More Lessons Learned in Bad Driving

So, not even a month ago, I put a scratch in some truck and it kind of caused me to not be in school for the time being. You know. Because I need money to pay for it and all. And other things. But I was okay with that. I mean, I figured I needed a break to get ready to start working on my psychology degree and get myself situated to move out, anyway.
But then last night, I rear ended someone and now the front of my car is gone and my insurance company could very well drop me.
Okay. Quick rant. Your car was designed with a dang turn signal for a reason. Use the dang turn signal so that people don't have to slam on their breaks and rear end people and wreck their cars and make little girls cry and further complicate the life of newly graduated 18 year old who just wants to figure things out and now has to work even more to try to get a headstart on her career, but now can't because all of her money will be going to fix all of the cars involved in the stupid accident that you caused.
I'm so good at putting blame on everyone but myself. But in all honesty, I'm just a bad driver and it was my fault more than I want to admit. First off, I'm a woman. Second off, I'm part Asian. Sorry not sorry.
But that stereotype thing is just another way of me trying to get out of the responsibility I know is on me. That little girl crying was my fault. She was crying because my car was destroyed. Not even because I hit her and it was scary. Because my car got messed up. I love kids. I can't come to terms with that.
And that's probably because of how prideful I am. Goodness. I discovered last night that I had deeper things to deal with than the ghettomobile getting destroyed.
I hate attention most of the time. You get a whole lot of attention when you cause a wreck on the middle of a busy road. That was embarrassing. And what made it worse was that I was on a little mission, getting change from different stores. I just wanted to do it because I was trying to prove that I was capable of being in control of things. Because that means a lot to me. More than it should. And of course,  I would have to wreck my car in the process of proving myself responsible.
There's this Avett Brothers song that just says, "Shame, shame, boatloads of shame" a lot, and that was me last night. I felt terribly stupid with every phone call I made. I had to call my boss, my coworker, my parents, my boyfriend. And then word spread and I got even more calls and had to talk to everyone else as well. They were just concerned, I know. But I couldn't handle that. I felt like the dumbest person alive. And me having to explain it over and over and over again really did a lot to my pride.
Here's the worst part of it. I'm very competitive at work. Extremely so. And one of my coworkers came out to where I was waiting with the cops to pick up the money I had got before the wreck. And she was concerned. She gave me a charger, offered to stay with me, told me she loved me, hugged me a lot. And literally, my pride was so hurt that I was just angry. I know she didn't have bad intentions, but I felt so ashamed that anyone had to see me and what I'd done, especially someone I had tried so hard to prove my capabilities to. So yeah. Didn't handle that, or anything, how I should have.
And my pride is still working on me. I wanted to kick God and just about everyone else out of my life last night because I was so sick of Him (and them) having to deal with this. Because I'm just that prideful. I literally said, "God. Please leave. I can't handle you having to put up with me being so stupid and irresponsible. I know it hurts you when I keep making mistakes."
And God said something a little like, "How about not. Can we just take a second to remember just how much I love you, and how much effort I've put into proving that to you? Why would I invest so much into you and leave just because you're not perfect? It's a process, love, one I'm committed to. I meant it when I made covenant with you. You breaking that off wouldn't heal my pain I feel when I see you struggling at all. It would only make it worse to know that you won't accept my help. I don't mind that you need help. That's what I'm here for. That's what love is. I'm not disappointed, not in the least. And I'm not going anywhere, no matter how hard you fight it, or how high you let your wall of pride grow. My love is bigger than that, and if you think you can keep me out because of your dysfunction, just know that you're only increasing my drive to fight for you. I'm here. I mean it. I'll pursue you with love you've never even heard of, and you're not going to have a choice but to forget about your shortcomings and to be consumed by the love that covers all imperfections. You're mine. Deal with it."
So yeah. I killed my car but at least I understand pride a little more.

Being nice is really mean.

Today I learned that you can be really nice and also really selfish.

So one of the attributes of love, as described in 1 Corinthians 13, is kindness. I think we equate the definition of it to "niceness". So we get this idea that being nice to everyone proves that you are genuinely acting out of love.

Except, niceness can actually stem from fear and inadequacy and a lost sense of identity. All of these are in direct opposition to love, the very thing we claim to be operating out of when we are being nice.

