Do I starve or feast?

Posted on by Angela Madaha

“I am so much more godly and spiritual if I can do without this good thing and that amazing person in my life. I love Jesus so much that I don’t want any of it.”

I used to believe that. or at least a softened, revised, religiousy version.

On surface, yeah, sounds so good. dedicated.

But now?

I think it’s ridiculous.

or at least … off.

Maybe I’m just starting to realize some obvious truths.

God made everything.

If I see it, feel it, smell it, experience it, desire it, then it began with God.

So he must be in everything.

I am made of God, so any desire I have stemmed from his imagination in the first place. Evil doesn’t create anything new. It simply distorts the good, twists the innocent.

Greatest commandment: love God with my whole heart, who he is and every attribute. Yet that also means I love all the things he has made and has placed me in. To love his creation and his creativity is to love and appreciate him, the Artist, not to discredit him. To be overflowing with God is not found in starving but in feasting!

And this is why it takes faith to see God in everything. faith.  that thing we claim is the bass drum of our life.

And, yes, my world seems wrong when these good things are taken away. It’s ok to feel that struggle, the longing, the upset feelings. because of this:

Hope.

Hope is knowing that one day all those good things will be restored, because when I get to heaven I will get Jesus, who is the substance of everything and all good in the first place.

So I can love my good health, but if bad health comes, I’m not necessarily going to automatically become more godly because I have to suffer now. The biggest difference is I’m exercising more now. He’s bench pressing me on the weight of his glory. My mind is working hard to think in his goodness and grow in grace and seeing through eyes of faith I may not have had to have during the times of plenty. I know I can love him more than good health because he is health and happiness!

The secret? To have Jesus is to have everything. But to live for the everything without Jesus is to actually lose it all.

C.S. Lewis said it this way: Aim at heaven and you will get earth thrown in. Aim at earth and you get neither.

And if all those good things were swept away in a moment? I can lift my hands in praise and proclaim, “Who do I have in heaven but you? There’s nothing I desire on earth but you!” My trend with Jesus is always #winning.

I also love how Tozer compared the gifts to the Giver: God’s gifts in nature have their limitations. They are finite because they have been created, but the gift of eternal life in Christ Jesus is as limitless as God.

So here’s what I think: heaven’s going to be the most pleasurable experience and amazing party ever because God is there. And he is the essence of everything I enjoy tactically here on earth: music, food, kickboxing, clothes, love, coffee, hugs, dancing, laughing, colors… He is in all those things, yet it won’t be until heaven that I will be able to enjoy it in complete fullness. So I look forward to it and practice enjoyment in real anticipation.

And that’s hope. Which takes faith knowing the best is yet to come. But while living the reality today.

So with that in mind…

this black Americano with white chocolate is dang good!

americano

Love is weird

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I’d like to take the beautiful text of I Corinthians 13, the Love Chapter, and add another phrase.

Inspired? Probably not. So we’ll just stick with AUV (Angela’s Uninspired Version).

Love is patient and kind.

Love is not jealous or boastful or proud or rude.

Love does not demand its own way.

Love is not irritable, and it keeps no record of being wronged. 

Love does not rejoice about injustice but rejoices whenever the truth wins out. 

Love never gives up, never loses faith.  

Love is always hopeful, and endures through every circumstance.

Love is weird.

Such a nice ring to it. So real. cultural. trendy.

Why “weird”? Well, basically, take a good hard look at the definitions and actions of true love, flesh it out, and then imagine following a person around all day that actually practiced these phrases in real time. You’d have to come to the conclusion, “They are CRAZY!”.

To choose love. self-sacrificing love. kind hands. forgiving words. genuine smiles.

when that guy steals your iPhone right after group contra-dancing with him.

when your brother daily leaves cheese slice wrappers all over the kitchen.

when day after day your teenager openly disrespects you and refuses to talk.

when your vindictive relative stirs up animosity against you within your family.

when a new coworker is handed the job and pay raise you rightfully deserve.

when the guy you gave so much self-sacrificing love to decides to date another girl.

when your housemate breaks contract and walks away, leaving you with a monthly payment you can’t make.

when these incidents happen again. and again. and again.

and yet true love doesn’t allow you to walk away with bitterness and resentment.

And the craziness is not just about having these intentions; it’s when you practice them in front of others and speak the heart behind your decision. That’s the part I don’t like; I don’t like to stand out, to be exceptional. It draws too much attention to something so …different.

Quite frankly, love is offensive. Oh, I like to be all cute about it, share great quotes, tweet meaningful insights, buy P.S. I Love You off the $5 stack at Walmart and place it meaningfully on my shelf next to Fireproof.

