20 Questions with Kirby

A few short days ago, I returned from a wonderful place called North Carolina Governor’s School West. The experiences I had there taught me so much about my academic area of interest (English), being independent, building relationships, and making lifelong memories. The mantra at Governor’s School is “question everything.” As someone who likes certainty, this idea has made me pretty uncomfortable for most of my life. Some questions lead us to answers that we do not want to find. Some don’t have answers. Nonetheless, the past five and one-half weeks have taught me that I’m not here to have all the answers. I’m here to ask questions and follow them wherever they may lead. So I’ve compiled a list of 20 questions that tend to occupy my thoughts and that I’d like to explore in the upcoming year. 20 questions is a pretty fun game, so feel free to play along!




1. Having withstood the test of time, the golden rule states that we should treat others the way we would like to be treated. If we do not believe that we personally deserve to be treated with empathy and respect, what implications does this have on the way we treat others?
2. Is it possible to truly know a person, or are we merely creating fictional characters in a narrative we write based on the traits we perceive?
3. The saying goes that a picture is worth a thousand words. Who's to say that a word can't be worth a thousand pictures?
4. Can we truly experience happiness in its greatest magnitude without the existence of pain and suffering?
5. In a society that places such great value on individualism, why do so many individuals feel as if they are of little to no value?
6. In the grand scheme of the infinite universe, our planet is merely a speck. Why then, do we use physical distance as a justification for crumbling relationships?
7. Most people agree that lying is morally wrong, and many assert that anything that is not entirely true is a lie. Is it morally wrong to say "I'm fine" when in reality you're the complete opposite?
8. I'm a Christian. Many people in my faith tend to condemn nonbelievers for "rejecting God's love." How can someone be expected to accept a love that is not evident in the lives of those who profess it?
9. By one definition, language is described as "an finite number of symbols arranged into an infinite number of possible combinations." Does this qualify things such as music and mathematics as languages?
10. Would we have more boldness in saying "hello" to strangers if we didn't live with the constant threat of "goodbye?"
11. 75% of American girls believe that their personal worth depends on how they look. For a long time, I was one of them. What are we doing (or not doing) as a society to stop the perpetuation of this destructive idea?
12. How am I supposed to respond when I feel inextricably connected to someone who doesn't even know my name?
13. Is "loving from a distance" an example of bravery or cowardice?
14. Why am I really good at some of the things I'm indifferent towards, but really mediocre at some of the things I'm most passionate about?
15. What are the consequences of labeling romantic love as the most consummate form of human attachment?
16. When is silence louder than noise?
17. When will I stop making the same wish at 11:11 every night: when it finally comes true, or when I accept the fact that it probably never will?
18. Which of these is the most defining component of my identity: the physical, the mental, or the spiritual?
19. Why does it often seem that fiction contains more truth than fact alone?
20. What happens when I run out of questions?

When Windows Break

     “There’s a crack, a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in.”

~ Leonard Cohen

 

Do you ever wish that everything was made of plexiglass, that material that won’t break no matter how hard outside forces beat upon it? Do you ever wish that no storm, no matter how brutal, could shatter the windows by which you see the world, and by which the world sees you? Do you ever wish that you were as whole on the inside as you act on the outside- that you could lift the opaque shutter that you have so carefully garbed yourself with so that a warm, radiant light could cascade in?

 



 

It seems as though our society has an impenetrable, perhaps even unbreakable, fear of brokenness. We live our day to day lives as if we can simply hide behind a shade of immaculate wholeness- because what would happen if people could see beyond the beloved façade? What would happen if people could see inside the gaping holes that make us who we are, if they could see the jagged shards of glass crumbling to the ground in hopelessness? Somehow, we put ourselves under the suffocating impression that we’re the only ones, the only ones who have something missing, the only ones who are crumbled and so seemingly irreparable. Somehow, everyone else has it all together.

 

I am a victim of this mindset, and it’s not just something that lingers in my past. I am a professional in the business of putting up a front. I smile way too much, even when I’m not actually happy. I’m always “Fantastic” every time someone asks because I feel like it’s expected of me. I hate admitting that I need help as I try so fiercely to help those around me. A passerby may look at the quiet, simple shutter I have drawn and see tranquility without knowledge of the angry tornado that has blown through. Behind the shutter, dusty cobwebs fester. More glass falls. No light comes in. No light goes out. Just darkness. Painfully comfortable darkness. Yet somehow, I am blinded to it. It looms over everything I say and do- even with God. I’ll plead on behalf of everyone else under the sun- and when it comes to the end of my lukewarm prayers? “Oh, yeah. I’m fine God. Peachy, really.” As if I could fool the one who has numbered the very hairs on my head. As if He doesn’t know the prideful, guilty condition of my heart.