In Exodus 32, when the Israelites are at the foot of Mount Sinai, waiting for Moses to return with God's commandments, they lose sight and begin craving a new object to throw worship at. So, they come up to Aaron, the priest, and tell him to make them some gods who will go before them.

When Aaron later recounts to Moses the origin of the golden calf that became Israel's new idol, he tells it as if he wasn't to be held responsible for giving into their requests.

"You know how prone these people are to evil... they gave me the gold, and I threw it in the fire, and out came this calf!"
(v. 22-24)

"You know how prone these people are to evil." Aaron knew, very well, that giving the Israelites an idol was wrong. As the priest of the new nation, he knew he should have directed his people to the truth, reminded them of what their God had done for them in delivering them from the hands of the Egyptians. Even if he didn't have a good argument, he should have told them no, at least. He knew God's power and the judgment that He passed on the Egyptians right before them. He knew that giving the Israelites an idol was subjecting them to the wrath of God. God's whole purpose in rescuing them in the first place was to bring them to Himself and show the world that He is the true God. Of course He wouldn't be okay with the Israelites turning and giving the glory to an idol.

Aaron knew that. And Aaron wasn't afraid to stand up for what he knew was right. We see that demonstrated through him standing up to pharaoh with Moses. Aaron was the one who did all the talking, since Moses had that speech problem. He wasn't afraid to demand that the pharaoh let his people go, yet he refused to tell his own people that worshipping an idol was a bad idea once they were freed from Egypt's reign.

Aaron wasn't scared. He was just a pushover. A really bad one. Even knowing the weight of the people's decision and the consequences that it would have, he gave into what they requested. Because he wanted to appease them right then and there. He didn't know what to do without offending them, so he took the easy way out and was nice about it.

Aaron was nice. Yet he demonstrated the exact opposite of love; the antithesis of kindness. The fact that he stooped so low just to avoid offending the people says a lot about his character. He must've been insecure if he needed the affirmation that badly. He hurt, even indirectly killed, the very people he wanted to gain approval and affection from, once the wrath of God caught up with the people's decision.

That is the definition of selfishness. Disregarding the future consequences someone will face just to gain their affection in the present. Not telling someone that they're making a horrible decision. Letting them slide when they're not doing what they need to be doing. Hiding the truth just to make them happy now. Yeah, you might not be very nice for telling them the truth, but at least you're demonstrating true love and concern, and you are operating from a point of complete identification in Christ, so that you do not need their approval and affection to stand firm in your convictions.

I don't know why it took me so long to understand this. But I don't think kindness always looks like niceness. They're completely different and stem from two entirely different positions and motives.

The Irrelevant Hot Dog

I feel uncomfortable even having to mention this again.

So when I was doing mission work in Memphis all this past summer, I, for a couple weeks, was in charge of "Street Clean-Up" in the afternoons. So basically I led these church groups from other states around inner city Memphis and picked up trash with them.

First off... People get really angry when they pay to be on a mission trip for a week and then spend their afternoons picking up trash. It's not "spiritual". So for them to not be super pissed off and petty, which they still usually were, I would tell them the history of how street clean-up got started as a part of the ministry, which I was informed of from the beginning by this awkward sheet of paper.

So the story goes: the pastor was walking around. He saw an unofficial trash heap in an empty lot. There was a girl sitting in the trash and eating a hot dog. He decided to take teams out to clean. Now we clean. For hot dog girl. And now the community likes us. So we clean up just to show the people that we care about them and that we don't want their children eating hot dogs in trash. And other spiritual things.

I always felt super awkward talking about that. Because how irrelevant is the hot dog that the girl was eating? I don't like pointless details, and that hot dog was super pointless.

So I hated that all summer. And I never even met hot dog girl.

But it was a funny thing. Because when we would go out and pick up trash, these kids would run up to us and want to help. They'd want to talk to us. And I, being the one with the staff shirt, would take the liberty to forget all about the stupid trash and go pick up the kid without shoes who wanted to run through the broken beer bottles to get to us. 

And suddenly that kid's bare feet were very relevant to me and why I wanted to spend my afternoons picking up trash. It wasn't about the work I was doing. It was about the barefoot kid and the beer bottles that became a part of my heart because of where I was placed. 

So after that I kinda got why I had to always talk about the hot dog. It was relevant to the pastor's heart for the community. That little detail is what broke his heart and made him want to do something.

