of Systematic Theology and all of the things weighing down on my heart.
I want to just understand myself, once and for all, understand who I am in Christ and who I am as a sinner and not be confused about all of these feelings swirling inside myself, these doubts that nag and nibble on my resolve, trying to devour myself while I'm not paying attention.
Its not so simple as just understanding myself. My self will always be changing. I will continue to grow and to learn, to be shaped by Christ and to be shaped by knowledge. I think the best understanding I can come to of myself at this moment is that I don't understand. I think I should be okay with that. The most important thing that I think that any human can recognize about themselves is that we are all needy. Every single one of us. There is no autonomy in humanity. This is the most basic state of humanity that I can think of. We need a God who is supreme, who is bigger than ourselves to give us breath, to give us life, a purpose. We need Him to save us from the damnation we chose for ourselves long ago, and choose for ourselves everyday. Everyday I choose to damn myself. Every day I must then choose to let Christ save me.
With this understanding of myself- that I was a sinner on the path to hell, chosen by God before the beginning of time, and bought with a price, already but not yet fully redeemed- and needy of my Lord and Savior in every moment in the fullest sense of the word, I can begin to build on this understanding. Unfortunately, my head and heart disconnect, and I live my life as though my salvation was a momentous occasion when I was young, and not an ongoing process that is essential for everyday. By saying ongoing process I do not deny that Christ's atoning work on the cross over two thousand years ago was a sufficient sacrifice once and for all. I simply mean that I do not let Christ 'save me' everyday. Everyday I fight for myself. I fight for my own desires and my own will. I do not trust that Christ is sufficient in all areas of my life. He saved me from hell, but did he save me from my school bill? Did He save me from lonliness? Did He save me from sickness? This is what I mean when I say "I must then choose to let Christ save me" every day.
Right now, my life has a few common themes, exposed to me recently and over time. Some are redundant, and others are new and refreshing. A new one is the lesson of joy. I am constantly trying to view my thoughts and my concerns in the light of the joy that I am supposed to find in Christ. If I let Christ be enough for me, and stopped struggling against Him-- that is if I stopped seeing my way as best and submitted rather than strive for constant control-- wouldn't I find more joy in Him? And if I found more joy in Him wouldn't it be easier to love Him and let Him have the control He deserves as my Lord? I must lay down my life. I must understand what His salvation truly is. I must submit to His salvation. If I submit to His salvation and understand what He did then I will be moved to love Him for Who He is rather than out of duty. If I love Him for Who He is and understand Who He is, and who I am in Him, then I will find joy in a relationship with a redeemer who voluntarily died for me, which moves me to love unlike any other love, which gives me joy in Him, and He will have joy in me. What a thought.
I recently have been reading a book by Francis Chan entitled "Crazy Love: Overwhelmed By a Relentless God". In it, Chan describes the struggle in loving God. He says:

"It confuses us when loving God is hard. Shouldn't it be easy to love a God so wonderful? When we love God because we should love Him, instead of genuinely loving Him, instead of genuinely loving out of our true selves, we have forgotten who God really is... We are programmed to focus on what we don't have, bombarded multiple times throughout the day with what we need to buy that will make us feel happier, sexier, or more at peace. This dissatisfaction transfers over to our thinking about God. We forget that we already have everything we need in Him. Because we don't often think about the reality of who God is, we quickly forget that He is worthy to be worshipped and loved. We are to fear Him. A.W Tozer writes,
'What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing
about us.... Worship is pure or base as the worshiper entertains high or low thoughts
of God. For this reason the gravest question before the Church is always God Himself,
and the most portentous fact about any man is not what he at a given time may say
or do, but what he in his deep heart conceives God to be like.'"

All of this stirs a thought process in my heart that I pray leads to an awakening in my soul to who God is. A person can only know Who He is by reading what He has to say about Himself. We can know of God and certain attributes of God through His general revelation, but to know God, to have high thoughts about Him, we cannot be content to hear about Him, but we must strive to know Him. And to know Him and His Son begets the process I described above. I am beginning to understand more of who I am, but it really doesn't come down to knowing who I am. Knowing who I am gives myself a certain assurance. Knowing who God is gives life.

