The Art of Selling Out

My whole life, I’ve never had the guts to give the last effort. To take the last leap of faith that could mean crushing failure or riveting success. To completely go for something with everything I’ve got.

I think I have the same sixth sense that animals have when something significant is going to happen (ie. typhoon). However, unlike a cat or a dog, I don’t just run to higher ground; I go catatonic (I mean that I hibernate in my room and watch an unhealthy amount of Grey’s Anatomy…). A lot of big things have happened recently (I got placed as a Young Life leader at Oscar Smith High School, I’m starting classes at Regent, etc.) and I’m coming to a point in my life where faith isn’t just an unassuming object in my life anymore. I’m learning that the closer I walk towards Jesus, the more critically necessary He becomes.  I am learning the art of selling out.

Jesus talks about this a lot in scripture. Before great battle, what king hasn’t sat down to deliberate the 20,000? [Luke 14:31-33] And once we know some of the cost of following Jesus, we must, in good conscious, consider if we are willing to give it all: not whether we can give it all, but whether we’re willing to. For what salt lacking saltiness is of any use for the soil or the manure pile? [Luke 14:34-35] But the idea of giving it all, of really following Jesus, through the dark and the light, is scary.

One of my favorite worship songs is “Oceans(Where Feet May Fail)” by Hillsong United. The lyrics talk about calling on Jesus’ name when we are lead to waters deeper than we ever imagined: where our feet may fail, but His grace abounds. I imagine the storm that night, on the Sea of Galilee, after Jesus fed the 5,000. When Jesus walked to His disciples on the water. When they first worshipped Him as the Son of God. Imagine what it was like to see Jesus, a pillar of tranquility amidst the raging wind and the violent waves. Imagine what it was like for Peter (of little faith!) to get called out of the boat and, for a moment, conquer these same waters. Imagine what it could be like for us, to actually trust Jesus and walk with Him on the water: not just for a shaky moment, but an eternal lifetime.  “…to reach all the riches of full assurance of understanding and the knowledge of God’s mystery, which is Christ, in whom are hidden all the treasures of wisdom and knowledge.” [Colossians 2:2-3] At first, this notion frightens me. I don’t have the guts. I could never walk on water. I am not good enough or brave enough or qualified enough to be a part of His great, redemptive Plan. But this is the beautiful part, the most beautiful part of any truth to ever be true. Since Jesus nailed our iniquitous debts to the cross [Colossians 2:14], we abide in Him, and He in us[1 John 4:13].  All we have to do is place our trust in the Son of Man. Follow Him with all we’ve got. Because we cannot do it. But Jesus can.

What I am listening to:

"Lake Yarina" -Josh Garrels

"Where Is My Mind" -Trample By Turtles(cover)

"How We Breathe" -Pinback

"Zebra" -John Butler Trio

"She's a Bad Mama Jama" -Carl Carlton

"Big Jet Plane(acoustic)" -Angus and Julia Stone

"You call me out upon the waters,
The great unknown where feet may fail,
And there I find You in the mystery,
In oceans deep,
My faith will stand"

verse from "Oceans(Where Feet May Fail)

"And Peter answered Him, 'Lord, if it you, command me to come to you on the water.' He said, 'Come.' So Peter got out of the boat and walked on the water and came to Jesus. But when He saw the wind, he was afraid, and beginning to sink he cried out, 'Lord, save me.' Jesus immediately reached out His hand and took hold of him, saying to him, 'O you of little faith, why did you doubt?' And when they got into the boat, the wind ceased. And those in the boat worshiped Him, saying, 'Truly you are the Son of God.'" Matthew 14:28-33

"17. Have a friend"

“17. Have a friend.”

I wrote this in a journal I kept in 2011. It belonged to a somewhat cliché list of “100 Things To Do Before I Die.”

Observing myself in retrospect, I slip into a sinking hollowness. I remember exactly how I felt when I wrote that. My mom had recently moved out, my dad’s girlfriend had since moved in with her three kids, my two brothers were away at college, and I didn’t seem to fit into any equation.

