It's past that "most wonderful time of the year", and to most people's delight, they received gifts from me, which I bought using my own money.
That I got.
For Christmas.
In total, I received about $150, $100 from my uncle, and $50 from my parents. I had about $13 already in my own pocket. At the end of all the frantic and borderline-indecisive shopping, I ended up with $10 in cash, and probably about a dollar in change.
But I don't feel cheap or stingy, nor do I feel like people owe me.
I feel like I owe even more. Most of the people I gave gifts to have done more for me than the gifts they received, and although I wish I could buy their entire wishlists to pay them back, I can't. All I had was the Christmas money that I didn't even deserve to receive in the first place.
Today, my mom found out that I spent all of my Christmas money on gifts, and my New Years money was going straight to my step dad because "he" bought my guitar and an outfit a couple months in advance, before I got my New Years money. So, I owe him.
And, my mom was complaining about how I can never support myself, that all the money I intake immediately leaves my wallet, whether it's on others or useless trash I feel like buying.
However, the point is, this year I was given a set amount of money for Christmas, and although the principle of it is that I use my money however I want to use it, according to my mom, it must be spent sparingly and for myself. But I wanted to buy others gifts, as small tokens of gratitude.
Now, not only do I feel terrible because I couldn't get everyone a gift, nor gifts of equal value to their kindness, I feel awful for spending the money I was given, even if it was all mine.
I suppose there's some underlying message, though. What would Jesus say?
Would Jesus tell me that I should have spent my money wisely, or that I should give with no intent on receiving, no matter the amount? I guess that's the struggle for me, financially, emotionally, and spiritually.
Whatever the answer may be, what's done is done. I have given gifts to those I could, with the small budget I had received. Although I feel guilty on both sides, I can't ask for the gifts back and get refunds. I cannot ask for more money from relatives so I can spend it all on more gifts.
Friend, if you ever feel conflicted, just pray earnestly. Do not speak empty words. If you are honestly conflicted and wish for enlightenment or peace, then pray with a solemn mouth. I guarantee an answer from the Savior above.
Stay faithful, friend.
- Joseph
Wednesday, December 31, 2014
Sunday, December 14, 2014
A Weekend of Emotional, Physical, and Spiritual Sickness
Wednesday morning, I wake up at 5:20 am. I have a small headache and some congestion, but I figure I can get through the day at school. Later that day, I feel even more sick so I go home early and rest.
You know those days when you wake up and you only see the tip of the iceberg of pain, and you don't see the monster underwater until you hit it? Those moments suck because you just can't do anything to prevent something that is in the middle of happening. You can't stop a car from rear-ending you when their bumper hits yours, and you can't stop a painful experience when it's already smacking you upside the head.
Well, after I got home and rested, I still felt sick for the next few days, bleeding into the weekend with fits of coughing and constant congestion, Being sick sucks.
But this entry isn't worth the effort if it's only about the runny noses and disruptive coughs. No, there is something deeper. Something much more painful.
Tonight was the first time I've cried in a long time because my heart was hurting. The stress of one thing layered on top of another built a flimsy wall around my heart until insults and mean comments poked holes and opened cracks. Then, something made the whole "shield" tumble, and tears expressed what my heart wanted to say, but couldn't.
Let's start with Saturday night:
For years, I've been struggling with breaking out, getting pimples all over my face, and red sores sticking out like they own the face. It's not normal for teenagers, or anybody, to get as much as I have, and still do, and as much as I'd like to think that every other teenager (or, once-a-teen) can empathize with me, they can't. Only a small handful who have gone through, or are going through, what I am currently struggling with can really know my struggle. Every day, I take a considerably long time making sure I look "minimally acceptable" today. Some people think they get away with looking at me and looking at my scars, and that I actually don't notice (No, if I'm making eye contact with you, I can tell when you break that eye contact and you look somewhere else on my face). I'm also sure that I didn't make certain friendships because I look like a freak most times. Some people don't know what it's like to have your face constantly hurting. Thinking what it's like to be in my position by being in my shoes can't work unless they're the same size. The constant prejudice, staring, and awkwardness gives me stress. Stress = more acne. Oh, cool.