 



 

But He does. David, a biblical king who was no stranger to brokenness, perhaps expresses this better than anyone. In an epiphany of God’s incredible omniscience, he cries out: “O Lord, you have examined my heart and know everything about me . . . I can never escape your spirit! I can never flee your presence!” (Psalm 139:1,7) We can’t play games with God. He isn’t impressed with our false expressions of wholeness. He’s like that one friend who always knows when we’re lying. And something tells me God really doesn’t appreciate being lied to.

 

He despises a deceitful tongue. But you know what He doesn’t despise? A broken spirit. Take a look at what David says in Psalm 51 as He laments before God with fresh authenticity: “You do not delight in sacrifice, or I would bring it. You do not take pleasure in burnt offerings. My sacrifice, O God, is a broken spirit; a broken and contrite heart, God, you will not despise.” It is in our times of greatest despair that God longs to heal us with the complete sufficiency of Himself. He knows our needs and our inequities. He isn’t the arrogant man who abhors the rugged mess of a broken window. He’s the pesky dove who lands on the windowsill and longs to come inside.  God isn’t afraid of what you have hidden behind a shutter of durability. There’s a reason He didn’t make you out of plexiglass. He made you out of weak, fragile human flesh- not so that you feel broken and beaten down, but so that you feel broken and lifted up. Because at the end of the day, He looks at the heaping pile of shattered glass that you have tried so hard to cover up and says, “Wow. I made that. And I love it so, so much.”

 

It’s okay to admit that you don’t have it all together. It’s okay to express your fears, your doubts, and your weaknesses. It’s okay to fall on your knees and cry out to God in helpless desperation. Slowly but surely, the shutter will be lifted. A luminescent glow will pierce through the void left by your beautiful brokenness. With this glow, you will be rescued from the shadows of darkness. You will be freed from your blindness. You will see that you aren’t the only one; you never were. God will take all of the fragments that you’ve been struggling to put together into His own hands. He’ll help you find wholeness.

 

But personally? I think He’ll leave a small crack so that His divine light might always find its way through.

 





One Thing Remains

“Whatever is good and perfect comes down from God our Father, who created all the lights in the heavens. He never changes or casts a shifting shadow.”

~ James 1:17

 

There are quite few things in life that I’m just absolutely terrible at. Take athletics, for instance. I can barely walk in a straight line, much less run, handle a ball, and fight off my competitors all at the same time. And art. I mean, I guess I could splatter some paint on a canvas and someone would call it art, even though that’s still pushing it a little. But of all the things in this world that I’m not so great at, I’m the worst at change. It makes my head ache and my skin crawl. I hold so many things close to my heart, and I hate letting go of them. Conveniently enough, I’m approaching that time of year where a lot of things start changing. New school year. New classes. New teachers. New friends. New joys. New hearbreaks. And I don’t quite know how to prepare myself for it all. Sometimes I wish time would just freeze and allow me to soak up all of the precious things that today has to offer. Unfortunately, it doesn’t work that way. Like a cruel thief, time has a way of stealing everything we cling to. All we are left with is tomorrow, in all of its daunting uncertainty and swelling excitement.

                                                                 

 

            I could spend this post talking about how we should respond to change in all of its forms. I could even write out a nice, neat, five-step formula for you. But like I said earlier, I’m not very good at change, so I’m probably not the best person to ask. (I’m also not too great with formulas, so it could actually just be a recipe for disaster.) All I can really say is that in the face of change, some things are constant. The appearance of the sky always changes, but it’s still the same sky. So maybe instead of focusing on the clouds, we should focus on the persistence of the heavens themselves. Instead of focusing on what I can say to inspire you in times of rapid adjustment or sudden destruction, maybe I should focus on what can never be destroyed, no matter what the skies may contain.

