The Heart

"Yes, Nicole, breathing is good for you."

2011-03-15T00:30:00.000-07:00

Underwater, your song fills my mind,

spheres full of oxygen, racing, glittering over our heads.

I try to catch your racing breath

as it rushes out of reach.

I think to myself "this must be the atlantic"

because inside my blood is getting cold and slow

and it's nothing like the volcanic ocean I love back home.

But as the waves come, they roll me far away

and I feel myself lose sight of your face.

Your face - and the pockets full of air and light.

Echos of your song, breaking the surface of the sky

with tangled seaweed and sweetgrass and clouds and Chronos keeping time.

But I let the dread stay inside

because eventually, I'll come up for air,

and find the land you promised would be there.

Move on.

2011-01-15T02:50:00.001-08:00

I think sometimes

of ending this romance I have had with religion.

I want to sign my name at the bottom of the

list of things I've learned,

fold it up and put it in a box somewhere;

resting on top of old macaroni art projects

and forgotten, angry songs.

I want to walk away from this part of who I've been

hang it up like a winter coat in spring,

let it gather dust while I just

shed layers, let myself wander;

hold the palms of my hands, upturned, out spread,

to the warmth of the sun, and get

horribly sunburned again.

Because you get so tired of the personal, you know?

You get so tired of people being so sincere.

You get tired of the stories, the anecdotes, the internal evidence.

You get so tried of "women! guard your hearts!"

and "men! remember how He lay down his life for her!"

and "if it's meant to be, God will make it happen."

and all the bad advice and transparent platitudes

and shocked divorcees and secret teenage abortions.

I'm tired.

I'm tired of the pressure to write "He" with a capital "H"

and I'm tired of the same subjects being discussed

with the same people in different contexts.

I'm tired of internal struggle to drag myself through this interior castle,

and I am tired of how overwhelmingly lonely friendships become

when they are forged on dogma.

I am tired of using words like "overwhelmingly" and "lonely",

and I am exhausted by attempts to chart my own spiritual progress,

and economical progress, and personal progress

and measuring out in my mind

how much attention I pay to myself

vs.

how much attention I pay to the poor.

I think sometimes

that I want to be something else

then what I already am.

Live life with people who believe that

it's better not to marry and that

life can be fulfilling, without striving for perfection or

waiting for another to fulfill us.

Oh, heavy woollen coat,

how I yearn to put you away,

but for you to still keep me safe.

Because all my friends are getting married.

2010-03-11T22:42:00.000-08:00

You are like a star, shining so brightly, so far away

and I am like a child, covering the entire sky with her outstretched hands,

pondering how the moon could be so small

that she could blot it out with her thumb.

You are like a star, a flash that lasts thousands of years, a flicker of bright light and sound

and I am am like an old woman, squinting her crinkling eyes upwards,

mourning that she can no longer see the map in the sky that would once guide her

and wondering if the same lights that

punctuated the path of her life

are still there, tonight.

But tonight, you are you

and i am Me.

And I write my name in kisses

across your ever-fading face

as you draw my future in pencil and in shadows.

This poem is not about the Ocean.

2009-11-01T04:32:00.000-08:00

My beloved ocean.
Your cold kiss stings my chapped lips,
but you and I both know
I will give myself to you,
regardless.

Violent, beloved ocean!
Keep me preserved in your salt and sand.

Disasterous waves.
You tell me stories in frantic morse code,
I understand little, but I can hear
shipwrecks and mermaids,
iceburgs, coral.

Beautiful, terrible ocean,
when my body is yours, hide me in seashells
which my children will collect from the shore.

I wait all year for the fall.

2009-10-25T01:57:00.000-07:00

I have lessons to be learned from autumn;
You do not die gracefully
but you die with passion
and when you have clothed the streets
with your
fire-scented blush
we look up to see
the sky shattered by
the angry arms of empty trees.

Teach me, autumn!
and I will break every heart
that has ever loved me.

For honesty's sake (first draft)

2009-10-11T03:32:00.001-07:00

I have given birth to a half-breed of utmost honesty and straight up lies.
For months, stumbling past Spanish street signs in my summer disguise,
I speak to the ghost who follows me, him with impassive eyes,
and snowboots always. Wearing a woolen cap and mittens to defy
my sunscreened skin and tries to convince me, despite bright, sunny skies
that he is not, but it is I who meets the other in unseasonable attire.

I helplessly watch the trees I adore turn to the brightness of fire
and their blood coloured ashes, like leaves, rush towards the roots by which they were first inspired
and conceived. As though praying, I press my ear to the concrete, so tired
and worn thin through the seasons so I may hear the root's longing and desire
to embrace those rose peddle and sun-coloured leaves, who once aspired
to kiss the yawning sky, and now, rejected, return to the cement ground to die.

I tell the ghost that the tree is searching for my heart in the soil, and cry
bitterly, knowing she will not find me, for my heart had long before died
in his hands. My heart; pierced by arrows like icicles which time had tried
effortlessly to melt, was given to my then-living love who had lied
in action, vow and word to protect it and hide it from the howling winds outside.
Ashamed, he offers the gift of my life back and I
refuse. What use have I of this heart, now only able to remember and mourn.
Instead of the steady pulse of love and blood my heart once sang through my now-torn
veins, she is capable only to do this: remember and mourn, remember and mourn.

I toss myself from the limbs of the empty trees, for a moment airborne,
now, I rush to the ground, falling upon a crown made of thorns.
I allow the wounds of that accessory twisted from mockery and scorn
to tear through me. I lay over the roots of trees and I adorn
them with the same colour as the autumn leaves that, from the very same tree, were shorn.
The winter threatens to bury me here, but I stay, for
Underneath the concrete, my new heart swells through the season, warm with forgiveness and reason
and by Spring, I know I will be reborn.

For home.

2009-10-07T22:43:00.000-07:00

I've been feeling nostalgic, lately.

I love the cities where I live.

when I grew up, I live on an island

and I loved it.

In the summer everyone in town

would be on the boardwalk, the beach

eating shaved ice and fries.

My family and I would bring a bucket of

cold chicken and ice cream - sit on the sand

watching the sun drop

into the pacific

to light up the cities of

mermaids underneath.

But while I was growing up, all the other kids would complain

because:

we wouldn't get enough snow

we didn't have anywhere cool

we had nothing to do after 6pm

because everything was closed.

Now I am grown up (I think)

and i live on the mainland

all on my own, while my

family still happily eats ice cream

on the beach - they can even see the lights of my current city,

or so they say.

Anyway now I live in the big city,

and I still listen to people complain

because

it rains too much

there are too many poor people

there is no place to go after 3 am

I don't understand those kids from my hometown

because

one year it snowed 3 ft. and that was enough for me

(also, the city had one snowplow. Any more snow would be chaos.)

after 6pm I didn't need to be anywhere but home, with my family

and I could think of nothing better than

my father, my mother, my brother, my sister

on the beach, with a bucket of cold chicken

watching the light fade into

finer points of stars

and the glittering of the mainland, where

I will end up

in the rain

watching the island

disappear after 6 pm.

For Vancouver.

2009-09-29T02:01:00.000-07:00

In this city, there are no stars; no
points of light or reason, no
song to hang above our heads, no
brightness pierces through this silent shroud of night, no
reminder of the hopelessly ineveitable.
We see only the dark blood of yesterday's dead dawn
bleeding black as midnight, blocking out the sun.

In this city, the winter is violent and long; no
grass remains alongside the sidewalk to redeem this weather, no
women or child can hide herself from the mercyless rain, no
break in the clouds no,
warm, rebellious ray of stray sunlight finds the cold,
angry homeless people, hiding from a grey sky under blue tarps,
while small children watch the glass jars on their verandas
collect the constant tears of Demeter for Persephone.

In our city, though the darkness blinds us,
we remember we never needed eyesight, anyway
but our faith is in the fact that the stars exist and
we live as though the night lay divided before us,
like the red sea or the crowds on the way to Golgotha.

We believe, you
are our home, and the stars that guide us there; you
are the crisis of springtime, that erupts in the midst of a sky-darkened season; you
are the only reason we know the sun will rise again; you
watch the rain run through the cracks in the sidewalk, watering future daisies; you
pull our mud-soaked hearts from the city and you
set them above the dull, reaching expanse of city skyline. And we
watch, with wonder, the beauty of the ineveitable sunrise.

The hum of the airplane's engine.

2009-09-08T23:01:00.000-07:00

I've often wondered which would be more painful; the loss of a child or the loss of a spouse.

May God bless me that I never suffer either.

To put words on the feeling inside

2009-08-22T04:10:00.000-07:00

I fear often for my stagnant, static soul
but He is the crisis that triggers the effect of becoming ever more like Him

I fear often getting lost,
but He is both my home and the stars that guide me there

I fear often that I will, in a moment of blinding passion end my small life too soon
I am rash, but He is patient and I am His.

On the city and how it swallowed me.

2009-08-09T01:57:00.000-07:00

I love looking through old blog entries,
here is one from this day 2 years ago that I never published:

So, four weeks now and counting. If you're wondering how I'm dealing, the
answer is really weirdly. I'm really stressed and I'm arguing with everyone,
I guess. I just announced the final Hosanna, I'm giving my two weeks at work
tomorrow and I've started packing the stuff I won't need between Nanaimo and New Life. I typically run to the beach for my solace, and the other night where I normally
saw only the expanse of water reaching out, all I could see were the
flickering lights of Vancouver: the city that will swallow who I've always
known myself to be and will teach me to look like someone I've never seen
before. I will die next year, moreso than ever before.
I am terrified.

I was a kid: young, reckless, and wildly arrogant. I set out to conquer the world with love.
Now love is conquering me, and my only attack on this world is loudly refraining when she asks me to change. I am still dying, I am still being resurrected; I am still terrified, I am still hopeful.

on music and my desire to be deaf.

2009-08-09T01:23:00.000-07:00

The only explanation for this is that it is both how I feel, and how I wish I would feel.
It's also too heavy on metaphor, but honest.

your heartbeat and mine
are keeping time to a perfect rhythm
that has yet, to ears, been heard.
But now the song has slowed
and my blood's metranome knows
that I can not keep this beat alone,
but it seems as though your thrumming pulse
has stilled.

fr
anti
cally, I change
the song
afraid, that
you were
growing
tired of sing
ing a
long
but I not
ice
I am
the only one
making
sound

AGAIN I attempt a melody of my own:
but AGAIN it descends
into sounds with no
tenor, time or
tone.

it is only when i am silent, do i hear again
the steady pulse:
your heartbreakingly beautiful,
silent and steady song,
and I see:
my complicated harmonies and
stac
cat
o beats
are what really kept me from singing along.

Again, I quiet myself,
i swallow my empty, prideful vocal tone
and surrender my heartbeat
to be a part of your song.

On life and love.

2009-06-24T22:09:00.000-07:00

I think about this a lot:

Our imitation of God in this life must be an imitation of God incarnate: our model is the Jesus, not only of Calvary, but of the workshop, the roads, the crowds, the clamorous demands and surly oppositions, the lack of all peace and privacy, the interruptions. For this, so strangely unlike anything we can contribute to the Divine life in itself, is apparently not only like, but is, the Divine life operating under human conditions.
-CS Lewis, The Four Loves

Living a life that expresses our sonship, inheritance and experience with the Holy God means we read the Gospels and do everything God said and did when He moved into our neighborhood. This type of life, devoted to servanthood, compassion, justice and mercy may seem very unremarkable to the average, temporary eye, but the otherworldly love that propels each of these small, seemingly insignificant actions will move with an inexpressible, invisible force that the momentum will draw all attention to the compulsion that drives us: that is, Christ Himself.
So, let's do that.

Moving Mountains - Thrice

2009-06-14T05:56:00.001-07:00

I give my body up unto the flames;

And never once have I denied your name

But I don't know the first thing about love.

