Vindicated

Hope dangles on a string like slow spinning redemption
Winding in and winding out, the shine of it has caught my eye
And roped me in, so mesmerizing and so hypnotizing
I am captivated, I am

Vindicated, I am selfish, I am wrong, I am right
I swear I'm right, swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore, you saw yourself

So clear like the diamond in your ring, cut to mirror your intention
Over sized and overwhelmed, the shine of which has caught my eye
And rendered me so isolated and so motivated
I am certain now that I am

Vindicated, I am selfish, I am wrong, I am right
I swear I'm right, swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore, you saw yourself

So turn up the corners of your lips
Part them and feel my finger tips
Trace the moment, fall forever

Defense is paper thin
Just one touch and I'll be in
Too deep now to ever swim against the current

So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip against the current
So let me slip away, so let me slip away
So let me slip away, so let me slip away

Vindicated, I am selfish, I am wrong, I am right
I swear I'm right, swear I knew it all along
And I am flawed, but I am cleaning up so well
I am seeing in me now the things you swore, you saw yourself

Slight hope dangles on a string
Like slow spinning redemption


-Dashboard Confessional

To My Sisters

I was born in 1988, but before me there was a boy named Matt who was born in 1986, and before him in 1982, there was another boy named Ken. And we were the three children in my home.

There were none after me. And as often as I dressed up my cabbage patch doll and called her my sister, I never had a sister. And as often as I implored my mom to get me one, she never did.

The only sisters that I find myself having are those who are close friends, and those who are in Christ. You might think that it is not the same, but having two older brothers, it feels like it can’t be so much different: You let me wear your eyeliner and your clothes, though your shoes never have fit me. And we stay up before going to bed and talk about all of the “hes” and “hims”.

Fortunately, your “hes” and “hims” are much like mine, and the thoughts you have are much like mine, and in these similarities I find that, well, I have many sisters. And because you are my sisters, I want to take time to write to you out of love.

The other night, well, more like the other, other night, I was talking to one of my “sisters,” and we both had a revelation. And this is it:

Just because we’ve grown up surrounded by “hims” and “hes” who say the wrong things, and do the wrong things, and forget, and seem to lose our names amongst a list of names, and are never there when.., and use too many words to beat around the bush…well, they aren’t the only “hims” and “hes.” In fact, if you didn’t already know this, I’m telling you because until a few days ago, I hadn’t really made the distinction between the two.

Growing up, just as you did, I’ve grown up with the same guys you did. And some of them, you’ve categorized as “alright” since they seemed pretty sincere when talking with you, and they weren’t angry drunks, and though you doubted them when they said things like, “I’ll call”, or” I’ll remember”, or “I’ll be there…” you knew that “deep down” they were really nice guys.

In fact, you were so convinced of this (them being nice guys), that when they actually did forget, or acted the part of the jerk, or did some other “guy” thing, you were actually shocked. And your feelings were hurt, and maybe your heart was hurt, but in the end, you knew that guys were just guys.

Here’s the thing I’m getting to, “Guys are just guys” is basically giving guys who act like jerks the excuse that it’s ok for them to be punks because all the other guys do it. And if you grew up in the same town as me, then all of the other guys really were doing it, and the ones who did it just a little less than the others seemed great, so when they forgot just a little less often, or said something wrong a little less often, well, you considered them nice guys…

I realized the other, other day, that all of the things that I want my guy friends and far into the future husband to be aren’t ridiculous. And this whole time, due to thinking that "guys are just guys," I thought they were…

Guards my heart…
Is considerate and kind
Little things are important
Cares about me
Is honest
Loves the Lord

Those are basically the things I wrote down on a pink piece of paper when I was thirteen about the kind of relationship (and I would say friendships) I wanted. And I don’t even know how many times I’ve wanted to erase something here or there because it seemed “unrealistic”; Like wanting the person you’re dating- or friends with- to care, or to guard your heart, or to be honest, or to remember you, is asking too much of them.

I don’t know if you do this too. Do you lie awake and dream about the kind of man who is going to be sweet, and leave you little notes, or bring you flowers, or call you because he misses you, and then feel guilty for wanting too much, or childishly hoping for too much? Do you let “guys be guys” because you don’t know the difference? Do you let “guys be guys” because you don’t want to be too demanding? D you let “guys be guys” because you didn’t know there was another kind….because I have.

