To be known by anyone is a beautiful thing.
To be known by someone who created you; is even more beautiful.
Just think, if a clay pot knew itself, it wouldn't have as much as an effect as if the potter knew everything about the clay pot - every curve, every crack, every paint mark, every line.
To be known by God is a beautiful thing.
Now, before you click the big red X at the top corner of your screen, please take a moment to read on.
////////
"O Lord, you have searched me and you know me.
You know when I sit and when I rise;
you preceive my thoughts from afar.
You discern my going out and my lying down;
you are familiar with all my ways.
Before a word is on my tongue you know it completely, O Lord.
You hem me in - behind and before;
you have laid your hand upon me.
Such knowledge is too wonderful for me,
to lofty for me to attain.
Where can I go from your spirit?
Where can I flee from your presence?
If I go up to the heavens, you are there.
If I rise on the wings of the dawn,
if I settle on the far side of the sea,
even there your hand will guide me,
your right hand will hold me fast.
If I say, "Surely the darkness will hide me
and the light become night around me,"
even the darkness will not be dark to you;
for the night will shine like the day,
for darkness is as light to you.
For you created my inmost being;
you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made;
your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth,
your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me
were written in your book
before one of them came to be.
How precious to me are your thoughts, O God!
How vast is the sum of them!
Were I to count them,
they would outnumber the grains of sand.
When I awake,
I am still with you,
If only you would slay the wicked, O God!
Away from me, you blood thirsty men!
They speak of you with evil intent;
your adversaries misuse your name.
Do I not hate those who hate you, O Lord,
and abhor those who rise up against you?
I have nothing but hatred for them;
I count them my enemies.
Search me, O God, and know my heart;
test me and know my anxious thoughts.
See if there is any offensive way in me,
and lead me in the way everlasting."
-Psalm 139
/////////////
God knows my thoughts.
He knows when my head gets up from my pillow,
when I walk from the kitchen to my bedroom,
when I get in my car to go to the grocery store,
when I talk with a friend on a phone.
God knows my thoughts.
He knows the words that I mumble under my breath,
He knows what I am thinking when a person cuts me off in traffic.
He knows the way I judge by appearances instead of looking inwardly at the heart.
He knows all of the days that have been before me -
He knows yesterday, today, and tomorrow
and all of my thoughts that will accompany each one.
God knows me.
He knows when I made (and make) mistakes.
He knows when I stumble and fall
and how long it takes me to get back up.
He knows my every being -
from my health, to the sound of my voice, to my unique rhythm of typing on the keyboard.
He knows my everyday routines.
He knows that I love to sleep in.
He knows when phone calls will come and my reaction to them even before I know who is calling.
He is my watcher and my protector.
He is my main man that stands guard outside my bedroom.
He cares for me and provides for my every need.
He is not a Hollywood movie star
but the only man who will sweep me off my feet
into a land of pure hopes, trials, and triumphs.
Yes, this is the God that I serve.
The who knows me so well that
despite all of my flaws
he chooses to still
love me.
Monday, February 20, 2012
Sunday, February 12, 2012
My Valentine
My being aches with his pulse.
His flawless character is
combined with a desire to live
in a human being made up of flaws.
In a human being like me.
Humility draped over a couch
wrought from years of neglect and abandonment
patiently waits,
for someone to sit on his cushions once again.
I open the heavy metal door
and hear it creak like nails on a blackboard.
Its rectangular shape is cold against my pale and petite body.
The wind that blows through the trees
is the same wind that slams this door closed.
Is this a protection of sorts, from the world that lies behind and the one that awaits?
I journey down a wooden floor laden with petals of pink and red and blush.
Colors in an otherwise colorless world.
An artists true pallete.
My faded Nike sneakers pick up the dust inside in the walls of my own heart,
as the candelight casts shadows on the figure that sits
in front of me.
Eyes of pain and sorrow
interlock with eyes of childlike wonder.
The vase of healing stands at rapt attention in
the center of our small table.
I am a butterfly caught in the net of his fragile and vulnerable embrace.
He accepts me for who I am,
my identity is found in him alone.
I'm in awe that such a man would pick
such a girl like me.
So, instead of a heart shaped Russell Stover's chocolate box,
or a dozen roses standing next to babies breath,
or a balloon in the shape of my blood pumping muscle,
He gives me the promise of eternal life
always and forever,
in a field of zinnias.
(Copyright January 12, 2012 - Alex Puleo)
His flawless character is
combined with a desire to live
in a human being made up of flaws.
In a human being like me.
Humility draped over a couch
wrought from years of neglect and abandonment
patiently waits,
for someone to sit on his cushions once again.
I open the heavy metal door
and hear it creak like nails on a blackboard.
Its rectangular shape is cold against my pale and petite body.
The wind that blows through the trees
is the same wind that slams this door closed.
Is this a protection of sorts, from the world that lies behind and the one that awaits?
I journey down a wooden floor laden with petals of pink and red and blush.
Colors in an otherwise colorless world.
An artists true pallete.
My faded Nike sneakers pick up the dust inside in the walls of my own heart,
as the candelight casts shadows on the figure that sits
in front of me.
Eyes of pain and sorrow
interlock with eyes of childlike wonder.
The vase of healing stands at rapt attention in
the center of our small table.
