Coming Out of the Clarkson Closet

I was a closet Kelly Clarkson fan.

American Idol premiered my senior year of college. I saw pieces of a few episodes and saw enough to know I hated it and everything it stood for. My friend Dee, on the other hand, was a huge fan, so I heard Kelly beat out Justin via the TV in Dee’s Mom’s minivan while we were stuck in traffic moving out her college stuff.

Dee, of course, bought her first CD and I rolled my eyes every time we listened to it that summer. But by album number two, Kelly was winning me over. And I found myself, a few years later, one slow Friday afternoon admitting to my cubemate, Casey, that there was that one Kelly Clarkson song I kinda liked. He, in turn, begrudgingly admitted to digging one of her tunes, too.

Casey and I are both music snobs and so this mutual admission was sorta a big deal. And the follow up online search to figure out which two songs we actual liked was on the side of scandalous. So much so, that when a team manager walked in and ask us what we were doing, we both averted our eyes and turned brilliant shades of red.

I came out of the Clarkson Closet in 2011. Sure, I had been spotted cranking I Do Not Hook Up on rental cars radios since it dropped in 2009, but I made excuses, like, “all the stations in Dallas suck, this was all I could find to listen to.” But I couldn’t admit the joy, nay the inspiration, Kelly provided until a few years later.

And then I discovered Catch My Breath, and people, I’m here to tell you, this lady gets me.
In this one catchy ditty, Kelly and her composing team of Jason Halbert and Eric Olson sum up the trust/truth journey I’ve been on for the last couple of years in the way only a pop song can. And I can admit that now.

This song has become a bit of an anthem for this section of my journey. I have indeed spent the last 6 months laughing hard with the windows down, leaving footprints ALL OVER this town, keeping faith and, because I’ve felt a little like life has been sucker punching me, remembering to catch my breath and then letting it go. Because you know what, no one can hold me back, I ain't got time for that.

Trust in Transition

Two years ago I decided to actually fully trust Jesus with my WHOLE life. Like for real. I mean, I’ve been a follower of Jesus since I was a wee lass. And that choice was real and life altering and such, but as I grew up, so did our relationship. We had some rocky times in college (who doesn’t) and then just about 10 years ago I moved 3,000 miles from everything I had ever known and I thought “Jesus, I totally trust you. You’ve got this.”

But what I realized a little bit over two years ago is that I didn’t really believe that. Or to put it more precisely, the aforementioned “this” was a small portion of my tiny life. Things happened in my formative years that made me believe that no one, not my family and certainly not God, would ever be able to TRULY protect me or take care of me, so young 6ish Alyssa set out in life to take care of herself. And super independent Alyssa did a fairly kick-ass job, if I do say so myself. By most measures, I was indeed successful.

But then, just about the time I turned 30, Jesus and I decided it was time I learned some lessons in dependency. God revealed to me this HUGE section of my life that I hadn’t handed over. Like pretty much my entire lively hood. I didn’t trust him to provide for me, to take care of me, to feed and clothe and shelter me. You know all the things a decent parent does.

I was single and alone in the world. But, God, the persistent deity that he is, stopped letting me wallow it the dark stone fortress of solitude I had carefully crafted for myself and together we busted down some carefully constructed make-believe walls and walked out into the wide-open spaciousness of grace.

And then, Jesus asked if I really loved him and I said yes and he said, feed my sheep. And I said cool and once again began full time campus ministry this time supporting myself solely on the gifts of other people; on the gifts of God.

I REALLY wanted this story to turn out AWESOME and be able to say that every month I made my budget plus because that’s how rad God is…um yeah, but no. Turns out I FAIL at support raising and in spite of me, every month, I paid my rent and didn’t go hungry but I didn’t make my budget and now I have DEBT for the FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE!!! Wait, I’m OK, it’s cool, spacious place, spacious place.

And truly it really is cool because I finally began to feel that peace that Jesus always talked about. Back when I had a savings account and an excellent corporate job, (not that there is anything wrong with that) I didn’t feel it. But oddly now, out at the end of all of my ropes, I feel I can let go and KNOW that God will catch me.