A Broken Love Story

I met him the summer before I went into the sixth grade. He was one of those guys that you had heard a lot about, but you never knew personally. I had heard stories. Good stories. I heard, and this was what really made me want to know him more, to be his friend, to be more than his friend, was the fact that he was a hero. He had saved me from something, something inexplicable, something I still can't fathom today. So, he had done this amazing thing for me, and I wanted to know him, so that he could save me in a more personal way. So I met him. I wasn't impressed. Looking back now, I must have missed so much about him. He is an impressive person. A wonderful person... gosh I was stupid. I was ignorant. I just wanted a hero. I wasn't ready for a best friend, let alone a lover. I could have been ready. I chose to keep living for myself. Love was about sacrifice. I wasn't about sacrifice. He was though. He was love. I spurned him. A few months later, I got freaked out. I doubted the fact that I had ever been rescued. I pleaded for him. I needed him so desperately. My body literally ached for him. My stomach was in knots. Tears flowed down my face. Panic ate away at all peace that I thought I had. Where was he? Was he still there, did he still call me his friend? After all, I had been a lousy friend. I called someone who was good friends with him. Was this man still there for me? I asked her in fear. She assured me that he still was. He would always be there. Despite the fact I wasn't such a good friend, this guy was loyal. I fell asleep, still nervous. My heart trembled in my chest with fear and excitement. I had to get to know this guy better. I was starting to see what I had originally missed.
We started talking every day. Some days, I would actually spend time getting to know him, rather than just rambling about myself, which was my tendency. The days that I missed him, I blamed on my lack of time. It didn't seem to bother me that even though he was wanting to spend time with me, I could just ignore him and do other things that I wanted to do. This was our friendship through middle school. It was pretty weak. I had a lot of friends who knew him themselves. We would learn about him together. We attempted to make a lifestyle of him. My offering to him was meager in comparison of what he deserved. It was cheap. He deserved the finest of all things I had. I gave him my worship on certain days. I memorized things he said. I tried to live by his example. I knew I could never be good enough. He deserved more than me. Yet, despite it all. He still wanted to be my friend.
In my first year of high school, I, I like every teenage girl wanted romance. He had it. I wanted it from the boy who sat across from me in art, or some other guy from over seas. This man though, he knew romance. He created romance. I found it in him on a summer night. He wooed me. He gave me the moon, he gave me the stars, he gave me a whole summer night sky full of treasures that I admired. He told me I was his. He reassured his affections, his deep deep love, through a curtain of twinkling lights. I found myself, falling in love. Suddenly, I was hungry for him like I never had been before. I wanted to know him even more, transcend this first name basis, this shallow hit and miss friendship and give him my heart. He wanted my heart. Our time together got more frequent. I went out of my way to see him, to know him better. Other people helped me to get to know him better. It was good. Not perfect on my end, but good. I slowly started letting him into different parts of my life. At first, I was just letting him make me a 'better person'. There wasn't much actual change. Then he started pushing me to go beyond just being a nice girl. He wanted me to be like him, and therefore, I did need to change. This guy had an interesting way of pulling me closer to him. It was mainly through the relationship with my mom. Things were falling apart, and I was getting hurt. No one could fathom the pain. But he did. He could comfort me like no one else. I would cry to him, plead with him to help me. To change me. To change her. I was still immature though, and had much to learn. He patiently taught me. I learned to lean on him, to allow him to continue to rescue me from life itself. He taught me to love better. And eventually, he began me greatest teaching and testing in love. In the summer of 2006, this man gave me the pleasure of meeting another young man. His name was Arni. He was cute, and he was a good friend with this guy too. Arni and I had a blooming romance. It was far different from the one I had with this other guy. This other guy loved perfectly, Arni did not. But Arni loved well enough. And he had a different presence than the other man. I could talk to him for hours on the phone. The other man communicated on a different, deeper, level. I could feel Arni's embrace. My other lover held me in a different way. As time went on, I grew to lean more on Arni. Arni had not saved me. His love fell short of my expectations. Yet, I chose him over my other friend and lover many times. Arni had been a way of bringing me closer to the other man, but we ended up drawing each other further from him. My romance with the other man was beginning to grow dimmer. I longed for him less. I didn't miss him as much. Arni seemed to be what I needed. Moments would come where my other lover would catch my eye, would turn my head. He would embrace me in a powerful way that took my breath. I would cling to him for some time, and then let go and walk away. I was playing the harlot. My shame grew.I write this as a broken lover. I miss him. My first. I have strayed far. The distance between us is far and leaves me aching. I can run into his arms again. I know he is waiting. I am waiting myself. I ask him for courage, for courage to break away from myself and from what I want to be his and only his once again. He calls for me. I listen and yearn to be his once more.

The Return of the Lion

The absence of a person that we love is often hard and at time seems unbearable. The worst feeling is when we ourselves voluntarily stray from the one that we love. Today, I learned a little about God. I say 'a little' because there is so much to know about God, so much that I will never know, and so therefore the taste that I had of Him today was very slight in comparison. I learned about his infiniteness... My God works outside of time and space. He created time. With His own hands He formed space. But, He doesn't have hands... He doesn't have eyes, no ears, not a mouth to speak by. He is Spirit. This God, is unimaginable. I cannot even begin to wrap my mind around the fact that He knows me personally. I wasn't just random baby He stuck in my mothers womb and than wound me up to watch me totter through life... I was His own daughter, chosen before the dawn of time. He cares about me. He knows me intimately. He has a plan for me. But thats not what blows my mind... I am among the nearly 7 BILLION other people that He feels the same way for! This great, almighty God cares deeply for, and has a unique plan for this planet full of people! How crazy is that to think about?? What a great God. And knowing how huge and powerful and amazing and indescribable He is, that He just IS, well it brings me to my knees. And this amazing Creator that cares so deeply for me... well I need to know Him more. I need Him. And so this epiphany, this realization and new taste of the hugeness of God, brings me to a new place with Him... and I believe C.S Lewis described it beautifully...
"She never stopped to think whether he was a friendly lion or not. She rushed to him. She felt her heart would burst if she lost a moment. And the next thing she knew was that she was kissing him and putting her arms as far round his neck as she could and burying her face in the beautiful rich silkiness of his mane.
'Aslan, Aslan. Dear Aslan,' sobbed Lucy. 'At last.'
The great beast rolled over on his side so that Lucy fell, half sitting and half lying between his front paws. He bent forward and just touched her nose with his tongue. His warm breath came all round her. She gazed up into his large wise face.
'Welcome, child,' he said."
I met God today... I was overwhelmed with Him, with His hugeness, His love, His wholly other-ness. As I run to Him begging for His grace and mercy, I wonder how He receives me... Is He like this Aslan, drawing myself into Him with the affection of a Father, or receiving me as a lost servant to a High King, with solemn, regal- yet sincere, joy? I feel like Lucy in the paws of her powerful Aslan... This analogy moved me on so many levels, and I appreciate Lewis' beautiful and comforting take on this collision with the Creator.