But what you don’t see is that moment when every feeling and emotion and logic is screaming inside me, “I can’t stand you anymore!” And that, my friends, is when the test of true love shows up and says, “So what will you do? How far can you go?”

Because love never ends. never fails. never runs out.

And then in order to really love, a choice is made. A choice to lay down myself, my rights, my reason, my deservings, and to actually die. Then I, in that posture of sacrifice with weak, struggling, almost unwilling hands, lift that person above myself.

I typically don’t “feel” loving in that position. Actually, it’s really uncomfortable. It hurts being there. It doesn’t make sense and often I’m in an argument with myself about whether or not this is the best choice, if it’s actually helpful in the longrun.

And then God spoke this to me tonight: Mercy and love break chains.

Arguments don’t break chains. Cold, hard truth doesn’t break chains.

But love does.

And that feeling of love? Well, that will come. Emotions tend to be a bit delayed at times. But it’s coming. The joy and passion and happiness– it’s totally on it’s way. But don’t wait for it in order to act. cause you might not ever end up loving anyone in your life. not cool.

So it’s not all fluff; there’s proof and reality to true love.

And proof is in the pudding.

Actually I don’t even know what that means. and I don’t even like pudding.

Anyway.

Have you ever met someone that loves like that?

Yeah, it’s probably weird.

But actually…

…now I’d like to retract that word.

When you meet someone like that

it’s beautiful. 

and true beauty is love.

love never fails

I’m pregnant. and thus Christmas is so offensive.

Posted on by Angela Madaha

“I’m pregnant.”

A virgin says the words, “I’m pregnant.”

And we believe it. We sing it. We celebrate it.

But would you do that if you were her father? her mother? her pastor? her workout partner? her co-worker? her coffee friend?

her fiancé? that’s got to be the worst conversation ever.

First of all, who’s a virgin? That’s not normal in any culture at any time in any place.

Second of all, who would be a self-proclaimed virgin, an identity upheld to everyone that knew her in her culture (i.e., church and community), and then have the audacity to say, “but I’m also pregnant,” followed shortly by, “My baby’s the Son of God. An angel told me.”

A. She’s crazy. Totally lost it.

B. She’s lying. Attention seeker.

C. She’s right. And the most miraculous, ridiculous, radical miracle just occurred.

And miracles are offensive. You really think her church stood behind her on this? that carols immediately spawned into song when she announced? that her friends and family hugged and accepted her with tears of joy? that her 3D ultrasound picture would’ve gotten dozens of “likes?”

I don’t think so. Because I see myself in Mary. I know that if I made an announcement on Facebook that I were pregnant even though I’m a virgin and that an angel told me it was conceived of the Holy Spirit and not by my fiancé… I’m pretty sure no matter how “religious” or “tolerant” my friends and family may be, my reputation and “testimony” would be gone. Obliterated.

Offensive applications:

*Virginity is not a label to parade. God uses people, like Mary, who prize the King above their reputation and banners. Virginity is at it’s core about the King, not personal puffery.

*Jesus is not ultimately concerned about your “testimony.” If a person’s testimony were so ultimately important to him, then tell me, why would he choose this way for the Savior to enter earth? Want to be like Jesus? Be prepared for some radical stuff that only faith can explain. And you might at one point need to give up your testimony, i.e., the perception of your community, family, friends and church about yourself.

*You really believe The Christmas Story? seriously, do you? Because if you do then you are admitting to some radical business that happened some 2000 years ago, and the only way to accept a story like this means faith.

Faith that a scared, young girl who never had sex suddenly became pregnant through the Holy Ghost, her fiancé still married her yet didn’t have sex until after she gave birth, that this baby grew up as the Son of God in man-form, he ministered on earth through miracles and love, died the death of all mankind on a wooden cross, was buried in a tomb, came to life from the dead 3 days later, ascended to heaven, is now with God while his Spirit lives in believers’ hearts here on earth, and is returning one day to be reunited with his children.

That’s the Christmas story. It’s offensive. It’s faith. It’s freedom. It’s hope. It’s love. It’s real.

It makes today’s celebration that much more amazing and exciting.

So let’s go celebrate.

Virgin

I get it. I finally get it.

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I get it. November 18, 2011

That was the title to the blog post I wrote exactly 1 year ago. God had just given me a really clear revelation about purpose, specifically about my purpose here in Greenville.