I am a butterfly caught in the net of his fragile and vulnerable embrace.
He accepts me for who I am,
my identity is found in him alone.
I'm in awe that such a man would pick
such a girl like me.
So, instead of a heart shaped Russell Stover's chocolate box,
or a dozen roses standing next to babies breath,
or a balloon in the shape of my blood pumping muscle,
He gives me the promise of eternal life
always and forever,
in a field of zinnias.
(Copyright January 12, 2012 - Alex Puleo)
Saturday, January 21, 2012
The REAL Artist
Today, I learned the importance of letting go.
How, you ask? Well, by cleaning my room.
Cleaning my room helps to eliminate the dust that makes me sneeze. It helps me to think better. It helps me to put things back in order. Back into their right places. For example, a clothing designer originally intended for their shirts to be worn, washed, and placed back on a hanger. When I pick up a shirt that dropped on the floor and place it on a hanger and into my closet, I am restoring my shirt back to it's original purpose: to be worn, washed, and hung up.
In a similiar way, I believe that Jesus calls each of us to "clean house". He wants us to get rid of the dirt and dust that clogs our pores and makes breathing difficult. He wants us to work with him to put things back to what they were originally intended for. He longs for his creation to have the order that it once had in the Garden of Eden. Yet in our present world, to fulfill such a task is challenging. We certainly cannot go out and end world poverty or human trafficking in a day on our own. But, we can all take steps together to clean out the things in our lives that are unhealthy in an effort to show the world a picture of what God is like; a picture of what he originally wanted the world to be.
I had become very good about pushing my "stuff" further into the bag. I was an expert at tidying it up so it appeared acceptable to the eye. Yet, as I went through all of my college things this afternoon, I realized that I hadn't allowed myself to let go. All the papers and notes I had saved were helpful and necessary during school, but I had held on to them for far too long. And so, I began reliving my past as I placed each piece of paper into the recycling bin.
Today, I learned the importance of letting go.
And with letting go, comes rearrangement. So, I decided to rearrange my furniture. I removed the old pictures from high school off of my walls and replaced them with new and updated pictures. I even created a small space where I can go to pray.
From my cleaning escapades, I've learned a few things. First, I naturally need to identify and clean out the clutter (both physically and spiritually) in my life. A flower cannot blossom if it's growth is stunted due to weeds, litter, a lack of water, and food.
Second, I need to learn to let go of the clutter. It's one thing to pull out the clutter into the light, but it's another thing to actually place it in the trash, to give away old textbooks and novels. Sometimes, I feel that we can become too emotionally attached to material items. There is an obvious balance that needs to be maintained. Every person, every situation, is different. A child may sleep with his blanket until he's 6 but then may not elect to use it as he gets older. He may decide to keep it, however when he moves out on his own as an item that triggers a positive memory. As I cleaned my room, I discovered that there were items, (similiar to the purpose that the blanket serves for a child) that I have kept. Though I outgrew these items, I stored them in a corner of my room. I knew deep within me that I needed to part with them, but I never took that first step.
On this Saturday afternoon, I did.
Today, I learned that importance of letting go.
Finally, I need to rearrange the furniture from its present spot, bring in the vaccuum cleaner, and commit to moving forward in this new living space. When I rearrange the furniture (like my bookcase) I am communicating that I am ready for a new perspective. Everyone has spiritual furniture that needs to be rearranged, cared for, and loved. This part must be accomplished together. Next, the vaccuum cleaner comes in to remove all those dust mites, paper clips, hair ties, etc. Then, I must vow to live in this new space, to adopt this changed perspective as my own, and to embark on each new day with a positive mindset.
All this to say, I believe that God longs for us, wants us, actually commands us to clean out the clutter in our lives. Engaging in such a task may very well cause us to sweat, to get dirty, to become thirsty - but in the end, it's all worth the sacrifice. We are called to embody this new life as our own. We must be willing to show and to share our lives (both the dirt filled and the flower filled) with others. When we do this wholeheartedly, a gorgeous painting emerges from the depths of our souls designed by our very own artist, Jesus.
How, you ask? Well, by cleaning my room.
Cleaning my room helps to eliminate the dust that makes me sneeze. It helps me to think better. It helps me to put things back in order. Back into their right places. For example, a clothing designer originally intended for their shirts to be worn, washed, and placed back on a hanger. When I pick up a shirt that dropped on the floor and place it on a hanger and into my closet, I am restoring my shirt back to it's original purpose: to be worn, washed, and hung up.
In a similiar way, I believe that Jesus calls each of us to "clean house". He wants us to get rid of the dirt and dust that clogs our pores and makes breathing difficult. He wants us to work with him to put things back to what they were originally intended for. He longs for his creation to have the order that it once had in the Garden of Eden. Yet in our present world, to fulfill such a task is challenging. We certainly cannot go out and end world poverty or human trafficking in a day on our own. But, we can all take steps together to clean out the things in our lives that are unhealthy in an effort to show the world a picture of what God is like; a picture of what he originally wanted the world to be.
I had become very good about pushing my "stuff" further into the bag. I was an expert at tidying it up so it appeared acceptable to the eye. Yet, as I went through all of my college things this afternoon, I realized that I hadn't allowed myself to let go. All the papers and notes I had saved were helpful and necessary during school, but I had held on to them for far too long. And so, I began reliving my past as I placed each piece of paper into the recycling bin.