Now, Saturday night, I was with some friends when one of them decides to say, in front of everyone, "Hey, you're clearing up, kinda." While the gesture is somewhat nice, it's bittersweet. Yes, I do appreciate the fact that whatever medication or method I use show progressive, kinda, and you notice that, however, I do not appreciate it being said in front of other people. Even friends. It's like what my old pastor said before when the same thing was said to me by someone else, in the same situation: "It's the same as saying, 'Hey, you got less ugly!' " In a harsh, but truthful, way, it pretty much sums up why I don't like people saying that to me. I know, that person may have not meant to say that aloud, or didn't mean it in that way, but that's just how I get mail.
To add on to that, after my friend shared their little statement of notice, my other friend said, jokingly, "Haha, no, it's just the shade."
...
Are you serious? Even as a joke, that should never be implied. That sentence should never be used in that context. My heart sank, but I brushed it off as a joke and joked back. But I am deeply wounded from that statement. It was a stab to my pride and self-esteem, and they didn't even apologize sarcastically or jokingly. "Just kidding" doesn't cut it. That just goes to show that they meant it at the very center of it.
That's okay, they just don't know my pain, and I can't blame them for that.
Now, Sunday morning:
Softball is arranged to be played every Sunday, and although I love playing softball, I didn't get to touch a single base for three hours until I was a first baseman the last five minutes of another game that I didn't even get to bat in. And in the previous game, I was an outfielder and a pitcher. I was picked to bat last by default. As an outfielder, literally one ball came to me. And I didn't catch it. No, I got injured instead. In fact, I got injured by a softball three times (I don't know why they call it a softball, my bruises say otherwise). I was just a filler today. But that's okay, people expected that out of me. That's why I was picked last. Again.
Here's Sunday night:
I was dropped off by two of my friends, and we had this conversation that led to us telling secrets. After I told mine, the other two jokingly made a witty agreement that they had successfully got me to spill my beans by making up their own. This angered me because I had given them my trust, and they seemingly abandoned it. I wanted to know the truth, and so I bugged them and annoyed them until they showed me proof that they were actually telling the truth. As I was having a very minor tantrum, one of them made the comment that I wasn't cute. The other said that I was too old for my behavior, and too big for my actions.
It's just one of those moments where you know you aren't cute (or funny, smart, or whatever), and you're not trying to be, but someone decides to have the audacity to point it out to make you feel bad, as if it weren't already obvious.
The distrust and mean comments sort of... broke me. Of course, I didn't show them that. I didn't let them hear my sobbing. I didn't let them see the tears.
I may be a bit more sensitive and emotional than I should be, but I feel what I feel. I'm sad when I'm sad. It's not rocket science.
And now, as I feel like no one's with me, I look to my Savior, the One who is always with me. But I don't feel like He's with me. I feel alone. But it's during a battle that you don't see your allies when you're dealing with the enemy. But they're there. He's there, praying for me.
For me.
If you're struggling like I am, pray to God because He will help you. He won't give you what you can't handle.
Remember, a teacher is quiet during a test, but they're always there when you need help.
Stay faithful, friend.
- Joseph
P.S. Let me clarify something: I love those people, my friends that have made me sad this weekend have also made me feel welcomed, loved, cared for, happy, etc. Don't take it the wrong way, this past weekend just happens to be very conflicting.
You know those days when you wake up and you only see the tip of the iceberg of pain, and you don't see the monster underwater until you hit it? Those moments suck because you just can't do anything to prevent something that is in the middle of happening. You can't stop a car from rear-ending you when their bumper hits yours, and you can't stop a painful experience when it's already smacking you upside the head.
Well, after I got home and rested, I still felt sick for the next few days, bleeding into the weekend with fits of coughing and constant congestion, Being sick sucks.
But this entry isn't worth the effort if it's only about the runny noses and disruptive coughs. No, there is something deeper. Something much more painful.
Tonight was the first time I've cried in a long time because my heart was hurting. The stress of one thing layered on top of another built a flimsy wall around my heart until insults and mean comments poked holes and opened cracks. Then, something made the whole "shield" tumble, and tears expressed what my heart wanted to say, but couldn't.
