Unfinished

It's something I've been feeling a lot lately. In fact, all semester. That things just aren't coming together, that there's a whole lot of uncertainty. That there's no final end in sight, that I can't see over the horizon. And I'm scared of that. But its also something I've learned to come to grips with, and am in the process of learning to be okay with.

Because what does the word unfinished mean?

un·fin·ished

   [uhn-fin-isht] 

adjective

1.

not finished;  incomplete or unaccomplished.

Take a look at all three of those descriptions in the definition. And then flip them around.

Finished. Complete. Accomplished.

Do I really want my life to be that at the age of 20? To me, the words finished and complete provide certainty and conclusion. Things are how they are, and come at the end of whatever they're describing. Could this possibly be the case at this time in my life? I don't think so. And that's good. Because those words eliminate the room for change and growth and all the experiences that life on earth offers. I've barely scratched the surface in terms of how I think and see the world, and how I approach the religion that I've claimed for most of my life but only truly lived for a fraction of it. Being finished implies that there's no more progress possible. And that is what would be truly scary. I would be utterly devastated if there was no room for improvement and maturation. I am positively not in a place right now where I would be content to stay. Maybe for me I won't feel that way for quite a long time, or ever at all.

So this leads to the last word. Accomplished. To me, being accomplished in something means someone who is an expert in their field. At this point I really feel like I'm accomplished in nothing. Film? Nope. Audio? Nada. Schoolwork? Definitely not. Christianity? Neophyte. But you know what? I'm happily coming to terms with this situation. Because I have hope through Christ. And where my hope lies determines where my progress lies. Since hope is defined by what is not, I'm unfinished. I'm incomplete. There is oh so much room for improvement.

And yet why would I not want that?

Do I want to be a static person? Do I want to accept the plateau and forsake the valleys and mountaintops? Leading a life devoid of change begets dullness and refuses to recognize the way that God can move in your life. It's a journey that brings us alongside towering verdant forests, tumultuous waves crashing against a rocky coastline; birds singing the joys of life, the struggles of the lowliest creatures. But all along this path there is a constant, enduring hope. One that says that:

The steps of a man are established by the Lord, when he delights in his way; though he fall, he shall not be cast headlong, for the Lord upholds his hand. (psalm 37:23-24 esv)

This is a certainty I can hold on to. Stumbling is inevitable. But what greater comfort is there to know that the Lord is there all along keeping you upright? The knowledge and belief and hope in the promises of God should cause me to walk through the world in a different way. The paradigm has shifted. No longer does a sense of fear prevail, but dare I say it, excitement should be the order of the day. Excitement that we have spiritual gifts to be used. Excitement that we can engage in the most authentic community possible. Excitement that we have the creator of all things to walk along with us, hold our hands, and guide us. Excitement for the possibilities of the future. And excitement that we aren't finished yet, and are in the best possible hands to be in.

So I'm no math genius, but today a new equation has become apparent to me.

Unfinished = Excitement.

Some Clarity of Thought (finally).

I’ve been struggling lately. Big time. I’ve picked up a second major, I’m not quite sure where I want to go in life, and most importantly, I haven’t felt like God has been around.  There wasn’t any noticeable guidance or direction given to me in this season of change that’s happening. Worry and anxiety filled me. And to those who know me well, that isn’t the type of person I am or want to be, and so I’ve been hating every minute of the heavy-heartedness. Now by no means has this instantly faded away, nor has the imprint even been dulled to a normal degree. But taking a day to write, a day to wander, and a day to think has brought some clarity to my thoughts.

An oft overlooked part of God, is that he will never forget nor break his promises. 

“He is the LORD our God; his judgments are in all the earth. He remembers his covenant forever, the word that he commanded, for a thousand generations” (psalm 105:7-8). 

With the thousands of promises made throughout the Bible, God will never go back on a single one of them.  And that’s really  one of the things I’ve let slip my mind for quite a while. When I’m praying or journaling or just being sad, I fail to remember that God keeps his word, and that his capacity for doing so will never diminish, no matter what each of us does to the contrary. And so when I don’t understand the supposed lack of holy direction in my life, this has to be one of the first thoughts I hold captive in my head. He does not go back on His word.

The next step would be to ask what some of those are. A good friend showed me this verse the other day, and it seemed important at the time, but in light of what I’ve recently been struck by, it becomes all the more important:

“For I know the plans I have for you, declares the Lord, plans for welfare and not for evil, to give you a future and a hope” (jeremiah 29:11).

He has it all figured out already.  The plans made for me are not malicious, they aren’t meant for my downfall. The plans are for hope. At this time in life, when I’m struggling with which way I should be turning in terms of career paths and life in general, the Lord has already devised a path for me, one that brings a future of peace.

And so He has prepared it all for us. There is a wonderful road ahead, should we choose to journey on it. Then comes the part that I think all of us struggle with at some point or another. Giving up the control, giving up the five and ten year plans we (well, at least me) had in life. Something that I read at retreat has been weighing on me as of late, and it is one of the verses that I hope to never forget 

“Commit your way to the LORD; trust in him, and he will act. He will bring forth your righteousness as the light, and your justice as the noonday” (psalm 37:5-6).

He is the only person in the universe who is trustworthy one hundred percent of the time. He has planned out and promised a life of welfare, and a future of hope. He doesn’t break his promises. So where does that leave us? At commitment.

For me, relinquishing both my actions and my thoughts about what is best for me is incredibly tough. It will continue to be a challenge for me for who knows how long. But where there is great, overwhelming challenge, there is massive room for God to work in you. I'm not sure this process will ever end. And I'm not sure it should, either. There's always going to be one more thing that we can give to God, and more thoughts that we can commit to His ways. But through such an arduous process, He lets our righteousness shine forth, bright as light. And that is something to look forward to.

Despair gets you nowhere as I’ve found out recently. So lets venture on down the road God has made for us, find joy in the beauty of His creation, and take solace in the fact that we would want no one else but Him molding us and guiding our footsteps. 

poetry, eh?

yeah, i gave it a shot.


dear adversity - part one


standing, revolving slowly
in a verdant clearing amongst enduring trees
wind rustling and swirling
at a deafening volume.
three hundred and sixty degrees I turn
each a different view,
sight,
possibility.
the choice is overwhelming
striking out path upon path
seemingly no way out


a blackened night
leads to a head hung in despair
the feeling of entrapment permeates these woods
surely there’s an answer?
surely this doesn’t last forever?


dear adversity – part two


the wind dies
all is quiet.
except for
the faintest trickle of a stream
masked by the leaves before
now loud as a thunderclap


hope.


I strike out a path
once more unto the breach.
reaching the brook 
the water is dancing,
twirling, 
alive.
from within 
a sense of confidence arises
there is no doubt that this small thing of wonder
will not lead me astray


the journey home begins.