However, the blog post mysteriously never got posted.

wh-what happened?! Did I have a ditz moment and simply forget to press the Publish button?

eh, no. No, actually I had a lot of fear. I was afraid that God really was doing what I thought He was doing, that he had answered my prayers and revealed my direction.

I wasn’t ready to commit to Greenville. My heart was not prepared to truly say, “This is my city and these are my people.” I thought the Kingdom was really happening somewhere else, and to publish this post would’ve held me accountable to other people. as if God didn’t already know. I was arrogant, prideful, and fearful. So typical. It’s as if I look for God, ask God for God, yet when he shows up, I take what I want and brush the rest aside. Um, why does he want me again? He’s pretty good and gracious. that’s why.

It wasn’t until August 25 this year that I heard God speak to me again about Greenville, my city. But that’s a story for another time.

So this was one of those “I get it!” moments that in all reality took a lot longer to “get” than it should have. but whatever.

*****

Illumination happened today. It was a time where in a single moment the oddly shaped erratic puzzle pieces of one’s life come together in this beautiful, sensible design.

The 5 months between graduation and moving to Greenville to start a new job were probably the most seemingly unstable days of my life, bar nun: 14 homes, 9 churches, 4 countries, 6 cultures, 15 beds, 7 ministry offers, thousands of dollars. In the end, I was still broke, jobless, homeless, and directionless, without a clue of where in the world I was supposed to be. That, unfortunately, was not part of the plan.

I couldn’t muster up in my mind what would practically be my next steps in life. Nothing, and I mean nothing, was happening. Even in my desires. And it was frustrating because I know I am to live my life on purpose. Vita by Design, right? I honestly felt at one point that the fact that I had a blog with this title was a joke. Nothing seemed purposeful. I didn’t know what to do, so…do I just not move?

Well, I did a whole bunch of not moving for what seemed like an unbearable amount of time.

One September Monday evening, while in Fort Wayne Indiana, out of nowhere a thought jumped into my mind: I need to go back to Greenville.

Interesting. So this new thought spurred me to email Dan, my friend and former shepherding group leader, if he knew of anyone in town that may be hiring since I was thinking about moving back to Greenville, though I really didn’t know why. It was just an inclination (hint hint…HOLY SPIRIT!).

The next day, Tuesday, Dan “happened” to be meeting with the owner of the only company that I had interviewed with in downtown Greenville back before graduation. So Wednesday morning Dan called me to tell me that the owner said that he needed to hire someone soon—come to find out, very soon. I called the owner that hour and talked the situation over. By 4:00 I had accepted the job and was due to start work on Monday morning. 5 days later.

I probably don’t need to express this, but I was obviously rejoicing over this ridiculously quick job provision. How amazing, right? Isn’t that a cool story?

God had bigger plans.

God does not move people to jobs. He moves them to strategic Kingdom opportunites. Jobs are just so this-world.

Though it’s a company with a fantastic reputation in the Upstate, the location is probably one of the worst in Greenville. It is sketchy with an extra healthy dose of sketch.

The first day of work my boss took me to lunch and mentioned as we drove out of the parking lot, “Don’t walk around over here. This is a crack corner.” And where there’s drugs, there’s violence. Not gonna lie—I was often frightened. My elder at church, who is a cop, had many stories to share about that corner. Chases, busts—one time he caught this guy from America’s Most Wanted on our corner.

This week 2 guys were standing right outside our front steps doing a drug deal.  In broad daylight. Twice in the past month there were huge fires right across the street behind our building that were started by the homeless. I heard gun shots one morning recently.

I wouldn’t normally tell people all this. But I just wanted to let you know that I had a pretty scary view of the area and tried to be as risk-free as possible.

Yet every day I drove by these people I saw their broken lives and remembered the women I lived with this summer in Betel. That was the potential for these lives too. Yet who am I?

I’ve been reading and dissecting the Beautitudes and just read “Blessed are the merciful, for they shall receive mercy.” I had to really talk with God about this because I desire to show mercy to these people, which involves building relationships. Yet at the same time I understand the implications, and for a single girl to make any relational advances in a predominantly male culture is obviously scary. I needed help and direction.

The very next day on the way to work the main road was blocked so I had to take my own detour to get to work. Divine intervention? I drove through side streets near my work and saw what I’d never seen before in this town. This exists in Greenville? Broken homes, broken lives. Wow. But, where did I fit in with this?

I went to a party last night and afterwards there was tons of extra food. I saw the huge plate of croissant sandwiches and the thought came that maybe I could take them to the homeless nearby. I texted a friend that does outreach on this side of town to see if she would take me during our lunch hour.