Let's start with Saturday night:
For years, I've been struggling with breaking out, getting pimples all over my face, and red sores sticking out like they own the face. It's not normal for teenagers, or anybody, to get as much as I have, and still do, and as much as I'd like to think that every other teenager (or, once-a-teen) can empathize with me, they can't. Only a small handful who have gone through, or are going through, what I am currently struggling with can really know my struggle. Every day, I take a considerably long time making sure I look "minimally acceptable" today. Some people think they get away with looking at me and looking at my scars, and that I actually don't notice (No, if I'm making eye contact with you, I can tell when you break that eye contact and you look somewhere else on my face). I'm also sure that I didn't make certain friendships because I look like a freak most times. Some people don't know what it's like to have your face constantly hurting. Thinking what it's like to be in my position by being in my shoes can't work unless they're the same size. The constant prejudice, staring, and awkwardness gives me stress. Stress = more acne. Oh, cool.
Now, Saturday night, I was with some friends when one of them decides to say, in front of everyone, "Hey, you're clearing up, kinda." While the gesture is somewhat nice, it's bittersweet. Yes, I do appreciate the fact that whatever medication or method I use show progressive, kinda, and you notice that, however, I do not appreciate it being said in front of other people. Even friends. It's like what my old pastor said before when the same thing was said to me by someone else, in the same situation: "It's the same as saying, 'Hey, you got less ugly!' " In a harsh, but truthful, way, it pretty much sums up why I don't like people saying that to me. I know, that person may have not meant to say that aloud, or didn't mean it in that way, but that's just how I get mail.
To add on to that, after my friend shared their little statement of notice, my other friend said, jokingly, "Haha, no, it's just the shade."
...
Are you serious? Even as a joke, that should never be implied. That sentence should never be used in that context. My heart sank, but I brushed it off as a joke and joked back. But I am deeply wounded from that statement. It was a stab to my pride and self-esteem, and they didn't even apologize sarcastically or jokingly. "Just kidding" doesn't cut it. That just goes to show that they meant it at the very center of it.
That's okay, they just don't know my pain, and I can't blame them for that.
Now, Sunday morning:
Softball is arranged to be played every Sunday, and although I love playing softball, I didn't get to touch a single base for three hours until I was a first baseman the last five minutes of another game that I didn't even get to bat in. And in the previous game, I was an outfielder and a pitcher. I was picked to bat last by default. As an outfielder, literally one ball came to me. And I didn't catch it. No, I got injured instead. In fact, I got injured by a softball three times (I don't know why they call it a softball, my bruises say otherwise). I was just a filler today. But that's okay, people expected that out of me. That's why I was picked last. Again.
Here's Sunday night:
I was dropped off by two of my friends, and we had this conversation that led to us telling secrets. After I told mine, the other two jokingly made a witty agreement that they had successfully got me to spill my beans by making up their own. This angered me because I had given them my trust, and they seemingly abandoned it. I wanted to know the truth, and so I bugged them and annoyed them until they showed me proof that they were actually telling the truth. As I was having a very minor tantrum, one of them made the comment that I wasn't cute. The other said that I was too old for my behavior, and too big for my actions.
It's just one of those moments where you know you aren't cute (or funny, smart, or whatever), and you're not trying to be, but someone decides to have the audacity to point it out to make you feel bad, as if it weren't already obvious.
The distrust and mean comments sort of... broke me. Of course, I didn't show them that. I didn't let them hear my sobbing. I didn't let them see the tears.
I may be a bit more sensitive and emotional than I should be, but I feel what I feel. I'm sad when I'm sad. It's not rocket science.
And now, as I feel like no one's with me, I look to my Savior, the One who is always with me. But I don't feel like He's with me. I feel alone. But it's during a battle that you don't see your allies when you're dealing with the enemy. But they're there. He's there, praying for me.
For me.
If you're struggling like I am, pray to God because He will help you. He won't give you what you can't handle.
Remember, a teacher is quiet during a test, but they're always there when you need help.
Stay faithful, friend.
- Joseph
P.S. Let me clarify something: I love those people, my friends that have made me sad this weekend have also made me feel welcomed, loved, cared for, happy, etc. Don't take it the wrong way, this past weekend just happens to be very conflicting.
Sunday, December 7, 2014
The Outrageously (and Unnecessarily) Long, Wrongfully-Judgmental Rant
For some reason, of which I cannot seem to easily express nor explain, I tend to hang out with certain groups of people; I'm just picky for those sort of things, you know? I'm young for my maturity (as I'm told by my older peers), and so I just prefer hanging out with the groups of people where they don't do certain things, or they like to participate in certain activities, or maybe we just share a mutual interest or passion for something (or Someone).