 

            I don’t know who’s reading my blog at any given moment. This particular post is specifically dedicated to my friends leaving for college in the coming days, but if given the opportunity to speak to the entire world, these next few words would be the ones to pass my lips. I desperately pray that my actions have always been a testament to them because I know that actions are far more powerful than words alone. But if you ever get anything out of this blog, or out of having known me personally, please, make it this: No matter how small you may feel in such a big world, you are not worthless. You are beautiful, and you are loved. I know what its like to doubt, to hurt, and to struggle, but I believe in a God who never once doubted His love for me- or you. He loves you so much it hurts. Your name is etched in the wounds on His hands and in His sides. Sometimes, Christians do a crappy job at communicating this message, and I’m so sorry for that. It’s because we’re people, and people can be pretty crappy. (I know I can be pretty crappy.) I say this all the time, but I don’t know everything, as much as I wish I did. I do know that my relationship with God has transformed me and continues to do so, even on the days when my failures are beyond words. Because God doesn’t look at us and see our failures. He sees Himself: “Therefore, since we have been made right in God’s sight by faith, we have peace with God because of what Jesus Christ our Lord has done for us. Because of our faith, Christ has brought us into this place of undeserved privilege where we now stand, and we confidently and joyfully look forward to sharing God’s glory” (Romans 5:1-2). No matter what chapter of life you’re in, God is writing a story for you that is filled with grace, beauty, and redemption. When everything around you crumbles, He will lift you in His tender hands and take you far above the ruins.

 

            You were created for rich and abundant life, and no one can take that away from you. Pursue that authentic abundance with everything you have. Take risks, and follow your dreams and passions; they’re there for a reason. Most of all, ask God to increase your capacity to love others selflessly. And don’t just love when it’s easy. Love when it costs you. Because if you only love those who love you in return, what reward do you have? Lay down your life for your enemies. Allow your compassion to triumph over your fears. Let your life overflow in indulgent, unconditional love. I strongly believe that the love you put into the world will come back to you in the end. And even though I quote this verse all the time, I strongly believe that true love, which comes from God, will be the light that allows us to behold the magnificent image of wholeness that our hearts cry out for: “Now we see things imperfectly, like puzzling reflections in a mirror, but then we will see everything with perfect clarity. All I know now is partial and incomplete, but then I will know everything completely, just as God knows me completely. Three things will last forever- hope, faith, and love- but the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:12-13).

 

            We live in a world of constant change, but when we cling to the hope that some things are eternal, we race towards tomorrow with gleaming eyes. We can believe that by the strength of that which does not fade away, all of the tears will be wiped from our eyes, sorrow and pain will be no more, death will be wiped away, and all things will be made new. We are beautiful, and we are loved- not just for this divine day in the future, but for all the days of our lives. And so we do not have to run from or fear change as we are covered by the greatest thing that remains- a love that never changes.

* I love music, and I feel like this song says it all much better than I ever could.

                                                                                       

 

The Giant of Comparison

* This post is based off of an incredible sermon I heard about a year ago by Dave Edwards. You can listen to it here: (Even if you’ve never listened to a sermon before, I seriously recommend it. Seriously.) http://www.longhollow.com/messages/series/9?message=368&media=video

 

“And we seemed to ourselves as grasshoppers, and so we became to them.” ~ Numbers 13:33

 

 

          Comparison is something I struggle with. A lot. It permeates virtually every aspect of my life- academically, physically, relationally, and spiritually- and threatens to tear me apart The idea that “Well, I’m not as bad as so-and-so, but I’ll never be anywhere near as good as so-and-so” has probably separated me from God more than any other sin ever could. That’s right- I called it a sin. Because at the end of the day, comparison is looking God in the face and saying, “Hey, the person you created me to be isn’t good enough. I think you made a mistake.” I’ve learned that Satan will employ this mentality to do whatever it takes to convince you that you’re not good enough. It becomes this giant that we’re convinced we will never conquer. And there comes a time when we have to look this giant in the eyes and say “no more.”