Regrets

I stood in front of the fireplace, a neatly folded piece of paper in my hand. It was a letter I wrote to my boyfriend Andrew my senior year of high school. What I had neatly penned in class was something I wished I had never had to write, and something that I hoped no one would ever read. To ensure this, I was going to burn it. If only throwing away this letter expressing my regret could do away with the memory forever, could change the fact that what I had to apologize for had happened. Just moments before I had found the letter on my dresser and read it, frowning at the contents. I wish that I could say what I had to say to Andrew nearly two years ago was not something that I still talk to him about today, that because of the regret I had then, that I have changed and have nothing to regret now. I wish. I wish that burning this evidence of my history would burn the history itself. But it doesn't. I opened the glass doors on the fireplace. I gently tossed the paper into the flames. It fell behind the grate of wood and was laying behind the fire, unharmed.I reached for the poker and stared into the fire.
My past, darkened by sins of all kinds, overshadowed by regrets, will not be burned. The choices I have made in the past 20 years of my life can not be undone, and the consequences are of the eternal sort. Granted, the stupid mistakes, the wrong pursuits, they have taught me many things, hard lessons. These lessons I don't regret, I just wish I had not been so hard headed, and that I could have learned without the pain. I stared anxiously into the fire. The paper had to burn. Being blackened by the smoke was not enough. It needed to be consumed, destroyed. Ashes. I opened the doors wider, preparing to shift the logs and stir the fire. Suddenly, flames leaped up, licking the back of the fireplace, consuming the neatly folded piece of paper. The orange glow of the flames satisfied me. I put down the poker.
I myself cannot undo what has been done. The fact is, what happened my senior year of high school can't be changed. It happened. What happened last summer can't be changed. I fear what other people think of me. I keep my sins to myself for fear of being judged, but how can I forget that the One great Judge is the One who was there watching when it happened. He knows my deepest darkest secrets. He sees all my sins. I worry about what other people think, what they would say if they read the note, if they knew all my sins... but I don't consider what the Omniscient, Omnipresent God of the universe knows and sees, and that is everything. I also tend to forget what He has done. The fire burns the paper, the paper acknowledging my regrets. The blood of Christ spilled out to cover them completely, and has left me white as snow. I can't change what I have done, but I have been forgiven. When God sees me, He doesn't see my regrets, my shames, my sin. He sees me through the blood of Christ.There is now no condemnation in Christ Jesus. Its only ashes.

Sleepless in Grand Rapids

Its 5. In the morning. And I have thought myself into a hole so deep that I can hardly escape.In my mind's eye, I glance back, trying to size up the distance I have come. I shudder. My stomach is twisted in knots, and I feel as if I am burning. I feel around me the tangle and oppression of the comforter and fleece. My breath is caught somewhere between my lungs and my lips. My mind flashes back to the man on tv, bloodied, gasping for air, staring death in the face. He cannot breathe either. Yet he is fictional. His death is not a reality. I contemplate hell, and its reality, and that is why my heart races, my stomach clenches, and my body burns.What if I am wrong? What if I think I have it and I don't? I plead with God. Comfort me. I can't bear the thought of 'getting it wrong'. I toss and turn. I push off the blankets. I stare at the ceiling fan. My soul cries out. I need His peace. I need His comfort. I haven't doubted like this since I was a new Christian. I know I don't have it wrong. Yet in this darkness, this heat, I can''t convince myself that my faith is enough. Of course it isn't. My faith didn't save me. He did.
A man who was bloodied. In all reality. In every since of the word reality. He is reality. And without His 'real death', His 'real resurrection' my reality is hell...
Praise God, that God gave Himself for me.I hold my laptop in my lap. I need to see His Words. His promise of salvation. I need the comfort of... His death. And His life. I read Ephesians one. I almost weep at the comfort of my predestination. The choice of God to save Sanyelle Lee Sandusky, and pardon her from eternal damnation. I do not have to worry about being eternally separated from the my God. He has made a way. I am out of the hole that I dug with my futile thinking. I am in the security of the seal of the Holy Ghost.
Even as I type this out, and see it in print, a little shudder runs through me. But my heart no longer pounds. I feel cooler, my breath is easy. My mind slows as I see the letters form words on the screen. My thoughts... They do not come easy from my racing mind to my painfully slow fingers. Its so hard to communicate my beleaguered thoughts, assaulted by doubts.
I know I am not alone in this. Tonight I fight alone, but I know there are others who wrestle in the same way. Take heart, He is true. His Holy Spirit is upon your soul, and you are eternally sealed to Him.

Revenge

Yesterday, I was watching the show, the Mentalist. I have not seen this show before coming home from break, but after watching it once, I was taken in by the main character, Patrick Jane. He is ‘the mentalist’ and uses mental persuasion to solve crime. After watching a few more episodes, I learned that Jane’s wife and child were brutally murdered by a suspect only known as ‘Red John’. In the particular episode that I was watching last night, Jane was solving a murder involving a group of men who owned land, and were being burned to death by an unknown arsonist. Together the group had murdered a man who stood between them and a very profitable piece of land. Jane fabricated a story of revenge in order to catch the person who was killing the first group of three men who had killed Dave Martin out of greed. I wish I could explain the plot better, but it is kind of irrelevant to what I am talking about, which is revenge in general. This first scene takes place after an initial questioning of one of the suspects who killed Dave Martin. The charming Jane Patrick is discussing using this suspect, Muchato, as ‘bait’ to catch the killer who is now trying to murder the new land owners. In speaking of Muchato he describes him as the ‘tethered goat’. Jane is talking to his partner.

Patrick Jane- “He’s not a goat, he’s ‘goatish’, he deserves to suffer a little.”
“Nobody deserves murder!”
P- “Muchato helped burn Dave Martin alive- out of greed.”
“Jane, we’re officers of the law-”
P-“You are. I don’t care about the law. I care about justice, and justice says that Muchato deserves to suffer.”
“That’s not justice, that’s vengeance.”
P- “What’s the difference?”As Patrick is about to leave his partners office he steps back in.
P- “We’ve never discussed this, I thought that it went without saying, but when I catch Red John, I’m going to cut him up and watch him die slowly, like he did with my wife and child. If you have a problem with that, we should talk.”
“Then lets talk. Because when we catch Red John, we are going to take him into custody and he will be tried in a court of law.”
P- “Not if I’m still breathing.”
“If you try and do violence to him, I will try to stop you. If you succeed in doing violence to him, I will arrest you.”
P- “I understand.”
“I hope you do.”