Twelve Dancing Princesses

2009-06-08T03:35:00.000-07:00

In writing class a couple of years ago, we had to write poems inspired by fairy tales. I wrote this one based on the story of the Twelve Dancing Princesses.
I don't really know why I'm posting it; I just like it.

OH! And how my feet do ache by morn
And how the sisters’ shoes lay worn
And by come evening, in the dead day’s dusk
There are king’s sons heads gone from bodies

Because oh! While they slept and slumbered so
We escaped and danced under leaves of gold
And if, for one night, we stayed at home
One more man might have lived.

But the title of heir is too great to decline
And the mystery of where 24 feet escape in the night
Too great to forget
Despite lost heads.

Girls, for the price of shoes and boy’s lives we dance.

"I can't call a blog that, Jeremy!"

2009-06-03T20:54:00.000-07:00

In high school, I took a class called Comparative Religions; one of the units was on the branches on Buddhism. I remember learning then, for the first time, about sand mandalas. Huge, intricate designs made on the floors of Buddhist monks utilizing nothing but individually placed grains of dyed sand. I thought for months about old, patient monks with wise and withered faces and clad in orange robes devoting the hours of their days to the colourful reality of sand at their feet. Every grain of sand is delicately placed into the patterns; the process can take days, months, even years.

A finished mandala is always breathtaking - both for the beauty it gives to the world and also the dedication it represents.

When the mandala is done, the monks step back, take a look at the result of hours of backbreaking work, pick up a broom and sweep the whole thing up.

The monks call mandalas a discipline in release, a teaching that beauty is temporary and fleeting, and they much be as able and willing to let go of it as they were to create it in the first place.

In my life, I am currently cleaning up the remnants of my last mandala.

I am learning to be free of my grief for what was once beautifully layed out at my feet, and is now swept up and given to the winds.

Musings from the overpass

2009-05-26T21:43:00.000-07:00

here i am,
small,
conceited and arrogant . and
Here is You
the King of Glory,
Alpha and Omega,
Love.
and You, kneeling,
remove my battered shoes,
and begin to clean the wounds
that inflicted
while i was running
from You.

His arrow has pierced these hands.

2009-04-30T16:24:00.000-07:00

My life is full of empty things;
so much so that His footsteps resound
as He sidesteps His way through
tone deaf love and
graffiti-littered tombstones

like unbridled morning glories braid their way
through fence posts and tree bark
so does He choke out the sunlight from
the roots of my once admired, though now dying
fruit trees.

And I lay in the potter's field and
wait for the inevitable
sunrise.

Whatever is honourable

2009-04-26T06:11:00.000-07:00

A small portion of the poem The Sacrafice by George Herbert:

Now heal thy self, Physician; now come down.
Alas! I did so, when I left my crown
And fathers smile for you, to feel his frown:
Was ever grief like mine?

In healing not my self, there doth consist
All that salvation, which ye now resist;
Your safetie in my sicknesse doth subsist:
Was ever grief like mine?

Betwixt two theeves I spend my utmost breath,
As he that for some robberie suffereth.
Alas! what have I stollen from you? Death.
Was ever grief like mine?

Those before me have explained me best.

2009-04-18T17:22:00.000-07:00

-what does it all come down to? love? Love
if you like and i like,for the reason that i
hate people and lean out of this window is love,love
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason
that i do not fall into this street is love.
-e.e. cummings

Just don't jump too high, frail girl.

2009-04-17T13:07:00.000-07:00

I have been half in love with easeful Death,
Called him soft names in many a mused rhyme,
To take into the air my quiet breath
-John Keats, Ode To A Nightingale

I have to change my perspective.

ht:: JW

2009-02-22T11:12:00.001-08:00

My friend Jessica took this photo and I think it's amazing. I thought Iwould post it for everyone to enjoy :)

I love these words.

2009-02-22T10:48:00.000-08:00

Hear her voice as it's rolling and ringing through me, soft and sweet,
How the notes all bend and reach above the trees.
Now how I remember you;
How I would push my fingers through your mouth
to make those muscles move,
That made your voice so smooth and sweet.
Now we keep where we don't know;
All secrets sleep in winters clothes
With one you loved so long ago
Now he don't even know his name.
from "The Aeroplane Over the Sea" - Neutral Milk Hotel, The Aeroplane Over the Sea

Just so you know...

2009-02-16T17:22:00.000-08:00

Albums I have recently been listening to:

Damnation - Opeth
Float - Flogging Molly
Wolfmother - Wolfmother
Favourite Worst Nightmare - The Arctic Monkeys
In the Aeroplane Over the Sea - Neutral Milk Hotel
40oz. to Freedom - Sublime
Seven Swans - Sufjan Stevens
Robbers and Cowards - The Cold War Kids

This week for years.

2009-02-12T16:41:00.000-08:00

I created this blog in 2006, and have remained -for the most part- faithful to regular posting since then. There is something both lame and relatively cool in that, as I can now look through archives and see what I posted on certain days.

This week in 2007 reads:

(Post-trip with Nicole to DTES)
War College.
I'm still not sure, or if I am I'm unsure about my surity. It was amazing, it was scary, it was confusing, it was intense, it was eye-opening.
It took me being there to realize how sheltered I am. I've never been in any environment half that intense. But I was so scared, and so uneasy and so in love with it.
Who knows. This is where it stands. I could see myself at War College, and I plan on it. I just don't know when or how.
(PS: I miss my bestfriendship with you like mad.)

One year later, this was my entry:

You alone are my comfort.
You alone are sturdy in my life.
If only there were some place where I could run from you! Some place where I, alone in my misery, might not be overwhelmed by your goodness. Some place where realities divide, and I need not believe truth which I know in the depths of me, but allow that which I see to comfort me.
Yet still I shall praise you, I hope I will know joy again.
You remain good. You remain patient. You remain unchanged.
Do not reject me while I flee from you because of my fear, father.
When I speak of forever why do I never see
You've already captured me.
I remain yours in my flight. I follow you even in my roaming.
You are the one constant in my life.
Be patient with me, O Merciful One.

I am encouraged by my growth, though unsettled by my repetitive stumbling.
He has grace and patience for me, and I am ever being made more like Him.

Thinking about golden crowns and white gowns.

2009-02-12T11:43:00.000-08:00

In the dreams, I am wearing white and you are nowhere in sight.
I sit alone by clear pools, hesitant to move,
assured of your presance and your love for sinners and fools.
The waters shine upwards to the sky, shining down
and I catch the reflection of you beside me,
adorning me with an ornate crown.

Your voice rushes through the leaves in the oak trees
and speaks to me, saying,

"You are never forgotten, never foresaken,
and never from your saviours hand shall you be taken
You, with me, are one for eternity; you have been atoned for
and here in quiet beauty we will forever rest, in the valley of Achor."

Freedom - Run Kid Run

2009-02-10T16:01:00.000-08:00

Oh my chains,
I can't disengage,
I don't believe that I want to,
One hand sings your praise, the other brings me shame,
I have selfishness to blame...

And I'm singing for freedom,
I know I'm not the only one praying to the one,
Who can bring me this freedom,
I'm ready for change, change, change, change...

Looking down I lay,
I keep holding my chains,
No longer bound but here I stay,
I scream father please,
I need rescuing,
I need you and you alone...

And I'm singing for freedom,
I know I'm not the only one praying to the one,
Who can bring me this freedom,
I'm ready for, I'm ready for...

Still you patiently await yet I won't just let go,
I see you and you alone,
Say come follow me cause there is you can't see

So I'm singing for freedom,
So I'm singing for freedom...
The time has come-separation lost the war to love,
Take my hand, grace is found-yeah-where your words begin,
You're alive, you're alive,
In the waking of new life,
Take my hand, in the end there's only love...

There's only love

There's only singing for freedom,
I know I'm not the only one praying to the one,
Who can bring me this freedom,
I'm ready for, I'm ready for-
Father please, I need rescuing
I need you and you alone...

You will tire of me, though I'm not who I used to be.

2009-02-07T12:15:00.000-08:00

I come unhinged
the wires that worked their way through my skin
now unweave themselves painfully from me like
children chasing terrorists out of middle-eastern allyways.

I am now as fixed as water,
mallible as fresh clay.

Without the prison of bone structure
the reworking will be nowhere near as painful
and I am ready to trade this heart for yours.

Love is watching someone die.

2009-01-24T13:11:00.000-08:00

No one else will know these lonely dreams
No one else will know that part of me
No one else will have me like you do
No one else will have me
- 23, Jimmy Eat World

Yhwh has been reminding me lately of his incomparable love. I've been grieving a lot recently; many thins in my life have ended and few things seem to have begun. However when I miss the way things were and the people I've had to wish goodbye to, Christ reminds me that He loves me more than they did or ever will.
I am involved constantly in the struggle to be more like Him
and, in doing so, am made ever more grateful for grace.

You're better when you're angry.

2009-01-21T10:03:00.000-08:00

I was, if anything, dissapointed in the disinterest of the press.
Considering the determination to capture the prescision of construction,
the destruction of these landmarks went basically unnoticed.
For months before the end, the towers announced the gossip fumingin the people's mouths.
Two castles, one kingdom, built in perfect symmetry.
From across the countryside, these two windows sought each other
those hand crafted arches aching from proximity.

The intial attack was expected, although the aftermath inescapable.
kings and kinsmen inthe heat of early morning warfare.
Those defending their territory stood on ground as familiar as enemy.
Where once there was beautiful symmetry and unsporken reflection
now there are half-destroyed echoes
reverberating through the corridors of
my well-walked and brutally raped
fortress hallways.

Nicole: the Bride of Christ.

2009-01-04T22:21:00.000-08:00

The coronation was beautiful.
She, adorned; waterdroplets shimmering
interwoven through her dark, graceful cascade.
We who were there for a brief moment,
understood something unintended
and were relived of this unquenchable nature.
And thanked Him
for letting us get a glimpse
of Her.

Holy Sonnet XIV by John Donne

2008-12-03T00:17:00.001-08:00

Batter my heart, three-person'd God ; for you
As yet but knock ; breathe, shine, and seek to mend ;
That I may rise, and stand, o'erthrow me, and bend
Your force, to break, blow, burn, and make me new.
I, like an usurp'd town, to another due,
Labour to admit you, but O, to no end.
Reason, your viceroy in me, me should defend,
But is captived, and proves weak or untrue.
Yet dearly I love you, and would be loved fain,
But am betroth'd unto your enemy ;
Divorce me, untie, or break that knot again,
Take me to you, imprison me, for I,
Except you enthrall me, never shall be free,
Nor ever chaste, except you ravish me.

Everyone has their obsession; you are mine.

2008-11-23T19:45:00.000-08:00

When I was young (or, rather, younger) I spoke boldly.
I fearlessly spoke of things I didn't know. Without fear of repercussion, I invoked the vast abstracts of love, grace and forgiveness. I am unsure if this was out of naivety, hope or passion, but somehow or another, I got to thinking I had the right to sail upon these words, although I had never really left the shoreline of youthful thinking.
Now that I am older, I live boldly.
Having been through fire and scathed, I have realized the necessary reverence of the vocabulary I once used regularly. I do not claim maturity or wisdom, but have been tested and tried in my sincerity to these weighty ideals. I do not tread lightly over grace and love and forgiveness, words now seen as fearful tides.
I believe in love. I believe in grace. The weight of these words have crushed me; left me broken and weak, seemingly defeated, because the meaning of words like these are deeper than I ever realised. I daresay, if I had foreknown the absolute reality of such crushing truths, I probably would have preferred to live, die and be a part of soft lies.
When I was young(er), I believed in the impact of such words, now I am impacted BY such words; wrestled to the floor where I must face the small honesty that in order to define love, one must be destroyed by it. These scars are our medals, and they speak of battles that should have been lost, but were won on more eternal fields than these.