She came by the office the next day and we got in my car. We turned left out of the parking lot and had barely passed our building when she said to turn left down a gravel road. Wait, this close? It’s basically right behind our building.
We parked and walked underneath the bridge. There was a fire pit where three people were standing around stoking the fire. Two people drove in behind us on a moped. To the left there were several tents all along the ground, and at the top the embankment was a row of tents with slits in the sides to come in and out. A single picnic table was in front of us, which is where we set the food. We talked with the few people there.


I knew.

I knew in that moment why I was brought to this job and back to Greenville. Since last January God had been tearing my heart up over the ones that his heart breaks over. For the broken people. He led me to Betel. An amazing, unique experience. I knew my life was forever changed, yet I had no idea how it would practically play out in my life. I felt this urgency that I would have to come up with something—he gave me the desire, shouldn’t I move forward with it?

He did it. All without my help, my ideas, my suggestions. Within walking distance of where I spend 1/3 of every 24 hour day, I have strategic connection with the broken outcasts of society. Today’s mission. I had prayed for ability to show mercy ministry— and He answered.

Before I asked, before I even knew to ask, he was preparing me.

Want to fall captive to a regime? Stop believing in resistance

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I’ve been thinking about culture. Specifically about the societal cultures I’ve lived in. It’s amazing how people can be so “awed” by various cultures you’ve experienced.

Example. I work in a really sketchy part of town. There’s the homeless, drug addicts, pushers, prostitutes, thieves, alcoholics, criminals. I see them every day. I know a good number of them by name.

In my free time I have been able to meet them, talk with them, go to their “homes,” open up with them. Some may refer to it as “outreach” or “your ministry.” The way I see it, it just happens to be the street God sent me to work a full-time job, and where he sends his people he sends the Kingdom, so that’s my responsibility. So don’t feel bad if you don’t know this unique culture. You have your own street, your own job, your own neighbors.

Often people say to me, “Wow, you are really courageous.”

Yeah sorry, but not really true. I know– it seems that I should always be on guard and somewhat frightened, while also aware and careful, constantly speaking bold words to my heart.

But honestly once I’ve spent enough time in one culture, I gradually start losing all sense of resistance and awareness. I stop noticing things as much. After time it becomes normal. “There goes another prostitute.” “Another drug deal going down.” “Another robbery.” “Another passed out drunk.”

Then I stop thinking. I stop resisting. I start accepting

And once I’ve lost resistance, I’ve lost my independence, both of mind and action. Anyone can make me whatever they want. Because resisting is hard and causes friction and emotion. It’s much easier to accept and move on.

Recently I was listening to Josh Garrels as I was running and his song The Resistance started playing. The words immediately shocked me and at the end of the first verse I almost had to stop running. I think my jaw dropped.

I realized quickly that so much of my life has been giving up resistance over and over and over until I have become something of a robot, void of questions and explanations. Think on this:

See the secret committees, commence with their meetings 
To make red tape in response to simple questions.
Questions threaten the perception of the beneficial systems 
A pyramid scheme with it’s cogs and it’s pistons
Mechanization of men, making more and more 
Live in a miserable existence.
How can so few, claim so many victims 
And this begs the question 
My rest is a weapon against the oppression 
Of mans obsession to control things.
Look at the long line of make believe kings 
The lord of the flies wants you to kiss his ring.
Follow new rules with invisible strings 
And become a puppet in the diabolical scheme. 
How do good men become part of the regime 
They don’t believe in resistance.

I hate conflict. My whole life I’ve tried to peace-make circumstances and people around me. If I was recognized for something, it had better not be because I resisted a system or expectations. Seemed logical enough. So I started accepting and hardly questioning because resistance drew way too much attention to myself.

After some time in my culture the past year, both at work and the surrounding neighborhood, I found myself being okay with evil. It just didn’t bother me as much any more. It became normal. Everyone was doing it or simply accepting others doing it. But you know what happens once you stop resisting evil? You close off capabilities to recognize and love truth. And that’s a scary place to be. I did become aware and scared and was forced to ask questions.

And that’s when I found that to evade resistance would grant me a first class ticket on the “I’m Wasting My Life” flight.

It’s hard. Resistance is one of the scariest practices, yet the alternative is worlds more frightening.

You know what could eventually happen when people stop resisting? Look at history: Brain-washed disciples. Tyranny. Scandal. Evil. Nazi regimes. Genocide.

But you want to know what else is making me hot right now about resistance (interpret as Angela sees this in herself first and makes her sick)? We know full well about the causes that needs resisting and change. We get so upset about our government, the path of society, our economics, our degrading culture…and what do we do?