Today, I learned the importance of letting go.
And with letting go, comes rearrangement. So, I decided to rearrange my furniture. I removed the old pictures from high school off of my walls and replaced them with new and updated pictures. I even created a small space where I can go to pray.
From my cleaning escapades, I've learned a few things. First, I naturally need to identify and clean out the clutter (both physically and spiritually) in my life. A flower cannot blossom if it's growth is stunted due to weeds, litter, a lack of water, and food.
Second, I need to learn to let go of the clutter. It's one thing to pull out the clutter into the light, but it's another thing to actually place it in the trash, to give away old textbooks and novels. Sometimes, I feel that we can become too emotionally attached to material items. There is an obvious balance that needs to be maintained. Every person, every situation, is different. A child may sleep with his blanket until he's 6 but then may not elect to use it as he gets older. He may decide to keep it, however when he moves out on his own as an item that triggers a positive memory. As I cleaned my room, I discovered that there were items, (similiar to the purpose that the blanket serves for a child) that I have kept. Though I outgrew these items, I stored them in a corner of my room. I knew deep within me that I needed to part with them, but I never took that first step.
On this Saturday afternoon, I did.
Today, I learned that importance of letting go.
Finally, I need to rearrange the furniture from its present spot, bring in the vaccuum cleaner, and commit to moving forward in this new living space. When I rearrange the furniture (like my bookcase) I am communicating that I am ready for a new perspective. Everyone has spiritual furniture that needs to be rearranged, cared for, and loved. This part must be accomplished together. Next, the vaccuum cleaner comes in to remove all those dust mites, paper clips, hair ties, etc. Then, I must vow to live in this new space, to adopt this changed perspective as my own, and to embark on each new day with a positive mindset.
All this to say, I believe that God longs for us, wants us, actually commands us to clean out the clutter in our lives. Engaging in such a task may very well cause us to sweat, to get dirty, to become thirsty - but in the end, it's all worth the sacrifice. We are called to embody this new life as our own. We must be willing to show and to share our lives (both the dirt filled and the flower filled) with others. When we do this wholeheartedly, a gorgeous painting emerges from the depths of our souls designed by our very own artist, Jesus.
Thursday, December 29, 2011
The REAL Milk and Chocolate Chip Cookies
"Do you think I could take this milk home, too?" he asked.
He wanted his sisters to have the full experience - not just the warm cookies, but the warm cookies and milk."
-Excerpt from An Invisible Thread by Laura Schroff
Reading this quote today about how a middle class white woman befriended an 11 year old young boy who was a panhandler made me think:
-For my friends who identify themselves as followers of Jesus -how often do we give people the full experience of knowing Him? The cookies and the milk?
-For my friends who are teachers, college students, parents, etc. - how often do we give our children, co-workers, and family the full experience of life free from gossip, coarse language, anger, resentment, grudges, etc? The cookies and the milk?
These questions make me wonder how often I have gotten in the way of Jesus being able to show people his true self and of jumping right in to provide my students with answers instead of allowing them room to explore, create, and experiment. From personal experience and observing our society today, I know that our culture often seeks a "look at me" mentality. Over the past year, I have been learning that God can work without me. He doesn't need me but chooses to use me to fulfill his greater work for the world. As a teacher, I've learned that surrendering the limelight to my students has opened my eyes to a creation full of potential and wonderous beauty.
The cross cultural duty that stretches over open seas is this: being a faithful friend, a trusted confidante, and a avid listener.
Elizabeth Lawrence writes:
"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again."
I believe that the challenge for all of us lies in coloring the pages of our neighbors souls so that we may experience the radiant hue that our Creator originally intended for our world to have.
He wanted his sisters to have the full experience - not just the warm cookies, but the warm cookies and milk."
-Excerpt from An Invisible Thread by Laura Schroff
Reading this quote today about how a middle class white woman befriended an 11 year old young boy who was a panhandler made me think:
-For my friends who identify themselves as followers of Jesus -how often do we give people the full experience of knowing Him? The cookies and the milk?
-For my friends who are teachers, college students, parents, etc. - how often do we give our children, co-workers, and family the full experience of life free from gossip, coarse language, anger, resentment, grudges, etc? The cookies and the milk?
These questions make me wonder how often I have gotten in the way of Jesus being able to show people his true self and of jumping right in to provide my students with answers instead of allowing them room to explore, create, and experiment. From personal experience and observing our society today, I know that our culture often seeks a "look at me" mentality. Over the past year, I have been learning that God can work without me. He doesn't need me but chooses to use me to fulfill his greater work for the world. As a teacher, I've learned that surrendering the limelight to my students has opened my eyes to a creation full of potential and wonderous beauty.
The cross cultural duty that stretches over open seas is this: being a faithful friend, a trusted confidante, and a avid listener.
Elizabeth Lawrence writes:
"There is a garden in every childhood, an enchanted place where colors are brighter, the air softer, and the morning more fragrant than ever again."
I believe that the challenge for all of us lies in coloring the pages of our neighbors souls so that we may experience the radiant hue that our Creator originally intended for our world to have.
Friday, December 23, 2011
Training Wheels and the Wide Eyed Wonder of a Child
Major events in my life seem to happen in "fours".