In the final scene, Patrick is talking to the daughter of one of the men who was killed, named Maddie. In a fit of rage, she claimed that she wanted the killer, Tommy, to burn the way her father did. Patrick tries to convince her otherwise.

P- “Your father killed a man, and Tommy killed him out of revenge. You know that right? Revenge is a poison. Revenge is for fools and bad men.”
Maddie- “I don’t care!”
P- “Yes, you do.”

After Patrick and his partner have left, his partner, who engaged him in the first conversation questioned whether Patrick had changed his mind about revenge.

“Revenge is for fools and bad men?”
P- “Its quite good, I thought. A load of nonsense, but good.”

This episode was very thought provoking to me. I began to question what I would do if someone was taken from me, or harmed, by a stranger, by someone who killed or hurt just for their own pleasure. How would I respond if I had a baby, a little child, and some sick person decided to take them from me so that they could have a thrill? Its not pleasant to think about, but unfortunately, it is not something that just happens on television shows. It is a reality for some people, a horrific nightmare come true. I would say that if I had a child and it was killed or kidnapped, that I would let the law take care of it. I can say that now, with little hesitation. I don’t think that I would have the nerve to do that now, to take another life. Perhaps in defense, if I had to defend myself or a child, but not after the fact. How different would it be though, if 10 years from now, I had a child that I would give my life for? If it wasn’t just a hypothetical situation, but a reality. I think that I might surprise myself.All of that is without considering what the Bible has to say. In the Old Testament, in the law, justice was delivered in the form of what we might consider revenge. If a person was caught in the act of murder, there was little that he could do in order to escape ‘justice’. He was in the hands of those who were offended. Only in a city of refuge could he obtain a proper trial. Yet, what about the New Testament? What about “Vengeance is mine, sayeth the Lord.” What about forgiveness? I would probably have to say that if we are controlled by the love of Christ that we would we try to suppress what our carnal nature would cry out, “Revenge, revenge!” Rather than plotting to ‘cut him up and watch him die slowly’, we would try to offer forgiveness and love. I think it is safe to say that if not wanting to kill someone who murdered a loved one, I would definitely struggle with hating the killer. Yet look at Steve Saint. His father was brutally murdered by the people he was trying to minister to. And the very man who murdered his father is now the man who travels with Steve. I think that is what Christ would love to see in believers who have been so tragically wronged. Granted, in Patrick’s case, if Red John is not repentant, if he continues to kill without mercy (which he does) then I would not suggest to Patrick to buddy up with Red John. But if Patrick was a believer, controlled by the love of Christ, then he should seek to love and forgive Red John, and be content with what the law can provide of justice. To me it is the fall that even sparks this instinct in us to kill those who kill. It is the fall that would even move a person to take another human’s life. It is only because of the fall that people enjoy murder, enjoy rape, enjoy abuse. It is unfortunate to me that we go to movies and we enjoy films like Saw that are saturated in senseless violence. It is unfortunate that we enjoy violent video games. It does give me hope for the future, for a new earth, and a redemption of all mankind. There will be no need for vengeance, there will only be peace, and the ultimate justice.

Constellations in the Sky[scrapers]

I lay on my back and hold my breath. The night sky above me is far more beautiful than I had ever seen it before. The small window opening up to the universe was surrounded by trees, fringing the edge of my vision. The music of crickets and other nocturnal creatures whispered sweetly in the background of my enraptured mind. The group that I was with was praying aloud. How could I close my eyes? I didn't even want to blink. Silently, to myself, I fervently prayed, "Just one shooting star, God. I need to know that You really are there..." My heart was pounding with expectation. I had never seen a falling star before, and it seemed that confidence in my faith rested in the glimmer of a falling piece of rock in the dark night, light years away. I was young and naive, and like Gideon, I was putting my fleece out. Doubts, the arsenal of the enemy, had riddled my weak faith. This seemed like the perfect time and way for God to remind me that He was really there, that He cared. I was a star-struck thirteen year old, and He who I was fawning over wasn't on the cover of the latest Seventeen. I stared so intently at the stars that I could have probably willed one of them to break loose from its black felt background and crash through the atmosphere. In a split seconds my hopes were fulfilled as a bright light blazed a path through the sky and vanished in the beat of a heart. I thanked God, and closed my eyes. I felt the grass beneath me and the openness of something greater than me above. I felt so incredibly small, and at the same time I felt that I was a part of something so grand and marvelous that in being swallowed up in the immensity of it, I was as high as the heavenly constellations and as far-reaching as the galaxy spilling over my head. I was alive, and I found that life in Him.Fast forward seven years. I lay in my bed, looking out my window on the seventh floor. I can't even see the sky. The skyscrapers and high rises overlap, creating an impregnable wall between my eyes and the great beauty of the sky beyond. Yet, had I been able to see the sky, the unmeasurable amount of light radiating from Chicago would have dimmed the glory of the millions of starts and would leave only six or seven visible to my naked eye. In exchange for the brilliance of the constellations, I had the patterns of lights that consistently burned through the night in the city. The flickering of television screens through the windows of neighboring condominiums replaced my favorite star that flickered different colors. The halo of light that wrapped the top of the Hancock tower now dominated the lights of windows like the moon outshone the stars. I felt far removed from the natural beauty of God's creation, and felt suffocated from the fabricated galaxy that glared at me from my window. Instead of trees filled with sleeping birds, owls, and bats, a billboard advertising for Office Supply towers outside my window, with large fake crows, seagulls, and pigeons attached on top. I don't hear the chilling howl of coyotes, but the blaring of horns and the screeching of tires. I sigh, and continue to stare out my window. He feels so far away. He will woo me another way...

