Master and Lord have little place in our vocabulary...

...we prefer the words Saviour, Sanctifier, Healer.  (Oswald)


It's true.  This month has been significant for me: birthday, and two anniversaries of sorts.
Anniversary One: September 1st of 2009 I embarked on a commitment to myself to do new things, to live a bolder and less fearful life, to step it up a bit.  September 1st I went alone to get my first tattoo.  And that was just the beginning.
Anniversary Two: My birthday weekend marks the one-year of a relationship - it began that weekend and ended (rather abruptly) three months later.  And somehow, in the space of a weekend, I gladly gave him a piece of my heart.


Here's the irony in all this: the tattoo - on my ribcage, over my heart - is an Old English word meaning "bound, fettered, captive" (hæftling).  At the beginning of September, I physically and permanently turned my heart over into the care and keeping of my Father.  I offered myself up to be mastered by Him.  And two weeks later, I took part of my heart back and gave it to a man.  He is a good man and deserves all the love and respect of a good woman, but it was not my place to give my heart away any longer.  I'd trusted it to Dad; taking it back only said I didn't trust Him.


It's been a long year.  God presented me with Abraham and Isaac's story over and over during those three months, asking, "Do you trust Me? Do you believe that I have better for you? Will you let Me be the One who makes decisions with your heart?"  I obeyed Him (with all the pieces of my broken heart).  It cost me sleep, energy, ten pounds (that I couldn't really afford to lose), passion, creativity - everything I was proud of in my life.  It cost me a friend.


But our Father never asks us for obedience only to pat us on the head and say, "Tha'll do."  He lavishes His love on us, slowly healing the self-inflicted wounds, reassuring us over and over that He is proud of us.  And His reassurances have not stopped: I finally have the job I've been asking for; enough money to live comfortably and maybe buy my own home; I have sweet, supportive friends; I have resources to help others.


But my Father didn't stop at blessing me - He still speaks directly to my heart, telling me He is indeed the Master.  Saturday morning, birthday weekend 2010, I spent at a community service project organized by our church.  The Trail of Tears motorcycle ride was kicking off as we got started, and my heart was heavy (a year ago I had been falling in love with a man who rode motorcycles, and loved puppies and sunsets, and whose laugh made my heart feel too big for my chest).  I had been praying for him all week and that morning in particular.  As our missions pastor kicked off our day in prayer, he added (almost as an afterthought), "And God, we ask that You protect these motorcycles and their riders, that You keep them safe and bless their efforts.  And God?  I ask that You would save each and every one of them."  Erik didn't know - how could he? - but my Master was telling me He heard my heart's cry.


How quick we are to doubt the good Master!

Who says reflection is only for New Years?

Calvary Chapel Chattanooga's sermon, from September 19, 2010: How to Live with No Regrets.  I hope you like Frank as much as we do!

I had a few minutes to myself last night when all my friends had left, the party had been cleaned up, the dishwasher was running, and a very tired puppy was curled in my lap.  And I was able to relax, to drink the stillness of my house, and to thank my Father for the day - and my life.

I have lived among you all for 26 years.  And looking back, one regret overwhelms the others: I wish that I had made up my mind earlier in my life, that looking back now, I would see a blazing trail of certainty and love instead of a shadowy, moonlit meander.

But it's a bittersweet regret: if I had been more firm, more decisive and sure, I would have missed so many relationships, so many opportunities to learn and grow.  And while the ache of those broken, hurtful relationships lingers in my heart, I wouldn't opt for a "do-over."  I love and miss each of them and am better for having known and loved them.  I can't imagine my life without their addition to the story.

You'll find I quote Kahlil Gibran more often than probably necessary.  But I cannot help myself.

"Your joy is your sorrow unmasked.

And the selfsame well from which your laughter rises was oftentimes filled with your tears.
And how else can it be?
The deeper that sorrow carves into your being, the more joy you can contain.
Is not the cup that holds your wine the very cup that was burned in the potter's oven?
And is not the lute that soothes your spirit, the very wood that was hollowed with knives?
When you are joyous, look deep into your heart and you shall find it is only that which has given you sorrow that is giving you joy.
When you are sorrowful look again in your heart, and you shall see that in truth you are weeping for that which has been your delight."

-On Joy and Sorrow, from The Prophet, by Kahlil Gibran