At school, I don't really hang out with anyone unless need be. I have four classes this semester at my high school: Math (I hate math with a passion), Spanish 1 (my napping class), Advanced Chorale (my favorite relaxing and fun class), and World History (the easy, "filler" class).
In Math, I crack a few jokes here and there, but I'm only the class clown on a few occasions. I don't go out of my way to make everybody laugh and irritate the teacher (although, I must say, I don't necessarily hate my teacher, but she's not someone I'd visit after I graduate, telling her how much she's helped my education career, blah blah blah), but I make people smile and chuckle when I can. But the people in that class are, for the most part, people that I don't really have a common interest in, nor do they meet my requirements for being more than a colleague with me. They're mostly foulmouthed, rude, immature, and I am almost certain at least an eighth of that class are either smoking, having sex, doing drugs, or something they should never do.
Sophomores, am I right?
In Spanish 1, I just try to pass the class. I need two foreign language credits, but this class is where all four years are mixed together. The teacher is more-or-less inadequate to be teaching my block, though I'm sure he's completely capable of teaching the other classes. The majority of the students are just there to screw around, sleep, and try to make the teacher's life miserable. All of them, rude, annoying, wannabes (literally, a Freshman calls himself "Schlim Shady" after Eminem...), and half of them are probably smoking weed or buying packs of Marlboro to soothe their addictions. I sleep in that class all the time, but the teacher tolerates me very kindly because I don't disturb his teaching, and I'm one of the top students in that class (thank you, middle school Spanish 1).
Poor life choices, am I right?
My chorus class is my favorite class of the day. I get to listen to my classmates sing beautifully, all the while relax and just "cool down" with my friends. But there are only a couple of them I hang out during class. After class, I really don't keep in contact with any of them. It's saddening to think that not even in my favorite class can I trust even one of them to keep a secret of mine; at least, not most of them. A few are promising, but until then, I march this road of loneliness.
Class dramas, am I right?
The fourth and final class of the day: world history. Ask anybody in my last class about me, and they'll say I'm the Korean kid who always cracks lame jokes, yet I seem to make at least half the class laugh while the other half just groan. But, again, no one there can comfort me or share my love for certain things in my life. They're too busy with who's dating who, who cheated on who, which football team won, who fought who, and such-and-such.
High schoolers, am I right?
However, the ones that I call family are called my family because we share common interests. We share common goals, common tribulations, common passions, common appetites, etc.
These people I call family are my family because we all love haystacks. We all love spending time with each other, even though it's 3:30 in the morning, playing a certain card game for people who are old enough to get into nightclubs. We all love Tuesday nights where we have amazing dinners and thoughtful Bible studies. We all love playing Texas Hold'em because it's funny and painful to see that someone won the pot by bluffing with a pair of 6's, while you could of had a straight if only you had waited until the river. We all love messing with each other's quirks and flaws because we are all human, and we all share similar insecurities, and because we love each other so much, we can do those certain things without hurting anybody's feelings (permanently). And we all love Jesus Christ, because we all go through different Christian walks of faith, but we all share the same Savior.
Despite all the mutuality we share, there is one big difference I can point out:
I'm 16. They're in their twenties, thirties, and a small handful are actually parents.
To avoid unnecessary detail, but without cutting it short, I'll have to explain why this is an "apologetic thank-you" with some 'historical background'.
Every Tuesday evening for almost two years, these young adults have been coming together to some host(s)'s house for dinner and a Bible study. The Bible studies, or "Munchabunch Bible Study" as we call it, were for only young adults; actually, it still pretty much is! I praise the Lord for opening the hearts of the studygoers to let me come every week, even though I pretty much bring nothing to the table, except for a box of my parent's finest (leftover) donuts. Yet, with open arms, I'm accepted as a fellow family member, the youngest sibling of a very large family.
Now, through those Bible studies, I have also gotten to know a small handful of very special people who I hold dear to my heart. These people, who for privacy reasons will remain nameless (but you know who you are), have opened up their cars, homes, and wallets for me even though I can't give back something materialistic that is of equivalent value.