At school, I had “friends”—people I sometimes talked to in class, but my painfully shy nature made human interactions physically hard for me (ask my close friends, now, this awkward, anti-social side can still blindside me at gatherings of people I don’t know well.) Think Laura Wingfield from The Glass Menagerie. If I arrived to school early, I went to my class and sat for 20 minutes alone because even the teachers were more popular than me. After school, I waited to be picked up, alone, hoping that nobody looked at me for more than 3 seconds. I went home and read my text books. I’d go to soccer practice or work out, then listened to Andrew Bird or Middle Brother for hours while looking at a map of the world, planning impossible adventures I knew my nature would never allow. No one ever really acknowledged me for more than a courteous, forced moment.

I would like to take these moments of yours, while reading this, however, not to discuss the unfortunate propensities of my younger self. Though I never attracted much in terms of relationships (my idle face defaults to a repelling scowl which probably never helped,) I was, in fact, being fervently pursued. Chased after.

One day, I was putting on my shin guards before a high school soccer game. While I was told to be “getting in the zone” for the day’s match, I couldn’t think of anything other than being home alone that weekend. For most teenagers, this would be an axiom, but for me, this meant that the guaranteed interactions I had with the people in my house would not happen and I probably wouldn’t speak a single word for two days. I was mindlessly tying and untying my cleats when an older girl on the team sat down next to me. I was immediately uncomfortable; this wasn’t supposed to happen. I couldn’t figure out why someone was purposefully sitting next to me, let alone one of the most well-liked seniors at my school. She asked me if I was okay. People didn’t usually say more than ‘hey’ to me, much less notice that something was wrong. Something even crazier happened. She asked if I wanted to hang out that weekend. Up until this point of my high school career, I could still count the number of times I had hung out with people on two hands. “Uh, sure.”

An unassuming kindness, this could have been cast off into diminutive obscurity, but it was a rallying of the Lord’s lifelong pursuit for my heart. It was more than just a popular older girl on the soccer team sitting next to me; it was Jesus, Himself, sitting next to me. He wasn’t going to let me fade into the easiness of life-long isolation and self-pity. This was only the first of a series of divine encounters.

This tiny expansion of the Kingdom of Goodness began presenting the Solution to my heart’s biggest quandary. A place where I am always wanted, where I am always listened to, where I am always loved. I soon discovered that I had much more than a friend in Jesus. There was a moment, looking into the sky and hearing the Lord in my mind’s voice, that I will never forget. He was calling me somewhere. “Welcome Home.”

*disclaimer: There are supremely more difficult things than loneliness and a broken family. I don’t mean to garner any sympathy; it’s just the type of brokenness the Lord used to draw me to Himself.

"But now in Christ Jesus you who once were far away have been brought near through the blood of Christ." Ephesians 2:13

What I Am Listening To:

"Going Home" -Josh Garrels

"Hazelton" -Bon Iver

"Take Me Home" -North of the New

"Missed the Boat" -Modest Mouse

"King of Spain" -The Tallest Man On Earth

"Right Me Up" -State Radio

Coach Vyburt

I used to have a travel soccer coach named Vyburt. He is, to this day, one of the coolest people I have ever met and had to be in his late 50s when I knew him. He listened to reggae music exported from his home country of St Kitts and Nevis. He used to roll up to our games on a bike 5 minutes before they started after having surfed the entire morning. He has led teams to win state cup and is generally regarded as one of the best coaches within the Va Rush club. Having been on his team for a couple years, I believe that one of the main reasons he always seems to have a winning line up is because he genuinely knows his players. He just knows when and how to push them in order for them to grow and become better each time they step on the pitch. For example, he knew that I was extremely hard on myself so uplifting encouragement while I was subbed out was the best way to make understand something. At the same time, he knew that one of my more stubborn teammates needed him to yell his brains out at her play her best. Now, I believe that Vyburt has developed this coaching finesse with uncanny intuition and after years of practice, but his technique is a derivative of a much greater Concept.

