Matthew 17 tells the story of a boy suffering greatly from seizures. The boy's father brings him to Jesus saying, "Lord, have mercy on my son, because he has seizures and suffers terribly. . . So I brought him to your disciples, but they couldn't heal him." After rebuking the disciples' lack of faith, Jesus doesn't address the boy's seizures but rebukes the demon.
The what?
Who said anything about a demon in the first place?
The father sure didn't. He simply was bringing his son to Jesus to be healed of his physical ailment. And Jesus saw beyond the physical, stepped into the spiritual, and freed the boy at a much deeper and much more profound level. He acknowledged the boy's suffering, yet diagnosed it from a spiritual perspective.
I am too often in the same boat as the father. The father is so blind to the spiritual side of things and can only see the physical aspect right in front of him. Oh, that the blind would see. I too often see people and simply assess physical conditions, forgetting that we as humans are profoundly spiritual. I find it easier to note the obvious, external aspects of their life, than taking time to pry a little deeper and grasp the spiritual truths. I am too blinded by my own humanity that I fail to see the intensely spiritual side of life.
I see it in my prayer life. I lift others up in prayer, asking Jesus to give them a job, heal them of a sickness, fix that, fix this, bring that, give this. And yet, my prayers are so spiritually poor. Do I bring people to Jesus in my prayer life, yet neglect to pray for their spiritual conditions? Am I that blinded? That busy? That distracted?
It is too easy to go through life ignoring the spiritual aspect. Oh, that my eyes would be opened.
Friday, July 27, 2012
Tuesday, July 24, 2012
Goodbyes and Distance
I squeezed her so tightly, knowing that only 48 hours I'd be hugging her again-- that time saying goodbye, again.
I had been looking forward to last weekend all summer for a variety of reasons. For one, my good friend Naomi was getting married. I was so excited for her and happy to be able to be part of her special day. And then, then I was simply excited to see Cami, one of my best friends in this life. We were both bridesmaids and knew that our time with Naomi would be limited, but I was looking forward to savoring quality time with Cami again.
My heart swelled being with someone who knew me and who I knew. We laughed and told stupid stories. We caught up on life and enjoyed being silly together. A deep longing to live life with her and my closest friends surfaced again. I couldn't help getting frustrated with my awful keeping-in-touch skills and distance that I felt all too frequently. Missing her was a frustrating longing because I knew that next time I saw her, I would still miss her again. Goodbyes were characteristic for our friendship and it became all too easy to dwell on them. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the sting I felt, seeing Naomi and 11 bridesmaids, all in one country, in one city, on one day. To me, that was a miracle.
Cami and I spent the whole night together-- laughing, giggling, talking and yes, even crying. I was reminded of how blessed I am to have friends whom I so deeply love, regardless of how (in)frequently I see them.
I hugged her goodbye on Sunday morning, feeling my heart squeeze tightly, wishing I could spend a summer with her and I blinked tears away. I climbed into Lucas' car and was hit with the reality that I would soon be saying goodbye to him as well.
This summer has been fabulous, but with only 23 days left here in Canada, I'm starting to feel the familiar dread of upcoming goodbyes. I don't want it. I don't want to leave and go back to missing every day. I'm nervous about re-adjusting to life in Illinois and oh, what if I feel slightly out of place again? I'm dreading daily Skype conversations and "until-I-see-you" countdowns again.
I know I'm not alone in this. Most people today experience the bitter sting of distance in many relationships with loved ones. It's such the reality of life today... and I'm just especially struggling with that reality... again.
I had been looking forward to last weekend all summer for a variety of reasons. For one, my good friend Naomi was getting married. I was so excited for her and happy to be able to be part of her special day. And then, then I was simply excited to see Cami, one of my best friends in this life. We were both bridesmaids and knew that our time with Naomi would be limited, but I was looking forward to savoring quality time with Cami again.
My heart swelled being with someone who knew me and who I knew. We laughed and told stupid stories. We caught up on life and enjoyed being silly together. A deep longing to live life with her and my closest friends surfaced again. I couldn't help getting frustrated with my awful keeping-in-touch skills and distance that I felt all too frequently. Missing her was a frustrating longing because I knew that next time I saw her, I would still miss her again. Goodbyes were characteristic for our friendship and it became all too easy to dwell on them. I bit my lip and tried to ignore the sting I felt, seeing Naomi and 11 bridesmaids, all in one country, in one city, on one day. To me, that was a miracle.