For example, these close friends of mine have lent me towels to dry myself after using their showers, but do I pay their water bills or their laundry bills? No. They offer rides for me, especially during times of inconveniences. Do I pay for their gas? Never. They buy me food and things I don't necessarily need when I'm short on money, or even when I offer to pay my portion, they shove it aside although as if money is low on supply for me. Do I pay them back? Rarely.
But because they love me so much, and more so because they love Jesus so much, they show their love for me through their actions and hospitality. The guilt that heavily weighs upon me because I can never fully repay the debt I owe them, and how I think that I'm just a nuisance or a burden to them, reminds me of the debt that I owe to Christ, and I realize that they share that debt, but that's for a different day. The guilt that heavily weighs upon me because of that also reminds me of a handful of verses that I researched were in Matthew 25:
To those who have read this far, sorry for taking up a lot of time, but thanks for reading. This is where you can leave with the conclusion that hospitality and love for your neighbors, even when they can't pay you back in full, is key to the inheritance of the Kingdom of Heaven.
But to those of you who are described as the ones that lavish me with unconditional love, I thank you with all my heart. Even though I can never pay back the kindness you all have showed me as the youngest sibling of the weird family we have, I can say with full certainty that God has a place for you in His kingdom. He has an inheritance that you have earned because not only did you show me love, but by showing me love, you have showed Him love. You have all taught me how to show that love, and hopefully in the future I can show that same love to others.
Thank you.
- Joseph
At school, I don't really hang out with anyone unless need be. I have four classes this semester at my high school: Math (I hate math with a passion), Spanish 1 (my napping class), Advanced Chorale (my favorite relaxing and fun class), and World History (the easy, "filler" class).
However, the ones that I call family are called my family because we share common interests. We share common goals, common tribulations, common passions, common appetites, etc.
These people I call family are my family because we all love haystacks. We all love spending time with each other, even though it's 3:30 in the morning, playing a certain card game for people who are old enough to get into nightclubs. We all love Tuesday nights where we have amazing dinners and thoughtful Bible studies. We all love playing Texas Hold'em because it's funny and painful to see that someone won the pot by bluffing with a pair of 6's, while you could of had a straight if only you had waited until the river. We all love messing with each other's quirks and flaws because we are all human, and we all share similar insecurities, and because we love each other so much, we can do those certain things without hurting anybody's feelings (permanently). And we all love Jesus Christ, because we all go through different Christian walks of faith, but we all share the same Savior.
Now, I've probably wasted a lot of time just blabbering about different things that don't make sense unless I'm thinking about it. But if everything else has gone through one ear (eye..?) and out the other, then just pay attention here. This is where the title REALLY kicks in:
I'm 16. They're in their twenties, thirties, and a small handful are actually parents.
To avoid unnecessary detail, but without cutting it short, I'll have to explain why this is an "apologetic thank-you" with some 'historical background'.
Every Tuesday evening for almost two years, these young adults have been coming together to some host(s)'s house for dinner and a Bible study. The Bible studies, or "Munchabunch Bible Study" as we call it, were for only young adults; actually, it still pretty much is! I praise the Lord for opening the hearts of the studygoers to let me come every week, even though I pretty much bring nothing to the table, except for a box of my parent's finest (leftover) donuts. Yet, with open arms, I'm accepted as a fellow family member, the youngest sibling of a very large family.
Now, through those Bible studies, I have also gotten to know a small handful of very special people who I hold dear to my heart. These people, who for privacy reasons will remain nameless (but you know who you are), have opened up their cars, homes, and wallets for me even though I can't give back something materialistic that is of equivalent value.
For example, these close friends of mine have lent me towels to dry myself after using their showers, but do I pay their water bills or their laundry bills? No. They offer rides for me, especially during times of inconveniences. Do I pay for their gas? Never. They buy me food and things I don't necessarily need when I'm short on money, or even when I offer to pay my portion, they shove it aside although as if money is low on supply for me. Do I pay them back? Rarely.
But because they love me so much, and more so because they love Jesus so much, they show their love for me through their actions and hospitality. The guilt that heavily weighs upon me because I can never fully repay the debt I owe them, and how I think that I'm just a nuisance or a burden to them, reminds me of the debt that I owe to Christ, and I realize that they share that debt, but that's for a different day. The guilt that heavily weighs upon me because of that also reminds me of a handful of verses that I researched were in Matthew 25:
“When the Son of Man comes in his glory, and all the angels with him, he will sit on his glorious throne. All the nations will be gathered before him, and he will separate the people one from another as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. He will put the sheep on his right and the goats on his left.