Master of this Concept is none other than the good Lord Himself! Yes, I believe that God, like Vyburt, deeply know his players. He knows how to push us and pull us, when to comfort us and when to “yell” at us. He has the most gratuitous intentions with the most perfect will! Unlike a game of soccer, however, Jesus has already secured the victory of the human race. As we go through rough days that don’t make sense, we often surmise that we are just misfortunate players in this mixed up world. But we must remember that we have been "subbed" into our respective lives with perfect Prescience. We are blessed with the gift to love and to grow and to be “coached” by the Creator and Victor of the Game! Peace and love, my teammates!

"O Lord, you have searched me and known me! You know when I sit down and when I rise up; you discern my thoughts from afar. You search out my path and my lying down and are acquainted with my ways. Even before a word is on my tongue, behold, O Lord, you know it altogether. You hem me in , behind and before, and lay your hand upon me. Such knowledge is too wonderful for me; is is high; I cannot attain it." Psalm 139:1-6

What I am listening to:

"Fancy Footwork" -Chromeo

"People Say(acoustic)" -Portugal. The Man

"Hell On Earth" -Deer Tick (the entire Born On Flag Day is fantastic)

"Pennsylvania 6-5000" -Glenn Miller (I've been in a big band mood)
"Danse Caribe" and "Polynation" -Andrew Bird

"Hey Now Now" -Michael Franti and Spearhead (not from St. Kitts, but this is the gist of it!)

Diet, Caffeine Free Coke (the kind in the gold cans that I only ever like in Georgia)

“Get up, kid!” My grandpa burst through the guest room door. We had planned to be on the water by 5:30; it was now 6:03. My adolescent lethargy was almost enough to make me slide back under the sheets, but a glance through the window told me that this was a day for fishing.

It was early June in Newnan, Georgia. From noon until dusk, standing outside was like standing in a furnace. But there was a small, magical window of time in which the temperatures were mild and the large mouth bass rose from the grass. Yes, they were hungry and we were ready to throw everything but the kitchen sink at them.

This is what we did when I visited my grandparents every summer. We fished. Now, since I was not a year-round fisherwoman at this point in my life, my grandpa always stocked up on a few dozen jumbo minnows before I arrived. This is not cheating, but, under the blazing summer sun, the odds were in my favor.

My grandfather saw my contemplation and walked out of the room. “Two minutes and I’m leaving without you!” He shouted back. I knew he wouldn’t but that didn’t stop me from jumping out of bed and dashing out after him like a fresh, young springbok. I was barefoot and t-shirted, the promise of the catch stealing all the sleep from limbs.

I darted down the stairs to the basement where my grandparents stayed. In two leaping bounds, I’d past years of memorabilia hanging along the wall. “Oh, Anna, sit down,” sang my grandmother in that special tone only a grandmother possesses.

“Sorry, Gram, gotta go, gotta go, big fish, today, big fish!” I repeated myself out of excitement. In these golden days, I was a regular zealot with nothing to do but do.

Every day, we played this charade: both knowing my exuberance would not allow me to sit and eat in these fleeting morning hours. So, every morning, my grandmother handed me a container of macaroons and a diet, caffeine free coke (the special ones in the gold cans that I only ever liked in Newnan).

Never stopping for a moment, I grabbed two rods and the old, tackle box and took off down the stone path. I always regretted not wearing any shoes on account of the jagged rocks in the soles of my feet but it was always forgotten as soon as I jumped up the three stairs up to the red, wooden dock. My grandpa followed behind with that agonizingly slow pace that adults always seem to have. I surveyed the lake. Touches of sun peaked behind the westward pines. This was a day for fishing.

"Festival"-Sigur Ros

"Weighty Ghost" -Winter Sleep

"Agape" -Bear's Den

"Here's To Now" -Ugly Casanova

"Cosmic Tim" -The Great Bear Trio (outro to an epic 90s alt film of self-discovery + a fiddle. tell me the world doesn't make sense after the initial confusion subsides.)

"Beast of Burden" -The Rolling Stones (didn't realize how much i'd miss my dad. here's to you, pops!)

"As a deer pants for flowing streams so my soul pants for you, O God. My soul thirsts for God, for the living God... Deep calls to deep at the roar of your waterfalls; all your breakers and your waves have gone over me. By day the Lord commands his steadfast love, and at night his song is with me, a prayer to the God of my life... Hope in God; for I shall again praise Him, my salvation and my God." Pslam 42

Whose

Wow. It is more overwhelming to sit down and write about this past month than I had anticipated. I have so much to say, so much that I’ve learned. Some good, some bad, but all right because of my Teacher.