There is another kind. I’ve caught glimpses of him. He puts others before himself, and he says the right things when you need him to, and he’s there when you need him to be, and he says he’s sorry when he should, and he’s patient, and he’s kind, and even if he is just a friend, all of the above still holds true. And he is rare, and that’s why it’s so easy to forget that he isn’t just a dream you had, or an idea that flickered in your mind.

Don’t believe me? Go read Song of Solomon. All of those things that I wanted, and maybe you wanted, are there. And they are just as beautiful as you and I “imagined” them to be. And I’m encouraged to want them as much as I always have.

What would be the point of hunger if there were no such thing as food? And what would be the point of these “silly” desires for honesty, and love, and tenderness if they didn’t exist? There wouldn’t be, BUT there is hunger because there is food, and we have these desires, because those things we thought we dreamed up exist, in relationships and in friendships, because God created them, and Song of Solomon is testimony to that. And though some of us are called to longer times of singleness, and even permanent singleness, I believe that many of those things can still be found in God.

I wanted to tell you to forget about those guys who keep forgetting you. I wanted to tell you to let go and move on past the guys in junior high or high school or college who said the wrong things and left you feeling like you were less than you are. I wanted to tell you that “he” exists, as rare and almost invisible as he seems sometimes, “he” exists. I wanted to tell you that you aren’t demanding, you aren’t asking for too much, and it’s ok to have “silly” lists with things on it like, “misses me, and cares, and is honest, and pursues me.”

I wanted to tell you that, as my sister, I love you, and your little notes, and flowered diaries, and hopes are just as real, and tangible as mine.

To the Brim

It’s 2:54 AM. I really should be sleeping since I have to get up in 4 hours for an exam, but I’m filled to the brim, and like anything else filled to the brim, I’m overflowing.

What’s on my mind?

Love, grace, forgiveness, hope, ridiculous amounts of optimism, peace, contentment, joy, and all of those beautiful things that any man would spend his life striving for.

Remember my affliction and my wanderings,
The wormwood and the fall!
My soul continually remembers it
And is bowed down within me,
But this I call to mind,
And therefore I have hope:

The steadfast love of the Lord never ceases,
His mercies never come to an end;
They are new every morning;
Great is your faithfulness.
“The Lord is my portion,” says my soul,
“therefore I will hope in him.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
To the soul who seeks him.
It is good that one should wait quietly
For the salvation of the Lord…

Lamentations 3:19-32

It’s funny how I forget that when you search for the Lord, you find Him. I think I go about life sometimes expecting Him always to be at a distance or anonymous or, you know, putting me through the wilderness.

And I get so comfortable out in the wilderness, like mentioned in Isaiah 43, that I forget about the river. And how reviving, good, and beautiful is that river.

Life is hard. You know this, I know this. School is confusing, boys are confusing, purpose in life can get confusing, or our families; even God can get a little confusing. But I get so desensitized to life being hard that it becomes normal. So I move on, just like you move on, shuffling along in my little desert, content that the sun hasn’t completely evaporated me yet.

But as the steps go on, it seems my heart dries out a little more, gets a little more brittle, loses a little more hope, or maybe a little more faith. And that’s when I start losing my breath, and my chest starts to constrict, and my head feels dizzy, and my feet feel heavy, and when I exhale, I never seem to get rid of the collecting sand and dust in my lungs.

And when you’re in the desert, you get used to always being thirsty and tired. You don’t remember how you got there, because it seems, you’ve been there for quite some time, and you can’t remember the day the walk started.

And you never expect to find a well, and certainly not a river. And you forget that maybe you’re in the desert, the wilderness, not because you set foot there on purpose, but because God lead you there, out of love. And you forgot that in the desert, the Lord was hoping you’d draw near to Him, that you’d get to know Him better, or depend on Him solely.

He was hoping you’d call. Hoping you’d remember Him. Hoping you’d let Him lead you somewhere good, but instead you forget the moment it gets too hot, and you get thirsty, and your feet get tired, and you end up wandering on your own to nowhere in particular…hoping to find your way out…and all the while, hope, and joy, and peace are mirages. Because in the moments you think you’ve found them on your own, you open your hands to find them all gone.

And the desert gets bigger, and you get smaller, and it all becomes about “life is just hard.” Because that’s the way it is.

But you remember God. It might take some time. Maybe a day, maybe a week, maybe a month, maybe a year, but you’ll remember Him, because He’s way too big to actually forget, or to not miss, or to not see. And you remember how God spoke to Jacob in the desert when he was alone, or Moses and the Israelites, or Jesus.