A Shadow of Life on the Shore

I sit in the wet sand and look out across the lake. The water in front of me is grey, but on the horizon an almost dark green. The sky above is filled with a tangle of clouds in varying degrees of darkness. Behind them is the sky, with a tinge of pink from the setting sun. Rain falls on my bare arms and head. A warm breeze wraps itself around me. I feel peaceful on the outside, but there is no peace within me. A good ways out into the lake, up the shore from me, is a lighthouse of sorts. Its flashing lights flicker from red to green. It is steadfast and secure on the rocks that protrude into the lake. Between the shore where I sit and the rocky outcrop, the water tosses back in forth in a feeble attempt at waves. Beyond the rocks and lighthouse, the choppy water creates an ever shifting horizon. My soul is like the steely waters, restless and ambivalent. That point of security, the one thing on the horizon that isn't shifting and ebbing and flowing is the One who can cause my soul to be still. But there is so much water between Him and myself... A seagull hovers above the water, flapping its wings in earnest to stay in place, peering into the water that shudders in the wind. The bird gains altitude and then dives into the water, sending spray into the air. It resurfaces a moment later, perhaps with a prize from the toiling lake. I wish that I could be still. I wish that the waters of my soul weren't in such turmoil, that my thoughts wouldn't oppose one another and that my whole self could be of one accord. I wish that I could find peace and security and identity in my Rock and my Salvation. Instead I see Him as silent and foreboding, aware of my troubles, but not willing to offer any help. He is a silent watchman, standing by to let me choke on the water around me rather than to shine His light and expose a way out. I, unlike this lake, am not at the mercy of the wind. I can choose to still myself and instead of subjecting myself to the fickle desires of the circulating air, I can willfully look to the Rock and allow His presence in itself be enough to quiet my waters. If I patiently look for His light and allow His way to be better than my own treacherous way, then I am not drowning. I have to submit myself to an unconventional path. I rest here on the shore, content in my half-lived life rather than facing the unknown and setting my eyes on the rock, ready to plunge into His depths without inhibition. The bottom line is this: I live my life in fear of what God wants for me. I have created for myself a place of security, at the cost of having a life lived to the fullest. Living life to the fullest means giving up comfort. It means that life is found in losing it. This paradox will always be a hard one to grasp . I dabble in God's 'waters'. I wade out until I get too cold, or afraid of what lays in the deeper waters. Then I turn and walk back to the shore. Then I wonder why the storms of life shake me to my core. Its because I haven't given myself over to the wildness of God and His ways. I am not centered on His rock. I live with Him in sight, but not in His presence. And until I take the plunge and surrender to what feels like the terrifying unknown and allow Him to be the rock that I can hold fast to, then I will live a shadow of life on the shore.

First taste of love, bittersweet, green on the vine, like strawberry wine

I love Chicago, but leaving the dirty, noisy city behind for the country is like taking a breath of fresh air after being stuck in a stuffy room for far too long. I was born and raised in a small town, and spent my last summer in an even smaller town. I spent the past day enjoying the country once more, and all of the beauty of open skies and rolling fields. It is more than just appreciating the beauty of the country and the absence of man made structures, but it is more about the memories I have of winding back roads and endless stretches of railroad tracks that are far less traveled than the El and subway. Driving on roads that I know better than any other, that have memories of summer nights with the windows rolled down and someone’s hand in mine is such a refreshing feeling to me. Driving past houses that I have visited and front porches populated with families and elderly couples is therapeutic after suffocating in a city where concrete buildings create formidable walls. There is nothing quite like a brilliant sunset illuminating fields of golden flowers and maple trees in early bloom. There is nothing like being able to see for miles over flat land dotted with trees and farms. There is nothing like seeing a horse grazing lethargically in a pasture or racing through a field with its neck gracefully arched and its mane streaming behind it. As I arrive in Ladoga, my mind is filled with bittersweet memories. It has been almost one year since…
I see the ball diamonds filled with young kids and their parents and my mind races back first to my past summer, and countless summers before. Summers of sitting on the front porch with Grandma and Grandpa slurping Root Beer flavored shaved ice. Summers spent on the play ground, or in the gulley catching frogs while Grandma fretted on the front porch, concerned about Aaron and I falling in the water. Summers spent eating a hamburger after playing ring toss at the fish fry, enamored with the pony in the little corral, begging daddy to let me ride it- just once. Summers of fireworks over the elementary school with the curiosity of what would happen if the sparks started a fire. Summers of Boy Meets World while sitting on the couch munching Hot Fries or Zebra cakes, or whatever else Grandma and Grandpa had provided to spoil me rotten with. A summer being foolish and frenzied with love, throwing caution to the wind and making mistakes I regret to this day. A summer of walks down the railroad track and over the bridge, enjoying the summer sun, wildflowers, and the creek winding sluggishly through the woods. A summer of writing from the window of my bedroom, wishing for innocence and simplicity again. A summer of getting home late from work, enjoying the smell of the country with my windows rolled down and a carton of my favorite ice cream and a bottle of sweet tea in the passenger seat. His black Rodeo rumbled deeply, sounding more like a tractor than a car, with one headlight illuminating the road ahead of me. I would turn off the headlights and creep down the county road mesmerized by the lightning bugs flashing around me by the hundreds. If I had known that it was going to be our last summer together, I wonder if I would have done things differently. Would I have kissed him with more passion knowing that it would come to an end, or would I have held back and let the passion melt away like the shaved ice? Would I have held his hand more tightly, or let him slip away? That summer taught me so much and left me with only one regret… Even now the memories leave a dull ache in my stomach and my eyes wet. Yet I can smile knowing that I have learned and grown more from this past summer, from all of my summers. So when I drive through Ladoga and see a couple hand and hand strolling down the street I remember with a small smile and a sense of longing what it was to have him venture into someone’s yard for a flower to add to my bouquet. I can smile at the thought of swinging on the swings together laughing like small children rather than young adults with the future staring them down holding promise and doubt.