Over the last two years, I was given a life full of space and time to share generously. I’ve been honored to be a part of so many people’s stories; to experience the joys of their existences, to sit with them in the depths of their sorrows and to contribute in the healing of their lives.

It has been incredible. The story has turned out fairly awesome.

And now God has asked me to transition on. I’m not sure where to, but I know that come September One I won’t be doing what I have been doing anymore.

I’m not moving out of downtown Portland, or leaving my church community at The Groves. I will, however, no longer be raising my own support or doing full time ministry. I WILL NOT stop loving this neighborhood, nor the people in it. I’ll just be doing it in a different way.

In my good moments, I’m super excited about this; finally feeling that adventurous expectancy I’m constantly going on about. In my less frequent weak moments I FREAK out and wonder what I’ve done with the past 3 years of my life.

Hey, this trusting thing is still relatively new, I’m working on it.

This resurrection life you received from God is not a timid, grave-tending life. It's adventurously expectant, greeting God with a childlike "What's next, Papa?" God's Spirit touches our spirits and confirms who we really are. We know who he is, and we know who we are: Father and children. And we know we are going to get what's coming to us—an unbelievable inheritance! We go through exactly what Christ goes through. If we go through the hard times with him, then we're certainly going to go through the good times with him! ~Romans 8:15 The Message

So if you’ve read this and feel inclined to help a sister out, here’s some things you can do:

• Pray for me. It’s hard out here for a single Jesus lover. At the end of the day it’s just me and God and that’s cool and all but sometimes it’s a struggle.
• Leave an encouraging comment. I like words, A LOT, especially affirming ones. Or write me an email or send a card.
• Share some money love. Seriously, this debt thing is no joke. Until September 1 you can support me through my position with PayPal online:
• Go to: http://thegroveschurch.com/give/
• Click the Donate button.
• Then write PSU Position in the special instructions section.

• Or with check by mail:

The Groves Church
PMB #434
5331 SW Macadam Ave. Ste 258
Portland, OR 97239
Write PSU Position in the memo line.

HUGE THANK YOU to all the friends and family who have supported me in various ways over the last 2 years. I LOVE YOU!

Making Peace with Psalm 23

Green Grass & Quiet Water ~ May 2013 ~ Portland, Oregon

Where I grew up most, kids learned the 23rd Psalm. I think they had to in catechism. Where I grew up, all the school buses altered their routes to include a stop at the Catholic Church on Mondays for catechism classes. Because of where I grew up, I heard that Psalm recited as rote and therefore I didn’t much care for that Psalm. Also it talked about valleys of death and rods and staffs, and hearing that over and over and over again sorta creeped me out.

Where I live now, I do full time ministry through my church by encouraging and supporting university students and other transients of my downtown Portland neighborhood in a variety of ways. To do this work, I raise my own support. I sorta suck at this aspect, but that’s another story for another time. And now I have an agent for my book so I’m retooling my book proposal which means an enormous amount of research and writing and editing and feelings of inadequacy. Again, another story for another time. And I also have a life full of relationships with people not connected to anything mentioned above that I try to maintain. I guess you could say I've got some stuff going on.

I try to be diligent about maintaining a Sabbath. Because of what I do, it happens to be on a Wednesday. What I mean when I say 'Sabbath', is a day where I truly try to stop and rest and spend some time focusing on God, believing that my to-do list will get taken care of…eventually…in God’s perfect timing. Sometimes this involves a lot of deep breaths and verbal reminders that it WILL all be OK.

On one of those Sabbaths God reintroduced me to Psalm 23.

The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures, he leads me beside quiet waters, he refreshes my soul.

The message and God haven’t changed, but I have. I now hear them more fully. I now know that life is better when I take a moment or a day to lie down, to be still, to let God’s truth, wisdom, love and life pour into me, to have my soul feel all shiny and new.

Today was the last Sunny honestly warm day Portland will see for a while. I spent most of it inside working. That was up until the last hour and a half of daylight when, due to a variety circumstances, including locking myself out of my apartment, the Lord herded me down to the green grass beside the quiet waters of Willamette River and, there, the Lord refreshed my soul.