The Lord is good to those who wait for him,
To the soul who seeks him.

Draw near to God, and He will draw near to you, James 4:8 says. It’s so obvious, and yet, so hard for us to do, and by us, I mean me. Draw near to God AND He will draw near to you. He leads us into the desert hoping we’ll draw near, and for some of us, it doesn’t take too long to figure out, and then for the rest of us, we walk aimlessly while God stands at the river bank, just waiting for us to call out so that He can offer us living water, and rest for our tired and dusty souls.

But what I love most is that, even when the call is pitiful, and small, and not even close to being elegantly spoken, He’s there. “Then you will call upon me and come and pray to me, and I will hear you. You will seek me and find me. When you seek me with all your heart, I will be found by you…”Jeremiah 29 says.

It’s hard for a man to find treasure when he’s roaming aimlessly. But give the man a real desire, a map with an X, and a shovel, and he’ll find it. He’ll find it when he searches with all of strength and with all of his heart. Wanting to find the treasure won’t make the journey any better, the dig any easier, and the pulling the chest out less painful, BUT he will find the treasure. Even with blisters on his feet, and palms, and chest, and the other pains he will continue to have in order take the treasure home, he’s perfectly content because what he found was of great worth.

The truth of the matter is: Life is hard. Days get long. Nights get longer. Inhaling and Exhaling takes more effort on some days than others. Shoulders get heavy. Feet shuffle. And the sun burns. But God is there too. And though the long days will still exist, if you search Him out, you’ll find Him, and you’ll find that though nothing else in this world will change, He’ll fill the cracks in your heart, somehow, and He’ll lighten your step, and satisfy some deeper thirst we all have. And you’ll discover this thing called peace; that kind that surpasses all understanding.

Because the thing is, I can’t explain this peace to you because it does surpass understanding. It’s a contradiction. A dichotomy. An Oxymoron. You would be shocked to see someone contently walk through fire, or remain calm as a friend stabs them in the back, or stand, with quiet contentment, at the headstone of a loved one. Is it not just as shocking that one could walk through this life, with all of its trials, and tribulations, ugly truths, cruelties, and tests, with peace and joy?

Peace doesn’t depend on circumstances because it’s founded on God. And unlike other feelings that come and go on a whim, peace and joy are constant because God is constant. And to find them, one must continuously call on God,and when He shows up, through prayer or the Word, He’ll lead you out of your little desert, and He’ll fill you up to the rim, and you’ll want to overflow. Despite ALL of the everything elses,you will overflow, maybe some days more than others, but on the days you're not overflowing, God is filling.

“If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, ‘Out of his heart will flow the rivers of living water.’ ” – Jesus (John 7:37)

You are Mine

I have recently rediscovered Ray LaMontagne, and one of his songs called “Jolene.” I’m not sure why, but I could listen to this song every day for the rest of my life. It’s just one of those songs.

When I hear it, I see an old record player spinning on a hard wood floor, and rain rolling down window after window, and I imagine a man sitting there-smoking a cigarette- thinking, “it’s too late.” But who hasn’t been there before?

This morning I woke up and meandered, like usual, and then I remembered my favorite chapter in the bible, Isaiah 43. Now, these two isolated happenings may seem completely unrelated to one another, but they have basically laced fingers in a hand hold.

“Jolene” is all regret. It’s all “this is what I should have done,” and “this is the way it is.” Not to mention that he’s in a ditch with “beer in his hair, and blood on his lips,” and I’m sure his heart is in the same condition:

“I still don’t know what love means, I still don’t know what love means.”

But I still listen to it over and over and over again. The question isn’t why, because if you’re human, even if you don’t know a Jolene, and didn’t just buy a “hard pack of cigarettes, in the early morning rain” you’ve, at some point in your life, found yourself bleeding and bruised in a ditch.

This is a metaphor of course; if you’ve actually found yourself in this condition before, I apologize for bringing it up again…and I’d advise you to be more cautious in the future

Been so long since I seen your face
Or felt a part of this human race
I've been living out of this here suitcase for way too long
A man needs something he can hold onto
A nine pound hammer or a woman like you
Either one of them things will do

Yep, we’ve all probably been there. Bad day, so you wake up late, or you lie in bed, or you go to class and daydream about the things gone wrong. “A man needs something to hold on to,” this is true.