We post status’s.

We share opinionated memes.

We borrow other people’s thoughts.

We virtually “like” ideas without committing to doing them.

If you call yourself a Christian and your city is hurting and falling apart, you’d better stamp your name on the face of the problem because Jesus sent his Kingdom to your streets, city, and country through your hands, feet and mind. And the last time I checked his Kingdom is peace, and healing, and success, and freedom, and growth, and joy, and prosperity. So if that’s not happening in your city, own up to it and get to work. Cause it’s your responsibility.

Start resisting.

It’s going to be difficult. Resisting always is. But we can’t allow people to have a longing for the kingdom without inviting them in and living it’s reality.

Word of caution: Be very careful in your practice of resistance. Is your banner defined by hating evil or loving truth? When you start thinking and questioning you’re going to see a lot of messed up stuff. A lot of hypocrisy. A lot of evil. So will you channel your resistance into aggressive exploitation or will you intentionally proclaim truth and love and grace? If your resistance causes vengeful disunity and damaged reputations as a result of your actions, no matter how much those people and organizations “deserve” it, you might need to rethink your approach.

Yes, you may say that Jesus clearly spoke woes against the Pharisees and exposed their evil hypocrisy that they were using for their own means in the name of religion. But you know what he did afterwards? Matthew 12. He went right back into their place of worship, where they hung out and spent their time practicing their religious hypocrisy, and he healed someone. Jesus’ resistance resulted in healing and freedom. Every act of resistance was with Kingdom advancement as it’s core drive.

And that’s a great example to follow.

Work and prosperity

Posted on by Angela Madaha

“Daughter, by you working hard and excelling in the talents I’ve given you, that is how I will provide for you and cause you to prosper — and not just for you, but your church, your relationships, your city, my people, my kingdom. Pray hard to this end. Even if you don’t ‘get it’ right now, or out of fear wait, I will still provide. I am rich, I am love, I am your Father. Yet I want to use you and perhaps in order to spur you to do this I need to shake up your life so that you don’t feel secure anymore. Because if you felt secure, you would never do anything. Comfort is a dream killer. When I want you to move, to do something, to prosper, I will make you very uncomfortable. And the end purpose of all this is my glory in your joy. If there’s no joy, it’s probably not for my glory.” – God

This also is what the Lord Almighty says:  

“Build houses and settle down; plant gardens and eat what they produce. Marry and have sons and daughters; find wives for your sons and give your daughters in marriage, so that they too may have sons and daughters. Increase in number there; do not decrease. Also, seek the peace and prosperity of the city to which I have carried you. Pray to the Lord for it, because if it prospers, you too will prosper.”

Chill out

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I’m in this season of life right now where I feel really fragmented. It’s rather ironic, though, looking back to where I was a year ago having just moved back to Greenville and starting to live on my own for the first time. Let’s see, what did I do: I worked full-time, did swing dancing, was involved with church stuff, and, if there was money to spare, I ate food. I didn’t have many options as a result of my limited resources. I was also in this post-college honeymoon phase of “whoa I can come home after work and do … nothing.” Which, um, was quite frankly what I typically did. No TV, no internet, living off Kashi granola, bananas and peanut butter. So this is what 20 years of school was preparing me for. Mom, Dad- I knew you’d be proud.

Now my life is overflowing and I honestly can’t say it’s in a unified fashion. Praying about that. But let’s not bore you. I do too much of that with this blog.

What am I really here to muse about? Well, when I’m feeling fragmented and busy, my mind starts to go a million miles an hour and I have to keep up, be one step ahead. And with those moments often come confusion and fear of the unknown. It quickly bogs me down.

I know you’ve been there, so I won’t elaborate. Ok, so in those moments (whether you’re overwhelmed, confused, insecure, fearful- you name it), what words of comfort from Scripture come to mind to calm the troubled mind?

“Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, learn from me, for I am meek and lowly of heart, and you will find rest for your souls.”

I’ve read these words in Matthew 11 somewhat recently as I’ve been progressing through the book of Matthew. for the past year. ah yes, my reading comprehension abilities are staggering. Actually I try to work slowly and typically get stuck on phrases like 9:1, “And Jesus, getting into a boat…” and I can’t go any further. Why the boat? Why at that moment? Why is Jesus always getting in boats? Why was this connecting thought even put here in this chapter? Is he speaking to me to get in a boat and spread his kingdom? Royal Caribbean? Yes, Lord, your child hears.

