That Type of Friend

A friend can love you because of your strengths.

A friend can love you because of what you are to them.

A friend can love you because of how you make them laugh.

A friend can love you because of what you teach them.

But a deeper friendship is cultivated when...

They love you because of your strengths... and despite your weaknesses.

They love you because of what you are to them... and despite what you're not.

They love you because of how you make them laugh... and forgive you when you make them cry.

They love you because of what you teach them... but they know how to teach you as well.

This type of friendship brings a transparent honesty to the relationship and acknowledges the other's abilities and gifts. The first type of friendship is exhausting for the subject because they have to be superman all the time, and it's not healthy for the bestower because they are content with being weak and dependent in the relationship. But the second type is one that allows for the cognizance of weakness and strength in both individuals, which prompts humility, consequently causing a sense of vulnerability and openness. This sense of vulnerability seems to be communicated almost subconsciously, as a silent agreement and realization between the two individuals.

I have a friend that I've known for a long time, and at one point I began to prize myself, my strengths, and my maturity level above his/hers. This brought frustration to my friend, and distanced our relationship for a short time until I realized what I had done. As soon as I apologized, hence restoring needed humility to my end of hte relationship, and began to conduct myself in a way that communicated a sense of openness and vulnerability, the friendship healed.

It requires strength, but acknowledgement of weakness. Purpose to be all you can, but realization of your shortcomings. Laughter, but a willingness to cry. Teachability, but also the commitment to provide instruction.

Lord God, help me be that type of friend.

My Favorite Things #1

Singing along with the music with my sisters on car rides.

Older Siblings and Strawberry Lemonade

Awesome older siblings are the best thing ever. You know they love you enough to let you get away with some things, but also love you enough to be reasonable. At the same time, they know when you’re pushing them too far, and respond accordingly, at the same that they’re very sharing. Even though I only have one older sibling, I think she’s the best one ever. At the same time that we have loads of fun, I do know my boundaries. Take the following example for instance:

Sarah’s talking.
Her water bottle, filled with strawberry lemonade, is sitting on the desk next to her.
I grab the water bottle, open it.
She doesn’t see me at first.
I take a sip and grin.
She looks over.
I sip some more.
She give me that older sister level one cut-it-out look.
I know it’s non-threatening.
I drink a little more.
She keeps talking.
I sip again.
She gives me that older sister level two cut-it-out look.
I grin and sip some more.
I know I’m dangerously close to physical threat now.
She finishes what she’s saying.
I grin and sip some more.
She gives me that older sister level three cut-it-out look.
I know that I won’t get away without a penalty because I’ve brought it this far.
I grin, sip some more, close the top, hand it back, and giggle deviously.
She whacks me on the head with the water bottle.
“Ah-ha-ha-ow!”

I knew the levels were progressing. And I knew not to drink the whole thing. I knew to hand it back at the point that would not evoke serious physical or psychological turmoil. And it was because she had set those levels, those guidelines, and those consequences in previous entanglements.

Also, there is a fine line between being seriously annoying, and being funnily annoying. This exchange was camped in the latter of the two arenas. She didn't really mind that I drank some of her lemonade, this also had been previously established in past situations. However, it would have been seriously annoying for me to drink the whole thing.

I know right where I am, what I’m allowed to do without being seriously annoying, but what’s still considered teasingly funny. However, teasingly funny has its levels, and even results in teasing consequences. I know where the line is, but testing it is sure a lot of fun, as long as it doesn’t cross the line into seriously annoying.

Besides, it was worth the strawberry lemonade.

Thought in a Question #3

Is an aversion to disapproval from those you respect beneficial because it can prompt a pursuit of excellence, or is it a disadvantage because it can create intense hesitation to act at all for fear of making a mistake?

Reflections after Nationals

As promised, here is the post written after Nationals. For those who would like to see, the current NCFCA Nationals break announcements are here.

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After the Fact

 Here I am. Nationals is officially over. I remember sitting in Oregon, loading up my tattered binder from the previous post…and thinking that I didn’t want to go to Nats. However, now that I’m sitting here after the fact I look back and realize all that God did during my time at the college campus.

See…there were these hallways. They connected the lecture halls, which served as the student hang-out area, and the alumni building, where the tournament happened in 66 rooms on three different floors. Now the cool part is…not many people knew about these hallways. Hence, they were quiet and undisturbed. They were hallways of professor’s offices, however, the doors are usually closed, and the hallways are air conditioned. There were four hallways, two on level 2 and two on level 3. These hallways were a gift from God.

I think back to Thursday afternoon. I found out that I had broken in my persuasive speech the night before, and it was thirty minutes before my round began. I escaped to a secluded hallway on the third floor. It was quiet, it was protected, it was a place to get away. I sat there, thinking back over the past rounds, and realizing…that this round would determine a lot. I opened my Bible to 1 Corinthians and began reading chapters 1 and 2. I sat in that hallway, reading the scripture allowed quietly, listening to my voice echo in the stillness of my hide-away.

I read, “I was with you in weakness and in fear and in much trembling, and my message and my preaching were not in persuasive words of wisdom, but in the demonstration of the Spirit and of power, so that your faith would not rest on the wisdom of men, but on the power of God.” It was only by the power of God that I could walk into that competition room. It was only by the power of God that I wouldn’t have a memory slip, it was only by the power of God that the speech I was about to give would impact any of my judges…it was only by the power of God. God would take that speech, and do His work in spite of me…not because of me.