Then the King will say to those on his right, ‘Come, you who are blessed by my Father; take your inheritance, the kingdom prepared for you since the creation of the world. For I was hungry and you gave me something to eat, I was thirsty and you gave me something to drink, I was a stranger and you invited me in, I needed clothes and you clothed me, I was sick and you looked after me, I was in prison and you came to visit me.’
Then the righteous will answer him, ‘Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you, or thirsty and give you something to drink? When did we see you a stranger and invite you in, or needing clothes and clothe you? When did we see you sick or in prison and go to visit you?’The debt I owe to my loved ones will already be paid in full by the One who has paid for my ransom. This is what the Bible is about: to love God and love your neighbors, and I know that my friends aren't perfect, but they perfectly show their love to God, and their love to me, their neighbor. I know that when we are welcomed into the New Jerusalem, their debt will be paid, but their give will be less than their take.
The King will reply, ‘Truly I tell you, whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me.’ - Matthew 25:31-40
To those who have read this far, sorry for taking up a lot of time, but thanks for reading. This is where you can leave with the conclusion that hospitality and love for your neighbors, even when they can't pay you back in full, is key to the inheritance of the Kingdom of Heaven.
But to those of you who are described as the ones that lavish me with unconditional love, I thank you with all my heart. Even though I can never pay back the kindness you all have showed me as the youngest sibling of the weird family we have, I can say with full certainty that God has a place for you in His kingdom. He has an inheritance that you have earned because not only did you show me love, but by showing me love, you have showed Him love. You have all taught me how to show that love, and hopefully in the future I can show that same love to others.
Thank you.
- Joseph
Thursday, December 4, 2014
My Heart is Going Through Puberty
Puberty: that seemingly-bittersweet part of life when you start to get a little bigger, a little taller, a little shapelier, and a little more sensitive; that part of life when you start to realize you need to be someone. For me, puberty is about hitting my growth spurt, getting a bunch of acne, and fighting this lovey-dovey war between me and a manipulative son-of-a-gun named Hormones. Although hormones are natural, during this specific period of change, hormones get a strong dose of chemical 'roids, and now my weapons of self-confidence, self-discipline, and a stable level of self-esteem are useless against the Enemy.
That's okay, I love it. I love looking at every girl (or guy, for those lovesick girls out there!) that walks into my life and thinking, "Thou art as golden as the finest jewel on a beautiful, expensive crown (insert winky face and whatever emoticon kids use nowadays)!" I love being obsessed with the girl in my chorus class because she's soooo cute with the way she acts around me, but I also love being obsessed with the girl at church because she's soooo attractive because she's just so down-to-earth, but for some reason, I also love being "in-love" with the girl who I'm not supposed to love because that would be wrong, even if she makes me feel like Heaven's on Earth...
Whoa, hold on a minute, no! I don't love it! I don't love being confused about which girl to "love", if it is love. I don't love struggling with the fact that it may not even be love, it may just be desperateness. I don't love constantly self-sabotaging because I don't think I'm good enough for her, whether it's my physical flaws, my emotional flaws, or my mental flaws. And, in all honesty, I really don't love the fact that I have to indulge in my ambiguity because I can't distinguish between my heart telling me it's love, and Hormones telling me it's infatuation; but then again, aren't they one and the same?
You see, my body is going through this physical and emotional stage of development society calls puberty, but I have come to a realization that my heart is also going through puberty. Every judgement call I make based on my heart is just me following an order from the Enemy. How can I win? How can I make the right decision? How can I "love" without it being attached to a sense of infatuation? I have an answer; in fact, I have the Answer:
That isn't to say that you won't be afraid of loving someone, and that you should be ashamed of yourself if you are. It just means you are afraid of losing them in a sense of having a certain level of friendship or bond with them, and then it crumbles after you "spill the beans."
I may seem confusing, even a little hypocritical, but hear me out: if you love this girl (or boy), and you are afraid that they may love someone else and that they will never be with you, and you feel some sort of jealousy and selfishness stirring in your heart, then you are loving for the wrong reasons.
