Just a little Run with Jesus

...tell Him all about my troubles. Running. I'm starting to love it. After one run, I consider doing another run (i.e., if I run in the morning I want to run again in the evening). While some may call it a high, which I am not negating, it has come to be a very symbolic and spiritual experience for me. I typically avoid using the word spiritual in case someone takes it as a post-modernist "we all are gods" kind of way. Yet, I do not mean it that way. Praying while running is often very sweet, short, and to the point. Thus, in light of this brief conversation, I would like to mention some things that I have learned from my two weeks of running (Yes, two weeks--don't judge, I used to be an avid runner). 1. If I keep my eyes on my feet I am able to run longer. When I look up at the distance, I am quickly discouraged and begin negative self-talk. Similarly, if I keep my eyes on Jesus, I am more sustainable spiritually, physically, and emotionally. Once I divert my eyes, things turn bad quickly. 2. I can run more than I think I can. This is big one. Let me divert for a brief moment so that I can run my point home (that was punny). I've been reading this book Made to Crave (phenomenal read, by the way). The author discusses her struggle with weight and then the victory that the Lord enabled her to win. In this book, she discusses how she was out for a run when the Lord challenged her to run until He told her to stop. Over eight and half miles later, she finally gets the okay to stop. In her own strength, she would have never accomplished this, but by God's strength she continued farther than she ever thought possible. Similarly, I am training for a 5k. While the runs are rather short, I have really gotten out of shape and every step is a massive accomplishment. Yet, I have now convinced myself that I can do this. Talk about victory! I was hoping to have more than two things I've learned, but maybe excessive lessons comes with excessive running. We'll see! Side note: I have to leave this paradise in two days. Ewww. Ohio. Gag. Hilton Head Island <3 Peace & Blessings

Scars of Depression

Many people think that only surgery and cuts can leave scars. False. Depression left its scars on me. They are called stretchmarks. If you would rather not hear about me drone on about something that looks like a tiger scratched me, then I understand. After all, who wants to talk about their flaws?! Yet, the psychology major in me feels that I must address this if I want to move on with my life. In this case, I mean move beyond my weight gain. While I hope moving beyond comes by weight loss, acceptance of my body and finding myself beautiful would suffice. However, I hope it is both. In case you didn't know, Prozac takes a toll on your appetite. Hungry. All. The. Time. It is absolutely dreadful. Between that and the emotional eating tolls of depression, I have found myself 30 pounds heavier. Now, all of you that have speculated some serious weight gain can now rest assured that I have verified that piece of juicy information. And guess what? With it came these sexy little scars--stretchmarks. I admit that they make me feel somewhat nauseous. After all, they are fairly recent and I do not tan so my pale skin constantly illuminates them. However, I am trying--hence this piece--to embrace these stretchmarks, to love them as scars and remind myself how far God has brought me. By the way, I speak so openly about depression because I am constantly baffled by the Church's response to it. And yes, I gained thirty pounds, and until I get it off I am still going to find myself beautiful. If you wish to call me a fatty, have your way, I will just dance with my sexy stretchmarks. Peace & Blessings

Freedom

"Where the spirit of the LORD is, there is freedom...freedom reigns in this place, showers of mercy and grace." I feel compelled to share with you my experience on Freedom Court. First, a moment of explanation. Freedom Court is a governmental housing project in Middletown, OH. It is less than asthetically appealing and is covered by trash. Piece of blankets and children's sheets are often used as curtains, and the sign is tarnished by markings of various gangs. Yet, it is here that I felt so free in Christ. Thus, I will be playing off of the word freedom, which is especially poetic since I spent some time in a grungy place called Freedom Court. My dear Sunday School teacher wrote a song about "the least of these." Her song is absolutely breathtaking and the lyrics are so convicting. For the greater part of my life, I believed the spirit of God to dwell the strongest in the church sanctuary. While I am not lessening the presence of the LORD in these hallowed places, I am suggesting that maybe we have limited the presence of God. It has been my humble and heartbreaking experience that God's presence can often be felt the most when dealing with "the least of these." Note: I am in no way referring to the children of freedom court as lesser human beings. However, it is rather unfortunate that society has labeled children such as the residents' of freedom court as "lesser", and while I do not agree with this terminology, I will adhere to it for the sake of pagination (or blogination). Somedays I cannot help but think we have it all wrong. When I say "we", I am referring to the Christian community. We build elaborate churches with padded pews and diffuse the scent of vanilla throughout the church as we "welcome" the presence of God yet push away the hurting. I cannot help but wonder if we can truly "welcome" the presence of God while simultaneously pushing away the unbelievers. Let me give a few examples. Can we truly welcome the presence of God when the homeless, who smell and do not wear the latest fashions, feel completely out of place. Would not the Father be dismayed? Similarly, can we welcome the presence of God when the "unchurched" feel incompetent and ignorant by the church lingo we so loosely throw around? I would argue that we cannot. Christ made it very clear that His purpose was to heal the sick, save the lost, befriend the friendless, and father the fatherless. If this was His purpose, and dare I say, his mission, how can we welcome His presence without presenting his "peeps." Another example, my father is a physician. Apart from the argument of preventive health care, without the sick my father, as a physician, would be completely lost. His job would essentially become pointless. How can you welcome a physician into a work setting to do his job without presenting some ailing bodies? You cannot. So, yes, it was on the dirty basketball court and the itchy grass that I felt connected to God. While I love beautiful sanctuaries, sometimes I need to sit with the overlooked to remember who my Savior truly is. Peace & Blessings.