And maybe the things we try to hold are heavier than our arms, and shoulders, and backs can handle. And then when it falls through, we’re left bent over, staring at our feet, wondering why in the world we tried carrying “it” in the first place…

And then there’s Isaiah 43. And verse one, the verse that’s scribbled on a white piece of paper and kept in my gold locket.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have called you by name, you are mine.”
I could read that verse every day for the rest of my life because, for some reason, it’s gotten stuck on me too.

It makes the lyrics of “Jolene” disappear, and it makes the crooked back, and worn arms, and tired shoulders of the carrier straighten. It gives a man something to hold on to. And the thing isn’t a woman, or man, or a job or any of the other things we put ourselves into, hoping we’ll keep ourselves from falling…it’s God.

Do you ever sit still and think about God? I mean really think about Him. I assure you, if you try, you won’t be able to do it for very long.

I always start off thinking about how amazing it is that I’m breathing, and seeing, and speaking, and thinking. And then I think, “a breathing, and seeing, and speaking God made me.” And then I think, “He’s there, somewhere.” And then I think….”there’s a God. A God. A great, big, mighty, loving, God.”

And then my mind goes blank and I can only imagine the light, and the love, and the greatness of that idea.

God is stuck on me.

“Fear not for I have redeemed you.”

When I’m lying in the ditch, God’s standing on the side, ready to pick me up and set me somewhere good. He’s just ready. All I have to do is get my mind off of the letdown, and offer my hand.

“I have called you by name, you are mine.”

I know I said that verse one is my favorite, but this part of verse one is actually my favorite because it means more than God redeeming me, and offering me a hand, and pulling me from the muck to set me on solid ground. It means I belong to him.

We belong to God.

It doesn’t seem like a revolutionary thought, but it is. “Fear not, for I have redeemed you,” doesn’t mean I partially forgive, I partially heal, I partially love, it means the opposite. And “I have called you by name, you are mine,” gives me a place, a home, and it isn’t in a ditch, it’s in the Kingdom of God, and if that doesn’t make your knees weak, and your heart light, and your mind fuzzy, I don’t know what else to say.

Is there anything greater than a mother’s love for her baby? Her baby that makes messes, and spills things, and cries, and can’t really do anything to repay the mother for all she’s done, but still, the mother loves the baby anyway, because the baby came from her blood and bones, or in other words, the baby belongs to her. And all the mother really wants isn’t the baby to clean up its own messes, or rock itself to sleep, or grow up quickly and leave her; all she wants is its love and affection. Why? Because she has called the baby by name, and claims it as her own.

We can’t repay God for our debts, and we can’t undo our messes, and though we may be able to walk away from God, it’s actually a longer, darker, and harder walk than the “narrow” one. We have nothing to offer but ourselves. And even so, what we have to offer isn’t even mildly good. It’s like repaying God with pennies when he bought us with gold.
And this amazes me because He wants my pennies. He wants my pennies because, by grace, he can make them into gold. That’s what redemption is. Redemption isn’t taking mistakes, and giving back mistakes. Redemption is taking mistakes and giving back blessings, forgiveness, and unconditional love. Redemption is saving. Redemption is changing. Redemption is Jesus Christ.

Man, it just blows my mind. God exchanges my pennies for gold, or in other words, He exchanges my messes and letdowns for forgiveness and righteousness...

He exchanges my death for His life.

Dakota Skye

If you haven't watched Dakota Skye, it's one of those teen life, indepedent movies. But I like those kind a lot. Anyway, here's the opening scene, and some of the next. It's a good read.

[Cigarette lighter flicks]
JONAH: I still
have the dream sometimes.

I do. I come home from the store
and find you on my doorstep

with a suitcase.

And not your entire wardrobe.

Just a carry-on, a duffel bag.

We don't say anything,

but you have this look
in your eye that kills me.

It just...

And I unlock the door and let you in.

And that's it.
That's the dream.

When I wake up, I wake up happy...

...vibrating for a few seconds
with my head in the sand...

...content.
[Sighs]

Then it goes away, and you go away.

I really don't want
to get out of bed then

because it's cold out there,

but I do.

I get up.
Life goes on.
[Exhales]

Most days you never
even cross my mind.

DAKOTA:Tell me that you love me.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
My name is Dakota Skye.

I'm 18 years old,
only medium-cute,

and I have a superpower.

I can't fly,
I can't turn invisible,

and I'm pretty sure that a bullet
would make me good and dead.

I don't have x-ray vision, either.

Well, not exactly.

The fact is I am
incapable of being lied to.

When someone tells a lie, any lie,
to me, to anyone, I know the truth,
what they really mean,

so there are no lies in my world,

or there are nothing but.