Sanctified by glory and fire

2008-11-10T14:07:00.000-08:00

Joshua Mills posted a couple weeks ago in his blog about the abortion of sin from our lives and thought. I've been thinking about this considerably lately. Josh, at one point, says:

Outward sin is only the manifestation of an inward oppression. Sin is developed within your heart and within your mind, and your mind is subject to whatever your eyes attach themselves to. Simply put, your mind goes where your eyes go, and your body goes where you mind goes.

Sin is conceived much like a child. It begins small and you at first don't even acknowledge it's existence. But it slowly grows and develops and the more you stay within the sin the more you nurture it and allow it to grow.

So our thoughts are pregnancy and our actions are the birth of that contemplation. Intentionally being impregnated by evil or depraved thoughts leads to knowingly concieving a creature bent on killing your own destruction. We know that the outcome of sin is death, so esentially we are giving birth to our own death; like thinking "I am going to give birth to something inhuman whose soul goal is to lead me to destruction".
That seems crazy.
If our "mind goes where our eyes go, and our body goes where our mind goes", why not lead it to something that DOESN'T want to kill us? Better yet, why not be lead to birth a new, eternal life.
Yeah, that sounds better, how do we do it? Paul seems to have it figured out when he tells the Church at Philippi:

Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is right, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is admirable—if anything is excellent or praiseworthy—think about such things.
(phil 4:8)

Be made into the home of thought that will not lead you to demise! Dwelling on the lovely things of God transforms us to look more like Him in those ways. When we arrest our thoughts to righteousness, we (or, rather, the Holy Spirit) birth newness in ourselves. We become made new, resembling our father in heaven. Be holy, be made new, don't be enslaved to anything but righteousness (which is freedom). Let yourself be someone who breathes life into places of death, not the other way around.

Josh Mills on poetic interpretation.

2008-10-31T23:21:00.001-07:00

"You think you're wearing sunglasses, but I can see your eyes
because I punched out the lenses."

"Accepting Erosion" - first draft

2008-10-30T22:30:00.000-07:00

I wrote this during Kneedrill tonight, there's a lot of story and thought behind it - I'll post on it soon.

I am small.
You, crashing around me
rolling over me in the morning tides
I hear nothing but the
submission of the sands
feel nothing but the
heartbeat of the waves crashing against my
small, weak, delicate and
ultimately insignificant
body.
You, enveloping my self and
urging me to break into
the bigness that -itself- overwhelms
me.

I, like the rocks upon which I stand,
will give way to the relentless waves.
and You, great Rescuer, will search
for me amongst the sands
Sweep me up and let the
current rush me from this
simple, safe and ultimately destructive
shore.

I am a house gutted by fire.

2008-10-24T23:55:00.000-07:00

I've thrown myself back into the world of Christ-centered literature and poetry.
May YHWH continue using the warrior poets of past days to teach me to write for the sake of His Glory.

This is by Rilke. It's captured my thoughts and mediation recently.
Enjoy.

I am praying again, Awesome One.
You hear me again, as words
from the depths of me
rush toward you in the wind.

I've been scattered in pieces,
torn by conflict,
mocked by laughter,
washed down in drink.

In alleyways I sweep myself up
out of garbage and broken glass.
With my half-mouth I stammer you,
who are eternal in your symmetry.
I lift to you my half-hands
in wordless beseeching, that I may find again
the eyes with which I once beheld you.

I am a house gutted by fire
where only the guilty sometimes sleep
before the punishment that devours them
hounds them out into the open.

I am a city by the sea
sinking into a toxic tide.
I am strange to myself, as though someone unknown
had poisoned my mother as she carried me.

It's here in all the pieces of my shame
that now I find myself again.
I yearn to belong to something, to be contained
in an all-embracing mind that sees me
as a single thing.
I yearn to be held
in the great hands of your heart--
oh let them take me now.

Into them I place these fragments, my life,
and you, God--spend them however you want.

O the Spirit of Adoption!

2008-10-12T12:25:00.000-07:00

I'm in Nanaimo! How lovely to be back at my home corps for the weekend! Though my officers are on furlough, it was delightful to see the saints I was raised fighting with. The corps is operating terrifically, many of the soldiers - old and young - stepping into their calling and wearing their uniforms and rank with holy pride. I thought I'd write out a list of things I adore about Nanaimo Corps:

Steadfast, holy, sanctified soldiers who treat any saint or prodigal who walks through the doors as their own family.
Glory flags.
An excellent mixture of contemporary and traditional Army worship songs.
The diversity of the corps' ages, yet the unison of their love for one another
The well-worn Mercy seat and Holiness table
The cacophony that rages every time everyone tries to off-beat clap
The cookies
The way the corps itself is run, the ranks of the soldiers being well-distributed amongst the corps and embraces local officership. (It was great to come back and see everyones new trim.)

I adore the Nanaimo Corps and all the things Christ is doing there. And what a blessing it is to have War College students and youth from my corps joining with my family's celebration of thanksgiving! Family has to be one of the most beautiful things on the planet.
Want to be part of an amazing family? Join the family of God!

PRE-CAMP SUNRISE ETIQUETTE REFRESHER

2008-10-03T13:17:00.000-07:00

PRE-CAMP SUNRISE ETIQUETTE

For the week prior to departure for Camp Sunrise, the etiquette is as follows:

• All typing referring to Camp Sunrise must be done in only capitalized letters.
This includes but is not limited to; memories of previous year’s camps, plans made for this years camp, and discussing kit list.
• All clothing designated for Sunrise use must be laundered during this seven day period, no earlier.
• Any spoken conversation regarding Camp Sunrise must be done so in raised voices only. NO EXCEPTIONS aside from libraries, or while near babies’ cribs and sleeping parents.
• In a situation in which Camp Sunrise is being discussed, one may not compare Camp Sunrise to any previously visited camps, unless the sentence you are using is unveiling the awesomeness of Camp Sunrise compared to these sub par Camping Facilities.

For the 24 hour period before departing from Town of Residence, the rules are as follows:

• Any typing at all must be done in capital letters ONLY. This includes, but is not limited to, MSN conversations, emails to elderly grandparents, URLS, display names and search engine key phrases. To make this rule easier to apply, one might duct tape their caps lock key down at all times, or remove the key from the keyboard entirely, to avoid temptation.
• All conversation WHATSOEVER must be done so in raised voices, except in the afore mentioned places.
• This period should be used for tasks such as: arranging transportation to ferry terminal (#2 bus or parent very helpful), packing designated kit list items into designated suitcase, enjoying ones last private shower, making all other acquaintances jealous that they are not also going to Camp Sunrise.

For the 3.5 hour ferry rides you will be undertaking, we have constructed the following rules:

• One might want to make sure that they listen to Shawn’s initial instruction of where we should meet once boarded the ferry. (We’ve got your back Shawn)
• On the ferry ride leaving camp, it is HIGHLY encouraged to congregate amongst Sunrise peers and partake in the jovial singing of Camp Sunrise favorites, including but not limited to: D-I-S-C-O, The (Stupid) Squirrel Song, All 3 Camp Sunrise Theme Songs and last but certainly not least, the classic Baby Shark melody. (Remember: The louder, the better! We want the whole ferry to be entranced with your angelic voices.)

A Word About Packing:
• Though it has been highly debated in previous years, GUMBOOTS are most definitely a constant necessity. We cannot stress this enough, people!
Though they may not lend use in the traditional form, they make excellent hand baskets and are useful in the packing process. (ie: Holding socks and other small articles.)

Following these rules provided shall assist you in experiencing optimum Camp Sunrise enjoyment.
If one comes up with a new rule, they are encouraged to speak with one of us, and we shall bring it up with the committee, concerning it’s place on this hallowed list.

Your diligent Camp Sunrise Aficionados,
Caitlyn Spence and Molly Woodford

I refound this test!

2008-10-03T10:25:00.000-07:00

I did this test a LONG time ago and the results were completely differant. Funny how I've changed.

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan --- 86%
Neo Orthodox --- 64%
Reformed Evangelical --- 61%
Fundamentalist --- 54%
Emergent/Postmodern --- 46%
Charismatic/Pentacostal --- 36%
Classical Liberal --- 32%
Roman Catholic --- 25%
Modern Liberal --- 21%

In November of 2006, I posted my scores as:

Evangelical Holiness/Wesleyan --- 96% (whoa, unexpected drop in that number)
Emergent/Postmodern --- 79% (I expected a drop here)
Clasical Liberal --- 75%
Reformed Evangelical --- 71%
Charismatic/Pentacostal --- 68%
Neo Orthodox --- 61%
Fundamentalist --- 61%
Modern Liberal --- 54%
Roman Catholic --- 14%

Veiled crowds and peacekeeping sounds.

2008-10-02T15:33:00.000-07:00

The deaf lay their ears
to the ground
and we are numb to the rooster's defeated cry.
Our numbers drop, the darkness deepens
and we duck as the ravens fly
over us, eyeing our spines
dropping like the sun over the dusk.

We were once:
fresh faced boys and girls
entangled in this fight,
believing in our right
to claim foreign words.
Boys - with eyes like the ocean and freckled forewarms and
Girls- who chased fireflies, deep into the night, not for the sake of capture
but because they reminded our eyes of light.

Now we fall like wounded soldiers
to our faces in the vally of the shadow of this city,
searching the ground for the roots
of those old abstract truths
that once
dried our weeping eyes and
offended the broken-record mindset of our desert forefathers.
Such words not resound as whispers
in the foreign winds.

So now our roots force their way
into the ground, where
the saints lay on their backs, screaming,
"WHERE ARE YOU?"
to the endless sky

and the searchlights in the tall darkness
shine, as their reply.

Wake, O sleeper; rise from the dead.

2008-09-25T23:53:00.000-07:00

The students of the Conqueror Session have been officially intitated!
They have received their prophetic names, to symbolise gaining a new identity in their resurretion and how Christ will be teaching them to be more like Him this year.

Alberta Rakestraw is Redeemed
Carlye Morris is Impact
Courtney McLeod is Adorned
Jessica Walker is Captivated
Joshua Mills is The Lord's Arrow
Sally Beauglehole is Steadfast

Pray that these names would come to fruition this year, and that the students may continue living a life of dying to self and new life in Christ.
Hallelujah! Christ has conquered death!

Mouse mouse mouse in my house.

2008-09-20T15:27:00.000-07:00

Something I've learned today:
I'm deathly afraid of mice.

Breathe easy, kid.

2008-09-12T12:23:00.000-07:00

This was for a very dear friend of mine.
--------------------
There are not enough paintbrushes!
No colours or motion or movement
no mathematical equation!
No Earthly characteristic or personification
to describe to you my emotional position.
Like reaching into the tall darkness to find
some sign,
and pulling down a light I thought to describe
but watching it rendered, like ten thousand words before it,
meaningless.

So, darling, I am at a loss.
Like the sound an orchastra going
in and out of tune, waiting
for the end to finally break through!
For my tounge to be loosed and
my music come into harmonious tunes
that the angels themselves might take notice
and envy the sound.

But there isn't enough canvas for the paintings it would create
nohing not eternal that could contain a word to describe it
So I'll settle with
a poem that sounds like an eighth grade english project
and a hope that living to explain this love
changes me
revives
you.

eight lines

2008-09-12T12:14:00.000-07:00

"love never fails"
you said it, I said it
did you think I would forget?

None of that matters now
because something went wrong
and now you're gone.

And there we were,
thinking love never failed.

Kidney Police

2008-08-23T23:40:00.000-07:00

A lot of crazy things have happened in the past week or so, I thought I would fill you in.

