Forgiveness is a strong woman, tender and earthy and direct. Since her children have left home, she has embarked on an extended walking tour, visiting ruins and old monuments, bathing in rivers and hot springs, traveling through the small towns and large pulsing cities, tracing the current of sorrow under the stories she hears. Sometimes the city authorities and officials don’t want her within their gates; but if the people want her there enough, she always manages to find a way inside.
Forgiveness brings gifts wherever she goes. Simple ones, a three-stranded twig with leaves turning yellow, a belt she wove on an inkle loom, a little song that grows inside you and changes everything. She brought me a silver ring from the South with a pale stone, pink with a hint of brown. When I had asthma, she taught me how to breathe.
I read this quote and I think about forgiveness and reconciliation in Rwanda. I think about forgiveness among families of our clients in Uganda. I think about the forgiveness between estranged family members. Forgiveness between friends and enemies. I think about the need for my heart to forgive. The forgiveness of my heart, and forgiveness of others. And I breathe deeply as I think about the forgiveness of my sins that gave me life.
I have a tumblr. The name was inspired by this quote:
“…for he had come to think that so long as a man wants to do right he may go where he can: ‘He must really want to do right, and not merely fancy he does. He must want it with his heart and will, and not with his rag of a tongue'” – The Princess and Curdie, George MacDonald
I also wrote this post about adventure a few months ago. I’m a little overdue… but I haven’t forgotten about this promise that I made to myself to live each day as an adventure.
You see, there’s been a lot of changes in my life. In the past few months: I moved to D.C. for a job here, met a lot of very valuable people along the way, and I’m about to get my M.A. degree in about a week. But I feel like my life is missing will. It has heart, but I need some will, or mojo back in my life.
But I can’t help feeling… that my life is mundane and it’s missing something. I feel like life is passing by and I’m not really living it. So here I am, I’m going to make a conscious effort to seek adventure in items and moments of gratefulness each day and document it as a picture for the 24th year of my life.
I’m in between transitions and I find myself identifying myself. Many of us seem to define our worth by:
We’re great with defining worth by things that are tangible yet ephemeral. We’re also great with making things that were meant to be supplements, our idols. And we somehow manipulate these areas of life to define our worth, to define our sense of self and identity. As Red Hot Chili Peppers sings, each day I realize, “the more I see the less I know the more I like to let it go.” But there are two things that I grow more certain of each day:
i. I will never really be good enough. There will always be someone better than myself. I lack and that’s a hard fact. What I do with this knowledge will set me apart from who I am today and who I was meant to be tomorrow; and
ii. I don’t deserve anything. However, despite all the areas that I lack, He is made perfect in my weakness. Furthermore, I have the liberty to solely rely on: His grace is sufficient for me (2 Corinthians 12:9). Knowing that I am not good enough illuminates unconditional grace and love more than ever. Because I know that I am not enough, and will never be enough, I drop to my knees as I come to appreciate grace so much more.
I don’t have to define my worth. It is written in the Word and nailed on the cross. My life was worth the ultimate price.
A mustard seed is… 1 – 2 mm in diameter. Whompwhomp. What does that mean? It means it’s tiny. You know that @ button on your keyboard? A mustard seed roughly the size of the a in @. Crazy tiny right?
In the bible, Jesus says: “For truly, I say to you, if you have faith like a grain of mustard seed, you will say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move, and nothing will be impossible for you” (Matthew 17:20).
Which makes me think… I definitely can’t move mountains. Not only can I not move mountains, I have zero faith in believing that I can move mountains. So what does that say about me?
My faith is smaller than a mustard seed. And even with that tiny, tiny, little faith of mine, God uses my life to do things—to do big things that I probably don’t even know about. Now my friends, that is the manifestation of grace when our faith is weak. That is the grace that supplements our faith and fulfills the covenant to the utmost.
And to take it all one step further: It’s not faith in believing that I can do this. It’s faith in knowing that God is bigger than this. And really etching “all things are possible with God” (Mark 10:27) into our hearts. And having faith in that—in Him. Walking in faith in knowing that He has conquered all and nothing is beyond His reach.