A Rooftop Encounter of the Most Electric Kind

I sit in bed, savoring the last twelve minutes before work, with thoughts of the Papal Schism and the Gutenberg press in the back of my mind. I hear the sound of tires on wet pavement and the thunder rolling in the distance. Out of the corner of my eye, I see bright flashes on the horizon. My hair is wet and sticking to my face and rainwater drips from the wavy strands to my arm. I glance up at the sound of thunder crashing. I sigh deeply and contentedly. I just got back from standing on the roof with my friends, watching God in all of His glory sear the skies with His power and glory. Every strike of lightning lights up my eyes and stirs something within my soul. I relish the rain on my skin and the wind buffeting around me. My heart thrills as lightning lashes out against the Sears Tower and leaves me pleading with God for just one more display of His might. I tremble slightly in the cold and ponder the chances of lightning striking...me. This is God's wildness. This is what I love and enjoy about serving the God of the universe, that He thinks to bless me with His nature, on a night when I need it most, when I hunger for His creation and feel disconnected in the city. This His wildness that I so desire.

I Am Understood?

I couldn't express this better... so I'll let Relient K do it for me:
"Sometimes it's embarrassing to talk to you
To hold a conversation with the only one who sees right through
This version of myself
I try to hide behind
I'll bury my face because my disgrace will leave me terrified
And sometimes I'm so thankful for your loyalty
Your love regardless of
The mistakes I make will spoil me
My confidence is, in a sense, a gift you've given me
And I'm satisfied to realize you're all I'll ever need
You looked into my life and never stopped
And you're thinking all my thoughts
Are so simple, but so beautiful
And you recite my words right back to me
Before I even speak
You let me know, I am understood
And sometimes I spend my time
Just trying to escape
I work so hard so desperately, in an attempt to create space
Cause I want distance from the utmost important thing I know
I see your love, then turn my back and beg for you to go
You're the only one who understands completely
You're the only one knows me yet still loves completely
And sometimes the place I'm at is at a loss for words
If I think of something worthy I know that its already yours
And through the times I've faded and you've outlined me again
You've just patiently waited, to bring me back and then
The noise has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation
Your voice has broken my defense
Let me embrace salvation"

Tonight I began packing up all my belongings for moving out of, and then back into, my dorm. I am a packrat, and have a lot of things to sort through. Among them are countless gifts from Andrew. I have a gigantic stuffed dog that he won me at King's Island, a scrapbook I made of our 2 and a half year relationship, picture after picture after picture. I have a nice digital camera, a diamond ring, a silver necklace... all wonderful gifts from a wonderful guy that I had to give up, I began thinking about what exactly I was forfeiting in giving up this relationship, and what I thought I needed in order to be 'happy' with someone. I feel safe in saying that there are few people who know me better than Andrew. Being known like that is special, and wonderful, and hard to explain. But I began thinking, why is it that I feel I want to give up on someone who knows me so well, which lead me to thinking, what is the difference in being known by a person, and then being understood... (I realize that my thought processes may be slightly hard to comprehend, but bear with me.)
According to Dictionary.com Know is:"to perceive or understand as fact or truth; to apprehend clearly and with certainty"
Understand is:"to perceive the meaning of; grasp the idea of; comprehend"
To me, the difference in knowledge and understanding is subtle, but significant. Andrew knows me. He knows about, more about me than most. He knows my passions. He knows my past. He knows my fears, my hopes, my dreams, my desires. But does he undesrtand them. Does he comprehend and perceive why?
I would argue that in some areas, Andrew does understand. In others, he doesn't. Yet, will anyone fully understand Sanyelle Lee Sandusky? Will I ever understand myself? I would argue that there is only One who will ever understand fully. He created me. He knows the details of my past better than myself. He understands my love for horses because He gave it to me. He understands my passion for children because He created me that way. He understands the way that I think because He wove me together in my mother's womb... He understands my pain, my fears, my desires better than anyone ever will. One of the reasons that I ended my relationship with Andrew was because we are both lacking in a lot of things that are necessary for making a relationship work. There are things that he needs to mature in and that I need to mature in. However, for me it was more than that. I have a great passion for things that he does not, and vise versa. I love thinking and talking about theology, about psychology, about philosophy. Andrew knows this about me, but he doesn't understand this about me. Andrew loves technology, computers, and cars. He is incredibly gifted in knowing and understanding those things. He thinks differently than I do. I know this about Andrew, but I don't understand it. These are things important to us, that we care a lot about. I wonder, is it selfish to want to be understood? Is it selfish to end a wonderful relationship on a basis such as this... Granted it is not the only reason... What it really boils down to is that I will never be understood fully by myself, let alone a man, even one that I love deeply. I want a husband who has similar passions as me, who thinks more like me, who I can understand better and who can understand me better. Yet he will never fully satisfy me. There is only one who understands me... If I seek fulfillment in this area outside of the Lord, I will always be disappointed. If I depend on being understood by other people, then i will be disappointed. I don't think its wrong to desire to be understood by others, but I know I will always be left lacking if I search for it in others before tasting it in God.

The Life of a Summer Moody Student: Day One "Take Three"

You will notice that in the title of this note, there is the phrase ‘take three’. This is due to the fact that as I was at the end of writing this note, my computer deleted it. Naturally, since I will not be defeated by this man-made malfunctioning piece of ----, I took it upon myself to rewrite from memory all of the witty things I had said in my first attempt. In the midst of rewriting the second note, the computer did it again. Alas, here I am recounting my events for the third time, resisting the urge to break the window and this computer in one quick and therapeutic move. *Ahem.