So I was stuck on this “Come to me and find rest” command for a while. And you know what I found? I think I’ve viewed it all wrong the entire time. Or at least had only a partial view.

Step back. Jesus was on mission, spreading his fame, telling everyone that the Law and rules they’ve been working so hard under will now be fulfilled. He thanks God for opening eyes and hearts to know him. So come and find rest in Jesus! Your weariness is over.

And here’s the good stuff– what happens next. Chapter 12: “At that time Jesus went through the grain fields on the Sabbath.” At that time- what time was it?

Jesus had just declared himself as the chosen one, the answer they were waiting for, and then called on God to spiritually open their eyes and to give them rest in Jesus, to lay their burdens down on him. It was at that time that Jesus, always on mission, went through the grain fields to pick up food…on the Sabbath day.

This is Jesus. He could’ve overturned a stone and pulled out a fattened calf and had a feast with his friends. He could’ve done anything to provide food for his hungry friends with him. After all, they needed physical rest and restoration. But Jesus had a different rest to teach them about, so he took them to a field to get food, and in that culture it was a blatant breach of rules to pick up grain on the holy day. Kinda like streaking through a Baptist sanctuary. There are just some things nobody questions.

Then- this is where is gets edgy- he allows them freedom to take food from a field to eat even though there was a rule against it.

It was a cultural no-no. It was a denominational no-no. It may have even been a personal conviction no-no.

Tell me, why Jesus would do that?

He of all people should’ve been the one enforcing the rules.

So why? Cause he’s the Master of the Sabbath. He owns it.

It is not an irony that this happens right on the heels of him calling his children to “come unto me and find rest.” He’s showing them that he is more concerned about the heart of the law than about the letter of the law. “Friends, are you hungry? You can eat and be ok with God still being satisfied with you, because I’m here, and I’ve satisfied God enough for all of us.”

Do you see this? This is what Jesus was telling me: “Chill out! You can rest now. I’m here and actually the purpose of Sabbath rules were all about me in the first place. Now you are free from this rule because now in resting from this pressure it’s still all about me. You get to eat in this unconventional, radical manner and that’s good. I want to feed you because I’m good.”

So, friends, pick up the grain and eat. Those things that used to hold you away from God, enjoy. Find joy in enjoying and be at rest. Nothing has dominion over you now except the law of love.

So in those moments when you’re striving in your mind about doing or not doing something because you’re afraid you’ll lose the favor of God…chill out. Seriously. Test it against the law of love, and then live in freedom. You’re free either way.

So this “come unto me and find rest’ isn’t just about calming the soul in hard seasons of life or in the busyness of circumstances around you (though I do believe it includes that). There is a much much bigger picture though from what I gather looking at the whole context.

And the story gets better! The Pharisee’s reaction are just so typical in response to Jesus’ radical command to rest. But, I have to stop and hold you in suspense until followup thoughts later about the Pharisees because I don’t know how anyone can have grace enough to read through this entire post. Reel it in, or, as a mom-quote comes to mind, I just need to take a chill pill.

Stop telling the truth

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I can’t think of any roundabout way of saying this.

I’m a very direct person.

Tried to deceptively slip that by you, didn’t I?

I don’t know when or where this came about. When I was a kid my dad would refer to me as “spit fire.” And I don’t think he was referring to one of my spiritual gifts. I’ve always been pretty strong-willed, yet this directness and woeful transparency hasn’t been really noticeable to me until recently.

Maybe it’s because people weren’t transparent with me in the past and I had to learn things the hard way. Don’t you sometimes wish someone would just give you one big gun shot of the truth so that you would have to be shredded by a hundred mini-bullets later down the road?

But recently I’ve been rethinking things. Sometimes I just need to stop telling the truth. Hold off on all the upfront direct statements.

You know what direct statements can possibly do? Cause blind followers. Surface listeners. Head nodders.

When were the moments of your deepest thoughts and times of real discovery and illumination? Probably during the questions. When the reasons why you believed you existed and everything you said you believed in were stoutly challenged. And the questions came.

During those moments you can’t borrow someone else’s experiences. You must work through your own beliefs and purpose. Some things simply can’t be borrowed.

I mean, I totally get this to an extent. Don’t you hate it when someone makes a direct statement about your life and heart and they really have no idea what you’ve been through? You’re thinking, “You don’t even know me.”

But boy am I full of truth statements. Hey, nice problem– now let me solve that for you. Prepare yourself…. Truth Bomb!! And I feel justified in speaking the truth this way because, it’s just that: truth. Ok so sure, it’s been real truth for me and real lessons I have learned. But, hello, I’m not them. Maybe this is about approach. Maybe it has something to do with love and placing someone’s perceptions before mine.