Sometimes we just need to take a moment to pause, breathe and remember that it WILL all be OK.

Waiting isn't for the Weak

The Pink Tree of Portland ~ February 2012

Today is the 30th Birthday of one of my favorites. She is handling it way better than I did.  Today, she posted on Facebook: “I've been looking forward to 30 since 25 so I'm über-excited about this particular birthday.”

I, on the other hand, went a little, “Oh-my-pants-I’m-turning-30-and-I’ve-failed-at-life,” kind of crazy. I went for a walk on the waterfront along the Willamette River and admitted to God that I felt like I had failed because I didn’t have an awesome career or a fabulous marriage/family. In fact, I was nowhere close to either of those realities and I was a week away from 30 – unemployed and severely single.

God gently replied, just on the north side of the Morrison Bridge, near the pink tree where I often hear God’s responses;
 “You’re wrong. Failing, for you, would be already having those things. You are waiting for a reason. For something better. For me.”

I believe this. I believe I have seen glimpses of this in the incredible amount of healing and growth that has happened in the almost two years since this walk.  But I still feel like I’m waiting.

And sometimes it feels a little like that time I went a tad berserker because I was ridiculously hungry because I waited until 1:30 pm to eat my first meal of the day and because I was waiting for what felt like an eternity in a food cart line. And by wait I mean absolutely NO movement. There was no ordering then waiting for food prep. Oh no, no, no, I was waiting for the OPPORTUNITY to order. It was excruciating. I was good for no one. Really. I couldn’t talk to anyone because I all I could think about was how hungry I was and how the line WAS NOT MOVING and gave no indication that it would anytime soon. It’s a little embarrassing how obsessed I got.

Eventually I got my Vietnamese sandwich and then I walked the half-mile to my friends’ home to eat it. Those 15 minutes were totally bearable because of the movement.

I’m learning what it looks like to wait with elegance, especially when it feels like there is no movement. It’s hard to not be in control, to not take the little that I know and run with it. But that is what God is asking of me. God is asking me to be strong…to be courageous… to wait. Waiting isn’t for the weak. 

This whole food cart scene is a prime example of failing at waiting with elegance. But that’s OK, because while I’m waiting I’m learning how failure can be an excellent teacher, too.

Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord. 
~ Psalm 27:14 NIV

Walk In Love

Red Square ~ Moscow, Russia ~ March 2008

I really love John’s second book. When I was at my lowest, this book helped me claw my way back up. Consequently I’ve probably read this book a good deal more than any other in the bible.

Back in 2010 I was in desperate need of divine direction, so I dove back into to it and was struck by the second half of verse six:

 “…his (Jesus) command is that you walk in love.”

So, yeah, that is easy, walk in love, right, right.  Yet, “Walk In Love” is a way more positive credo than “Meets – It’s Where It’s At” which is what I had taken out of 2008‘s closet and dusted off special for 2010.

This salute to the uninspired is rooted in the annual review structure at my first HR job. Getting a ‘meets’ meant you were doing just enough, you weren’t ‘exceptional,’ but you weren’t ‘needs improvement’ either. Meets was mediocrity at its best. I’ve lived most of my life in the exceptional range, but toward the end of 2007 I was questioning why and wondering where it had gotten me. I decided that maybe meets was where it was at. Less expectation meant less let down, less heartbreak and my young little heart felt it had had its share. I resolved that in 2008 I was going to lower my expectations and reap the mediocre benefits.

That year turned out to not be a “meets” kind of year so the salute didn’t get a lot of play. Therefore, I felt it was still pretty fresh and ready for a new release in 2010.

But then on that day in February in 2010, I decided, instead, to go with God and walk in love.

There is no promise of destination in this new credo. No direction other than to go and walk and while doing so, love. He is not asking me to perform a miracle or do anything extraordinary, but to obey him in love.

Oswald Chambers wrote, “It is inbred in us that we have to do exceptional things for God; but we have not. We have to be exceptional in the ordinary things, to be holy in mean streets, among mean people and this is not learned in 5 minutes.”