But let's say you love this girl (again, or boy!), and you're afraid that they just won't look at you the same, and that they just happen to "love" another human being because they're fighting this Enemy as well, but they're somewhat happy. Then you are at peace. Sure, it would be nice if they reciprocated that love you gave them, but you're content with the fact that they're happy. Your only fear is that they cut ties with you. But that's okay. They're happy. They're safe. She's safe. Then you are loving for the same reason Jesus loved, and still loves, you.
All in all, trust in the Lord. Trust the one who is Love. Have faith that He loves you with perfect love, and He only wants you to do the same to others. If that girl at your church is someone you genuinely love, then love with perfect love. If that girl is the girl you don't have to put up a mask on for, then love with perfect love. If that girl in your chorus class, or math class, or P.E class, is someone you truly love, then love with perfect love. God knows what you're going through. He created you! He created the very heart that is deceiving you, not to fool with you, but to help you grow! He knows what's best, and if what's best is to love with perfect love, and that's exactly what you're doing, then trust that God is making that judgement call, not the Enemy.
Stay faithful, friend.
- Joseph
That's okay, I love it. I love looking at every girl (or guy, for those lovesick girls out there!) that walks into my life and thinking, "Thou art as golden as the finest jewel on a beautiful, expensive crown (insert winky face and whatever emoticon kids use nowadays)!" I love being obsessed with the girl in my chorus class because she's soooo cute with the way she acts around me, but I also love being obsessed with the girl at church because she's soooo attractive because she's just so down-to-earth, but for some reason, I also love being "in-love" with the girl who I'm not supposed to love because that would be wrong, even if she makes me feel like Heaven's on Earth...
Whoa, hold on a minute, no! I don't love it! I don't love being confused about which girl to "love", if it is love. I don't love struggling with the fact that it may not even be love, it may just be desperateness. I don't love constantly self-sabotaging because I don't think I'm good enough for her, whether it's my physical flaws, my emotional flaws, or my mental flaws. And, in all honesty, I really don't love the fact that I have to indulge in my ambiguity because I can't distinguish between my heart telling me it's love, and Hormones telling me it's infatuation; but then again, aren't they one and the same?
You see, my body is going through this physical and emotional stage of development society calls puberty, but I have come to a realization that my heart is also going through puberty. Every judgement call I make based on my heart is just me following an order from the Enemy. How can I win? How can I make the right decision? How can I "love" without it being attached to a sense of infatuation? I have an answer; in fact, I have the Answer:
"There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." - 1 John 4:18If you truly love someone, and you believe wholeheartedly that you do, then you shouldn't be afraid. If you love someone and you are afraid, you are in love for the wrong reasons, and your sense of "love" is based on a lie, some sort of deception that the Enemy has tried to instill in you.
That isn't to say that you won't be afraid of loving someone, and that you should be ashamed of yourself if you are. It just means you are afraid of losing them in a sense of having a certain level of friendship or bond with them, and then it crumbles after you "spill the beans."
I may seem confusing, even a little hypocritical, but hear me out: if you love this girl (or boy), and you are afraid that they may love someone else and that they will never be with you, and you feel some sort of jealousy and selfishness stirring in your heart, then you are loving for the wrong reasons.
But let's say you love this girl (again, or boy!), and you're afraid that they just won't look at you the same, and that they just happen to "love" another human being because they're fighting this Enemy as well, but they're somewhat happy. Then you are at peace. Sure, it would be nice if they reciprocated that love you gave them, but you're content with the fact that they're happy. Your only fear is that they cut ties with you. But that's okay. They're happy. They're safe. She's safe. Then you are loving for the same reason Jesus loved, and still loves, you.
All in all, trust in the Lord. Trust the one who is Love. Have faith that He loves you with perfect love, and He only wants you to do the same to others. If that girl at your church is someone you genuinely love, then love with perfect love. If that girl is the girl you don't have to put up a mask on for, then love with perfect love. If that girl in your chorus class, or math class, or P.E class, is someone you truly love, then love with perfect love. God knows what you're going through. He created you! He created the very heart that is deceiving you, not to fool with you, but to help you grow! He knows what's best, and if what's best is to love with perfect love, and that's exactly what you're doing, then trust that God is making that judgement call, not the Enemy.
Stay faithful, friend.
- Joseph
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