Tag: Blessings

  • The Suffering Saint

    The Suffering Saint

    Recently, I have spent a lot of time thinking about suffering and my desire to avoid it at all costs.  It sucks to suffer. End of story.  January was laden with suffering and loss for a few of my friends; 3 funerals in 3 weeks to remember the lives of 2 fathers and 1 son.  Grief and sorrow have a way of lingering.    Jesus agreed with this sentiment as reflected in Matthew 26:38, where he stated, “My soul is overwhelmed with sorrow to the point of death…”  Again, suffering sucks.  The unsettling truth is that as a follower of Jesus, I should not only come to expect the blessings of God, but with great certainty I should be mindful that suffering is also on the path of sanctification. Difficult truth.  And it sucks.

    suf·fer
    ˈsəfər/
    verb
         1. experience or be subjected to (something bad or unpleasant).
    This fixation on the avoidance of suffering came about after spending time visiting a friend in South Africa, where there is a chasm of classism left from the wreckage of apartheid.  During this visit more than any other, there was an acute awareness of the role that race has played in providing privilege to some and not to others.  As our conversations grew in depth, we both surmised that without even knowing it, we had developed an unhealthy expectation of “entitlement” to blessings as a believer and follower of Jesus Christ.
     en·ti·tled
    inˈtīdld,enˈtīdld/
    adjective
    1. believing oneself to be inherently deserving of privileges or special treatment
    It was almost as if we had said to God, suffering is for someone else, definitely not me. This unspoken paradigm of entitlement can wreak havoc on our faith when suffering arrives.  I then began to ask this friend how she maintained her faith during her most difficult moment when she suffered the loss of someone she loves.  She stated very simply and profoundly to “loosen my grip.”  Loosen my grip on the possessions I have.  Loosen my grip on the relationships that I hold dear.  Loosen my grip on my definition of what my life should be at this exact moment.  The “loosening of the grip” is an expression to hold those things and relationships dearly loved loosely in your hands, with gratitude and knowledge that all those things belong to God.  All of them.

    “Following Jesus wholeheartedly means facing the “most brutal facts of our current reality, whatever they might be” while holding on to our absolute certainty that we “prevail in the end” through his love and grace.” – Rick Lawrence, Jesus-Centered Life

    Perhaps a small part of what makes suffering bearable is our ability to savor what is good in that moment.  Another nugget of truth is that we can’t always see the things that are good in the moment of suffering.  What I learned during my time with my friend is that it is NOT in the overt acknowledgement of “all that is good” that gratitude arises.  It actually arises as we choose to be present with those who are suffering.  Present during the smiles. Present during the sorrow.  Present during the silence.

    I observed a lot of natural beauty during my time in South Africa, but there was nothing more beautiful than the comfort of a friendship that has lasted 13 years.  There was no pretense.  I liken it to the comfort of a good pair of old jeans.  They have holes, they aren’t perfect, but they fit in all the right places.

    I thought my time in South Africa would leave me only longing to ease the suffering of strangers.  That occurred.  I didn’t know that my time in South Africa would teach me in part, how to lament with the suffering saint and also teach me that suffering/sorrow/grief has no zip code.

     

    I want Jesus; fully and completely.  However, I still don’t want to suffer, but if I must, may I do so by leaning into Jesus and loosening my grip on all the things I’ve deemed too precious to lose.

  • Dichotomy of Thirst

    Dichotomy of Thirst

    I am humored that the term “thirsty” has taken on a negative narrative.  I’m sure you know it…to be thirsty is to be desperate [for a man], so the new narrative goes.  So, as a woman in my mid-thirties, I often want to avoid the topic of marriage and my future husband because in no way do I want to appear thirsty.  But, as I began to think about it, I can see how all Christians face a dichotomy of thirst; a sort of decision we will have to make when two types of thirsts appeal to us.