Kidney Stones
At 2am on August 19th, I woke up in extreme pain. I spent about half an hour throwing up in the bathroom, before the pain in my left side started to grow so intense I felt like I was dying. I was shivering all over and could brely breathe it hurt so bad. I was near screaming in pain and started begging my disgruntled roomate to call Jonathan, Aaron, the hospital, anyone. Cherie White soon picked me up and drove me to the hospital, where I continued throwing up into garbage cans and screaming. The nurse who initially met me was sure I was high. I was soon admitted and an IV was thrown in my arm. Most of the night after that is a blur. I remember evangelising to the nurse, which went great in my mind but apperantly sounded crazy and theologically unstable to Cherie and Meghan (and probably the nurse). I was pumped full of painkillers that caused me to go in and out of sleep 3 times during a single conversation and was given a blood test, urine test and Xray. The result was Kidney Stones. I was put on 3 differant medicines and sent home. All of these medicines, however, started to mess with my stumach and I threw up water and everything else the second I swallowed it. I was up all night throwing up for 2 nights and didn't eat anything for about 3. Turns out I also have a hernia in my stumach, so I got perscribed another medicine. Go me!
Still in pain a lot. pray please.

Radiohead
A couple hours after coming home from the hospital, I saw Radiohead in concert and it was AMAZING! It was pouring rain and I had no jacket, but it was remarkable. I wouldn' have changed anything for the world. Perfet setlist, amazing energy, horrible opening band - everything you would dream of.

Graduation
I actually graduated from the War College. The kneedrill where we celebrated was terrific. I did a poetery reading, Robbie performed a song he wrote and Jessica danced something she had choreographed which was so amazing I couldn't stop crying. Deanna came from Nanaimo and it was just so beautiful; celebrating with all of these terrific saints. May God bless the Conquerors Session!

Donny and Jenea's wedding
Again, something that brought me to tears. I have never been to a more holy wedding. Jesus was just teaching me bout the eternal weight of it all, and I could barely stand up it was so overwhelming a revelation. To think that they are now one; never ever seperate entities again. It was all very much for me to handle. I think, also, that Yahweh has been using it to turn my heart. I have never really believed in marrige or romantic love, but maybe I ought to.

Megan Smith.
I just spent time at the airport bidding farewels to one of the bravest, most beautiful, graceful and furious warriors I have ever fought alongside of. There were many tears and smiles (mostly tears). I found it remarkably hard to let go of her and watch her walk towards the doors, so much bigger than her, and know she was walkinginto a completly new and differant place of her life - or maybe the same place as a differant person.
I'm not good with goodbyes, and the whole situation was a lot more weepy than eloquent.

Tomorrow I say goodbye to Ashley Aspeitia.
This is hard.
May God bless these relationships as they learn to live as more extended community.

I love you.
If anyone is feeling discouraged, get in touch with me, I would love to pray for and encourage you in the fight.
I believe we will win.
caitlyn.

Memorize this.

2008-08-01T23:57:00.000-07:00

This is my favourite song of the moment.
It's called Atonement Q and A by Shai Linne.
It's Christian hip-hop and completly solid.
www.myspace.com/shailinne

Who is God? God is the universe’s Creator
And Sustainer plus the only Savior, there is no one greater
He triune, holy, omnipotent, omniscient, absolute
Loving, sovereign and righteous are a few of His attributes
How do we know this? Well, we know this from the Bible
Where God has revealed Himself- anything else is just an idol
What’s the Bible about? Man’s complete ruin in sin
And what God has done in Christ to bring us to Him again
What is sin? Sin is the breaking of God’s law
Plus our condition, which means from birth we all got flaws
What’s the result? The result is by nature we’re God’s enemies
And must pay the penalty unless God provides the remedy
What the remedy? The remedy is the cross of Christ
Where He suffered all the strikes for the lawless type
I’ve been rescued by the Lamb, I’m convinced that He’s risen
And blessed is the man whose sins are forgiven!

Just fall back, and with the eyes of faith
Behold the beauty of surprising grace
Because the Lamb has died, third day He had to rise
He’s magnified- God’s wrath is satisfied
Just fall back- there’s an atonement now
The cross of Christ is holy ground
Because the Lamb has died, third day He had to rise
He’s magnified- God’s wrath is satisfied

Regeneration- the Holy Spirit’s true work in His love
To the elect, who receive new birth from above
Expiation- expiation means God’s removed my filthiness
The old testament type was the goat into the wilderness
Redemption- we’ve been freed from slavery to sin
And His very own blood is the price He paid, my friend
Propitiation- Propitiation means since the Lamb has died
His work is finished- God’s wrath is satisfied
Adoption- adoption means God is now my Father
I got the hottest Poppa and by the Spirit holler Abba
Reconciliation means there’s no more enmity
God is now a friend to me, we’re no longer enemies
Justification- God declares us righteous
Sanctification- we’re being made into His likeness
Glorification- that’s what happens at the finish
When God conforms believers perfectly to Christ’s image!

Just fall back, and with the eyes of faith
Behold the beauty of surprising grace
Because the Lamb has died, third day He had to rise
He’s magnified- God’s wrath is satisfied
Just fall back- there’s an atonement now
The cross of Christ is holy ground
Because the Lamb has died, third day He had to rise
He’s magnified- God’s wrath is satisfied

God’s grace is magnificent, He slayed His innocent
Son- through faith and repentance we get the benefits
What is faith? Faith is a gift from God- when we receive this
We trust and treasure the person and finished work of Jesus
Repentance? Repentance is turning from your sin
And trusting Christ as the Spirit cleanses you within
What is grace? Oh, grace is unmerited favor
Our inheritance major ‘cause we cherish the Savior
Right, and if I may quote again, we were doomed with Satan
But believers get Jesus’ righteousness through imputation
Imputation? God takes Jesus’ righteousness amount
Through faith He credits it into the Christian’s account
Anything else? Well, I guess this overview must suffice
But none of this is possible apart from union with Christ
And finally, once you know the ways of the Lord than the
only thing that you can say is Soli Deo Gloria!

On blessings and birthdays.

2008-07-21T22:40:00.000-07:00

All I ever wanted was to be saved. I wanted a pass into something that wasn't going to suck, for once. Heaven didn't seem to suck, didn't seem to want to hurt me, abandon me or forget about me, so I wanted it. And that's it. All I wanted was to not be hurt in the eternal like I had been already. And I came to salvation one day in April 3 years ago, breathing a heavy sigh of relief that I had something to hold on to after the loathsome experiance of Earthly life.
But I got so much more than that.
I'm uncomfortable with blessings, really. I think I feel like I got what I came for, and to ask for more is to be ungrateful, but these are things that Yhwh wants me to have. Things like adoption, trust in Him, to feel safe and cared for and to have unswerving faith that I am not foresaken or forgotten. I never looked for a God who wanted to love me or speak to me or work in my life, but that's what the God who looked for me ended up being like.
Blessings flow from the cross, my friends.
Are you truly living in the blessing you've been given?
Are you receiving all that the God who gives good gifts is desiring to give you?
Resisitance is futile. And just really lame.

Speaking of blessings, I just burst into tears
I officially turned 19 approx. 19 minutes ago, and in that time got 13 text messages, 4 facebook posts and a phone call.
These friends of mine are amazing, and so much of my delight is in them.

Hallelujah.

Drop the bags, walk home. No longer will we ever be alone.

2008-07-19T12:15:00.000-07:00

Last night I dreamed about some stuff that Dan had just moved out of the Mitchell house (in real life) being moved back in. It was really inconvenient, obviously. My interpretation upon waking was wondering if I've been letting the junk that I have kicked out of me come back in - quickly.
It really just comes down to choice. I need to choose this day whom I will serve. Do I serve Yhwh? The God who brought me forth from captivity? The one who found me abandoned on the side of the road in a pool of my own blood and took me home, scraped the crap off me and called me beautiful? Or do I follow the god I've carved myself. The one made of driftwood etched with the names "misery, isolation, despair, rejection, suicide". The one who has no mouth to speak to me, nor ears to hear my cries, nor eyes to see my turmoil. Only names to brand me with.

As for me and my house, we will serve YHWH.

May the Lord bless the sanctifying work He is doing in me.
I am not who I once was.
I am resurrected.

peace and fullness in Christ,
caitlyn.

Shadows hide me from the light that calls my name

2008-04-29T12:06:00.000-07:00

In stained - glass windows, I often heard the song's reprise.
Reality resounding somewhere in the brokenness and despair
beyond the veiled crowds and the peacekeeping sounds.

My roots force their way
through the pavement
And the saints lay on their backs,
screaming to the endless sky
"where are you"

And the searchlights in the tall darkness
shine in their reply.

- caitlyn spence.

A few weeks ago, some of my sessionmates and I were discussing our 4 favourite biblical scenes. Mine were as follows:
Elijah and prophets of Baal on Mt. Carmel. (1kings18)
The Circumcision at Gilgal (josh5)
Jesus sitting alone at the Jordan (john10)
Nehemiah exhorting the Israelites and the early construction of Jerusalem's wall. (nehemiah 4)

It was pointed out that all of my favorite scenes have to do with repentance and holiness, and I think it;s true that these are some of the most important and recurring themes in my life. Actually, I think they are the most important things in life in general.
Repentance; the turning of hearts. Without repentance, there is only death. There is only hearts set on seeking what is seen, what passes away. It is the rolling away of reproach from our former ways. If we do not cut our old ways from ourselves, how will we then go on to live as new creations, unbound by our broken chains.
If we are consecrated to Him, He will do amazing things among us.

An important reminder from a friend

2008-04-19T20:27:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, while I babysitting the 4 children of Aaron and Cherie White, Noah (who is 3) was watching a show called George Shrinks on my laptop. In this particular episode, George was frightened by what he believed to be a ghost. Noah's response to this was taking the laptop by it's screen and proclaiming loudly:
"Jesus is WITH you! He has the POWER to destroy that ghost!"

Amen.

Learning the language of a story told to farmers.

2008-04-17T22:39:00.001-07:00

I am sorry for my slowness to write, but sometimes I open up the window and I stare at the text box and get completly overewhelmed by the size of it. How on earth do I fit my entire jam-packed life into a box barely a third the size of my laptop moniter? I'll start out with the small stuff, because that's usually the most important, anyway, right?
This morning was one of my favorite mornings I've had in a long time. It consisted of waking up early to spend time in a garden in an empty lot with the lovely Olivia Munn, discussing the resurrection. My bare, pale hands enshrouded in dark earth, surrounded by the potential of life blossoming just beneith me. As I established the home of what will eventually (hopefully!) be a cloud of roses and thorns in the middle of our vegitable garden, I contemplated the resurrection of Christ, and the signifigance of His appearance to Mary. I'm not the type to associate myself with an idea just because of what the surface literature provides, therefore I've never believed that Jesus was raised in anything but His original Earthly body. Although the text reads that three or so people didn't recognise Him right off, I don't see any proper proof to believe that Jesus had a new body - as I was taught in my Jehovah's Witness childhood. On this particular morning, however, as my heart was hoping for the beauty of roses to spring up from where I had embedded their beginnings and the weight of the moment when Mary first sees the resurrected Christ absorbed my thoughts. Mary was pretty emotional when she saw Jesus' body was missing, she probably wouldn't have recognised her own reflection. Her Risen Lord speaks to her and she assumes it's the gardener. And she assumes it because it's true. Because Christ IS the gardener. It was in a garden that we were given life. We were exiled from that Garden because cursed death was placed on us. And so it was that in a garden, our Lord was arrested and sent to His own death. And it was from this garden tomb that the new promise of life erupted forth. That morning, a woman was crying about an empty tomb, not realizing that that tomb was full; the walls were salvation. The garden she wept in was the completly redeemed life. The curse given in the first garden was taken away on the cross, and the effects of it were completly destroyed when a man walked from a tomb into another garden. Mary was completly right with her first assumption of who the man standing behind he was. This was the gardener. All things around her were created by him. This new, redeemed life she had stumbled into, this garden, it was His. He had made it and it was beautiful. He had spent the winter waiting for the rebirth of the spring and watched it unfold in the eyes of a young, innocent woman.
In summation, the garden is life. We were created for it, and were escorted out by the hands of death. But just as Death escorted Lord Jesus from Gethsemane to the cross, Jesus carried from his own grave the seed of redeemed life. The original blessings of the original garden and covenant made available to transgressors by way of the Gardener himself.
Behold, the old has passed away and He makes all things new.

