We, who were called to be your people

Emotionally, I'm currently some sort of controlled chaos.
Recently, I came under the realization that I'm really beautiful. That God designed me to have a natural beauty, and that I was messing with Him when I allowed myself to hear the lie that I'm ugly.
Here's something not good, though: it is getting harder and harder for me to submit to the authority here. I was out with a sessionmate today discussing it and it turned into me crying about how I've never really had a dad. How much I resent authority because my dad never earned my trust, so I could never respect him. I force authority figures to earn my respect and trust, when really I have no right to ask that. Still, though, it gets harder and harder for me to hold my tongue and harder to not just brush people off.
Pray that.
I love you (and probably miss you)
Caitlyn.

Gypsy princess?

I just got it. everything comes down to this obsession with punishing myself because I DON'T HAVE Fullness in Christ. It's like i have this vase of self. And at the bottem of this vase was all of my junk. And then one day, I just started pouring Christ in there too, but the two liquids didn't mix. They seperated and the gunk all tried to rise to the top, and I should have tried to scoop it out so that I could pour in more Christ, but instead I just pushed it all to th bottem, so as not to get my hands dirty. And now I can not be full of Christ, because there's the pile of settled junk at the bottem of my soul. And because I can feel this part of me that is not full of Christ, I try to self-medicate by abusing myself, and attempting to destroy my flesh. I think "Well, I'm full to the brim and I still feel lacking. I must be doing this wrong, so I better start doing more." My prophetic name is Fullness in Christ. One of the things prophesied alongside that is that I will be filled to overflowing. I always kind of figured that we can never be full. That if we were full, we would no longer thirst or hunger, but become stagnant. I think instead that if I am to be constantly overflowing, I must be getting constantly filled. Not by my own will, but by my openess to being poured into.
I'm not content with Christ, because I am not full in Him. I have no idea how to understand being content insomething you have only tasted, not truly had. This isn't to say I've never really known my savior. I think that maybe, the amount of fullness that I had for the time and place where I was was okay, but now more is commanded of me. The chunk of my misery at the bottem of my vase was alright while I was still being filled, but is now holding me back from fullness.

Megan Smith just said "so, even when you were a kid, you never dreamed of beaing a princess?" and I said no, I never wanted to be any kind of royalty, because the royalty isn't on the frontlines of the fight. and she said "Oh, so you wanted to be a knight", and I said, no because the knight had to answer to the king. I think I wanted to a be a gypsey. Roving wherever I wanted in my own time, being an acting out rightness by my own terms. Living rightly in the eyes of God and myself.

I need to be content in Christ, so I can stop crucifying myself. But first I need to get the gunk out of my system.