I’ve been thinking recently about this man who seemed to have had some real impact in people’s lives (his name is Jesus). What did he do? He told stories. He asked questions. Ok, so tell me, why did Jesus, ie God, ask questions?? He knows everything. everything.

Maybe he actually cared about people and wanted their hearts and not just their heads. Maybe he used indirect means to get to direct truth.

Am I encouraging people to be blind followers and head believers by spouting off truth statements at every red flag that comes up? It’s easy to do, cause most people don’t want to point-blank argue with truth. But did it really answer any core questions, or better yet, did it even cause core questions to arise?

Do we just borrow someone else’s truth or do we own it personally? Does it terrify you to think for yourself? to stop turning to books, articles, status’s, friends, blogs, music? When was the last time you were real with yourself, with your circumstances?

Why did God answer that prayer and provide $5 for laundry but didn’t come through when the school bill was due? Why was it that you worked so hard to make the basketball team and the final cut only to sit on the bench the entire season? Why did you finally get pregnant after praying for years and years, only to be in a car accident when you were 8 months pregnant and have your baby girl stillborn? Why did you give yourself in self-sacrificing love to a coworker that seems to finally be accepting you, only to have him stab you in the back and ruin your reputation? Why did you so confidently pursue in real passion your career dream only to have it shatter to pieces in your hands? Why did God cure your 17 year old brother of cancer only to find out that it’s aggressively returned and is inoperable and that they are simply doing chemo to ease the pain before he dies? Why did you so clearly follow God to that church for the purpose of serving in leadership only to have the people maliciously rip your family apart and scar your heart for years? Why did you so assuredly marry that man who was leading you in godliness, joyfulness and purity only to have him divorce you for another woman, leaving you with 3 small children to care for?

Why do I even exist? Does God even exist? Do I really have purpose in this life? Does anybody care? Is it really worth it?

Everyone is talking, but is anyone thinking?

Are you going to settle for darkness or will you pursue the truth? Will you keep borrowing truth, or will you search out your questions yourself? Is it too painful? Are you frightened of what you might find? Will you search for truth in yourself, or will you go to a real source?

Are you taking my word for it, or have you even questioned this?

I got a love letter!

Posted on by Angela Madaha

Have you ever received a love letter?

Like, a real one. a genuine, hand-written, college-ruled, snail mailed, cologne scented love letter?

Let me tell you– It’s quite an experience.

I open the mailbox. the initial rush of personally picking it up with my own hands and realizing what it is and who it’s from. Smiling stupidly is my specialty, so thus the side glance to see if anyone else notices my odd reaction. and the fact that it’s gotten really warm in here all of a sudden. awkward yawn. ok relaxed and safe to move on.

First things first, I don’t open it right away. No, something like this waits for solace and full attention. I could rip it open and feverishly read it immediately, but… that’s just not me. so I wait. but obviously not too long. really people.

I love to read outside so I search out a destination. Random rock, patch of grass, rusted bench- whatever. Just get there.

Letter in hand, heading to my “spot,” can’t get it off my mind. What’s he going to say? Of course, you know, I’ve already anticipated in my mind of what he’s going to tell me. I know him pretty well so I already have a good idea what kind of stuff he will say. But, what if he says something new? What about that “next level” thing I keep hearing about? Every time I think I’ve figured him out, there he goes surprising me yet again with another crazy awesome attribute. And is it possible he’s been thinking about me as much as I’ve been thinking about him? highly unlikely. but we’ll see.

At my spot. Looking at the envelope- yep, addressed to me. to ME! I still can’t believe he actually loves me. Even saying the word “love” just causes awe and wonder. goosebumps. undeserving.

Attempt to open slowly. Proceed to shred the envelope (because that’s the only way to open an envelope– why so difficult?!).

Dear Angela. Actually he addresses me differently, but that’s a little too personal to share here.

And then I read.

The first time through I read rather quickly, catching the highlights, just overjoyed that I actually get to hear from him! Whenever I read a letter from him, it really is almost like he’s here. with me.

And then the second read-through. A little slower, a little more methodical. And a third time. and a fourth time. It’s like each time I see something different. And because I’m weirdly analytical, I begin imagining about what he really meant with that sentence. What’s he actually saying when he writes that phrase? A special meaning just for me?? From what I hear though, typically guys mean what they say (ie, “I’m fine” actually really does mean “I’m fine.” Mind blown!). But still, I think he might be trying to lead somewhere deeper with this…hm, need to chew on this more.