I sit on the one square foot of my bed that isn’t covered by all my partially unpacked luggage. I barely have room for my feet between my bed and dresser. This implies that I am unable to actually use my dresser because of its ridiculously close proximity to the bed. This is the way that the room was set up for me… and I haven’t had the time to rearrange the furniture in this small dorm room. When I look out my window, I see Moody. Ah yes, nothing like seeing the clock tower I walk past on my way to class. Nothing like seeing the other wing of the dorm I live in. Who wouldn’t want to stare out at the plaza with the four trees that Moody has on its campus? I wouldn’t trade this view for anything. Not for the Sears Tower, or the Hancock Tower. Give me these plain brick buildings any day. I sit here in my bed exhausted after spending a day hiking around the city looking for my bank. Why must I look for my bank, you ask? Well dear reader, let me explain. I apparently bank with the most obscure bank in all of Chicago. Bank of America? Too stable. I need a bank that closes and disappears over night. Chase Bank? Too frequent. I need a bank that doesn’t occupy every street corner, and isn’t within four miles of where I live. You see, I just love to be inconvenienced in every aspect. That’s why I bank with Charter One.Why must I walk four miles to get to my bank, you ask. Well, due to the aforementioned qualities of my bank and my lack of a Upass or money, I must walk. First I must walk to where my bank was. Then I must call Ruth so she can look up where my bank is. It just so happens to be on the other side of Gold Coast. So, without a Upass or money for a transit card, I get to enjoy a long walk. My feet will thank me when they stop aching and are a little stronger. My stomach grumbles in aggravation. It demands more calories for this kind of lifestyle. It reminds me, politely, “Sanyelle, Tuna lunch kits and Goldfish crackers are not a substantial diet.” I reply, “Its okay, stomach. In eleven more weeks you can have Moody food again!” It turns, and not with excitement. So, here I am with a laptop in my lap that heats to 120 degrees Fahrenheit. I am currently burning a hole in my jeans, but I hear its fashionable these days…. The rest of my clothes are waiting for me in the dryer, and I have library books that will be overdue in a few hours. Don’t worry, dear reader. There will be more to come.

Real Drugs

I have to write, because if I don't, the thoughts clutter my head and I can't focus on what I need to be focusing on, only what I can't get out of my head. My greatest distraction in life right now is my future. It will always be my greatest distraction. I always think ahead, think of what I want to be, where I am going to be, who I am going to be with. I rarely think about now. Only when I have to. Thinking about the past is sometimes too painful, so I think about what could be... my hopes, dreams, and desires. I have so much that I want to do, that I want to accomplish, and only aprroximately 80 years to do it. Rats.

There are things that I enjoy, but am not good at.
There are things that I am good at, but don't have time to enjoy.
There are things that I want to be, but won't ever be.
There are things that I want to do, but won't get paid for.
I want to be a dancer. When I am listening to music, I am internally choreographing dances in my mind. Granted, they wouldn't look good in actuallity, and I am not the best dancer, but I delight in dancing, in listening to music. I love singing as well, but we won't even go down that road...I want to be a writer. I love writing. LOVE it. I enjoy writing about my perceptions, beliefs, and experiences. If I had time, I would like to write an actual novel, but I don't want to make a fool of myself. I may have a way with words, but I don't think I could write a novel worth reading... Not some great piece of literature like Twilight...
I want to be a better theologian. Theology is starting to mean a lot more to me the more that I get into it. To some people its unimportant, and a waste of time. They say it doesn't matter, that we just need to love God. God it theology. Theo- God logy- discourse.... It's necessary, and its fascinating, and I'm learning so much about God. There is so much more to learn and I am actually really excited about Systematic Theology.
I want to be a philosopher. After taking Introduction to Philosophy, I was able to learn to think about other perspectives, consider the validity, and stretch my mind in order to understand totally different worldviews. Metaphysics...Epistemology...Ethics summarized by Socratese, Plato, Descartes, Hume, and Kant. Brushing the surface of Hyper(post)modernity. I like thinking about things bigger than myself, strange to me. I wish I could be an academician. Unfortunately I am not that smart...
I want to be a wife. This is kind of obvious I guess. I almost had the privelege of being Andrew Smith's wife, but I don't think that will ever be. I love loving, being loved. I don't think I would make a great housewife, but I could learn... while juggling my careers as a dancing, writing, academician. Along with that, I cannot wait to be a mother! I love children. I love having a baby in my arms. Seeing a mother with her child is such a beautiful thing and I can't wait to have that.
I want to be an equine therapist. I spent most of my time in middle school and elementary school with horses. I learned so much about them, how to ride them, train them, knew their bone structure, how to care for them. Coupling that passion with my love of children, I would enjoy spending the rest of my life ministering to children with disabilities, sharing with them my love of animals, and using the love of Christ to shape and transform kids. I wish I could be all of these things, and maybe they will alll have their time. I have to learn to be patient and pursue my dreams in God's time and in His way.

"Ask And You Will Receive, And Your Joy Will Be Complete"

John 16:16-24
16"In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me." 17Some of his disciples said to one another, "What does he mean by saying, 'In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me,' and 'Because I am going to the Father'?" 18They kept asking, "What does he mean by 'a little while'? We don't understand what he is saying." 19Jesus saw that they wanted to ask him about this, so he said to them, "Are you asking one another what I meant when I said, 'In a little while you will see me no more, and then after a little while you will see me'? 20I tell you the truth, you will weep and mourn while the world rejoices. You will grieve, but your grief will turn to joy. 21A woman giving birth to a child has pain because her time has come; but when her baby is born she forgets the anguish because of her joy that a child is born into the world. 22So with you: Now is your time of grief, but I will see you again and you will rejoice, and no one will take away your joy. 23In that day you will no longer ask me anything. I tell you the truth, my Father will give you whatever you ask in my name. 24Until now you have not asked for anything in my name. Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.

Tonight in small group, we discussed the passage in John describing Jesus turning water into wine at the wedding in Cana. I was challenged to see the verse in a different light than what had been previously taught to me. Through discussion of what joy is and where we seek and find joy, I began to think about joy in the context of my life, and particularly relationships. The more I thought, and the more I wrote about it when I returned home, the more I realized I was missing out on something great and life changing. All of this time, I have been trading the full joy of Christ for the cheap thrills of this world, and the temporary happiness found in my relationship.