 

          The giant of comparison has swept down and suffocated me in his unrelenting grasp. He has held me up to the sky and shown me that I am nothing more than a speck in its vastness. He has told me that my happiness must come from an external source- from finding favor with a loved one, from achieving a certain social status, or from reaching perfection. He has lifted me to meet the eyes of other giants, and he has distorted my perception of them. He has caused me to undermine my own accomplishments. To view them as insufficient. He has plagued me with lies and degradations that leave me in utter darkness. He has taken the earnest desires of my heart and ripped them into shreds. He has taken the remaining fragments and crushed them under his feet. He has tricked me into believing that my worldly weaknesses are not made strong in the greatness of my God and the sacrifice of my savior. He makes sure that I am obsessed with the faults of my past and the uncertainties of my future. He clenches me so tightly that any attempts to grovel free only result in further constriction. I have gone to great lengths to satiate the hunger of this giant. I have hidden behind a mask of makeup and appearance because he has defined me in terms of the number on a scale and the image in a panel of glass. I have kept from establishing certain relationships because he has told me that I am worthless in inferior eyes. I have locked my darkest secrets and inquiries behind a door of shame under the assumption that those around me have it all figured out. I have longed for the approval of man because the giant of comparison has denied me approval of self. I have withheld my potential in fear that it will linger in the shadows of another. I have questioned the impact that I am capable of having on an immense universe because the giant of comparison has caused me to discount my uniqueness and the divine plan behind it. I have lived for too long believing that life is a race is about competing, not completing.

 

 

                                                                                     

 

              “And so was we became grasshoppers in our own sight . . . so we became unto them.” This verse comes at a very pivotal point in scripture. The Israelites have come from years of torment and slavery in Egypt, and after an immense struggle, they have reached the promise land. The land of flowing rivers of milk and honey. The land of freedom.

 

             But . . . they don’t go in. Why? Comparison. They see these giants, and they compare themselves to them. They actually want to go back to Egypt. The land of pain and darkness. Because evidently, they know something God doesn’t. They don’t trust Him, and the power of His hand over them. And until they do trust Him, they miss out on all of the incredible things He had in store.  

 

            So what about you? How has comparison prevented you from getting the most out of life? Maybe this whole thing is new to you. Maybe you’ve lived your entire life believing a lie- the lie that God could never love you, could never deliver you from your sin, could never shine light into your darkness. In the cold, dim place of that lie, God’s word ignites a candle of hope: “Do not fear, for I have redeemed you. I  have summoned you by name, you are mine” (Isaiah 43:1). Or maybe you’ve been a Christian for a while now, but you feel dead in your faith. The plans God has for you aren’t as special as the ones He has for anyone else. But you are the only one who can fulfill those plans. I can’t. The most religious person you can think of can’t. The person with the most money can’t. But you can. Take heart in this: “Commit your way to the Lord; trust Him and He will do this: He will make your righteous reward shine like the dawn, your vindication like the noonday sun” (Psalms 37:5-6).

 

            Yes, when we writhe free from the grasp of the giant of comparison, the fall that ensues does hurt. But we don’t land in the barren desert. We find our place in the promise land.

My Speck

           My life is a speck in the vastness of eternity- a tiny drop in a massive ocean. A mist that will appear, and then vanish. Like any human, I have an innate craving to make my speck matter somehow, to be the spark that starts a roaring fire. Recently, I’ve come to the conclusion that in order for my speck to matter, there must be some greater purpose behind it. The waters that make my life so small and insignificant must have some kind of great significance. My mist must come from something; it must vanish into something. If my spark is really going to start a fire, this fire must find fuel from a greater force. In this truth, I find my purpose. And if you have a minute, I’d love to share this purpose with you.

           

            Have you ever heard a romance so incredible that you just couldn’t find the right words to describe it? It left you breathless and wanting more. It filled you with indescribable joy and wonder. Maybe it even brought you to your knees. (Or maybe not. How you respond to cheesy romance novels is your business.) Most people spend their entire lives trying to figure out the whole love thing. But what if I told you that love is the reason behind your existence? Behind the existence of your worst enemy? Behind the existence of the world’s highest peaks? Behind the existence of the entire universe? It kind of changes the definition of love, at least for me. At this point, you’re probably beyond confused. But I’m going somewhere with all of this, I promise. 

 

            1 John 4:16: "God is love. Whoever lives in love lives in God, and God in Him." This one verse is the reason I believe we’re here. Because God, the perfect, eternal, creator of the universe, who exists outside of all time and space, is love. And love must have a target. How crazy is it to think that humanity is that target? To think that before the beginning of time, God had a plan for an incredible, dramatic romance displayed in His relentless pursuit of mankind?  To think that He granted us with heavens that declare His incredible works and with a planet that we can call our own. To think that He reflected His most beautiful aspects- love, grace, peace, purity- not to us, but through us. And to think that He granted us with free will- something that I think makes this love story the greatest we will ever hear.