I've got a theory we should work this out

"So, what you are saying is that you are not content being a princess"
Tonight as Peter and I sat on the stairs to the War Room talking, he asked me this question. Somehow or another the convrersation had turned to the ever uncomfortable topic of myself, and my immediate answer was, "yes, of course I am. I'm GOD's DAUGHTER". But those words wouldn't leave my mouth, I couldn't make them, because Peter was right.
In the stories, the princesses never DO much. They flee from evil, they fall in love, get rescued and live happily ever after as barely more than a glorified housewife. That life has never exactly appealed to me. I don't exactly feel lke I'm of much worth unless I am DOING something, I think that the issue that continually comes up in my life is my habit of punishing myself, issuing my own penance. There was this saint named Saint Rose of Lima, who believed suffering brings you closer to God, which is true. She, however, became obsessed with suffering. She wore a crown of roses on her head so as to dig the thorns ino her skull. A lot of the ime, I feel I have a real similar spirt as she. I have this constant urge to DO MORE to put myself trough more than neccesary.
I once had a vision of Jesus and he was asking me to walk, but my feet wouldn't move. Looking down, I saw that my feet were stapled to the ground. Jesus told me that it would be as simple as taking my shoes off and I would be free of the floor, but I told him that that was too easy, and that things of worth come only through struggle. I told JESUS what was best for me, how I could do the most for him.
And so here i am. Sitting in a dark stairway by myself after midnight. Trying to recieve some sort of revelation, trying to understand why I'm discontent being a princess.
I don't know, Jesus. I don't know, I just feel like I should be doing more. Like I should be whipping myself or wering a crown of roses. I know that Jesus already went through that suffering for me, but do I really believe that? Maybe I have such an intense fear of what people think of me that I beat myself up over things so that other people do not have to. I just really don't know anything right now.
I remember cutting myself once, and hearing God say to me "Why are you doing this? I ALREADY went through this so you wouldnt HAVE to." I don't know.
I really don't enjoy talking about myself. At kneedrill, Holly heard from the LORD that He wants me to be soft, that he designed me to be soft, breakable, and that I try to hard to be a hard girl. I don't think its because I'm afraid of being vulnerable, I just think that my issues are matters between me and God, and there are much more important matters in the world to deal with. Okay, when I just typed that sentance, God said "Like what?"and I said, "Like countries being oppressed by their leaders and the women outside the door in front of me being trafficked, for instance" and God said "and the people who oppress my kids probably tell themselves that their issues are just between themselves and God. How would I heal them if they won't let my body near them?"
God may or may not have just compared me to a dictator or a pimp.
Holy crap. I am so unhealed. I mean, I don't think that I have very intense issues or anything like that, but I don't let people near me to let them help. I've got thing stubborn independance that allows me to think that I can work everything out on my own,
I had a vision of my wounds, they were deep underneith my skin, like on the oher side of it, not because the gashes had healed over on top, but because I tried to fix them myself by sewing layers overtop of them, forcing them beneath.
And no, I don't WANT to be vulnerable, I really don't want that at all. I've never really cried much about myself, or pain that I had. I just brush it off.
The kingdom was sown into my heart. It's not something I have to go to India to find, It means healing, right here, right now. Where does it go from here? I dont know. I might stay up longer and ask Jesus what I should do, or I might save it for another night.
This has been a very scattered entry. It was more for myself than for any of you, though, to try and keep my thoughts focused.
Grace and peace be yours in bundance,
caitlyn spence
Fullness in Christ

I like where we are - here

Caitlyn Spence
c/o The Salvation Army War College
PO Box 88088, Chinatown PO
Vancouver, BC
V6A 4A4

Come home on the weekend forever.

Youth Councils was something, though if I could go back, I know the things I'd do differently and the things I would or wouldn't say. Those things aside, however, God was there and spoke and that's what matters.
We recently had an assignment to draw what God said our shield of faith looked like. And though mine is kind of hard to explain, the main message is clear: if we feed into the fruit of the spirit, no arrow of satan can touch us. Because I allow my fruit to rot, more lies can make their way into me. The fruit of the Spirit should flourish within us, covering us with a bush of blooms and blossoms, extinguishing the fiery arrows of the evil one and sending fourth the sweet aroma that should draw others to the orchard of the living God. And the fruit are all one, right? You can't have all but one.
Truly, the reason I have so many lies in my life is because I so often chose misery instead of joy. Misery is comfortable and easy, it makes easy living and asks for no true sacrifice or attempt on my part. And, like Joy, misery is a mindset, a world view, a decision. Just like joy, you have to chose misery. You have to put it over your eyes in the morning and bind it around your neck while you sleep. You have to chose to respond to situations bleakly.
Except that it's not just choosing optimism or pessimism, it's choosing life or death. I choose death when I choose misery over joy, when I chose disobedience instead of discipline, when I let conflict reside in my heart instead of peace. And because of these decisions, my fruit rots. I lose my hedge of protection. I have less and less defense against inflamed arrows and more and more lies and attack to contend against.
Today, I chose joy. Today I chose life. I write it on the tablet of my heart and allow it to break forth from me like the dawn.
Today I concern myself with all thing true, noble, right, pure, lovely, admirable, excellent, praiseworthy. These things only.
Amen.
caitlyn.
(P.S. pray about my spring break)
(P.P.S I'm in love with my sessionmates)

dust off the brush off.

