make war.

I hear so many Christians murmuring, murmuring about their imperfections, and their failures, and their addiction, and their shortcomings. And I see so little war! Murmur, murmur, murmur...Why am I this way? Make war! 

Until you believe that life is war - that the stakes are your soul - you will probably just play at Christianity with no bloodearnestness and no vigilance and no passion and no wartime mindset. If that is where you are this morning, your position is very precarious. The enemy has lulled you into sleep or into a peacetime mentality, as if nothing serious is at stake. And God, in his mercy, has you here this morning, and had this sermon appointed to wake you up, and put you on a wartime footing.
- John Piper

The only possible attitude toward out-of-control desire is a declaration of all-out war. There is something about war that sharpens the senses. You hear a twig snap or the rustling of leaves and you are in attack mode. Someone coughs and you are ready to pull the trigger. Even after days of little or no sleep, war keeps us vigilant. - Ed Welch

Stop making peace with ears and eyes and tongues and hands and feet that betray you like Judas.

on the topic of bugs.

Anyone who has ever had a worst fear can relate to this post. I had a little issue last night, but this actually goes back a bit farther than sixteen hours ago. I need to preface the point with an explanation. This is probably the grossest story you'll ever hear. Ready?

When I was fifteen, there was one evening I was in bed, lights off, talking on the phone with a friend. I really don't know how it happened, but the worst possible thing occurred: a live spider crawled into my mouth while I was awake and talking. I kid you not, I threw the phone across the room, starting spewing and spitting and yelling (somehow all together), and practically fell out of bed. I couldn't find it on me or the floor, so I glanced around hurridly, ignoring my friend's questions and exclamations from the dropped phone, and searched for the bug. Nothing materialized. Needless to say, I didn't get back into bed for a good hour and practically tore my room apart until I found the thing. And then Dad killed it.

More of this drama took place a few months ago. I was getting ready to take a shower and a big, black one crawled out of the drain before I even had a chance to get in. No one else was home, so there I stood, with a hairbrush in hand and wrapped in a towel, eyeing the spider and taunting it with my weapon. But I couldn't even bring myself to kill it. I didn't want to leave the room for fear it would crawl out of the tub unseen and haunt me in some other portion of the house. So there I stood, trapped in the bathroom and owned by a spider the size of a quarter. This is tragic, I know.

Last night, while in bed, I felt the sensation of a bug on my leg. I flew out of bed, whipped the covers back, and searched my sheets. Nothing. A corner of my mind became a bit seized with the thought of crawling back into bed with a spider, and I was tempted to camp out with a fly swatter in the middle of the floor instead. But then a little thought intervened.

I've been reading the book When People Are Big and God is Small by Edward Welch. The section that popped into my head was from Chapter 3:

"What is the result of this people-idolatry? As in all idolatry, the idol we choose to worship soon owns us. The object we fear overcomes us. Although insignificant in itself, the idol becomes huge and rules us. It tells us how to think, what to feel, and how to act."

I realized right then that while I wasn't idolizing spiders, I was allowing the fear of them to control me. The realization actually made me a little angry at myself for being so stupid, so I yanked off the light and climbed back into bed in a huff.

"How silly you are Lauren, letting a spider own you," I thought.

I felt quite empowered and liberated actually. And I think that I am the better now for it - both people-wise and spider-wise. It occurred to me that there's a whole new realm of things you can do if you're fearing only God instead of man and the dark. I hope that if nothing else, my transparency will help you feel like you're not the only one.

take it easy.

I've been feeling a little under the weather lately, and I can't even tell you how wonderful it has been to just sleep and sleep and sleep. Really, I've been in bed about 50% of my normal awake time. Then I saw this post that that pretty Shasta girl put up and I had to share this nook picture with you too. I could just stay here forever I think.

false coloring.

Ah Streams in the Desert never disappoints. Do read it:  

"This is the rest wherewith ye may cause the weary to rest; and this is the refreshing." (Isa. 28:12)

Why dost thou worry thyself? What use can thy fretting serve? Thou art on board a vessel which thou couldst not steer even if the great Captain put thee at the helm, of which thou couldst not so much as reef a sail, yet thou worriest as if thou wert captain and helmsman. Oh, be quiet; God is Master!

Dost thou think that all this din and hurly-burly that is abroad betokens that God has left His throne?

No, man, His coursers rush furiously on, and His chariot is the storm; but there is a bit between their jaws, and He holds the reins, and guides them as He wills! Jehovah is Master yet; believe it; peace be unto thee! be not afraid - C.H. Spurgeon

"Tonight, my soul, be still and sleep;
The storms are raging on God's deep -
God's deep, not thine; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul, be still and sleep;
God's hands shall still the temter's sweep -
God's hands, not thine; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul, be still and sleep;
God's love is strong while night hours creep -
God's love, not thine; be still and sleep.

Tonight, my soul, be still and sleep;
God's heaven will comfort those who weep -
God's heaven, not thine; be still and sleep." 

I entreat you, give no place to despondency. This is a dangerous temptation - a refined, not a gross temptation of the adversary. Melancholy contracts and withers the heart, and renders it unfit to receive the impressions of grace. It magnifies and gives a false coloring to objects, and thus renders your burdens too heavy to bear. God's designs regarding you, and His methods of bringing about these designs, are infinitely wise. - Madame Guyon

miscalculated.

But I see the door
and knew the wall, and wanted the wood
and would get there if I could
with my feet and hands and mind.
Robert Creeley

prime.

there was a thunderstorm on tuesday night. the first of the summer. my family always gathers in the living room to watch the lightning out the big picture window and the big trees in the field outside rush back and forth...always an event in this household.

but right now its clear out and i can hear the sprinkler outside my open window, slowly and comfortingly ticking around. mom's cooking dinner in the kitchen: wild rice soup with fresh baked bread to be exact. it's sort of twilight out...still a blue sky, but creeping with pink and a darker color stretching toward the far corner of my window. i can see a few stars. i'm perfectly comfortable, under my duvet and propped up with two white pillows. i have a jar of tea next to me and the fan is whirring loudly. its warm. i think i could fall asleep in four seconds if i let myself.

the last five days have been solely filled with:

reading
(i think i've been to the library about four times now, i just can't get enough).
running around colby lake with jojo and amy.
working on the quilt that grandma and i started last summer.
exploring linden hills and the little bread shop with my mom.
naps on the couch in the addition with the sun in patches on the carpet.
hikes in afton state park (one of mom's belated mother's day presents). 
work at gap and the alpha center (those hours are indispensable).
the grand ole creamery and walks down summit ave. with the fam.
lolling around in the sun
(accompanied by the current/classical MPR and spf 15 of course).
 lots and lots of unpacking. but it's been good...i like sorting myself out in that way, both metaphorically and physically.

yesterday, ames and i went to trader joes and picked up some dried apricots, chevre with honey fresh goat cheese, and iced mint green tea: we could not have been happier. also, i found a little sock monkey key chain for my keys at a little shop down by lake of the isles, and he is named clive (this is monumental because i've been searching for one of these for quite a while now).

it's been the best of summer days, really.

1.

the shingles are flying off the roof
in one line like a road you have to walk.
please don’t scratch your hair
until that section of your mind underneath disappears.
stop pouring your tea into air vents
and the potholes in the street.
you have a jar of cold water
and a bag full of cranberries, exactly twenty-one.
i’ve tied names like Astrid and Ingrid
with twine to my steering wheel;
and really, there’s only a year and a thousand miles
between all our wooden chairs and yours.
i wouldn’t worry.