Hope is a desire. Faith is a demonstration. Hope wants it to happen. Faith causes it to happen and acts as if it’s already done. Faith is not content to want it really, really bad. Faith consults the drawings and gets busy building. Hope is the blueprint. Faith is the contractor.
This is sad. Justin was one of my brothers’ best friends and a good kid. I didn’t know him well, but I’ve been torn up about this all day. I go from fine to tears in like two seconds, ha…
Man. Life is so short sometimes… You never know when your time is coming. I guess it’s more the shock of it than anything… I feel for the family and friends he has left behind, including my brothers. This is so hard to accept.
Pray for the Stolp family, and also Dakota Hoffman (the driver) who is recovering at a Toledo hospital.
Rest in peace, Stolp. May your memory never fade from our hearts.
“When I am down and, oh my soul, so weary;
When troubles come and my heart burdened be;
Then, I am still and wait here in the silence,
Until you come and sit awhile with me.”—You Raise Me Up, Rolf Løvland and Brendan Graham
"Likes you? Please, Rapunzel, that’s demented. This is why you never should have left! Dear, this whole romance that you’ve invented just proves you’re too naive to be here. Why would he like you? Come on now, really! Look at you! You think that he’s impressed? Don’t be a dummy! Come with Mummy. Mother (knows best)….”
I love the movie Tangled. It’s one of my all-time favorites, and I frequently find myself singing the songs over and over again in my head. I was actually quite taken with Mother Gothel, the villainess of the story. In fact, my friends encourage me quite often to sing along with her songs, as I tend to have a flair for the dramatic and often get into the role. A lot. (I like to act— so sue me.) But I was going over the “Mother Knows Best” reprise in my head today and a thought occurred to me: isn’t that just like the world?
Poor Rapunzel. All her life, she’d been told the world outside her tower was a dangerous place, and the only one who could ever love her was her mother (who— SPOILER ALERT— is not really her mother at all). When she finally finds her courage, she breaks from the tower and goes on a wild adventure of discovery— not just her world, but about herself. She finds friendship, and love, and begins to think of herself as someone of value. But her wicked mother decides she doesn’t want to share Rapunzel or her gifts, and attempts to persuade her to come home and give up on the outside world. Mother Gothel, I realized, was talking out of both side of her mouth. One moment, she loves her daughter and treats her like someone precious. The next, she insists that Rapunzel could never be of use to anyone and is too stupid and weak to make it on her own.
And that’s exactly what the world does. We’re taught from a young age to like whatever we want, to live for ourselves, to follow our dreams and not let others put us down; that we are special because we are all unique. In the same breath, our culture tells us that if we aren’t smart enough, we aren’t good-looking enough, if we don’t meet some varying standard, then we aren’t good enough. It sends a very mixed signal, especially kids and young adults trying to find their place in the world. We hear things like this all our lives, and it is easier to believe in our inadequacy than to believe in ourselves; we choose the path of least resistance.
And so we settle. We give up on our dreams because we think we haven’t the intelligence, willpower, or talent to achieve them. We trade in waiting for someone special in our lives and jump into shallow relationships, satisfying our sexual desires with whatever willing soul comes along. We give up on God because we feel too broken to be of any significance. I’ve fallen victim to this line of thinking more times than I can count— especially in the romantic arena. I became very distressed, especially in high school, because I wasn’t dating, I’d never had my first kiss, I’d never even held hands with a boy that I liked. I felt like I was too fat, too pale, too smart, too quiet, too loud, too short, too nerdy… the cycle went on and one and on. I was never good enough for myself, so I was never good enough for anyone else. Yet I kept hearing “be yourself,” and “you are special,” and “you are worth something;” and I laughed, because I knew it was a lie. Besides God, and my family— both parties I took for granted and thought were obligated to love me— what did I have to offer anyone? Who would ever be attracted to a mess like me?
I’ve since found comfort and a new sense of worth, and I am grateful to those who believe in me and love me for who I am; but it also breaks my heart knowing that there is an entire generation of young people who are growing up with the same mixed-up message. It’s no wonder so many of us are jaded and miserable. I pray somehow that people see the world and its twisted doctrine of self-deprecation as a villain, and are able to see the truth about themselves and their value just for being who they are.
I am thoroughly inspired to write my own novel now. Thanks, Rachel Aaron. D:
I’m a terrible planner and that’s always the hardest part for me, but I feel like I just need to work through it, now. Where’d my notebook go? I’ll get my hands on it soon, and then… time to break out the spreadsheets. Again. I miss those little guys. (I ♥ charts and lists.)
Selah and company… you will be written. and it will be awesome. For me.
(Does that mean there is hope for rewrites of old crummy ideas that never left the dock? I think so. *cackles with glee*)