Of course I have to reread my favorite parts. The ones that to me are the most endearing, truthful, beautiful words. Sure, I’d prefer for him to be here RIGHT NOW, but the next best thing are his words.

So then I sit back. stare aimlessly into space. and think about the letter. and him. I can’t stop smiling. I can’t stop longing. hoping. And anyone that walks by has no doubts: she’s in love.

What happens next? Well of course the letter is in an easily accessible and often-viewed place. Dashboard, bathroom mirror, desk drawer. And almost without thought the words of this love letter tend to spill over into conversations. You know what I mean. You’re at lunch with friends, in the middle of the the organic foods discussion, and “that person” keeps talking about the random non-topic related foods he likes to eat. “He totally loves tomato soup and grilled cheese and that’s what I’m making tonight– good recipes anyone?” Yeah, the day of the letter, I’m “that person.”

If you talk with me at any point during the day I read that letter, it’s inevitable– somehow a part of him will rub off on you. He’s just that awesome. and I can’t hide it because someone this amazing has stolen my heart, and honestly the only downfall is that he isn’t here next to me right now for me to introduce you to him. But the words of the love letter will do just fine for now. But trust me, meeting him is TEN TIMES more awesome!

~sigh~

So that’s my love letter story.

Ridiculous, huh? C’mon, I know you’ve been there. little smile?

And I’m smiling because, well, this really well-developed, thought-provoking, borderline embarrassing story may very well have been from my own imagination. yep, I’ve never actually gotten a hand-written love letter from someone. Was that a major letdown? do you still respect me? (Oh, and I’m not married yet though, so there’s still time bro!)

But, actually, this is a world rocking moment for me.

I have experienced this.

I have a love letter.

like, for real. and it’s from God.

Use your imagination. I think you can connect the dots.

What he’s been teaching me the past several years? The reality of what this “love letter” connection means and the depths of it. This is an illustration I’ve often used with my teen girls at camp, in random talks with friends about God’s words, and it came up in 2 separate conversations one day this week. I’ve been mulling over it. Been rebuked by it.

Do something- go back and reread this post and imagine Jesus as the “he” I refer to and make the setting one of personal time with Jesus. Why would the God that created us give us different love experiences, expectations and emotions on earth with another human than what he intended us to have with himself? Radical, I know, but really. think about it. God came up with Song of Solomon stuff. And it’s pretty radical and free and without fear. (and if you haven’t read the Song of Solomon story, you really should. It’s off the chain.)

Honestly, I don’t get it. This is so far from my reality I don’t even know why I’m writing this. I don’t understand this “love letter” connection stuff much right now, maybe somewhat attributing to being single, which is probably why marriage is attractive to me. But one way or another, on heaven or earth, I’m gonna experience that kind of love. There’s a wedding waiting for me.

So I’m thinking, if you’re not of the mind of a bride getting ready to walk down and meet her groom, maybe you don’t really know Jesus. Because he’s just that awesome. and he’s stolen my heart. and once I read his words to me, I can’t help but smile. and tell everyone about him. And I hope that some day people will walk by when I’m reading His words and say, “No doubt about it– she’s in love.”

What Saved Me

Posted on by Angela Madaha

I just remembered.

I just remembered what saved me.

A year ago, in the midst of my purposelessness and confusion and frustration, right before I moved back to Greenville, somehow this video came across my path.

and I haven’t been the same since.

I’ve never before wept over the Gospel like I did when I saw this. God speaks to us in different ways at different seasons in our lives. And this is one way he did for me, and may do for others.

But in the middle of my hopelessness, when I felt I had lost everything, my dreams, plans, hopes, drive, personality, desires– when all seemed lost, the Gospel walked up. And, it seemed, for the first time in my life, I wanted it. I needed it. I had to have it or I would die. I couldn’t go on living defeated. I am a victor in Christ. I wanted it so badly and I knew it was my only hope to make it to the next day. and the next. and the next.

Did it encourage me? yes.

Did it excite me? yes.

Yet was I then completely at rest and secure and “in the light” and happy? no, not really.

It took a while. a long while. He showed me the feast and then has slowly piece by piece fed me over the past year so that recently for the first time in a very long time, I’m actually at rest. Yes I’m different, yet I feel like “I’m back.” Some sort of recovery maybe. I guess those prayers I prayed 1 1/2 years ago actually were effective. It just took longer than expected. and more than I dreamed.

Oh, and it’s not over yet. just wanted to clarify that for you. This one’s got a ways to go, that’s for sure.