Compared with the billions that have inhabited the earth the Bible only highlights a few people’s stories. There are people we never read about who pleased God by doing this extraordinary thing of living by faith in him – day in and day out. They milked cows and delivered their product to people while praising God for sun and rain. They strung telegraph cable across the county loving everyone they met. They built subdivision and lived gracious lives. They sat at a desk and entered information into spreadsheets and let God’s light shine through them even when they sometimes struggled to breathe.

They didn’t slay giants, or build ships that saved the animals of the world. They loved God and moved as he wanted them to. And through loving him they loved others and God was proclaimed throughout their blocks, streets, neighborhoods, cities, towns, states, countries, continents, hemispheres – the world. They were generous with their lives because God was generous with his leading; prompting others to be generous too. I think we want some huge event, some grand adventure or reckoning. But on the whole, for billions of people it just isn’t that way. God asks that we be faithful in everyday things, everyday.

God asks that we walk in love. Since that day in February, I have; or at least, I try to. 

Heavy Burdened

Katmandu, Nepal ~ June 2011

I had this one day, four months ago, that was completely refreshing to my soul. I think it was because I didn’t move out of duty or obligation or what I thought was right or expected of me. I moved out of he unforced rhythms of God’s grace. I moved out of the core of who I am.

This day reminded me of the lesson I learned over a year ago in Nepal - don’t think, just do. I think too much. Perhaps my planning and calculation is worry disguised in pretty dress.  This seems to be the lesson I refuse to learn, and yet, God continues to present it to me.

Coming back onto campus back in January I didn’t really have a plan. I felt like Joshua in Jericho except I was walking around the South Park Blocks in prayer and waiting for the Lord. If there is one word I’ve gotten from God over the last two terms it is, “wait.”

“Pray and wait for me, Alyssa. Move where I move you. Let go and be free to be. Move with my current; it is safe and gentle for you. Watch and see what happens when you move freely in me.” This doesn’t look like other ministries I’ve seen. But that is OK, it’s more than OK, it’s God and God is good.

“Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on Religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me – watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.” ~Jesus in Matthew 11:28-30 The Message

Jesus didn’t have a strict business model. He moved where he was led by God and did what needed to be done at the time. As Enoch did many years before, Jesus walked with God.

The Voice version records this passage this way:
“Come to Me, all who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Put My yoke upon your shoulders – it might appear heavy at first, but it is perfectly fitted to your curves. Learn from Me, for I am gentle and humble of heart. When you are yoked to Me, your weary souls will find rest. For My yoke is easy, and My burden is light.”

“…perfectly fitted to your curves.” How much do I LOVE this?!

I’m nothing but curves and it is incredible to think this task I’ve been given by Jesus is perfectly fitted for me.

Now if only my bras were.

Learning To Live By Letting Go

Somewhere in the Carolinas ~ October 2011

Sometimes pivotal thoughts occur to you while you are in the middle of an epic adventure, like traveling the lower half of the lower 48 states in a month with one of your best friends.

Sometimes you find yourself with no music, windows rolled down, staring out at the Appalachian Mountains just before peak fall foliage craving divine direction and thinking:

“Somehow we begin to believe the lie that this now, our current present, is the best there is, was, or ever will be. We forget that this current present, good or bad, is only for now. I'm currently on a 4 week road trip across America and “for now” is as vivid as the colors on the leaves outside my passenger side window. The leaves are changing and so am I.”

Sometimes, you hear God speak a week later, in a friend’s living room with strangers singing along to a guy playing the guitar. I write:

I hold too tightly to this smallness in my hand. “But it’s what I know,” I cry as I stomp and flail about.

“But it’s not what’s best,” God calmly replies.

“Is best ever gonna come?”

“If you let go, Alyssa, you have to let go. My best is too big for you to grasp with your fists grabbing so tightly to the smallness you continually try to hold. Please, let go. You can trust me. I know you, I want my best for you. My word is good. I am good. Let go.”

(One year ago today, my good friend Christy and I set out from Oregon on a four week road-trip to Philadelphia and back. This post is a result of that trip.)