Much has changed since I last stepped foot in my high school. For one, I am not in high school anymore. Second, I am not the shy person that I once was. I see myself as having considerable drive, trying to put others needs before my own, and making the most out of each day (though we all fail at this from time to time.)
Today, I went back to visit my high school for an alumni vs. students basketball game. As I sat on the bleachers watching the ball glide thru the air and the crowd go wild for a three pointer, I found myself in a very strange but familiar place. You could say that I was in a collision. On one end of the spectrum, I was completely done with high school. I saw new students walk through the doors of the gymnasium that I've never seen before and talked with friends about where they were in their college journeys. Many families sat in the rows in front of me on the bleachers with their kids. And I thought, "Wow, time flies."
On the other side of the spectrum, I saw myself completely finished with college. All those memories gathered up in photos, handwritten cards, and emails that were selected to be in the "saved mail" folder. And so, I saw myself sitting between these two points of my life (ironically four years each) and wondering which side feels wierder. Or, maybe "wierder" isn't the best word but rather, which side feels more "wow." I came to the realization that neither side outweighed the other; but that it's a place where I've never found myself in before.
You see, when I transitioned from high school to college, many of my friends were also coming with me. Finding my wings was challenging, but I had some familiar faces that I saw in passing from class to class. In college, I found a great group of friends (or perhaps, they found me) that really nurtured me in my physicial, emotional, and spiritual life. Now, I see myself as a post-grad, completely awestruck about the work that God has done. I am a child staring up at the ball coasting thru the air, wondering "what's next?" I am speechless yet excited about what will happen in this new chapter of my life. It's almost like I've been riding with training wheels forever and I'm ready for them to come off. God is ready, too. I see him the holding the bicycle seat, giving me a push, and saying "go."
But, "go" where?
Perhaps, that story is the next four years of my life.
Much has changed since I last stepped foot in my high school. For one, I am not in high school anymore. Second, I am not the shy person that I once was. I see myself as having considerable drive, trying to put others needs before my own, and making the most out of each day (though we all fail at this from time to time.)
Today, I went back to visit my high school for an alumni vs. students basketball game. As I sat on the bleachers watching the ball glide thru the air and the crowd go wild for a three pointer, I found myself in a very strange but familiar place. You could say that I was in a collision. On one end of the spectrum, I was completely done with high school. I saw new students walk through the doors of the gymnasium that I've never seen before and talked with friends about where they were in their college journeys. Many families sat in the rows in front of me on the bleachers with their kids. And I thought, "Wow, time flies."
On the other side of the spectrum, I saw myself completely finished with college. All those memories gathered up in photos, handwritten cards, and emails that were selected to be in the "saved mail" folder. And so, I saw myself sitting between these two points of my life (ironically four years each) and wondering which side feels wierder. Or, maybe "wierder" isn't the best word but rather, which side feels more "wow." I came to the realization that neither side outweighed the other; but that it's a place where I've never found myself in before.
You see, when I transitioned from high school to college, many of my friends were also coming with me. Finding my wings was challenging, but I had some familiar faces that I saw in passing from class to class. In college, I found a great group of friends (or perhaps, they found me) that really nurtured me in my physicial, emotional, and spiritual life. Now, I see myself as a post-grad, completely awestruck about the work that God has done. I am a child staring up at the ball coasting thru the air, wondering "what's next?" I am speechless yet excited about what will happen in this new chapter of my life. It's almost like I've been riding with training wheels forever and I'm ready for them to come off. God is ready, too. I see him the holding the bicycle seat, giving me a push, and saying "go."
But, "go" where?
Perhaps, that story is the next four years of my life.
Tuesday, December 20, 2011
A Rebirth of Sorts
A few days ago at about 8pm at night, I decided to clean my room. Before you continue reading, there are a few things that you should know when I get into a "cleaning mood":
1) It's incredibly hard for me to do work with a room that is untidy.
2) I find it easier to think when things are clean.
3) I feel a sense of accomplishment.
So, with all that said - I began to clean. I found items that I forgot I had - old high school yearbooks that flooded me with memories, books with notes that I had written in, and jewlery that I was searching for. A part of me felt like the widow who was looking for her one lost coin. She turned her entire house upside down in order to find it. (Luke 15: 8 - 10). Clothes that I hadn't worn in years were set aside in a laundry basket to give away to a nearby thrift store. All throughout my cleaning escapades, the following thought crossed my mind:
"Cleaning is symbolic for the season that you are in. It represents a new chapter in your life and a future that God has planned out for you."
As a recent college graduate, many people have been asking me "What's next?" I feel like cleaning (physically and spiritually) is the "next" part of my life. We all have so much dirt and dust in our lives, that's it's clogging the pores on our skin, it's stunting our growth, and it's causing us to have distorted views of life. Sometimes, I feel that we get so accustomed to seeing things only one way, that we miss out on what James 1:17 says: "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."
I've recently been learning that the presents we "want" are not always packaged in the way that we would like them to be. In fact, I would argue that what we "need" is often what we miss out on the most. I've received more joy out of watching the same red headed woodpecker come to my birdfeeder the past two days then watching the next television program. I've taken more delight in observing astounding sunsets from my house than worrying about the next day.
