Understanding Grace

Grace is difficult for me to grasp. 

I understand ‘grace’ in the Biblical sense—we have been given favor and forgiveness from our sins, because of God’s sacrifice and his mercy towards us. 

However, when ‘real’ life comes in to play, it is difficult for me to grasp the concept of grace. Specifically, it’s difficult for me to show myself grace.

I like rules. Let me candid—I love rules. Rules bring balance and structure to my life. I was typically a teacher’s pet, because I enjoyed school. I did my homework and classwork, because I liked to learn. It just so happened I also liked praise from adults. Is it my fault these activities went hand in hand? I still enjoy ticking things off of my to-do list and I enjoy praise from others when I finish a project at work. 

What I didn’t realize until I was an adult was somewhere along the line I became my own worst critic. I would internally criticize myself if I didn’t complete a personal or work goal. If I only completed three things off of my long personal to-do list, I would chastise myself, “Come on Caroline. You’re better than this. Why didn’t you do the whole list?” 

When I slept in after a long week instead of getting up and going to the gym, I would beat myself up. “You’re so lazy. You worked all week and you can’t even get up on a Saturday morning?” 

I thought setting high standards for myself was necessary. In reality, the standards or rules, I set up to bring balance to my life actually weighed me down. The personal goals and check lists I thought helped me be a better person, helped motivate me to exercise more, do more, be better actually crushed my spirit. The rules I set up to bring me freedom brought destruction. 

Living a life of grace is hard. It’s hard, because it causes you to get rid of your own rules that make you feel safe. Rules or standards that make you feel like you’ve accomplished something or that you are worth something. 

Setting goals and having rules are not wrong; however, when you start to find your identity in your rules that’s when you need a heart check. When your rules become idols is when you need to step back and ask Jesus to give you a clear and intense dose of the Gospel. 

The Gospel is the truth that seeps deep in to your heart and redefines everything about you. 

When you are faced with the truth of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, you are challenged to let go of your own rules that make you feel safe and embrace a Savior who literally saves you from yourself. 

The thing about letting go of rules and accepting grace is it’s scary. For me rules are comfortable. If I give control over to God I’m scared I will somehow loose myself. What if I give him too much or not enough? 

When God is in control and when we rest in His grace we are safe. When God holds our hearts we cannot be destroyed. We may bend or even crack, but we are eternally safe in Jesus Christ, because we have an eternal hope in him. 

When you start to hand over the rules of your life to Jesus something begins to grow inside your spirit. When you begin to believe you are enough, because of what Jesus did for you and not because of your own efforts, hope is planted in your soul. 

The thing about hope is it’s like a seed that grips your heart and once it’s planted it grows…it spreads and it blocks all other weeds. It ruins you. It infects you. It spreads and leaves you breathless. 

Copyright © 2016 Caroline Damron. All rights reserved.

Gumuze City, Ethiopia

We worked in Gumuze City, Ethiopia and the surrounding villages. The trek to the Gumuze was a long one: 5-hours on a bus through lush and bumpy territory. I managed to take a whole bottle of dramamine by myself throughout the week. 

The plan for the first day was to set up the medical clinic in a government run compound. The majority of the team would run the clinic and four members of the team would go in to the villages. I was a part of the village team. Our goal was to visit eight families and bring them love gifts of clothing, salt and soap.

Our first morning we loaded up the bus with our team of 26 Americans and 15 Ethiopians. Half way through our 3-hour drive to the government clinic, we realized we'd forgotten the gifts for the village families. The eight bags were back at our hotel...

Rule number one of the mission field is to be flexible. We stopped the bus. One of our hard working Ethiopian church planters, T, jumped off of the bus, caught a small taxi and headed back to the hotel to get the gifts. 

We arrived at the government facility and there was already a line of patients waiting. While we waited on T to return from the hotel, the village team jumped in to help the medical team set up and facilitate. 

Several hours later, T arrived with the gifts. By this time it was too late for us to visit each of the eight families individually. We decided to walk to the first house and hope for the best. The trek was long and the sun was hot. Our translators told me and my two college students that we were 'strong women' to walk this road in the middle of the day. We smiled and laughed through the sweat. It's not fun unless you get sweaty and dusty right? 

When we arrived at the first home, we were greeted with smiling faces and generous hospitably. As we sat down to visit the first family, more and more people kept showing up. One of the translators leaned over to me and said, "We have all eight families here. Are you ready to go inside?" I was floored! We couldn't make it to all eight families so they all came to us!

We walked in and sat down on homemade chairs close to the hard dirt floor. Sixteen wide eyed adults sat in front of us. One of our goals in addition to sharing the gospel, is to educate the community on health issues. One of our students, Paula, shared with the families through a translator about malaria causes and prevention. I was able to share a piece of my testimony and Diane, our trip leader, shared the Gospel. 

As the story of the Gospel was translated, I focused on the families. One man to my right was rapt in attention. His eyes widen as Diane and the translators shared the story of Christ coming to earth and dying for our sins. 

After we shared, the translators, who are amazing and passionate church planters in the area, shared a little more. T, the man who had gone back to retrieved our gifts at the hotel, started to speak. He spoke with passion and authority as he explained the Gospel to his countrymen. I don't know what he was saying, but I know that T can preach the word! 

As T shared, more eyes lit up. Everyone in the room was interested in this man called Jesus.

We asked T what the families thought. He told us that everyone wanted to accept Christ: all eight families wanted to follow Jesus. 

My eyes filled with tears as he said the words. Praise the Lord for His plans are better than our own! 