The old, tired ground has passed away.
Wake up, O bride. Rise from your tomb and come into the garden.
Your groom awaits, and he has made all things new.

grace.
caitlyn.

Of "The Staff Review" of William Booth regarding the revelation of love in the atonement.

2008-02-29T23:25:00.000-08:00

1. We must hold on to the Doctrine of the Atonement because of the marvellous revelation it affords of the love of God to man.

i. You have the revelation of love that love in the Creation. The provision made for Man's health and happiness.
ii. You have revelation of that love in Providence. All things work together for our good. Our not understanding why things that appear opposed to our welfare come to us does not disprove this fact.
iii. You have the revelation of that love in the Bible. Who would ever have dreamed of many of the things we know about God if they had not been there revealed?
iv. You have the revelation of that love in Grace. Grace is the sign of the infinite compassion, love and beauty of God in the conversion, sanctification, preservation and utilization of His people, and in their final triumph over Death and Hell.

But, in Christ, in His hanging, dying, on the cross we have a manifestation of the heart of love which has made all this possible, and which, in importance, far transcends it all.

Straylight Run

2008-02-17T16:00:00.000-08:00

A laundry list of problems doesn't make you interesting,
And never getting help doesn't make you brave.
Not listening to reason doesn't mean that you have faith,
You're just cutting off your nose to spite your face.

So tie the noose and raise the cross,
The martyr has arrived.
A desperate plea for sympathy,
It's all you'll need.

And you want it all
You want it all.

these dark skies remember your ocean eyes

2008-02-16T22:36:00.000-08:00

My emotions are like some sort of sickness. Lord, when will I stop being tormented by time worn wounds? When will the hurt cease its dull ache and the healing break forth?
I believe this cycle must break eventually.
I have little hope on nights such as these.
God is good. I will always remember that God is always good.
Will you cover me, will you comfort me?
You alone are my comfort.
You alone are sturdy in my life.
If only there were some place where I could run from you! Some place where I, alone in my misery, might not be overwhelmed by your goodness. Some place where realities divide, and I need not believe truth which I know in the depths of me, but allow that which I see to comfort me.
Yet still I shall praise you, I hope I will know joy again.
You remain good. You remain patient. You remain unchanged.
Do not reject me while I flee from you because of my fear, father.
When I speak of forever why do I never see
You've already captured me.
I remain yours in my flight. I follow you even in my roaming.
You are the one constant in my life.
Be patient with me, O Merciful One.

at night I feel I've been forgotten by the dawn

2008-02-12T21:28:00.000-08:00

I find myself awake at night, looking at the long-drawn ribbons of light that travel beneith the reality of my midnight windowsill. I pray to God there is more. The fulfilled life, the one no longer needing to be purpose driven or guilt ridden, seems either unreal or all too resistable. My Lord is Good! I should have no complaint!
He is infinatly good, in fact. There is no fault within Him and He is just in all of His ways and judgments. He has created the stars and stretches our their lengthened residence as a tent for us to live beneith. He is wholly good.
My soul churns within me. Seemingly beckoned by two safe harbours; I am a wave tossed at sea. My savior, I beg you rescue me.
I am full of desire for you.
I will seek you endlessly.
I will not forget you, nor the things you have done for me.
I might sleep some nights, but I am wracked with my contemplatin of your ways.
I yearn to understand that which you have shown me.
Why do I feel I have eyes that see, ears that hear
and a heart that can not understand.
Hosanna. Lord.
caitlyn.

I'm hoping love can hold onto me.

2007-11-19T20:19:00.000-08:00

I feel like I have a quiet love for the Lord lately. I continue to have a strong heart for him to show himself to the world and for the growing amount of great friends I make to find fullness in Him. Stronger fire for such things than ever, really, and these fires should hopefully be continuously growing. There are also select saints in Nanaimo that I am also in constant prayer for, and several seem to be growing in great love for the Lord and stepping out in hard faith. Praise YHWH. My love for my saviour lately, however, has been more contemplative than anything, but I don't mind.
I've been thinking about obediant faith, and how vital it is for our souls. My session gets into several heated discussions over the conditions of continuted state of salvation, and the lead me more and more to believe that, without obediant faith, there is no salvation, no abundance of life. Without faith, we can only find death in darkness. With faith, however, we are the light of the world; not only shall we never walk in darkness, death looses it's sting to us, as it is only seen as an oppertunity to find new life.
My current meditative state, however, can not mend me of the morose nature with which I chose to act in previous days, although the Joy of the LORD comes with the morning, and it comes as my strength. A cause of this behavior can be be traced back to the last Biblical Interpretation class, as it ended suddenly and sadly. Those classes were my favorite I've probably ever taken. Or at least they are up with other life-aletering classes like Civ12, CompRel12 and Writing12. There are still some amazing things to be instructed here, though, and classes are continuing until Kettles begin on Dec.1.
Pray for my friends. All of them.
Also for me, if found neccesary.
I love you greatly, but I love the LORD more.

caitlyn.

We, who were called to be your people

2007-10-30T18:38:00.000-07:00

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?

2007-10-28T03:53:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-28T02:37:00.000-07:00

"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

2007-10-18T03:34:00.001-07:00

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

Come home on the weekend forever.

2007-10-16T16:31:00.000-07:00

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.

2007-10-10T14:14:00.001-07:00

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.

2007-10-06T23:31:00.000-07:00

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

2007-10-06T15:41:00.000-07:00

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

Oh dear. This could get awkward.

2007-09-23T06:28:00.001-07:00

Molly... When sundown pales the sky, I want to hide away behind your smile. says:
CAITLYN
Molly... When sundown pales the sky, I want to hide away behind your smile. says:
MAKE ME STOP FALLING IN LOVE WITH MY BEST FRIEND
Caitlyn.. it is in dying that we are born to eternal life says:
Molly
Caitlyn.. it is in dying that we are born to eternal life says:
It'll never work between us
Molly... When sundown pales the sky, I want to hide away behind your smile. says:
LOLOLOLOLOLOLOL
Molly... When sundown pales the sky, I want to hide away behind your smile. says:
Sorry Caitlyn,
you're not my type.
Caitlyn.. it is in dying that we are born to eternal life says:
wait, no
Caitlyn.. it is in dying that we are born to eternal life says:
I'M doing the turning down here

"when I call NANAIMO, ya'll holla back"

2007-09-05T16:28:00.000-07:00

I randomly found this video of RAW that me and Carlye made FOREVER ago and it made me smile.
I love these kids. I'll miss them like crazy.

Memoirs of a Jehovah's Witness kid.

2007-08-20T14:54:00.000-07:00

So, last night, Molly, Katelyn and I were laughing over stories form our separate childhoods. Molly and Kate's mostly consisted of surgeries and gymnastics classes - neither of which I've ever been a part of. My stories were all about my quest to convert my entire elementary class to Jehovah's Witness(ism?) through kindergarden to grade 7.
When I was in 2nd or 3rd grade, we had a show-and-tell day in which we showed the present that Santa gave to us and told everyone how awesome it was. I, being a JW, had obviously not recieved any presents, and was getting tired of hearing about everyone's pagan gift stories. So,when my turn on the stool at the front of the class came around, I sat down and said these immortal words:
"Santa is not real. It's only your parents. Neither is the tooth fairy."
The class quickly turned into a heated debate and I was kindly asked to stand in the hallway until sharing time was over.
But that didn't end my Show-and-tell evangelism. When I was in 5th grade, I brought a piece of JW literature about Jesus called "The Greatest Man Who Ever Lived". I then opened the book to a picture of John the Baptist's head on a silver platter and told this story:
"This is Jesus' cousin John. He got his head cut off because a girl danced at a birthday party and then the king gave her John's head as a present even though he was best friends with Jesus. That's why you shouldn't celebrate birthdays."

Also, in grade 4,when all the girls had Spice Girl-inspired platform shoes and I didn't, I told my classmates that "I have a pair, but they are made of mirrors and they are illegal, because a girl in Mexico was wearing the same ones and a person got blinded from the sun shining off of them. So if I wore them, I could goto jail."
That story is not about evangelizing my class, but it was the most ridiculous thing I think a 10 year old could say.

I want the whole world to see we've met.

2007-08-13T15:40:00.000-07:00

So let me set the scene:
The Winners Fitting Room; a drab florescent-lit gray and blue area littered with clothes and impatient senior women. This happens to be where I work for 6-8 hours a day, being yelled at by strangers and pounding my feet endlessly on the gray tile flooring. On a recent occasion, a young woman with a big gray bag, aged around 14, and her friends wandered in to try on some pajamas and underwear. As she walked into the maze of blue cubicles with the number card I had issued her, God said to me "tell her about me". I was a little off-guard, I mean, what was I to expect when she walked back out? Should I form a Mercy Seat our of hanger bars or pass her the copy of Salvationist in my bag and let her walk away? Then it hit me, she was trying on underwear. I'm fairly sure that the presence of modern underwear in our society is the most perfect ministry tool possible. As she walked out, I took the discard items from her and the conversation went as follows:
Caitlyn: "You want to know a trick with trying on underwear?"
Girl: "Yeah, sure" (obviously slightly weirded out)
Caitlyn: "If you take a piece of underwear and wrap it around your neck by the waste band and it fits perfectly, the ends meeting on the nape of your neck, it'll fit you."
Girl: "no way, really?" (she takes a few pieces of underwear she's buying and follows my instruction" "hey, wow, that actually works"
Caitlyn: "Yeah, it's neat, because when God designed us, he proportioned us perfectly, you know? The circumference of your neck is always the diametre of your waist, your arm's length together is always your hight. There's no flukes in the way humans were designed"

So she smiled and nodded uncomfortably as she walked to the front of the store with her friends. As I was sorting through her discarded items, I thought about what had just happened. She hadn't fallen on her face and been convicted of her sins, but maybe God had planted a seed in her, and God had TOLD me to say those things, so I believe that without a doubt it was for a reason. I'll probably never see her again, but I know that God's got plans for her and I hope he sends her people to water her seed. When I finished sorting, I realized that some of the things from her pile had gone missing, some tops from some sets of pajamas. I sighed as I picked up the phone and called Customer Service, reporting that a small group of 14ish year old girls with large bags might have stolen some pieces. I don't know what happened next, my job is only to report the missing clothes. I really hope she felt convicted and dropped them somewhere in the store before she left, but I don't know, it never got back to me.
Anyway, I thought that was interesting, and I hadn't posted anything of real substance in a while I guess.

My scripture for meditation recently is:
For I take no pleasure in the death of anyone, declares the Sovereign LORD. Repent and live!
-Ezekiel 18:32

Grace, peace, I love you all.
Caitlyn. <3

Take a sad song and make it better

2007-08-05T20:31:00.000-07:00

Overall, I'm just really glad. I'm happy, and I'm joyous and I'm really, really glad. It's been a hard summer, but it was necessary. I'm breathing a lot easier now. I've been going to the beach more often at night to have some time with Jesus, been constantly hungry for the Word. I realized one day last week what passion means; and that I'm in this fight for a reason. And if I'm going to talk about life to the full, I better start living that way.
I could use a lot of words to explain how I feel and why, but it's no use.

you being in love... (XII) by E. E. Cummings

2007-07-31T22:49:00.000-07:00

you being in love
will tell who softly asks in love,

am i separated from your body smile brain hands merely
to become the jumping puppets of a dream? oh i mean:
entirely having in my careful how
careful arms created this at length
inexcusable, this inexplicable pleasure-you go from several
persons: believe me that strangers arrive
when i have kissed you into a memory
slowly, oh seriously
-that since and if you disappear

solemnly
myselves
ask "life, the question how do i drink dream smile

and how do i prefer this face to another and
why do i weep eat sleep-what does the whole intend"
they wonder. oh and they cry "to be, being, that i am alive
this absurd fraction in its lowest terms
with everything cancelled
but shadows
-what does it all come down to? love? Love
if you like and i like,for the reason that i
hate people and lean out of this window is love,love
and the reason that i laugh and breathe is oh love and the reason
that i do not fall into this street is love."