I have to admit, I was nervous… but I also have to say… that the semi-final round was the best that I have ever given that speech. Not only that, but the room was full of people. My guess is that fifty people at least heard the message, the message that God had given me to convey six months ago as I sat at my computer on a morning in January writing that very speech. He was there when I wrote it, He was there when I memorized it, He was there through all the qualifying tournaments, and now, as I stood in the semi-final round at the National Championship, it was still His message, not mine.

The semi-final round of that tournament was the ultimate test of my faith. There was heavy competition, all weighted with the question of, “Who’s going to make it to finals?”… but as I sat in that hallway, fifteen minutes before my round began, tears in my eyes, I knew, as I’d known before, that it wasn’t about the competition. Such a realization seems incredibly cliché, because that’s always what everyone says. But what I realized was that my speech had become more than a speech to me. I remember not picking my topic because I wanted to win, but rather, because it was important. If God wanted the message of that speech to reach more ears, and draw more attention, then He would move it forward.

And He did. I sat in the hallway on Friday morning, thirty minutes before the final round. I read the passage over and over again, the same passage that I’d read the day before. God confirmed in my heart His calling for the next round. I ought to know nothing except Christ and Him crucified. That’s what ultimately matters. My commitment to my savior is my ultimate source of strength. I am not with persuasive words, but I come with the power of God. He’d put me there, placed that calling before me, and all I needed to know Christ and Him crucified, and God would take care of the rest.

The night before, I’d met the Scott brothers and Tait Deems by the parking garage and they congratulated me on making it to finals. Then Tait added, “So, at least the top three, kay?” …I laughed and replied, “I’ll talk to God about that one.”…And He did it. I placed in the top three.

Yesterday, Liz and I took one last trip to the hallways. I stood looking down that hallway, thinking of the times I had paced it, praying and reading, all the times I had used it as a quiet escape in order to focus my thoughts. I walked down the hallway one last time, with my backpack slung over my shoulder - the same backpack that held my tattered binder. The messages of the scripts within it had been proclaimed at a tournament…one last time. I saw how my calling at Nationals had been completed. God did His work in spite of me, not because of me…and yet…I was given the privilege of being used by Him.

The Tattered Binder

Eight members of our speech and debate team are at the National tournament this week in Virginia Beach. It hit me yesterday how much I miss being with them. Last year was a really beautiful time of connection and bonding between the members of our club that went to Nationals, and while my mind knows there's no way I could have gone, my heart is regretting staying behind. The decision to not go to National's was made out of wisdom, but yesterday I had to come to grips with the fact that there really is a part of me that desperately wants to go back.

In order to help relieve my wishful thinking, I found the two blog posts that I wrote before and after Nationals last year. The first post (below) entitled, "The Tattered Binder" was written the night before I left, and it was posted on my previous (since been deleted) blog and never reposted when I began this one. The second post, which never actually made the published post stage of blogging was written "After the Fact."

The first entry is below, and I'll post the second entry tonight if I can remember. (I'm leaving myself a sticky-note, we'll see if it works.)

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The Tattered Binder

In just a few hours, I'll be at the airport, waiting to fly to Greensville South Carolina. Nationals has been a long time in coming, but it's actually here now. I'm scared, unsure, and excited all at the same time, but overall, I trust God.

Earlier this evening, as I was prepping my speech and debate binder. This is a ritual that happens before every tournament. I stock it with stickynotes, paper, speech scripts, and notes from friends. I finished it up, and closed it, and then examined it a bit closer. It began in January as a new binder, completely without wear and tear. But as I looked at the split seams, scratches, and fingerprints, I realized that this binder represented a journey. A journey that began in January when I first went to the Clarion qualfier, and it's ending in South Carolina, at the National NCFCA tournament.

I starred at the binder and realized how ridiculous it is for me to be nervous. The line that had been a theme throughout regionals, from the song "I Cry" by Rescue, "Because You've been so faithful every other time", rang in my mind as I thought back to all my adventures and challenges of previous tournaments. God's done so much in my heart and in my life through the last few months, that there is no reason that I should fear walking into another situation that is governed by His direction, purpose, and righteous will. The tattered binder was a reflection of God's faithfulness to me through everything that He has, by His grace, brought me through thus far.

Its been a long year. And there are times when I just feel like I want to be done, I want it to be over, I don't want to do it anymore. And I look at the binder I and think, "I'm taking it to tournament again?! Just look at it! It's so torn up, but I'm here loading it up to bring it with me again!"... I want to be done because I feel like that binder. I feel like I've been used to my max, I feel like I can't survive another tournament, I just want to be finished with the whole thing for a while. And yet, then I think about the scripts that are inside that binder, and the messages that are, by memory, engraved in my mind. I still have a message. And after realizing how important that message is, I think, "Okay. This binder can survive another tournament."

God's given me a message. And even though I'm tired, even though my endurance level is low, God can still get me through another tournament. ..."He's been so faithful every other time." So tomorrow, I'll put that binder into my backpack and carry it onto a plane and take it to Nationals... where it will be used again... and more memories will be added to the journey as God proves His faithfulness yet again... at a tournament... one more time.

Odd Realization

I feel as if my life is undergoing a constant reality check. In the past year, I've taken it apart, piece by piece, because I knew it needed to be different. Now I sit with all the pieces in front of me, and no clue how they're supposed to fit back together, and I'm afraid to start for fear that I'll get it wrong.

"Hm. What now?" I ask myself as I stare at my life, "This is very interesting."