In a way, you could say that I am maturing, but in another way - it feels like I have been cleaning out the windows of my soul. I've been scrubbing with windex and dusting with a cloth in order to put everything back in order. See, there is a specific place for my bed as there is for my desk. In a similiar way, God longs for everything to be put back in it's proper place. Paul says in Romans 8:22 that "we know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time". We are all giving birth to something new. We are a hurt and broken people who all share something in common that arises from the depths of our being - we long to see the world restored back to it's original design. God never intended for divorce but for marriages that would show the world a picture of himself; he never wanted murders but sought people to love their enemies. A new world is groaning within us that is unlike the one in which we are living in right now.
As a post grad, I see myself moving from a place of wanting "things" to being quite okay with waiting for them. The Bible encourages us to pray all the time but also when we find ourselves in these points of our lives. Matthew 6:8 says: "do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." It's with this type of prayer and reflection that I am coming to terms with such a reality. My plans for my life have been laid aside in exchange for God's dreams and hopes to reign. Everyday, I see parts of my old self dying in order that Christ may rule within me. Romans 6: 5 -11 says:
"If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin - because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus."
In this season of Advent, where there are only 5 days until Christmas - let us pause and reflect. Let us think about what we are purchasing and ask if the item is something that we can live without (at least for a little while). I notice that during the holidays, we become so focused on money, buying, exchanging, purchasing, and wanting - that those things that are meant to be beautiful in the right rhythm with God actually become cheap and foggy.
May you take some time out of your day to stop and smell the flowers, to enjoy a cup of hot cocoa, to have a meal with friends, to smile at your neighbor, to talk to the person you've been holding a grudge against, to sing in the parking lot, to skip down the aisle at the supermarket. Embrace the innocence of childhood. Relive the memory of Jesus in a manger - born into extreme oppression under challenging historical circumstances.
Allow yourself to be "reborn again." Jesus conversed with Nicodemus on this topic during his time on earth:
"How can a man be born again when he is old?" Nicodemus asked. "Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb to be born!"
Jesus answered, "I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth ot flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, "You must be born again. The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
As I clean, I am preparing for something new to arrive. Just like some of us are preparing for the new year and writing resolutions, I find myself trying to wrap my mind around a God that came to earth as a baby, gave his life up for me, hung on a cross, died, and rose from the dead so that I may live. This gift, the one that cannot be packaged in a box with a neat little bow, is the one that I've been waiting for my whole life. It's that one present that's left under the tree with my name carefully inscribed on it where I'm like
"Whoa."
Now, having the God of the universe know me by name: "Alexandra" - that's not something I would trade in after the holiday.
That's a keeper forever.
1) It's incredibly hard for me to do work with a room that is untidy.
2) I find it easier to think when things are clean.
3) I feel a sense of accomplishment.
So, with all that said - I began to clean. I found items that I forgot I had - old high school yearbooks that flooded me with memories, books with notes that I had written in, and jewlery that I was searching for. A part of me felt like the widow who was looking for her one lost coin. She turned her entire house upside down in order to find it. (Luke 15: 8 - 10). Clothes that I hadn't worn in years were set aside in a laundry basket to give away to a nearby thrift store. All throughout my cleaning escapades, the following thought crossed my mind:
"Cleaning is symbolic for the season that you are in. It represents a new chapter in your life and a future that God has planned out for you."
As a recent college graduate, many people have been asking me "What's next?" I feel like cleaning (physically and spiritually) is the "next" part of my life. We all have so much dirt and dust in our lives, that's it's clogging the pores on our skin, it's stunting our growth, and it's causing us to have distorted views of life. Sometimes, I feel that we get so accustomed to seeing things only one way, that we miss out on what James 1:17 says: "every good and perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of the heavenly lights, who does not change like shifting shadows."
I've recently been learning that the presents we "want" are not always packaged in the way that we would like them to be. In fact, I would argue that what we "need" is often what we miss out on the most. I've received more joy out of watching the same red headed woodpecker come to my birdfeeder the past two days then watching the next television program. I've taken more delight in observing astounding sunsets from my house than worrying about the next day.
In a way, you could say that I am maturing, but in another way - it feels like I have been cleaning out the windows of my soul. I've been scrubbing with windex and dusting with a cloth in order to put everything back in order. See, there is a specific place for my bed as there is for my desk. In a similiar way, God longs for everything to be put back in it's proper place. Paul says in Romans 8:22 that "we know that the whole creation has been groaning as in the pains of childbirth right up to the present time". We are all giving birth to something new. We are a hurt and broken people who all share something in common that arises from the depths of our being - we long to see the world restored back to it's original design. God never intended for divorce but for marriages that would show the world a picture of himself; he never wanted murders but sought people to love their enemies. A new world is groaning within us that is unlike the one in which we are living in right now.
As a post grad, I see myself moving from a place of wanting "things" to being quite okay with waiting for them. The Bible encourages us to pray all the time but also when we find ourselves in these points of our lives. Matthew 6:8 says: "do not be like them, for your Father knows what you need before you ask him." It's with this type of prayer and reflection that I am coming to terms with such a reality. My plans for my life have been laid aside in exchange for God's dreams and hopes to reign. Everyday, I see parts of my old self dying in order that Christ may rule within me. Romans 6: 5 -11 says:
"If we have been united with him like this in his death, we will certainly also be united with him in his resurrection. For we know that our old self was crucified with him so that the body of sin might be done away with, that we should no longer be slaves to sin - because anyone who has died has been freed from sin. Now if we died with Christ, we believe that we will also live with him. For we know that since Christ was raised from the dead, he cannot die again; death no longer has mastery over him. The death he died, he died to sin once for all; but the life he lives, he lives to God. In the same way, count yourselves dead to sin but alive to God in Christ Jesus."