The end will justify the pain it took to get us there

2007-07-30T12:13:00.000-07:00

So I recently saw the film Hairspray. For anyone who doesn't know my movie taste, I typically dislike anything made after the year 1961. But Hairspray really took me by surprise, and though I've never seen it's original, I really enjoyed it. It is based in 1964 and pretty much depicts the transition between 1950s moral code and 1960s free love. There's a particular scene in which a black inhabitants of Baltimore go on a march in response to the recent news that there will no longer be black actors on local tv. There's a song during that part that I think reminded me of why I believe what I do.

There's a road we must travel
There's a promise we must make
'Cause the riches will be plenty
Worth the risk and chances that we take
There's a dream in the future
There's a struggle we have yet to win
'Cause just to sit still would be a sin

I think that's a pretty good summation of the point of Christianity.
I think I'm getting reminded of a lot lately.
And I think that I should be reading my Bible a lot more often. I haven't done it very much since the beginning of Summer and that's dumb.

Rejoice in all things, for the day of the LORD is near

2007-07-20T00:31:00.001-07:00

Worship the LORD your God, and his blessing will be on your food and water. I will take away sickness from among you,
Exodus 23:25

He called his twelve disciples to him and gave them authority to drive out evil spirits and to heal every disease and sickness.
Matthew 10:1

Father we're asking for cleansing at Camp Sunrise.
Eloi, we ask for blood ans fire and billows of smoke, we claim healing and we declare holiness of the children and the staff. You built Camp Sunrise as a place for us to come to meet with you, Yahweh, so we're declaring that it be used by no one else and for no other purpose. Lord we proclain in the name of Jesus Christ that that land is to be Holy and that nothing that is not sent by you can touch it's ground. Death has no place in those children.
Gracious Healer, we thank you so much for the people there that you have already begun healing and for the people you will heal. We know that you have authority over illness and we claim that over Camp Sunrise right now. We ask for legions of angels. We ask for an invisible army to walk the Camp alongside the visible one, the staff. Raise up the staff as warriors, and let them fight with the blood and fire and may you be glorified. Make them strong and healthy, remind them to keep their eyes on you and be joyful in you.

In Jesus' name, Amen.

I don't need to know right now, I know I believe

2007-07-19T15:22:00.000-07:00

Lately I'm alright, lately I'm not scared.
-Suspension, Mae

I'm learning dependency. My tattoo is neat. I see Lisa in a few days.
Two more days until my 18th birthday.
4 more weeks until I give my two weeks at Winners.
7 more weeks until I'm in Vancouver.

Current album of choice: Abbey Road - The Beatles

Promoted to Glory.

2007-07-14T00:04:00.000-07:00

So, here is something hard.
An incredible woman that our church was blessed to have amongst us, Colonel Iris, died in her sleep last night - was Promoted to Glory.
I think this takes me more by surprise than anything, she was so fine last Sunday.
She had incredible faith in the youth and elders of our church alike, and served the LORD with grace and a smiling heart.
She was a mentor to many of the girls in our church and a beautiful soul.

I don't know what else to say. I think she was absolutely incredible and I regret never telling her.
But we'll meet again, I'll be sure to tell her then.

In Christ,
caitlyn.

Remember when I JUST said how much I miss Mike?

2007-07-11T02:07:00.000-07:00

Caitlyn.. if it's once, I've got it; if it's twice, I don't says:
I love you guys
#27..betta recognize says:
and i love you
#27..betta recognize says:
i miss you meng
Caitlyn.. if it's once, I've got it; if it's twice, I don't says:
I miss you too, Mike

Wow my God is faithful, and wow does He ever listen.
I type a blog about missing Michael, pray for the vbs team at 614 and he comes online as soon as I'm done.
Pray for that vbs team, by the way. I don't think they'll be continuing the station at 614, seeing as how over half the team just watched a guy fall from a fifth floor window at The Empress about two hours ago.
They're pretty shook up.

Honest words are typically written near midnight

2007-07-11T01:29:00.000-07:00

Life is funny and time is frustrating.
I find it inconvenient that I can't make life or time stop at my will. There's a lot of me coming to the surface recently, and it's becoming a lot to deal with. I'm actually feeling pretty overwhelmed. It seems unfair that when I wake up tomorrow, life will be happening and I will be wasting it working out the tangles in my now-emerging troubled soul.

I want my community back. Blasted summer camp jobs that take them off of the island! I'd give anything right now for a Tyler Paquette Power Hug right now, or for Michelle Latour's jackhammer laugh and listening skills, let alone what I would do for a phone call with Michael Anderson as he plays video games and quotes Mitch Hedburg. Jen Schaper is coming home tomorrow, thank God. Taylor Craig is also coming from Victoria sometime this week hopefully, I kinda of burst into tears on the phone with him because I miss him so much.

I feel lonely and downtrodden and I love God.
I've been reading Jeremiah and Lamentations fairly consistently these past days.
I think I'm starting to learn what I'm supposed to.

Namaste, grace
and I love you so much.
caitlyn.

"For I know the plans I have for you," says the Lord.
"They are plans for good and not for disaster, to give you a future
and a hope. In those days when you pray, I will be found by you,"
says the Lord. "I will end your captivity and restore your fortunes. I will
gather you out of the nations where I sent you and bring you
home again to your own land."
-Jeremiah 29:11-13

To sink for your sins, lest grace be the wind.

2007-07-08T18:56:00.000-07:00

Why are you downcast, O my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
Put your hope in God,
for I will yet praise him,
my Savior and my God.
-Psalm 43:5

My heart feels heavy, and my spirit is at disrest within me. My thoughts have been full of sorrow and second-guessing the Spirit. And I understand that it needs to be worked through and not ignored, but I'm losing patience and maybe even passion. And I know I'm okay, that this isn't the first time I've felt this way nor will it be the last. That the point of conviction and this kind of brokenness means I become someone better. The question is whether or not I'm prepared to do what I'm supposed to. The LORD told Joshua to consecrate himself, for He was going to do amazing things with him. I could definitely use some cleansing if I'm going to allow Elohim to do anything with me.
This is where the honesty that I'm afraid of kicks in.
Because the truth is, I'm an addict to my sin. That I get so high off my pride and my reputation that I stop caring who I'm hurting or what I could be doing with myself. That my pride grows like weeds inside me and corrupts my mind, causes me to spend hours trying to do nothing but impress someone. And my stubborn independence refuses to let me be vulnerable, which leaves me lacking community or any true reliance on God.
AND NOW YOU KNOW.
Because I know people read this blog, people I look up to and I would love to look faultless before, or constantly wise I would love it if you all liked me but I think I need to stop hating myself for the possibility that all of you might not.
But this must be some sort of step, some sort of starting point.
I've felt sick with sin for weeks, and dealing with it on my own this time is running me down.

And if you really wanted to know a secret, I've been cutting myself for five years, maybe four. And I don't want anyone to know at all, because I'm tired of having to comfort the people it effects, and I know that's selfish and prideful and all the things I'm working on, I realize that.
And now I'm scared, because I realize that sort of jeopardizes next year.

Wash me of my sin and cleanse me of my inequity, O Yeshua.
I want to feel healed and clean and right again. To look to the mountains and wonder where my help comes from.
But this is only a starting point.

Namaste, I absolutely love you all.
Be blessed. Grace.
caitlyn.

(post-script: Currently listening to Empire by As Cities Burn

i was a middle son
between two wayward ones
i was more deserving of my parent's love

i had an angel's smile
hiding a vulture's bite
i had no use for your redeeming blood

aren't i glory, glorious

glory, glorious
aren't we glory, glorious
aren't we worthy, worthy of hearts at our feet

i was a pharisee
i never saw my need for grace
then your love came to me
stood next to mine and i saw that i was poor

show me i was poor
show us we are
show us we are

glory, glorious
we are glory, glorious
not from what good we have done
but from being the least

glory, glorious
oh, i dont know how i was made

my heaven tower sways atop their fleeting praise
God, i dont know how i was made

glory, glorious
are we glory, glorious?
are we worthy, worthy of hearts at our feet?
glory, glorious
we are glory, glorious
not from what we've done
but being the least

i was a wicked one)

Somebody spoke and i went into a dream

2007-07-06T17:53:00.000-07:00

Currently listening to A Day In The Life by The Beatles

As a general rundown, it wasn't what I expected but what I asked for; a common theme in my life at the moment. I went asking for the Holy Spirit, and with that comes the Lord's conviction. I got convicted of some awfully odd things this week and some pretty huge things.
And I think I'm different now, or at least a heck of a lot more conscious of who I'm supposed to be.
At one point, mid-week, I was just so full of sorrow from conviction and from fear and feeling broken. Because, to be completely honest, I'm really kinda pretty scared about next year. Not as much now as I was then, because I've been given a lot of peace about it, but I was pretty freaked for a while about it. Walked out on campfire for pretty much a 3 hour yelling sesh with God. It seemed like if He expects something so big from me next year and something I'm so obviously frightened by, I should be receiving a lot more comfort, more strength than I have been. There were truly glimpses of thoughts for seconds that wondered if I'd ever really known God, but I was in my senses enough to cast those off quickly.
I'm really not sure where I am now, but I think from here on out it doesn't matter so much if I have a word to define my faith.
But it wasn't all sorrow. That's half-true, all of the joy was connected to sorrow in one way or another. I remember at one point God calling me to my knees, and Him saying "See? This is where you're supposed to be". I think my life has been far too much about holding myself on my own two feet for far too long. I don't need to prove anything to anyone by pulling myself up, I need to be content on my knees; it's easier to lose balance when you're farther from the ground anyway.

The first worship session, the first chord of the first song hit me hard. There was a lot of pleading for God to call all of those kids home, a lot of hurting in my heart and spirit. I couldn't even be in the chapel. I had to walk outside and sit on the ground and felt like Rachael weeping.
I wrote a poem while in that frame of mind:

Is your excuse that you can not see, nor hear, nor feel?
And are you so numb to not be warmed by the Sun that rises for you
or the stars that attempt to guide you; set a course to guide you home.
And still your cry in the night
resounds: screaming
WHERE ARE YOU
and echoes into the reaching sky.

Things that mark me as worth mentioning:

Deck parties with Carlye
Colouring in the Pirate Colouring book.
The sweet beetle I found at 2 am outside the Chapel.
The frightening experience of getting a "firm talking to" from a pregnant woman in a sundress.
The fact that I preach at my church, run a youth service, preach at another youth service, lead a children's program, started a cell group and mentorship program and I wasn't allowed to leave my cabin after 12 (not that it stopped me).
"apperantly all of the Caitlyn/Katelyns at camp have issues with authority"-Shirley Perry
Being anointed with oils by someone that I love as much as Lisa
The oil stains in half my stuff because of an anointing-happy Lisa
how grateful I am for Lisa.
Xander Coleman's obnoxious laugh.
Seeing Andy Mac for probably the last time ever.
Long conversations with Aaron and Johnathan that didn't so much comfort me, but assure me that I'm allowed to be scared.
Praying over Chantelle
Watching the girls from Hosanna disciple their own youth.

I probably have much more to say, but I'm done with computers.

I love you, namaste
Caitlyn Spence.

O my friend, it's bigger than us both.