And so now when I do any sort of community service, I specifically pray for hot dog girl. Because it doesn't matter what I'm doing, honestly. I can be picking up trash or painting houses or sorting paperwork. But I always pray that I'm not focused on completing my task for the sake of completing my task and being able to say I put in my hours to help the community. I pray that doing whatever I do leads me to come into contact with something that breaks my heart. A silly little detail that changes the way I see things. And when you look at it that way, you can kinda start to see that it's a matter of the heart. If you say you're about ministry, you should be overflowing with love with everyone around you. You should be all about helping everyone in any way you can and allowing your heart to be broken, not doing an organized "ministry" activity and calling yourself a missionary because of it.

You minister right where you are. Whether it's organized or not. Your heart's intention should be apparent by the way you are willing to work to change the things that are not aligned with the way you know they should be. That's what ministry is, I think. Doing "unspiritual" things and expecting God to show you His heart for the people involved. And that whole heart portion of it is what matters.

(That means that work and school and buying coffee can be ministry. Just let your heart break and open yourself up to initiating change where you see it needs to happen. It's not about what you're doing. It's about your heart's motive in it. That is all.)

Bread Rain & a Dented Silverado

Yesterday was the first day in literally a month that I didn't cry over something stupid.

For example, the day before, I was chopping some onions and I started sobbing. The day before, I burnt my hand on a toaster again. Before that, my cat died, and before that, the stars were really pretty and I saw some cows and I ended up on a back country road that makes your stomach jump when you go twenty miles over the speed limit when going over a hill.

I should have cried yesterday. Let's be honest.

It was my first day of college classes, and I had to travel between campuses. I put literally 50 miles on my car just going to school and had to drive on a six lane interstate to get home. So, I felt super hip and independent just being alone in my car for two hours. Except that became insanity or mental illness or something, because then I tried to park for my afternoon class and I drove my ghetto little (big) car into a nice new Silverado that belonged to some popular guy and the cops and my mother had to come out and everyone laughed at me.

I'm taking a break from school, and from driving 50 miles a day on a six lane interstate in my ghetto car.

And it's terrifying. I spent so much time thinking about what graduated adult Hannah Durham would do, and now I am graduated adult Hannah Durham and I'm not in school and I don't see my ministry God promised, and I'm sitting at Starbucks because I have no where to be before I go to work at the frozen yogurt store down the road.

I just got given a free mug and free coffee and a giant gingerbread Starbucks syrup thing. I think the coffee gods are giving me charity.

But here's what God told me yesterday, before I dented the Silverado and before I felt like a drop out with mental illness: My provision doesn't look how you expect it will, my dear.

And yes, He did tell me that while I was drinking Starbucks.

In Exodus, when the Israelites were out in the desert, God promised them that He would provide them food. And He did. He made it rain freaking bread. And when the Israelites saw it in the morning, all they could do was ask, "What is it?" (Which is what manna means.) "And Moses said to them, 'It is the bread that the Lord has given you to eat.' (Exodus 16:15 ESV)

That's when I would have said, "Moses. You obviously just ate a hallucenogenic cactus. How are you making any sense of this?"

Because the Israelites knew that the provision was coming. They were just expecting it on their terms. Nobody prayed for God to rain bread. So they couldn't recognize God's provision when it came.

So yeah, I'm super confused on why I had to drop my classes because I couldn't afford the gas and also now can't afford to pay for the dent in this kid's truck, or why I need to pick up full time hours when I thought I was supposed to still be a kid, or why things look nothing how I expected them to look when I told God to take my new year and turn it into a reflection of his glory.

What is this?

I didn't pray for no bread rain. But God gave me some bread rain. His ways are not my ways, and I don't have to understand the reason he does what he does. I just have to pray for the eyes to see that he is working everything for good. And he knows just what he is doing. And everything that happens can be used by him for his glory. It's shaping me into who I, specifically, adult graduated Hannah Durham, need to be. Even if it's less than glorious and makes no sense.

And accepting that has made me super happy. So happy that I laughed for about thirty minutes over my mirror falling off my car. I've got joy, at least. And confidence that God knows just how to provide.

Oh, this season will be good.

Oh.