In this season of Advent, where there are only 5 days until Christmas - let us pause and reflect. Let us think about what we are purchasing and ask if the item is something that we can live without (at least for a little while). I notice that during the holidays, we become so focused on money, buying, exchanging, purchasing, and wanting - that those things that are meant to be beautiful in the right rhythm with God actually become cheap and foggy.
May you take some time out of your day to stop and smell the flowers, to enjoy a cup of hot cocoa, to have a meal with friends, to smile at your neighbor, to talk to the person you've been holding a grudge against, to sing in the parking lot, to skip down the aisle at the supermarket. Embrace the innocence of childhood. Relive the memory of Jesus in a manger - born into extreme oppression under challenging historical circumstances.
Allow yourself to be "reborn again." Jesus conversed with Nicodemus on this topic during his time on earth:
"How can a man be born again when he is old?" Nicodemus asked. "Surely he cannot enter a second time into his mother's womb to be born!"
Jesus answered, "I tell you the truth, no one can enter the kingdom of God unless he is born of water and the Spirit. Flesh gives birth ot flesh, but the Spirit gives birth to spirit. You should not be surprised at my saying, "You must be born again. The wind blows wherever it pleases. You hear its sound, but you cannot tell where it comes from or where it is going. So it is with everyone born of the Spirit."
As I clean, I am preparing for something new to arrive. Just like some of us are preparing for the new year and writing resolutions, I find myself trying to wrap my mind around a God that came to earth as a baby, gave his life up for me, hung on a cross, died, and rose from the dead so that I may live. This gift, the one that cannot be packaged in a box with a neat little bow, is the one that I've been waiting for my whole life. It's that one present that's left under the tree with my name carefully inscribed on it where I'm like
"Whoa."
Now, having the God of the universe know me by name: "Alexandra" - that's not something I would trade in after the holiday.
That's a keeper forever.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Home
Transitions.
Sun to stars.
Day to night.
Waking to sleeping.
Lunch to dinner.
Tadpole to frog.
Kindergarten to first grade.
High school to college.
College to graduation.
Graduating to a future
that's got the fingerprints of God all over it.
Yet sometimes, I see my fingerprints mixed in with his, too.
There are stages of my life
where I see more of his love than mine,
and more of his breath than mine.
Then, there are those times
that are far and few in between
where I see a mixture and cannot tell
if they are mine
or his.
This is the place I find myself in now.
A place of transition to myself and God,
to the "we" in a team of partners,
to the hands that are held together by the bonds from birth.
to the pair of footprints that are marked in the sand.
In the seasons, he is always there.
When I imitate the disciples lack of trust
in my storms raging on the seas,
he is there.
When I doubt or question,
he is there.
When I ask, "what next?"
he is there.
When I say I won't betray you
and do,
he is there.
I walk on a dark and uncertain path
and you light the way for me.
I cry bucketfuls of pain for a world so broken and
you weep alongside me.
With a touch of a finger,
you move the hair out my eyes and
gently caress my face.
You beckon me to stretch me out my hand to you,
and I obey.
You place a ring on my finger, give me a robe, and sandals for my feet.
I look up into your eyes
and realize
I am home.
(copyright by alex puleo 10.29.11)
Sun to stars.
Day to night.
Waking to sleeping.
Lunch to dinner.
Tadpole to frog.
Kindergarten to first grade.
High school to college.
College to graduation.
Graduating to a future
that's got the fingerprints of God all over it.
Yet sometimes, I see my fingerprints mixed in with his, too.
There are stages of my life
where I see more of his love than mine,
and more of his breath than mine.
Then, there are those times
that are far and few in between
where I see a mixture and cannot tell
if they are mine
or his.
This is the place I find myself in now.
A place of transition to myself and God,
to the "we" in a team of partners,
to the hands that are held together by the bonds from birth.
to the pair of footprints that are marked in the sand.
In the seasons, he is always there.
When I imitate the disciples lack of trust
in my storms raging on the seas,
he is there.
When I doubt or question,
he is there.
When I ask, "what next?"
he is there.
When I say I won't betray you
and do,
he is there.
I walk on a dark and uncertain path
and you light the way for me.
I cry bucketfuls of pain for a world so broken and
you weep alongside me.
With a touch of a finger,
you move the hair out my eyes and
gently caress my face.
You beckon me to stretch me out my hand to you,
and I obey.
You place a ring on my finger, give me a robe, and sandals for my feet.
I look up into your eyes
and realize
I am home.
(copyright by alex puleo 10.29.11)
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Prodigal Promises
Come.
Watch.
Hear.
Listen.
His glorious favor spreads rainbows of promises
across the brazen sky;
a sky that quenches with thirst,
of brokenness and shattered lives.
Gray clouds stretch and loom overhead.
Suddenly,
the tears dry up,
the desert becomes fertile and fruitful,
and birds sing in octaves unknown to human ears.