    Truth is, I am thirsty – I said it.  I want to re-define thirst as it appears in Webster for the sake of this conversation.  Thirsty: feeling a strong desire or need for something.  There is a real desire to be married, but this desire also competes with my desire for God.  There is a real competition for my time, thoughts, and affection to be given in greater capacity to one more than the other.  There’s the dichotomy.  There’s always something demanding more of us and competing with God’s position of first place in our heart.  It may be a relationship, idea of success, or the pursuit of money.

    Below is a poem I wrote as I wrestled with the reality that my future husband’s love for me will also be something I must place on the alter before God.  There’s no space for idols.   Can I love both God and my [future] husband as they deserve?  Will my love for my husband cause me to become negligent in some way in my love for Christ?

    Dichotomy of Thirst

    How can I thirst for you and for Him  simultaneously?

    Simultaneously longing for the love of a man and the eternal love of the God man, Jesus.

    Can there be two possessor’s of my heart or will one of the suitors be left in the dark?

    Seemingly unrealistic to think my heart can contain all of the love from both of you.

    A pursuit so relentless that I must relinquish all of me.

    To be discovered, covered,  and chosen by one who is bone of my bone, flesh of my flesh.

    To be known so deeply that even the hairs on my head are numbered.  Seperator of my sins as far as the east from the west.  Engulfed by the one who loves me best.

    I have no justification for the latter love I speak of;  a most treasured gift o’ grace.

    This grace allows me to keep my love for my first love, FIRST.

    You see there is no dichotomy when I abide in thee.  When I make my resting place your bosom, I find my heart no longer at war, but rather at peace.

    For I realize that there is no love greater than yours, but that you also made space for a courageous heart to walk WITH me in this race.

    And while I long to meet him, I am reminded that I can love him most fully when I love you most fully.

    Thank you for allowing my heart to make room for another love.  To fill a desire given by You from above.

    As the two of you share space, I promise to give you first dibs.  I love you my forever Bride King Jesus and my future husband to be.

    —–

    All throughout this journey with Jesus, we must honestly ask ourselves whether or not our desire for _________________  is greater than our desire for Jesus.  Thirst is normal (naturally and metaphorically), but how it is filled makes all the difference.  May Christ be the first to meet our deep need and longing for love and every other desire pale in comparison.

    “O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you;
        my soul thirsts for you;
    my flesh faints for you,
        as in a dry and weary land where there is no water.” – Psalm 63:1

  • No Sweeter Words

    No Sweeter Words

    Today marks the 1 year anniversary of the Precious Predilections blog.  The “start” of this blog has been liberating.  Writing has allowed me to courageously share things that would otherwise become a passing thought.  In so many ways writing has become for me the unveiling of the broken and beautiful things that occurred last year.  So as we start this new year, I want to begin by sharing some of the sweetest words I’ve known.  These words remind me of the miracle of life that God has bestowed upon me.  They remind me that God knew what He was doing when He inspired my mom to name me Precious.  These words are the sweetest.  In honor of the start of a new year, I want the first blog post of the year to honor someone that I love and hold dear.

    Happy New Year 2016 replace 2015 concept on the sea beach

    No sweeter words than those spoken over me by mother 18 years ago.  She has written many poems and I have them in my possession, but this one holds a special place in my heart.  No formal, stylistic lessons on writing poems here. No soliloquies.   Just a mother inspired to encourage her daughter.  A mother inspired to share a story.  A mother moved to make indelible impressions on my heart with the stroke of her pen.

    My Child

    One minute after you were born your breath was snatched away, but by God’s grace you were saved that day. Two pounds and five ounces that’s all you weighed, on what i thought would be a faithless day.  They shaved your hair, put needles from head
    to feet.  I hung my head and cried in defeat.  God sent his angel in the form of
    my mom to comfort me and hold me and say well done.  He said shake off the blues, everything will be alright.  Don’t you know, she was born to fight?  

    You have never been mine, just a loan you see.  For from day one God had control of thee.  You were born with so many problems, but He took them away.  No open heart surgery for you He said that day.  That hole in your heart I’ll fill it with love.  You’ll float through life on the wings of a dove.