2007-06-20T21:14:00.001-07:00

I feel achy.
Maybe it's from staying up until 6:30 am with Tyler and getting up at 10:30 to hang out with Molly and Michelle.
Or maybe it's from the feel that I have about 72 hours left with some of the most incredible kids I've ever met in my life, and then I don't see them for 14 months.
It might even be from the strain of watching over the newest member of our house, although I look with anticipation each day to watch my family bless her with a real family love.
Part of it could be attributed to late-night phone calls and conversations keeping Taylor's spirit awake, begging and teaching and speaking into his Spirit.
One could observe that it's from the stress of realizing that I have no idea what my final grade in Writing was, and that I can't fall asleep because of panicking that I failed.
It could be the ache of wanting to leave for Vancouver, to get out there and begin this whole part of my life that I never even imagined could ever happen.
It might be the ware of the feeling that I'll be taken away from the life I thought I'd always have, the group I thought I'd always have a busride away and the friendships God has blessed me with the ability to help build.

A lot of the kids I'm crazy about are in my backyard this second.
And I think I should be, too.

Rock bottom's where we live, and still we dig these trenches

2007-05-22T19:22:00.000-07:00

Our God comes and will not be silent.
-Psalm 50:3

Psalm 50:3 has always been one of my absolute favorite verses. It's often the one I should out during worship or as a Gospel Shot. Not for any particular reason, I suppose. I love the proclamation of "Our God", because I like to remember that my Lord is a Lord to many, that my faith is the savior of more than myself. I love that he comes. I love that he is impossible to stop, to shut up.
This weekend I was meditating on it at History Maker (somewhere with 4000 kids screaming praise is a good place to meditate on the loudness of God) and a whole other meaning of the scripture was revealed to me.

Our God came so that the noise we'd muffled would be loud.

Jesus came for a lot of reasons. Mainly because there are a lot of reasons that we needed Him to. While he was here, he just wouldn't stop hanging out with the voiceless, because they needed to be spoken for. Because there's a reason they had no voices, we'd put muffles on them. We heard their cries, their complaint, their mourning, their pain and you put one hand over their mouth while the other was reaching to God in the sanctuary.
So Jesus came and started crying out with the poor, with the unheard. And His voice was not one so easily unheard. He would not be silent.

And out God comes again, in the form of the Holy Spirit, in us. When Jesus came, he went to the poor and made sure they were heard. When the Spirit is in us, chances are it wants to do the same.

The people who are silenced are usually the ones who were screaming the loudest and were shushed. But our God will not be silent.

We are to be a voice crying out in the wilderness, because God is in us, and the shushed places need Him crying out loud.

I don't know if it makes as much sense in here as it does in my head.

Grace.
Caitlyn.

My meditation for the day.

2007-05-17T14:37:00.001-07:00

John 14:30-31

I will not speak with you much longer, for the prince of this world is coming. He has no hold on me, but the world must learn that I love the Father and that I do exactly what my Father has commanded me.
Come now; let us leave.

Rest in peace, r-dawg

2007-05-08T00:07:00.000-07:00

Today officially marks one year since Ryan Jubenville took his own life.
He was my age.

You are still missed.
You will not be forgotten.

I'm still mad at you.
I love you.

Grace.
(please post prayer, I still have no idea what to think about this one.
It still scares me like crazy to wonder where he is now. )

How would plants grow if there were no light?

2007-04-30T16:58:00.000-07:00

then your righteousness will go before you

The idea of righteousness going before us is what I seem to be meditation on recently. especially after prom. Now, maybe I'm just square, but at prom that verse is all that I could think about in relation to my actions. There'd be be times when I'd be dancing with someone to a song full of scum and all of a sudden that verse would be breathed into my head. It'd make me stop and think "Is the way I'm dancing and the music I'm dancing to glorifying God? Can I call this worship? Is this Holy?". And there'd be times I had to sit down and think about it.
Because, thing is, we gave up the right to behave the way we want when we (that's a lot of Ws) recognized our bodies as temples of God, not as our own. Had I been dancing (if that's what you could call it) the same way everyone else in that room had, would I be allowing God's righteousness go ahead of me? Would my light be breaking forth like the dawn? Or would I just look like every other kid in the room, dancing with someone the same way the couple in the corner did before they go to the backseat of their dad's cars.
Maybe that was harsh of me to say, but I think it needs to be said. In a situation like that, full of darkness, it's our JOB to radiate light. To be seen as righteous and holy. Ephesions says "Let no hint of sexual immorality be among you...because these are improper for God's holy people". NO HINT. Therefore, if you believe the scriptures and have the light of the Lord in you, you shouldn't be oozing sexuality the way most kids of this generation love to. You AREN'T those kids, you're God's Holy People.
And ladies, do you really want to look that way? Like an object? Because trust me, at this age, a boy's horomones will see you as nothing but that if you give them reason to. It's not holy love to let him touch you like that, it's selfish using.
And gentlemen, why would you put yourself in that situation? To be able to touch your sister in Christ in an unholy way or to let your horomones take over your actions.
Because I thought the point of Christianity meant fighting against our human instinct. Which is to slap back when someone hits us, to argue fruitlessly, to hate those who wrong us and to let our horomones dictate that way we treat eachother-physically or not.
If you're clothed in Christ, you're setting the example of what holiness looks like. It's not okay for people to see us a part of the world, because the world hates us. In every action we make, God can use us to bring His kingdom, to express his love for others. How is he supposed to act out his love if we're letting the world see us acting in lust?
Let the world see you as PURE not filty with sin like it is! Show it the potential of healing! Of cleansing! How will they be taught Holiness if they see no one acting in it?!

Don't let anyone look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith and in purity.

You're bigger than this. You know it, I know it. Now start acting it.
Let your righteousness go before you and your light break forth, don't hide it under a basket.
Be made clean, be pure, set an example.

I love you.
Grace.
Caitlyn (which means purity in hebrew)

It's not longer I that liveth.

2007-04-28T00:08:00.000-07:00

So here's the thing:
I'm pretty inept in mostly any form of social engagement. I can't really form a sentence around someone that I haven't know for at least 2 years. It's actually taken me 2 years to feel comfortable talking to the majority of my youth group. But the second those people become my friends, I don't forget it easily. The people I openly love and respect now, I will still openly respect and love 20 years from now.
This is, prom is going to be me in a room of about 150 of the kids I've never, ever let in that way. And almost every kid I ever HAVE will be kickin it at a different prom.
And yeah, you know what? I am super bummed by that. But I'll live. The only part of tomorrow I'm looking forward to is taking prom pictures with my youth group and dancing with Jesse.

Wearing my tunic to school on Tuesday was amazing. Like, it kinda changes your demeanor, wearing something like that to a high school. It's not like wearing a cross necklace, or getting a fish tattooed to your forearm, it's definitely a lot more aggressive. I was blessed by it a lot. Just little comments throughout the day. From Nick Paisley asking me the difference between a soldiers uniform and a captains (and then defending me to his friends) to Mr. Poppy telling me stories about his father and grandfather, who were officers in the Army in Scotland and part of the Citadel band. The best part of the day was the last 3 hours of school. We had this huge grad assembly about drinking and driving, and a lady whose daughter had been killed in a car accident on prom night told her story of loss and mourning. Afterwards I thanked her and hugged her. She recognized the tunic and asked me to pray with her and begged me to keep my friends safe on prom night. She was crying while she was hugging me and she apologized for getting tears on my jacket. I said "No, it's okay. I'm fairly sure there's no article of clothing more suitable for tears to fall on."
Pretty much just incredible.
And though it still makes me kind of uncomfortable to be wearing a piece of uniform that displays a title that I do not have (last time I checked, I should definitely have blue epaulets with no stars, not red ones with 2) it was still a blessing to me and the people around me, and gave me several chances to share my faith and the SA's Doctrine with several people.

I'm out. I should probably get a decent amount of sleep before prom.
I love you all.
God's grace be with you.

Caitlyn.

Son, I loved you at your darkest.

2007-04-27T14:49:00.000-07:00

So. This week I kinda had a little meltdown. I love investing in people, but the past few weeks, I've spent pouring out so much of my self I barely had anything left. And it feels like I kind of started teaching like I know everything, instead of teaching to learn. This Thursday I got some peace though, at Hosanna. Everything felt really natural and nice with teaching and learning.
I'm not always the teacher. It's humbling and peaceful to remember that. I'm not really ever the teacher, because none of this knowledge is mine.
I have a pretty continuous trend in my faith. And I think I'm gonna put a stop to it. I tend to get really hyper-involved in like, spirituality and warfare and stop and tootally foresake the things that my foundation is built on, that is, love, faith and hope. And I usually need to fall apart to go back and stand on my foundation again. I need to learn balance, and that's what I'm doing now. Because prophesy and tounges can fade, but faith hope and love remain.

As well, my personal worship time has been lacking lately. In the past maybe 2-3 days I've been trying to get myself back on track. My corperate prayer time with everyone never fails to blow me away, though. I love these kids. I love these kids so much.

I wore my tunic on tuesday, and I will definetly post results of that tonight when I get home from work. It was superb though. It's pretty much impossible to skip class while wearing a tunic.

ALSO! I am in need of someone to keep me accountable for:
Actually WRITING my sermon
Reading my Bible more
...and probably something else.

I love you.
Grace, peace.
Caitlyn.

I never say what I mean, never mean what I say.

2007-04-23T22:55:00.000-07:00

I'm currantly very unimpressed with myself.

And damn, I'm just so sorry.

I'm wearing my tunic to school tomorrow.

Oh, St. Augustine.

2007-04-18T12:55:00.000-07:00

"Hope has two beautiful daughters. Their names are anger and courage; anger at the way things are, and courage to see that they do not remain the way they are."

Best friends for eternity.

2007-04-18T11:05:00.000-07:00

CrashFace-Carlyepie Morris.

What we have here, this is true bestfriendship.

This is years of loving and laughing and crushes and hairdye.

This is moments when our guts ache and our cheeks hurt.

This is days when we can't stand eachother long enough for a phone call that exceeds 8 minutes

and the days when our phones die from hours of pointless conversation.

This is me moving 3 times in our friendship and my house always being an anchor to you and yours to me.

This is "Remember when!?" and "I can't wait until..."

This is HUNDREDS of concerts and shows, movies and Full Circles.

This is 10 peircings each and 500 hairstyles.

This is favorite bands, making fun of bad music and dancing so hard we can't stand up.

This is dreams that both have come true and may one day.

This is "My best friend and I..." and "this one time, me and Carlye..."

This is 8000 pictures of each other and 1600 of us together.

This is a trip to the Okangon, Vancouver, Victoria, Kamloops, Kelowna and Church together.

This must be four years by now.

I love you so much.

Caitlyn Cater-tots Spence

Doubt becomes the new addiction

2007-04-17T22:01:00.000-07:00

I'm noticing a common theme of doubt recently. I'm seeing a lack of trust in people, a lack of trust in God, in love, in friendship and in one and others words. Come on, guys (and self) let's trust in God with all our hearts and lean not on your own understanding. Then we'll be set. Trust me.

Dangerous went really well last Sunday, on it's second run. Mike is a terrific speaker and the worship was great, although not in the stereotypical way. I think the best moments of worship was the moments where complete silence fell over us all. Where Mike was quietly strumming and all of us were too enamored (possibly wrong word) with the Spirit to move, to speak.
Afterwards I headed over to Mike Anderson's place where he and I pretty much just talked until 12:30 am. Guide me, Lord, make me a mentor to the people you want me to teach.

I'm kind of a mess lately, and kind of need a lot of hugs.

I miss Carlye, she's in Toronto.

My goal for the week: look for God in unexpected places/find worship opportunities in secular arenas.
That should probably be my goal for life.

Namsate.
I love you.

Love, joy, peace, patience, kindness, goodess...

2007-04-12T20:22:00.000-07:00

You know what I adore? Mentorship.