Babes speak as water springs forth from a once barren land.
Neighbors understand each other
and speak the common language of love.
The mender takes a needle and sews the hearts
of the lost back together.
The guy and girl find their hope in Him;
they are betrothed to their Maker,
their Creator,
for eternity.
A love so tender,
so compassionate,
is His devotion to us.
I am His and He is mine.
The ring has been purchased.
The wedding has begun.
Red wine fills clear glasses,
as the host calls for a toast.
Let's feast!
(Copyright - Alex Puleo 10.4.11. This poem I wrote found it's inspiration in two places: The Prodigal God, by Tim Keller, and Psalm 66: 5 & 16: "Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man's behalf. . . Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me.")
Watch.
Hear.
Listen.
His glorious favor spreads rainbows of promises
across the brazen sky;
a sky that quenches with thirst,
of brokenness and shattered lives.
Gray clouds stretch and loom overhead.
Suddenly,
the tears dry up,
the desert becomes fertile and fruitful,
and birds sing in octaves unknown to human ears.
Babes speak as water springs forth from a once barren land.
Neighbors understand each other
and speak the common language of love.
The mender takes a needle and sews the hearts
of the lost back together.
The guy and girl find their hope in Him;
they are betrothed to their Maker,
their Creator,
for eternity.
A love so tender,
so compassionate,
is His devotion to us.
I am His and He is mine.
The ring has been purchased.
The wedding has begun.
Red wine fills clear glasses,
as the host calls for a toast.
Let's feast!
(Copyright - Alex Puleo 10.4.11. This poem I wrote found it's inspiration in two places: The Prodigal God, by Tim Keller, and Psalm 66: 5 & 16: "Come and see what God has done, how awesome his works in man's behalf. . . Come and listen, all you who fear God; let me tell you what he has done for me.")
Saturday, August 13, 2011
Break Your Jar
Lately, I have been reading and thinking a lot about the prophets in the Bible. Job and Jeremiah were sent to prophesy against the evil and idol worship in their city and were unbelievably persecuted for it. There comes a point in Job's lament where he curses the day he was born; thus, echoing Jeremiah's same cry for himself and the people he is interceding for. God sends Jeremiah to speak against the worship of false gods and the people do not want to hear this message. In a turn of events, the people that Jeremiah is praying for actually seek to take his life. They have now become his enemies.
But then, the most powerful part of this story climaxes when God tells Jeremiah to visit a potter. He tells him to purchase a clay jar, go to the Valley of Ben Hinnom, and hold the pot while proclaiming the Lord's message to his people. Through some research on the Valley of Ben Hinnom, I learned that it was actually a graveyard outside the city walls. It was a custom not to bury the Jewish people inside the city walls but rather outside of them. Parents often sacrificed their first born children here to the gods. Jeremiah is called to break the jar in front of everyone. So, this place seems pretty significant in that, Jeremiah is standing (literally) on a place of death and delivering a message of healing. It is counteractive. In a way, he is standing in the gap, in the tension and being God's spokesperson to bring heaven to earth. Jeremiah is bringing people back to a place where death once reigned and is saying "no more". In a way, releasing that jar is like releasing all of the hurt, the child sacrifices, the blood, and the killings in order to make a way for something new. Jeremiah says:
But then, the most powerful part of this story climaxes when God tells Jeremiah to visit a potter. He tells him to purchase a clay jar, go to the Valley of Ben Hinnom, and hold the pot while proclaiming the Lord's message to his people. Through some research on the Valley of Ben Hinnom, I learned that it was actually a graveyard outside the city walls. It was a custom not to bury the Jewish people inside the city walls but rather outside of them. Parents often sacrificed their first born children here to the gods. Jeremiah is called to break the jar in front of everyone. So, this place seems pretty significant in that, Jeremiah is standing (literally) on a place of death and delivering a message of healing. It is counteractive. In a way, he is standing in the gap, in the tension and being God's spokesperson to bring heaven to earth. Jeremiah is bringing people back to a place where death once reigned and is saying "no more". In a way, releasing that jar is like releasing all of the hurt, the child sacrifices, the blood, and the killings in order to make a way for something new. Jeremiah says:
"God will smash this nation and this city just as this potter's jar is smashed and cannot be repaired."
I can physically picture this event happening. Jeremiah takes some of the elders with him as he goes to proclaim this message. This kind of reminds me of people going to a rock concert to hear a musician sing and, instead of singing and music, are suddenly told some powerful news about the musician's life.
Today, I read a passage in the book I Once Was Lost, that referenced Moses holding up the Rod of God. When Moses let his arm down, the battle turned.
"Seems simple enough. But what happens to Moses? He grows weary. At first his friends bring a rock for him to sit on. But even a seemingly simple activity like holding up your arm while seated becomes fatiguing with time. Eventually Aaron and Hur have to come and help Moses hold up his arm.
We, too, need to intercede for our friends. And we, too, need to be reminded not to stop. Not to grow weary. It might not be a bad idea to get an Aaron and Hur of our own - enlisting other people to uphold us as we uphold others at this spiritually intense time."