*2013 Repost*

So I was like, “God. Thanks that you’re so committed to shaping my life. I mean, if anyone should be committed, it’s me. This is my life. I don’t know why you even take the time to work on the process of healing me and transforming me. This isn’t your life. It’s mine.”

Then God’s like, “You are not your own. You were bought with a price. Of course I’m invested into seeing you change! My down payment to redeem you was me dying on a cross. I paid for the opportunity to call you mine and shape you into the person I always knew you could be. I paid for the opportunity to be given room to work with what you’ve got. I’m not going to give up on what I paid so much for.”

Then I was like, “Oh.”

Salem

*2013 Repost*

So around Halloween, people get all psyched out about weird stuff. Or they just see it as an excuse to dress up like a pony, whatever. But anyway, if you’re into all that creepy Halloween stuff, Salem is the place to be, because of all of that Salem Witch Trial stuff. It’s fun, I guess, getting scared about witches. But Christians get all weird about it. They call it satanic and all of that stuff. I’m not gonna lie, it can get a little weird, but let me just ask this: What’s worse, the Halloween festivals or the way Christians acted during the Salem Witch trials?

What was the point of those again? A bunch of Christians getting together to judge people and kill them if they thought they were wrong? So yes, if I were an atheist looking for a reason to hate Christians, that would be my reasoning right there. Because here’s the thing: No matter how much we as Christians condemn what happened at the Salem witch trials, and no matter how much we disassociate ourselves with that as a religion, a lot of us are still very much the same as the ones who burned people at the stake.

We have this attitude, as Christians in general. Not all, but enough for it to bother me. It’s something like, “I’m right and I know I’m right. You’re wrong and I know you’re wrong. You can argue with me all you want, but I win in the end. And that’s that. So you can argue all you want. Because I’ll win. And in the end, the reason I argue with you is because I want you to admit that I’m right. I don’t care if things work out for you. I just want to be right. So go right ahead and believe what you believe, and when you’re burning in hell, you’ll wish you would have listened to me.”

Tell me that’s not the exact same attitude that made church members pick people from the community and throw them in water to see if they’d drown, just to prove that they were a witch. We pick up nonbelievers and, basically, try to throw them into hell just to prove that we as Christ-believers are right. A lot of the time, we don’t want to be right to save people or promote the love of God. We want to be right because it makes us look better. It proves we aren’t delusional. You’ll see one day, we seethe.

So we have an attitude like that, yet think we’re morally superior to nonbelievers because we usually don’t cuss and usually don’t smoke.

Okay. I, for one, am going to give myself higher standards to live by. Maybe, I’ll go all out, and actually try to care about people more than I care about being better than them. Like, you know, how Jesus did.

Alias

*2013 Repost*

I was thinking today about what it would be like to write a book about my work life. Okay, look, if you don’t think that would be interesting, you obviously have never ridden a bike through a frozen yogurt store or chased customers out the door and ran into the window while doing so.
But, my first thought about writing the book was: If I do this, I’ll need an alias.
Because I want to publish books about Jesus, right? And I didn’t want all the stupid things I do associated with my name. Wouldn’t wanna hurt my reputation when people go to look at Christian books. And besides that, I would lose my job so hard.
It hit me so hard. How many times in my life have I wished I could use an alias? “Wouldn’t wanna hurt my reputation as a Christian, buuuut I would love to do this right now.” Am I right? How many times would I have done dumber things than I’ve already done if I knew my name wouldn’t get around for it? You know I wished I was using an alias that time I had to chase a kid down for stealing my phone and I called him everything the Bible says not to call someone.
But that’s the thing: Being a Christian isn’t about living up to a standard, and hiding yourself when your best efforts aren’t enough. It’s about being transformed. It’s about making mistakes, and being honest about them. It’s about having no shame, even when we fail, because we have forgiveness in Christ. And there’s no need for an alias, because when others see your life, they’ll see your mistakes, yes, but they’ll also see the transformation. They’ll see you get up and do better the next time. And that’s when they’ll wonder what you have that makes you so different. If they only saw you when you were perfect, how would they ever have an example of the work of the redemption of Christ?
No, don’t flaunt your sins to the world, hoping they’re inspired by how forgiven you are. But for the love of God, don’t try to compartmentalize your life to make some think you’re perfect and others think you’re the dumbest person alive. Just be your mistake-making, forgiven, perfectly imperfect self.