I've been noticing recently that there is a real spirit of rebellion on me that needs to be broken. I definitely am seeing a tendency to refuse submission to authority, and being reluctant to view most people with power over me as actual authority figures. My mom said the other day that I made such good friends with teachers and such because I refused to see them as anything more than people; regardless of their stature or age. On paper, that probably sounds great, but in real life, it's probably the reason I never felt it important enough to go to class, go anywhere on time or abide by any set rule. I've gotten away with everything so far in my life (I've never really had anything worse than minor detentions) but it's starting to impose a real problem here at the War College. There seem to be very few rules I haven't broken (not always intentional) and very few requirements I've kept up regularly. One my great friends, a member of WC Alumni, also had to deal with some rebellion and was put on probation for it.
The point is: I chose to be here, I need to start living up to it. I need to care about getting put on probation. It's not okay for me to continue pushing rules to see how far I can get away with them. People keep doing their best to keep me accountable, but I keep brushing them off.
That's how I am. I'm not openly resistant, but I brush people, things and obligations off. I truly don't care about many things, but I need to start.

I wrote this recently about a particular rule that I was constantly choosing to ignore for the past few weeks. I'm still struggling with it, also, so if anyone wants to pray, they should give'r.
It's still REALLY rough. 1st draft.

On the page 6 citation
of the rules and regulations
you might notice the 1.5 inch space for interpretation.
And if you feel you are entitled
to a special class of manipulation
feel free to alter and amend
for your personal situation.

Leave yourselves not unlearned, however,
that this kind of understanding comes to us
in seasons of awful weather.
So if you feel, for some reason, it's worth it
to forget the rules you swore to remember
you'd best by new blankets
and probably some type of sweater.

Big dreams and mustard seeds.

Tonight, I was going through my Incediary Introduction binder with some of my Nanaimo friends. Upon realizing that I've messed up on most of the rules, one of the girls joked:
"So, Caitlyn, have you done anything RIGHT at the War College?"
This happens to be the question I constantly ask myself. Have I done anything right? My self-criticizing ways are quick to chime in a loud "NO", but I'm sure that must be a lie. My immediate combat against that would be to have found things I did right, but I'm not sure that's what this is supposed to be about.
I've spent a lot of my life doing things right, for several different reasons. And I know there's a lot of expectations for me (both from myself and others) to do things right, not to fail.
But human failure is this constant and recurring tool for God to remind us exactly what we are.
We often do big things, dream big things, with the bigness of God in our heads and the love of bigness in our hearts. We seek mass meekness and global conviction. So often, it would seem, we forget that we serve a kingdom described as a mustard seed. We serve smallness, selflessness.
It's like when Elijah proved to all the people that Baal was a false god and showed the sovereignty of YHWH. He performed this huge act, hoping to turn people back from their wicked ways, but the result was an order for his death and he fled. He fled, feeling like a failure and asking God to kill him, this life had been too much and he'd done all he could and failed.
I've done what I can. It doesn't mean that's all that I CAN do, but it doesn't mean it's worthless either.
Eventually, YHWH reminds Elijah who He is not through huge fires, winds or earthquakes, but through the soft small whisper.
SO OFTEN I call on the fire and expect the Lord to repay me with an earthquake. SO OFTEN I feel my efforts have been rejected- but they have not!
I have to start listening to the whisper of God, instead of seeking the huge winds that he's not even really behind. He wasn't in the earthquake, he was in the mustard seed.
He reminds Elijah that there are still some in Israel who have stayed true to him, the same that there are people who are touched by the small, sincere things I do as a servant to the Lord, even when I might not even notice because my flesh is striving for bigger dreams.

So, in summation, the question isn't what I've done right or wrong. The very fact that my flesh has failed has allowed my spirit to wake up to looking for small kingdom things. Truly, only Victory is found in Christ. Just because my message wasn't received with a burning fire doesn't make it a failure, it just gives me the opportunity to find whispers of God in the midst to hyped-up earthquakes.
There's no real failure in Christ. Only the type of worldly failure that humbles flesh and strengthens spirit.
(I do, however, intend on becoming more steadfast in my self-discipline at WC).

Tie a yellow ribbon

Coming home is always nice. Leaving home is always weird.
I think I'm in a really weird place right now, where Vancouver and Nanaimo are both my homes. As I type this, I'm sitting in my living room in Nanaimo with two of my sessionmates and my roomate and some of my closest friends. I've just finished showing them pictures of my sessionmates, my new roomate and my new close friends.
This is weird.
Here is a great thing: my mom is amazing.

I probably have more important things to say, but now I want to hang out with my family+friends.
LOVE.
caitlyn