 

            Take a minute and think about the God of the Old Testament. I would venture to say you don’t have an exceedingly positive image conjured up in your mind, and I can’t say that I blame you. Until recently, I probably would have had a similar one. But let’s look in Genesis 2, where God warns Adam not to eat the “forbidden fruit” or whatever you want to call it. “You may freely eat the fruit of every tree in the garden, except the tree of knowledge of good and evil. If you eat from it, you will surely die” (Genesis 2:16-17). Surely die. To me, that sounds pretty final.

 

            But I think we all know how this story ends, whether we believe it to be a historical event, spiritual allegory, or pure myth. Adam eats the fruit.

 

            Plot twist: He doesn’t die.

 

Genesis 3:9: “Then the Lord God called to the man: where are you?” He called Adam by name. He forgave Adam. He wanted a relationship with Adam, and every man after him. So does this make God a liar? I don’t think so. I think it’s a revelation of the way God pursues mankind throughout the course of scripture and the course of history. God continues to reveal himself in this way time and time again. Yes, sin has consequences. But He never failed to reconcile Himself to His people, no matter how many times they ran away from His deep and endless love.

 

But from before the beginning of time, He had the ultimate plan. His plan was not to reign over the nations with fire and brimstone. His plan was not to receive futile animal sacrifices, or to oppress His precious children with a meticulous law code. His plan was to come down to them. To love and heal the people on the fringes of society. To declare messages that went completely against cultural norms: “Blessed are the poor.” “If someone slaps you on the cheek, offer also the other.” “Love your enemies.” “If you want to be perfect, sell your possessions and give to those in need.” “Everyone who exalts Himself will be humbled, and everyone who humbles Himself will be exalted.” Anyway, you get the general idea. He humbled himself and felt our hurt. Our pain. Our temptation. He sat with beggars, orphans, prostitutes, and lepers. The 12 men He chose to be His disciples came from pretty rough backgrounds. He fulfilled the law in ways that we never could. He humbled Himself to a horrible and demeaning death with the sins of all humanity imposed on His shoulders. And when He drew His last burdened breath, the curtain in the temple that once separated man and God ripped from top to bottom.

 

But it doesn’t stop there. He defeated sin and all its power. He defeated death and all its sting- all because of God’s radical, unconditional love for humanity. And now we can defeat sin and death through Him. Like Paul says in Galatians, “So in Christ Jesus you are all children of God through faith, for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourself with Christ. There is neither Jew nor Gentile, neither slave nor free, nor is there male and female, for you are all one in Christ Jesus” (Galatians 3:26-28).

 

Here’s a question I get a lot: “Why are you so happy all the time?” Let’s be real. For those of you who know me personally, I’m not actually as happy all the time as I might let on. That would be . . . unnatural. But I can keep a smile on my face because I have been resurrected in a grace beyond all human comprehension. This love just swells inside of me so much that I literally cannot contain it. Nothing brings me greater joy than loving others the way God loves me- from the inside out. I love being able to say that no matter who you are or what you’ve done, you don’t have to hide. You don’t have to be ashamed of who you are. You were made in the image of God, and when He made you, He knew what He was doing. He will embrace your brokenness and use it to create a magnificent image. He chose you. And no matter what anyone else says, He loves you.

 

I’m impressed if you’ve actually hung in with me for this long. But by now, you may have some questions. Comments. Concerns. Know that I am always available to talk to you about anything, anything at all. If you ever need anything, my heart, arms, and mind are always open.  I’m not perfect. I don’t have all the answers, but I hold on to this truth: “For we know in part and we prophesy in part, but when completeness comes, what is in part disappears. When I was a child, I talked like a child, I walked like a child, and I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of my childhood behind me. For now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face. Now I know in part, but then I shall know fully, as I am fully known. Now, the three of these remain: Hope, faith, and love. And the greatest of these is love” (1 Corinthians 13:9-13). God is love. A relationship with Him is not a one-time prayer, a signature on a card, or  adherence to a set of rules. It’s just that. A relationship. A divine romance.

 

This romance has absolutely changed my life, and I’m sorry if my life has not always reflected that. It’s the ocean of grace that the brevity of my life sinks into. It’s the hazy fog that I know will eventually be made clear by God’s love. It’s the raging fire that I want so desperately to ignite. But the thing is, I don’t want to ignite this fire in front of people or for people. I long to ignite it in people, the way the God of the universe somehow longs to live in us.

 

My speck is part of a bigger picture.