What seems like ages ago, I departed sweet, sweet Chesapeake. I said goodbye to my spiritual home and the brothers and sisters that walked with me through laughter and tears, joy and pain, with Jesus, always. I left the place that taught me so much about what a community of love and fellowship can look like through the earnest pursuit of He who has already sought.  The place that I cannot describe because What has moved through it is not of this world. Chesapeake still holds a special part of my heart but three weeks ago I was made to leave by the will of my Creator… and the beginning of classes. So, to the mountains I went, with Jesus still at my side.

I will not pretend to be able to write all that I have been taught in my three short weeks here. It utterly astounds me that each night I cannot even finish recording the movement I saw that day before I pass out on my bed. Since I now eat, sleep, play, and learn in the same place, twenty-four seven, Jesus has been on my mind, twenty-four seven, almost obsessively. I sometimes begin to think I’m going mad but am happy to be a fool to the world for my very best Friend.

He has shared much encouragement and peace with me as I transitioned into the big, bad world of university life. I am enveloped by His presence. He is visible, tangible in every river I swim and wood I walk. He exists within the love of believers, here, evident and true, and I am never without joy as I wait to see what He will show me next. However, I also see an abyssal voidance of Him, rather the recognition of Him. It is very real, in my heart and the hearts of all who surround me. That is where things became difficult.

While I have found much joy in experiencing being pushed far, far out of my comfort zone for Him, it has been hard. I sat under a tree on the Drillfield and cried on my third day here because I had already walked farther than I had all summer and just could not physically handle it. I cried because I missed having a community that knew and was known to me. I cried in class when one of my older friends gently reminded me of my iniquities. I cried because I had overcompensated the strength of my own heart. I just recovered from one of the rarest surgeries performed today faster than any surgeon in Portsmouth Naval predicted. I got through that; this college thing should be no sweat. Wrong. I have been incredibly humbled in the time I’ve been at school. What? Why was this happening? Why had my strength fled as quickly as it came? Why were things moving and shaking around me more quickly than my heart could understand?

I was looking up sermons by Judah Smith when I was stumbled on to one entitled “Jesus Is With You Always.” Click. Okay, his recounting of Paul and Silas’s time in prison did nothing to quell my pleading heart until he said of the worshipping disciple, “…and what’s real to Paul is Whose he is.” I clicked off the video. I remembered writing that in a blog before my surgery. The reason why I have been breaking down is because, again, I had forgotten-as humans always do-the one fundamental Truth of life. IT DOES NOT WORK WITHOUT JESUS. It does not function properly or beautifully without its one and only Author. Even in my attempts to pursue Him here, I forgot this. I, again, was trying to show people Jesus of my own accord. I was making it all about the big, ol’ M-E, me. Just as I did in the pre-op room, just as I have repeatedly my entire life.  But, the beauty of this is, He never fails to remind us of His presence and graciously bring us back home, again.

While I have cried many tears, here, in humility of myself and mournfulness of my sins, I have been reminded of Joy through the sweet tears of Grace. I will never, ever be enough, for college, for a new community, for this world. But Jesus loves me enough to redeem me in all of it. I cried and shook as I went up to take communion at church. I am reminded Whose I am each moment I realize the enormity of the Cross. That Jesus’ body was broken for me. For us all. In these mixed up times of laughter and tears, of growth and transition, I can do nothing but sing praises to a God Most High.

What I am listening to:

“O.N.E.” -Yeasayer

“Haller Lake” –The Cave Singers

“I Need a Dollar” –Aloe Blacc

“Arms” –Seabear

“Virginia May” –Gregory Alan Isakov

“About midnight Paul and Silas were praying and singing hymns to God, and the prisoners were listening to them, and suddenly there was a great earthquake, so that the foundations were shaken. And immediately all the doors were opened, and everyone’s bonds were unfastened.” Acts 16:25-26

“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God and the Word was God. He was in the beginning with God… And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen His glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:1-2..14