What my indecisiveness doesn’t want to hear.

You know what? Sometimes I think God almost gets more excited about our own will than His. I think He sees our ideas and dreams and just sorta stands there clapping His hands.

aHHH, let’s think about what we actually think about the character of God.

If we do believe that He is a loving, good, kind father, it changes how we approach Him with ideas and choices. We can run like kids to Him, excited to show the new things in our minds. We jump up and down, asking what He thinks and He smiles. Of course He might need to sit us down and talk about some of the things, maybe sometimes we don’t have it completely right. But we don’t have to approach Him timidly. We know who He is, and so we don’t have to hide ourselves behind our own backs. Stop being so bothered about the will of God and run to Him with everything you have. Your mind is intertwined with His. Your heart getting there.

and that’s why your will to please God is the main thing to ensure you do so.

(Someone said that to me once, that your will to please God pleases Him. I thought it was advice along the way – words of comfort while I waited for that clear, loud voice – when in reality, it’s an answer all in itself.)

Me and my Clara and my Florida

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(I promise that list filled up with more things, but we really wanted to get some drinks in downtown. We also toured libraries and went to cafés and saw the only view in Sarasota and went to the beach and the movies and ALL THE THINGS you need to do before leaving a place and your roommate for a while.)

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Me
and my Clara

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and my Florida.

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April 22nd 2018

Today I took a walk as the rain started to fall. Someone taped this on the sidewalk. I tried to find meaning in it, but I also try to find meaning in everything these days. I half expected someone to jump out of the bushes to scare me.

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And then as the sun started to set I stood painting under the roof of our carport. There’s something nice about painting when the light starts dissapearing, you stop caring about the details since you can’t see the details. If it’s messy, I can clean it up later. I think I’m also gonna add yellow at the bottom, to make it look like some upside down sunset, but I went inside because all the insects were attracted to the light and I already had three mosquito bites on my left hand.

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That’s it.

The Break

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The organisation I’m working with is taking a break. It’s great, really, becase:

A. We need to lay a foundation. There are a lot of different directions you can take a ministry, and sometimes the best way is down. To stop running and dig, so that what grows out of this can be sustainable.

B. All good death is birth pain. We need to let the old things die to become something new.

C. To not give up is good, but sometimes it takes more faith to let go. We don’t want to keep going out of human stubborness or fear. God knows the world is full of companies or churches or whatever that just continue, when in reality they’re tired, the people could be happier somewhere else, and the world would go on without them. Let’s not hold on out of fear. If this is meant to be, it can handle a break.

So the break is great. The only problem is that I all of a sudden have a break. And I’ve just been here for a short time, I don’t need rest or restoration. Or maybe I do, but in a different way, and I don’t know what to do with the months that have been given to me. I have a lot of things to grow in, a lot of foundations I need to lay in myself. But I don’t know where to go, or how to do that. And I’ve had so much time to think that I’ve started to question the things I actually did know.

There’ll be no conclusion to this, no fancy end point, but I wanted to say this: Right now I’m still good, happy and okay. I want to be, regardless of circumstances. Maybe that’s my growth. I need to move out soon and I don’t know where I’m going, but I think we’re allowed to not worry even if we should. I think we’re allowed to be illogically hopeful and overwhelmingly expectant of what the future holds. I think I’m gonna wait here a little bit longer, and I think I’ll know more soon. I think so.

Until then

~

Like, not a poem

Yesterday I
opened the lockbox
got the key
closed the lockbox again.

Unlocked the door
went in and put my bag on a chair
walked back out
locked the door.

I opened the lockbox again
put the key back in
and closed it.

Tried to open the door
and it was locked
and I was confused

and it took me like five minutes to try to remember what just happened and where my bag was.

2017-2018

In 2017 I got to experience all the different seasons, and even in the right order. In summer I moved to Florida, autumn I flew to Japan, and now I got some winter in Sweden.

And there’s no transitions. Just an airplane, and then autumn leaves. Airplane again, and my feet were in snow.

(I like the colour and taste of the world. I like to try out the shape of it, like the way it fits under my feet.)

But I miss its pulse. The first flowers in spring. The slow rains and long autumns before snow actually covers the grass one day. I miss hearing the world breathe.

Artists grow old. (hearts gain weight, or maybe sight). Like the aging Monet who painted the water lilies in his garden in every different light, every different season. Like Hokusai’s series of thirty-six different views of Mount Fuji.

(I think they learn, that)

There’s everything to see. But there’s also everything to see in every thing.

Shinjuku

We ended up in Shinjuku randomly, the evening of one of our first days in Tokyo. We got of the train at Shinjuku station to check out an art store, and ended up walking into one of the craziest cityscapes ever. I was gonna paint part of it, but then I didn’t really finish it. I want to be the person who paints the scenery when I go places, but then again that’s actually not what I enjoy painting, so maybe I shouldn’t. Or maybe I’ll enjoy it if I practice until I’m good. (Or I just won’t.)

Anyway, remembering Tokyo makes me happy happy sad sad because I’d rather fall asleep there tonight.

(Good night.)

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