Jeremiah did not break his clay jar as a spectacle. He was not like the Pharisees who stood on street corners loudly proclaiming Jesus and making a show out of it only to glorify themselves. He did this out of the Holy Spirit's leading, out of genuine humility. And with this, he probably experienced some sort of questioning about God's ability to change things. Haven't we all asked at one time, "Are you sure you know what you are doing? What if this isn't the right way? What if I take this step and it's not what you have called me to?" Yet, when we finally do take that step of risk and of vulnerability, we see God at work - even if the outcome changes.
So all of this makes me ask:
1) Who are my elders or my Aaron(s) and Hur(s)?
2) What does my clay jar represent? What's in it? How would it feel to lift it above my head and break it? If I dared to invite such change into my life, what would it be like?
3) What am I being called to?
I firmly believe that we are all called to something. We all have a greater purpose for being here. This process will probably take some time, discernment, and trusted friends to help you talk through your concerns, fear, and hopes. But in this, know that you are supported and are loved, even as you stand up in the Valley of Ben Hinnom and break your jar in front of everyone to see. This countercultural act may seem bizarre in our world today. Yes, it's true that following the Spirit's leading may bring you to some unheard of or even mundane and simple places. But, it's in this journey that I find myself growing closer to God and seeing things from his perspective as I seek to follow him more and more everyday.
Tuesday, August 9, 2011
Release Your Balloon
Lately, I have been learning a lot about the word "discernment." At first, the word used to scare me because I could never wrap my mind around it. So while I've had (and continue to have) experience with it, the word itself has become less scary. In fact, it has taken on a certain measure of hope - a likeness revealing God that nothing else compares to.
Two years ago, I felt myself begin this "discernment" process. In some ways, it was almost like learning how to drive a car again without my parents. With it, came a sense of independence but also a sense of maturity, vulnerability, and great responsibility. It is in this place that I felt God really opening myself up to opportunities that I had never considered. To picture myself in such a role really began the influx of questions. God began to water the seed that he planted in me from long ago that I never knew was there and was just longing for water, sunlight, and some TLC. Psalm 139: 13 - 16 explains how intimately God knows me (and all of us) even before we were born.
Two years ago, I felt myself begin this "discernment" process. In some ways, it was almost like learning how to drive a car again without my parents. With it, came a sense of independence but also a sense of maturity, vulnerability, and great responsibility. It is in this place that I felt God really opening myself up to opportunities that I had never considered. To picture myself in such a role really began the influx of questions. God began to water the seed that he planted in me from long ago that I never knew was there and was just longing for water, sunlight, and some TLC. Psalm 139: 13 - 16 explains how intimately God knows me (and all of us) even before we were born.
"For you created my inmost being; you knit me together in my mother's womb.
I praise you because I am fearfully and wonderfully made; your works are wonderful,
I know that full well.
My frame was not hidden from you when I was made in the secret place.
When I was woven together in the depths of the earth, your eyes saw my unformed body.
All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be."
This weekend at church, a friend talked about the creativity of God. At this moment, I was reminded of a 2 hour silent retreat that I went on in the mountains of New Hampshire. Those who organized the trip distributed a paper to each of us - where one of the tips was to "allow God to be creative with you."
Dallas Willard writes about the creativity of God in his book, The Divine Conspiracy. He says:
"You will know this finding of soul and God is happening by an increased sense of who you are and a lessening of the feeling that you have to do this, that, and the other thing that befalls your lot in life. That harassing, hovering feeling of 'have to' largely comes from the vacuum of your soul, where you ought to be at home with your Father in his kingdom. As the vacuum is rightly filled, you will increasingly know that you do not have to do those things - even those that you want to do."
Even at my homegroup last night, one person shared this helpful analogy. He said to picture a kid that has a bunch of chalk and is told to go outside and draw. Now, give that same chalk to an adult and ask them to draw. They will probably be more concerned with what to draw, the details of the drawing, what others will think of it rather than the innocence and freedom that comes with the child who is told to go and draw whatever he wants.
Very recently, people have been speaking into my life about this very topic - discernment (and may not have realized it) through text messages from friends I haven't heard from in a while, conversations, and interactions. And, I've begun to experience and feel a sense of rightness and peace about my purpose in life. Ecclesiastes 3 says that:
"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven:
a time to be born and a time to die,
a time to plant and a time to uproot,
a time to kill and a time to heal,
a time to tear down and a time to build,
a time to weep and a time to laugh,
a time to mourn and a time to dance,
a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,
a time to embrace and a time to refrain,
a time to search and a time to give up,
a time to keep and a time to throw away,
a time to tear and a time to mend,
a time to be silent and a time to speak,
a time to love and a time to hate,
a time for war and a time for peace."
For so long, I've tried to plan every facet of my life. And God is telling me to stop doing his job. To give all of my planning, hopes, and dreams over to him and his mighty hands. For those who have never experienced this before - it's hard to put into words. But, there is this sense of freedom that comes with releasing the balloon in the air, watching it make formations with the clouds that it never did when I was holding tightly onto it, and abandoning itself to a land greater than my own.
So, I do see myself (at this point in my life) as the balloon. I know that once I let go of all that I've been trying to control and plan - then God can work in my life. The rest, is a beautiful creation of the potter molding the clay, of Ebenezer's built to God, of a song sung completely out of tune yet sounding beautiful to my Maker's ears.
And all done with a heart of love, favor, and surrender to the Most High God.
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