On grace

Why can't you show me your beauty
without all of your thorns?

There are two things that I have always wondered about my spirit. One is "am I really chosen?" And the second is "why would God choose me?"

I came to believe a long time ago that God doesn't get it wrong; that he's all-knowing and infallible. I believe that if God has brought himself to my attention, then it must be for a reason. But I'm not special, am I? How could I be? I'm flesh and bones like anyone else, biological and human matter. How could I be special? I'm not a "good" person. I mean, before choosing to believe what I do about God, I wasn't doing anything particularly good in this world for God to have thought "Yep, there's a good person that I choose to be associated with". No, I wasn't doing anything particularly good then and I'm not doing anything of that nature now either. So why would God focus on me? Part of me recalls that verse (Matthew 7:21-23) where Jesus said that not all of those who invoke his name will be saved, in fact most of those same people, he will call out on their hypocrisy and tell them that they will have no part in heavenly his kingdom. Geez, so is that me? Am I just someone who happens to have knowledge of the biblical scriptures but really I'm not a true Christian?

Then I start thinking best-case scenarios and I think, yes, God did "choose" me to be his follower but I don't know why or for what purpose yet, but it will be revealed. Then I think, even the Hebrew Scriptures have stories of unholy men and women, of Gentiles, that were "chosen" to do good things for God's chosen people but who themselves weren't any better for it. Oh boy, am I just a pawn? Would that even be so bad if God used me, someone who he does not think so highly of, for those of his people that truly do deserve his grace? And what will happen to me when my purpose is served? Will one day my mission and use be complete? Will God one day say "you've done enough" and just leave me on my own? Then a certain panic comes over me because I don't want that. I love him!

Don't get me wrong, I'm happy to be of use to God. It's not a volunteer position either, because I believe God does give me so so much in this life. But what if I've only benefited from God by receiving all these blessings from him but really he doesn't consider me one of his own, part of his team? I mean, he said himself that the sun shines on the good and bad. What if I've been a very fortunate bystander?... I get all these fears and insecurities in my mind about how "good" a person or how "good" a Christian I'm being that I can work myself up into a paralytic despair.

Then the other day I heard a talk about God's grace and it really breathed hope back into my heart. See, as a Christian I learnt about God's "undeserved kindness". It was always about how great and wonderful God is and how we deserve nothing of all the good things he gives us, since we're born with sin already imprinted in our blood and are incapable of anything good. Our whole Christian lives (and mine in particular) was all about guilt. God was my shoulder to cry on, my welfare office I asked for all the help I needed, acknowledging how weak and useless and unworthy a being I was. But you know what, if you substitute the word "grace" for the term "undeserved kindness" then God becomes more than a safety-net.

A God who gives grace is a compassionate God who doesn't remind me of my sin and wrongdoing every other second before offering me his help. Grace. Oh wow, what a difference a word can make to my whole being! Grace; yes, I am in receipt of God's grace - and he doesn't ask that I justify my existence. He doesn't ask of me, he gives. He doesn't expect of me, he guides me lovingly. He isn't asking me whether I'm good or bad or worthy or not, he shows me how he has absorbed my sin in that one single act of martyrdom. He didn't need to know what each of my sins were, he said I forgive them. It really is such an embracing word. It really does describe the kind of God I learnt to love, not the one I was taught to fear.

On what I've been doing (and why I bought a house)

As you may be aware, I have for a long time being hesitant about buying a house, versus renting. I have blogged about my fear to own a house before. And you know why I haven't being blogging recently? 1) I often have to censor myself completely so as not to say something about some or another frustration at work that may get me fired, 2) I also often censor myself about saying something that could offend someone close to me, 3) I bought a house and I've been very busy!

I wish I had some "mature", philosophical, or financially-savvy reason that I could tell you is why I bought I house. I don't. So I can only share with you these photos and hope you understand.

It made mum so proud to take this photo
When we lived in El Salvador, no-one of my family could have fathomed this. 

My animal-babies get their own room.

I have no qualms about pampering animals like this.

          

An outdoor area to continue to pamper the animals. 

Growing plants for myself and the animals.

On language

Over the last few weeks I have become concerned with the question of “am I racist?” Now, I am someone who usually prides herself on being a very accepting and non-judgemental person. Really, I have in the past even being judged for being too accepting of others, treating members of society whose behaviour is considered less than moral as my equals. I can proudly say with all honesty that I have absolutely no qualms about treating patients from any background (ethnic, theocratic, nationality, sexuality, criminality, etc.). However, I am bothered by one thing that affects me on a daily basis: people talking in a language I don’t understand constantly in at a place I must attend every day. And so I ask myself, ‘What is wrong with me? Am I racist? Why does this bother me?’ And, you know, the potential answers scare me as they threaten what I think of myself as, my own identity as an open-minded person.

Interestingly, English is not my first language. I am a native Hispanic. So how could it bother me when people speak other languages I don’t understand in my presence? Well, one thing that has helped me understand exactly that (and that indeed I am not racist) is the fact that I speak two languages. See, when I am around people that similarly speak the two languages I speak and others who speak only one of those languages, I will choose to speak the language that is common to all persons present. Why? Because I think this is considerate and non-excluding of others. But what if I want to have a private conversation with someone else? Then I will go to a private place with this person and speak to them in whatever language is most suitable. I could switch to speaking to another language in the presence of people who don’t understand the language to have a “private” conversation with someone else, but isn’t that rude? Yes! To me it is. I consider it so. To me that is inconsiderate and treating the person who is present as if they were unworthy of my respect, acting as if they didn’t exist or weren’t in the room when I am talking with someone else. I would not speak to someone in Spanish to have a private conversation with them when I am surrounded by solely English-speaking peers.

So, am I racist? I don’t think so. Maybe I am sensitive and expect others to treat me how I treat others, with consideration and respect for their feelings. I don’t know. I do know I just don’t enjoy feeling excluded. And I certainly don’t enjoy being made to feel non-existent or unimportant in a group of my peers.