I would rather spend my time teaching, investing and helping the development of another person than doing most things. I think about it now in my Writing class; in about an hour and a half I’ll be at Hosanna with the three incredible girls that I spend hours a week teaching and mentoring along with Mary Alexander, whom I am teaching how to run a small Bible Study and helping strengthen her Biblical foundation. (Mary just joined, she bakes. I love it.)

But it’s more than Hosanna. A lot of the youth tell me that they look up to me, and although I’m not sure I’ve ever done anything to earn that (because I’ve just been doing my own thing with God) but I can deal with it. And I’ve absentmindedly started investing in all of them, too. During prayer I’ll single some people out and lead them. Tell someone that they should be praying out loud and help them. Especially what’s been going on with Mike Anderson, helping him be ready for the gift of discernment I knew he was going to receive and now helping him to use it and trust it. Or last night, praying over Carlye. I wouldn’t start until Mike was there because I knew he had words that would matter a lot to her, and I had to help him get through a lot of Mike-junk before all the Amazing Godly smooth talk came out. Or Katelyn with tounges, and how Deanna has an incredibly tough gift of compassion that she needs help dealing with because she hurts so bad because of it. I meet these kids and I fall so amazingly in love with them and all of their potential and I will spend so much of myself teaching them and guiding them. Shepherding them. And it’s amazing what happens when the fruit from that is reaped.

Because let’s face it, last night was incredible. A 15 minute prayer sesh that turns into an hour and 10 minute war cry isn’t something we aren’t used to, but last night was special. Gifts were received and used. Prophecy was spouted and the tears flowing from everyone’s eyes were our major form of worship.

My middle name means "Harvest". I think names are WAY prophetic and that’s my testament to that. Because I will spend the rest of my Christian live sewing seeds and mentoring and helping harvest the fruit of the spirit. When I watch the kids be blessed by the things I’ve taught them, that’s my harvest and my food.

Namaste, grace.

I LOVE YOU.

Caitlyn Theresa.
(Pure one who harvests)

The Christ who walks on wounded feet

2007-04-04T23:29:00.000-07:00

I am SSOOOOOOOO sick.
Like, not even kinda sick. Want to DIE sick. My skin feels like it should be ripped off and my nasal passages removed forcefully from my anatomy.
Not that I'm complaining, or anything.

Wild Truth went pretty well tonight, I thought it went well for the first time I ever ran it. I could have done a lot better if I hadn't lost the schedual like, days ago. Carlye will do much better than I did. I went despite my insane cold/flu thing from some other world.

Hosanna tomorrow with the addition of Mary Alexander. Something is going to happen tomorrow, someone is going to pray out loud. The girls have been incredible with reading their Bibles this week, I can tell because almost every day I get a phone call from one of them saying "Hey, you know in (insert book) where it says (insert verse), what are they talking about?" I love them so much.

I'm currantly reading This Means War by Chick Yuill and I think I'm enjoying it quite a bit. It's weird, because I'm certainly enjoying the content. A lot of the things that I've always believed and understood for some reason are being confirmed and there's some really neat insight. However, It's not exactly my kind of writing style. I'm a poetic prose kind of person. But I like how it's broken up into such small sections. Chick (or his editor) must understand how overwhelming he can write.

FAYTENE KRYSKOW IS PREACHING IN NANAIMO! and you better BELIEVE I'm stoked. I haven't seen her preach since I feel in love with her at Consumed '06 in Courtaney. So stoked. I love herrr. Heather Skwarczinski had BETTER be going. April 20-12 at Maranatha, bayybeee. $35.

I finally submitted my War College application today. I want to be there. I want to be an incindiary session member. I want God's will for me more than I want my own, though. His call.

I'm going to bed, I can't believe I stayed up long enough to type this.
I hope I feel better by tomorrow.

Grace, namaste.
And I love You.

Caitlyn.

lovethisbook

2007-03-26T20:21:00.000-07:00

This town is so severe. And silent. It makes me crazy, the silence. I wonder if a person can die from it. There's an invisible force that exerts a stedy pressure on our words like a hand to an open, spurting wound. The town office building has a giant filing cabinet full of death certificates that say choked to death on his own anger or suffocated from unexpressed feelings of unhappiness. Silentium. The only thing you hear at night is the semis barrelling down the highway carting drugged animals off to be attacked with knives. Do not make eye contact with those cows. People here just can't wait to die, it seems. It's the main event. The only reason we're not all snuffed at birth is because that would reduce our suffering by a lifetime. My guidance councellor has suggested to me that I change my attitude about this place and learn to love it. But I do, I told her. Oh, that's rich, she said. That's rich.
-Miriam Toews, A Complicated Kindness

A letter for the warriors

2007-03-24T00:45:00.000-07:00

Dear War College:

Expect my application by the end of next week.
I love you all like a wildfire of burning...love.
(burning, aka, incindiary. get it?)

Grace, Caitlyn

Hosanna! We cry desperatly for safety!

2007-03-13T23:03:00.000-07:00

The Nanaimo Salvation Army Youth have officially launched a non-denominational Sunday night youth service that runs on the 4th Sunday of every month, it's called Dangerous.
This Sunday was our first run, and God took charge. Mike led worship for the first time, and he was terrific. I preached a sermon called Nehemiah; Doing Not-So-Safe Things To Save Those In Danger. My Mennonite soul mate Karen Travers came out, it was superb. Dave Travers commended my speaking, which I took as a real compliment, as he's...well... Mr. Travers.
I found the service itself a little short. In the end, people didn't want to stop worshipping, and the band ran out of songs, pretty swell.
There was this one point, right after the conclusion of my sermon when Josh Reno comes up and asks me for the mic. I obliged, of course, because there's hardly anything I adore more than Josh Reno when he gets touched by the Spirit. And Josh gets up and starts talking about a homeless dude he met named Henry who swept the Thrift Store parking lot just because it was dirty. The Lord had lain him on Josh's heart and Josh got up and proclaimed it and sat back down. I love that. And that's so Salvo, hey? Just to get up and testify when the Lord tells you to. The SA was pretty much founded on prophesy and the testimonies of the saved, and I think that's God's calling over Dangerous. That's sure neat.
Shawn videotaped it like a proud dad at a ballet recital, getting what is probably best described as obnoxiously close to my face with the camera during prayer. He took notes for us to discuss at our next meeting, which I am waiting for Mike to announce. And by waiting, I mean prodding impatiently for a date.

There's probably more I could say. Hosanna is finishing the Quest series this Thursday, then we'll be starting Spiritual Gifts after a few weeks of follow up on Quest and studying what, exactly, Christianity IS. I'm already quite sure of what each of their gifts are, but we'll see. I'd rather not do one of those "Spiritual gifts tests", but we'll see.
Raw is in about 5 days. I'm pretty stoked.

My verse of the week is pretty much the entire book of Nehemiah, chapter 4 in particular. Verse 14 stands out as a favorite as well. Look it up, sissas and brahs.

Grace, peace.
Caitlyn.

When your body wants to run
But your heart knows you're better than that
The blood you spilled on battlefields
I promise you will not go unspent
Neither will I leave you stranded
The promise rings as our battle cry
You're never alone regardless of doubt
But faith comes so easy to some
-The Classic Crime, Warrior Poet (like me!)

An email from Shayna <3

2007-03-13T16:23:00.000-07:00

Dear Caitlyn, First off, we're so in love. I'm so proud of you. You are so strong and it has just been radiating off of you lately. You have shown so much adversity and maturity lately, it puts me to shame! The first thing you always ask me is "knee news?" and it makes me smile everytime. The fact that even though you may be having a horrible day, your friends come first is nothing but commendable and I'm in total awe of you. I've had the priviledge of watching you grow over these past 3 years and it's something that I'm so blessed to have witnessed (and I'm not talking about your ever changing hair and clothing!). You have become such a beautiful woman and I'm so proud of who you have become. Thank you for everything that you teach me everyday. Please don't ever doubt yourself, you are truly an amazing human being. You are the best person I know and I love you so much sometimes it hurts. <3x8 minutes a day Your non-biological big sister Shayna Rochelle Noren

I can't even make words right now

2007-02-19T23:12:00.000-08:00

Where do I start?
War College.
I'm still not sure, or if I am I'm unsure about my surity. It was amazing, it was scary, it was confusing, it was intense, it was eye-opening.
It took me being there to realize how sheltered I am. I've never been in any enviroment half that intense. But I was so scared, and so uneasy and so in love with it.
Who knows.

This is where it stands. I could see myself at War College, and I plan on it. I just don't know when or how. Danae has trained me to take over Wild Truth. If I don't run Wild Truth next year, I don't see who will. Apperantly God has a plan or something.
Or so I''ve heard.

I was getting lines for a poem in my head today, but I didn't like them so much when I got them on paper. The only ones that stood out were

"And so I will dream dreams and mutter sacred sounds

And with soundless words and wordless sounds, I'll take hold of their lifeless arms"

In a side note, I miss my bestfriendship with you like mad.
I love you.
Grace.

Shoelaces=love

2007-02-11T22:32:00.000-08:00

This is love:

I was bawling on the phone. Very rarely do I allow tears to invade my conversations, but I'm was too much of a mess to worry about holding down floodgates these days.
So I was missing a meeting, missing a dinner and missing my mom and apologizing to Shawn for slamming the door on him this morning over something he was probably right about, and I burst into tears.
I was crying about everything, and things I don't even want to talk about. He and molly were on speakerphone with me and I was weeping my heart out because of things Molly might have half-understood.

And then a while later, Shawn shows up at my door with an "emo care package", full of chocolate (because it's chocolate), shoelaces (because I'm emo), shampoo (because...I'm greasy?) and corn (because I am a vegitarian).

And my head hurts from crying, and I don't feel much better, but I feel loved.
And I'm glad this conversation happened, because I could have never had it by myself:

MOLLY <> says:
after we got off the phone with you
MOLLY <> says:
i was like "she really loves you shawn, you know"
Caitlyn.. it's only a matter of life or death says:
what did he say?
MOLLY <> says:
he asked me why i think that
Caitlyn.. it's only a matter of life or death says:
what did you say?
MOLLY <> says:
i said "i think she thinks of you as the father she's never really had"
Caitlyn.. it's only a matter of life or death says:
then what?
Caitlyn.. it's only a matter of life or death says:
(I could never say these words)
MOLLY <> says:
he got really happy

a coward disguised as a lover.

2007-02-06T23:14:00.000-08:00

I'm a crazy mess, but my King loves me like crazy and has a plan.

That's what I've been telling myself for the past day or so, or, rather, reminding myself.
Grade 12 is a mess.
My friendships are a mess.
My sermon is a mess.
Hosanna is a mess. (it's my first bible study, okay?)
My emotions are a mess.
My rediculous love life (or lack of) is a mess.
My God is amazing.

Pray for my mommy, she's going to Edmonton in a few hours for 3 days and I am going to miss her so much.
My house will be a mess.

My acoustic project is coming together swimmingly.

I've been listening to This Providence (www.myspace.com/this providence) like crazy, pretty much the best christian band I've heard in a long time. If you like Paramore and/or Run Kid Run, you'll like them.

next weekend I'm off to The War College for a visit with Nicole. I'm nervous, I'm excited, I want something revealed to me while I'm there, but I won't press God for it, he tells me things when he wants me to know them.

I LOVE YOU.
Peace, grace, namaste.

St. Francis' prayer

2007-02-03T20:06:00.000-08:00

Lord, make me an instrument of your peace,
where there is hatred; let me sow love
where there is injury, pardon;
where there is doubt, faith;
where there is despair, hope;
where there is darkness, light;
where there is sadness, joy;

O Divine Master, grant that I may not so much seek to be consoled as to console;
to be understood as to understand;
to be loved as to love.

For it is in giving that we receive;
it is in pardoning that we are pardoned;
and it is in dying that we are born to eternal life.
-Saint Francis of Assisi