    Mom2
    My Momma – Christmas 2015

     

    I’ve watched you grow a joy to behold, God’s love has
     surrounded you as your life unfolds.  At the age of twelve He claimed you again.  Now isn’t this how my story began? Into your life came Freddie Filmore, Jr. (Chip), he worked at P.A.L.  Who knew he’d be more?  He took you into his heart, helped teach you about God, but that was just the beginning of his part.  Then came the pastor, his wife and family, and a group of people at Freedom Ministries.  

    I’ve watched you grow for eighteen years.  Your desires and needs our God has fulfilled.  Now you’re leaving home; you’ll be on your own.  I want you to know that you’ll never be alone.  You have brought me peace, so much joy to my life, but I can hear you say “that’s just the Jesus in me.” I miss you already.  I don’t want to let you go, but I know that you know that I love you so.  So hold your head high, stand tall and be strong.  And remember who you are, the daughter of Casa Lee Young. 

    Mom, It is eighteen years later and I am still growing.  Thank you for being my first teacher.  Thank you for being my present teacher.  And thank you for being my first writing inspiration.  Here’s to the moments and memories of 2016 that will move my fingers to type.  Here’s to another year of blogging.  Thank you all for your support.

  • The Blessings and Burdens of being Black

    burdenA burden by definition is a load that is especially heavy for one to carry. A blessing, on the contrary, is a beneficial thing for which one is grateful.  Is it feasible for someone to be grateful for a load that is especially heavy for them to carry?  I submit to you that it depends on the load.  There is not a day that I rise that I am not grateful that God made me a Black woman.  This is true.  I am honored and proud to be Black.  But there is another truth; and it is that I’ve had some negative experiences as a direct result of being Black.

    Today I would like for readers to reflect upon a burden that is carried and rarely spoken of.  It is the burden of being Black.  In the same vein, I ask readers to identify blessings of being Black.  I have asked friends and family (across gender, socioeconomic, and demographic strata) to provide their perspective and highlight what they see as some of the blessings and burdens of being Black.  Their responses are honest and thought provoking.  I implore you to take a gander.

    Some of the BLESSINGS of being Black:

    1. I love the fellowship of sistaness and the support and love from Black brothas.  I love how we celebrate and lament our lives together.
    2. Though I have been fed lies as a Black man, the validity of my worth as a human isn’t hinged on another group of people feeling less than.
    3. It is a blessing that many Blacks have developed a sympathy for the un-white/ non-western world.
    4. As a Black woman, I feel powerful.  Knowing that some people’s perception of me incite feelings of intimidation, gives me a slight advantage and presumed confidence.
    5. Blacks have a culture that encompasses a lot of good, including THE ABILITY TO DANCE!
    6. We are blessed to possess DNA that enabled us to survive the treacherous roar of the Middle Passage. Blacks all over the world were stripped from their homeland only to be beaten and starved in every corner of the earth. Somehow we now outnumber the Europeans who trafficked us. Our greatest blessing is biologically proven strength.
    7. I don’t know what the blessing is of being Black, said a 5 year old girl.
    8. Black women are stigmatized as strong and overbearing. I find this a blessing because in leadership roles, especially at work, when decisions have to be made as a lead administrator, people are not surprised by my “strong personality” and tend to follow more willingly. It’s sort of a catch 22 because in my world where I work with older white men, women in general are not expected to be very vocal or to have strong opinions. As a black woman, I unfortunately get a “pass.” They may even talk about me and stereotype me, but they do what I ask them to do. This stigmatization/stereotype makes me less likely to be incorrectly handled or taken advantage of in a work environment.
    9. It is a blessing to be a part of a strong heritage.  When I look at what we have overcome as a people, and even in my own family, I am reminded of the strength that my ancestors have walked in before me.  I remind my children of their heritage to realize that no matter what they face, they come from a lineage of over-comers.
    10. The African Diaspora is beautiful. The harmony of colors found in a people group. The collective community. The pride of surviving hate crimes against our skin with love. We are a grateful people who have learned that weapons drawn against you can be a witness of grace for future generations.