I was in a relationship with a great guy for nearly three years. In this relationship, I thought I had all I needed to be happy, to have joy in life and in a marriage. If I was having a bad day, issues with my family, or if I was just worn thin, I had Andrew to call and to cry to. He would comfort me, and I would accept his counsel and be ‘satisfied’. If I was having financial problems or needed something, he wouldn’t hesitate to offer me help, to pay for my school bill or buy me what I needed. When it came to finding love and affection, Andrew was never lacking. I could turn to him to make me smile, to make me feel pretty and loved and cherished.Yet there is pain in my life that Andrew couldn’t begin to understand. There were days when all he could do is sit with me while I mourned for my family. There were financial burdens that even he couldn’t solve with his money. There were times when even after telling me I was beautiful and that he loved me for who I was, I still didn’t feel good about myself. All the while, there was Christ. This Savior who finds joy in me, waiting until I found mine in Him. He knows my pain, my financial burdens, and He died for me… What more could I possibly ask for? Why is it that I am so prone to searching elsewhere, anywhere, for joy outside of Him, the ultimate giver of joy? Why is it that I can begin to ascertain this joy, but can’t seem to obtain it? My sinful heart would rather have control and immediate gratification than to patiently sit at the feet of Jesus and just enjoy Him. When Jesus turned water into wine at Cana, he was doing more than just saving the skin of the host. He was introducing the people in Galilee to a taste of something far greater. I long to say with the Psalmist,

Psalm 63:1-8
O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.
2So I have looked upon you in the sanctuary,beholding your power and glory.
3Because your steadfast love is better than life,my lips will praise you.
4So I will bless you as long as I live;in your name I will lift up my hands.
5My soul will be satisfied as with fat and rich food,and my mouth will praise you with joyful lips,
6when I remember you upon my bed,and meditate on you in the watches of the night;
7for you have been my help,and in the shadow of your wings I will sing for joy.
8My soul clings to you;your right hand upholds me.

I want God to be most glorified in me because I am most satisfied in Him.
I want to cry out with David Crowder, “You are my joy!” and mean it and express it with a lifestyle of contentedness in Christ…
If Romeo never comes around and I am a single woman for the rest of my life, I want to go to bed every night knowing that I don’t need the love of any man as long as I have Christ.
If the money doesn’t come through and I pack my bags and leave Moody, I want to savor the presence of my Savior even if it isn’t in Houghton Hall.
If my dreams for myself don’t pan out, I want to rest assured knowing that I can have joy in the dreams He has for me.

He is all that I need, and I will learn to believe it, and live my life with a full joy that can never be taken away. “Ask and you will receive, and your joy will be complete.”

Summer in the City: Day Three "Watch Me As I Digress"

I wish that my thoughts weren’t so prone to wonder. I wish I had better command of my mind. I wish my stomach didn’t flutter when I see you, that butterflies didn’t crowd in my abdomen at the thought of seeing you. I wish so badly that I didn’t feel this way, but I do. I wish these feelings were a switch that I could turn off and on. The feelings feel good, but they aren’t fair. They aren’t fair to anyone. They leave me nearly insane because they slip out of my control and my fingers are grasping for something that isn’t meant to be had. I tell myself I am unrealistic, hopeless. I am chasing after the wind. I won’t ever get a hold of this. I need more time. There is someone out there for me, and against all hope, I bet it isn’t you. So I wait, and I try not to look at you longer than I should, and I pray that you will never notice. I am a young, foolish, twenty year old. I bite my tongue, shake my head and tell myself to move on.It won’t be soon, but I will fight like hell to get over you. I am finding it harder and harder to be myself. I am finding that I hate being a woman sometimes. I don’t think men will ever have a clue as to how hard it is to be a woman. What it is to know what you want, but being unable to go after it. To sit and ‘be at peace’ and hope that some guy will fall in love with me. That the right guy will fall in love with me. It is so hard to be patient, to be the one with all the feelings and to wait for someone to feel that way about me. To have emotions that are so inconsistent and uncontrollable that even I can’t understand them… let alone expect someone else too. Regardless of being a woman or a man, I can’t lose sight of who I am in Christ- a sinner redeemed by God’s grace. It is so easy for me to complain in my state of discontentedness rather to enjoy who God made me. I am just at a new stage in my life, alone for the first time in a very long time, anxious to love again (even though I am not ready). I don’t know why I am so afraid of living life now. Living for today instead of my future. I guess it’s just a part of my controlling tendencies. I have plans for myself, things that I want badly but can’t have. And I would rather dream about tomorrow then live for today. Maybe it’s because today is so uncertain that I live for a tomorrow that I have devised in my mind. I spend so much time thinking about where to go from here, the man that I want to be with, the children that I want to have, the place that I want to live, the classes I will be taking next semester. The end of the summer when my life goes back to normal… But not today, when I am not sure how to provide for myself and I am caught in feelings that I can’t escape, having feelings that aren’t returned. Insecure, alone. Suffering through growing pains… I know my tendencies. I know my sin. I know my faults to a tee. I see how all of the things above are just indicators of something deeper, more sinister inside myself. I see that I am looking to take care of myself, live my own life. I see that I am relying on this unnamed dream that I have, this knight to sweep me off of my feet and give me the security I long for. I’m Sanyelle. I know Sanyelle better than anyone else. I know who I should marry, where I should go when I’m done with Moody. I am Sanyelle, but I don’t know her best. And this nameless knight will not know me best. I won’t take care of myself. Nor will he. There is only One. So why on earth do I do these things to myself? Why can’t I just let go? God made the universe, for goodness sake, and I can’t trust Him with my future, my love life, my hope and dreams? Where is this disconnect? For the rest of my life I will be learning. Does it come back to this thing about joy? Does it come back to the fact that I try to find my joy in everything, anything, anyone but Christ? Is it my desire for control in security because up to this point in life I’ve had anything but security and stability? Is it just the fact that I am sinful? A sinful, incompetent human being that just wants to be competent, and on my own terms? I will always be wrestling through these issues… Hopefully I will continue to grow, to keep on giving over my strong will and desires to the Lord of my life, and take joy in doing so…