Cami and I spent the whole night together-- laughing, giggling, talking and yes, even crying. I was reminded of how blessed I am to have friends whom I so deeply love, regardless of how (in)frequently I see them.
I hugged her goodbye on Sunday morning, feeling my heart squeeze tightly, wishing I could spend a summer with her and I blinked tears away. I climbed into Lucas' car and was hit with the reality that I would soon be saying goodbye to him as well.
This summer has been fabulous, but with only 23 days left here in Canada, I'm starting to feel the familiar dread of upcoming goodbyes. I don't want it. I don't want to leave and go back to missing every day. I'm nervous about re-adjusting to life in Illinois and oh, what if I feel slightly out of place again? I'm dreading daily Skype conversations and "until-I-see-you" countdowns again.
I know I'm not alone in this. Most people today experience the bitter sting of distance in many relationships with loved ones. It's such the reality of life today... and I'm just especially struggling with that reality... again.
Tuesday, July 3, 2012
Some days I miss camp...
The familiar feeling of anticipation gathered in my belly. A small grin crept on to my face and I couldn't shake it away. Nor did I want to. We were so close to camp (Medeba) and I could feel it.
Lucas and I visited Medeba this last weekend. Yes, the place where we met. But for both of us, it had a different kind of meaning attached. I attended camp for 9 years as a camper or an LIT and then worked on staff for one year. Lucas had worked there for five or six years, two of those years as the program director. So though it was fun to go back and reminisce in the place where we met, we also realized that this place had different meaning to each of us.
Every year there is a pretty big staff turnover, so I unfortunately didn't know a lot of those working there this summer. But either way it was fun to say hello to the few that I did know and simply soak in camp. I loved waking up in the morning and stepping outside the cabin and simply feeling the fresh air.
Strong emotions surged through me. I miss camp. I wonder if there will always be that pull, beckoning me to come back and spend a summer at camp. I definitely felt it that weekend. I wanted to spend the summer in cabins, counseling girls, running activities, giggling and making memories again. I wanted to be there again.
I love places that are capable of conjuring such strong emotions in me. I love places that captured a part of my heart, and in some way, will always have a little bit. I love feeling "home" in a place simply because it is familiar. Colombia has this feel for me. Medeba has this feel for me.
And though I love that feeling, it always makes me a little sad. The reason these places have such a strong emotional effect on me is because of the power role they played in my past and the plethora of memories associated with these locations. And often, the role of these places in my future is so uncertain that I wonder if soon my memories will be the only thing linking me there. There's always a hint of nostalgia during these visits.
Lucas and I visited Medeba this last weekend. Yes, the place where we met. But for both of us, it had a different kind of meaning attached. I attended camp for 9 years as a camper or an LIT and then worked on staff for one year. Lucas had worked there for five or six years, two of those years as the program director. So though it was fun to go back and reminisce in the place where we met, we also realized that this place had different meaning to each of us.
Every year there is a pretty big staff turnover, so I unfortunately didn't know a lot of those working there this summer. But either way it was fun to say hello to the few that I did know and simply soak in camp. I loved waking up in the morning and stepping outside the cabin and simply feeling the fresh air.
Strong emotions surged through me. I miss camp. I wonder if there will always be that pull, beckoning me to come back and spend a summer at camp. I definitely felt it that weekend. I wanted to spend the summer in cabins, counseling girls, running activities, giggling and making memories again. I wanted to be there again.
I love places that are capable of conjuring such strong emotions in me. I love places that captured a part of my heart, and in some way, will always have a little bit. I love feeling "home" in a place simply because it is familiar. Colombia has this feel for me. Medeba has this feel for me.
And though I love that feeling, it always makes me a little sad. The reason these places have such a strong emotional effect on me is because of the power role they played in my past and the plethora of memories associated with these locations. And often, the role of these places in my future is so uncertain that I wonder if soon my memories will be the only thing linking me there. There's always a hint of nostalgia during these visits.
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