    Some of the BURDENS of being Black

    1. I don’t view being Black as a blessing or a burden. I view other people’s reaction to the fact that I’m black as the burden.
    2. As a Black male, it is a burden to fight for the freedom of an independent existence without the burden of stereotypes, generalizations, and unfair expectations.
    3. It is a burden to get others who’ve succumbed to the oppression of Blacks, to see the light.
    4. As an American descendant of the African diaspora, I am confronted with the barrier of conformity on a regular basis. Most blacks will experience an inability to conform to their Eurocentric environments without losing a portion of who God created them to be. The workplace provides an excellent example, as natural hair can present a problem in many corporate environments. Unfortunately, the barrier of conformity extends far beyond the workplace.
    5. The profiling of Black people sometimes turns out to be true. Our communities need more role models because we often fall into the stereo types that are placed on us.
    6. It burdens me that Blacks are presumed guilty and incompetent until proven otherwise.
    7. As a young Black teenage male, I am burdened when I see  that other students (of other races, white particularly) are allowed to be outspoken on any topic and not be called out by the teacher. On the other hand, when I am outspoken on the exact same thing, I’m told to quiet down or not share my views.
    8. Blacks have to work twice as hard as our white counterparts, only to get half as far as they have. This speaks, I feel, to the work place. Biases, perceptions, experiences, and the media paint a picture of African Americans that we have to overcome to gain respect in the marketplace (sometimes not given the benefit of the doubt).
    9. I am burdened that I have to prove over and over that being Black doesn’t make me who others think I am.  I’m just as good as anybody. The color of my skin does not define who I am.
    10. I hate having to prove that my Black experience is valid…over and over and over again.  It’s so hard – and sometimes I have to do it with other Black people too.  I also grieve at the colorism – why in the heck would I ever be more beautiful than my sistas that are darker than me?
    11. It burdens me that we are still fighting for something which every human is entitle to, and that is equality.
    12. I am burdened by the media’s repeated negative portrayal of the Black community because some folks then take these misconceptions/inaccurate portrayals (along with other preconceived notions and judgments) to dictate how they treat the Black diaspora.
    13. As a Black man in America, I am constantly put under the radar whenever I step outside of the box. I am still not welcomed with open arms until proving that I am not what others fear.
    14. I struggle not necessarily as a black woman, but as a black woman with natural hair. There is something about natural, kinky textured hair that is less acceptable in corporate America. Most of my counterparts have hair that is bone straight or the black women have perms/straightened hair. When I meet new people or have to be the face of the department at an event, I always pull my hair back. I never wear It out for the fear that I will be taken less seriously or perceived as less professional than my counter parts. I have to work twice as hard to make sure that people not only see beyond my skin color, but beyond my hair as well.
    15. Blacks are captured and live on captured land.  The fertility of our land has been removed from our hands and so our opportunity for wealth. Our minds have been captured by concepts of superiority, favoritism and division based on race. Our hearts have been removed from our communities and have assimilated into an individualistic paradigm leaving us disengaged and vulnerable.
    As in the lyrics of the song, “Glory” by John Legend, is there a possibility for the “…Sins that go against our skin to become blessings?” Can our burdens be turned into blessings? I believe that some of them have. This blog has been written in honor of Black History Month, to provide a sneak peek into some of the present day predilections of various generations of Black people.  However, blessings and burdens are not exclusive to one ethnicity.  I hope this post will help us all acknowledge that each ethnic group possesses blessings and burdens of being born into that particular group.  As I spoke with many who provided input for this blog, they mentioned the natural tendency to focus on the burdens and the difficulty of identifying blessings.  There is no doubt that these burdens are heavy, but if we all lift together, it will be lighter.  I have found my burdens much easier to bear when others simply recognize that what I am “carrying” is too heavy and they come along side me to help me lift.  They lift even if my burden was not their burden initially.    For me, many of my friends and family have helped me lift my confidence, my courage, and my pride in the beauty of this hue I’ve been given.    Whose burden can you help lift today?  #itdoesntmatterifyouareblackorwhite  #helpliftsomeonesburden
    Bear one another’s burdens, and so fulfill the law of Christ.  Galatians 6:2 (ESV)