We immediately asked the families if they would take the tools we'd used to share the gospel (small picture tracks) and share the gospel with each other! The man who's eyes lit up early in the conversation stood up. He said he would share with the group. It was an honor to see these new believers, men and women, learn to share what they just heard with others. 

So many times we make discipleship and telling others about Jesus difficult; but, in the New Testament we see over and over again, people hearing the Good News, being transformed and going out to their neighbors and friends and telling them about Jesus. Disciples making disciples making disciples. 

T and his friends will continue to meet with these families of new believers. They are committed to discipling and encouraging these families who are new in their faith. 

It was an honor to be a small part of their story. To share the Good News and the hope of Christ with brothers and sisters around the world...well there is nothing better than that. 

Life's Not Logical

I wrote this a couple months ago for our church's women's blog...I just found it again and thought I would share...God's using this reality to speak to me today and I hope He uses it to speak to you as well :) Blessings.

 So often we want life to make sense.

We want a plan and a road map lined out…because we all know that trusting God will be very doable if we have a plan. We seem to say, “God I can trust you…I will give you everything…if I know what you’re planning to take away from me and what your next move is…if I know those few details I can completely trust you.”

 It’s as if we give God our hearts, but only conditionally:

      I’ll trust you as long as I know what you’re going to take away so I’ll know not to put a lot of time or effort into that thing or person.

      I’ll trust you as long as I know what my job is going to look like so I’ll know who to be nice to at the office and what extra credentials to pursue in preparation.

      I’ll trust you as long as I know whom I’m going to marry and when I’m going to meet him so I can make sure to have a free schedule and an open life plan.

We essentially want trust to be in our control, which, if we think about, is not trust at all. That kind of trust is fear driven…it’s self-driven…it’s driven by our deep desire to control.

This control thing seems to be an ongoing issue with women around the world since the beginning of time even. Remember that one girl named Eve? God told her she could trust him for everything, but there was one detail: she did not need to eat the fruit from one tree in the garden. She trusted him when it seemed logical to her, but the moment someone (the serpent) made an alternate argument… “Oh Eve God is just trying to keep you from something…he’s just trying to keep you from being in control…you want to be in control right? Well then girlfriend, eat that fruit and seize control of your life!”

 And Eve did.

 She let the fear that God was holding out on her, the fear that God was not being good to her, that God was really hurting her…drive her to take some of the fruit and eat.

 This is not a new story to us. Number one because we’ve heard it in the church, but also because it’s the cry of our own hearts everyday.

 We want life to make sense, to be logical, but so many times it doesn’t. So instead of resting in the One who does make sense we try and manipulate or put meaning to our own lives…our own situations.

 But what God wants us to do is recognize that life does not make sense. So many times our situations or lack of movement cause us to think something is wrong…they prompt us to take control and make sense of them…because once we understand what’s going on THEN, oh THEN we can trust God!

 But we’re never called to an understanding of our world, nor our situations…we’re called to dig deeper and rest assuredly in the arms of Christ. “Trust in the Lord with all of your heart and lean not on your own understanding…”.

 My own understanding even at it’s best is flawed, because it is tainted with sin and with my desire to be in control…my desire to know what I’m getting myself into…

 I challenge you (and myself) to step back and acknowledge that no matter how hard we try we’re never going to have our lives figured out. We’re never going to be able to rationalize our next best move nor the next best step… But what we can do is believe that God is in control…and that He loves us and in time He will show us the best next step.

 We don’t have to know what’s around the bend…especially because we’re not driving the car of our lives…God is… Life won’t always make sense…and that’s really hard to accept sometimes, because in accepting that we acknowledge we have no control (dang it, we have no control!).

When we acknowledge our lack of control the next best step is to give the authority, the honor and the driver’s seat over to the One who does. So let’s continually (continually…every day, every minute, every second) trust and hand over the wheel to the One who planned this whole road trip anyways…God the Father, who loves us, who sent His son Jesus to die for our sins, and His Holy Spirit to be our constant comfort.

 So here’s to no plan or rather letting go of our understanding of “the plan,” our life…and here’s to embracing the One who it’s all about anyways…Jesus Christ.

 Cheers, Caroline

blast from da past...again

another loverly post from my time in France...I know I'm a bit obsessed but come on it's France for pete's sake ;)

Enjoy. Cheers.

Sunday, May 11, 2008

I was extremely excited about visiting the Loire Valley—who doesn’t like castles. My excitement was increased when our tour guide turned out to be the most wonderfully entertaining and one of the most knowledgeable women in the Loire Valley. She was just perfect for our group.

I loved that she told us about the people of the castles and châteaux, because when you simply hear about the buildings or the furniture or the artwork your mind begins to run together but when you hear about the people that is when the stories come alive.

Me and Chambord castle.

The people and the history of Europe have always fascinated me. I particularly love imagining life as it would have been for the people of the middle Ages, and it was awesome to hear about some of the very people that have always interested me—Henry II and Eleanor of Aquitaine. With this background of people and history I was able to really appreciate the castles more. I was able to imagine all of the work and the life that was conducted in these huge homes.

My favorite castle was probably Chambord—Francois I huge hunting lodge. I loved it because of its grandeur and the intricate design that you could look at forever but held a certain harmony that pleased your eye at the same time. The winding stairs were particularly wonderful (however I do not see how plays were held on them).

Chambord castle

The entire Loire Valley holds a sort of mystery and amazing since of the past it just makes your heart come alive with imagination and the beauty pleases your senses and leaves you breath taken.

I <3 the Loire Valley.

Chateau de Chaumont

From the Past...

I've technically been blogging since the spring of 2008. That's a little over three years, which is strange to think.

Anyways.

My original blog was meant primarily for my friends and family to read while I was studying abroad in France during my sophomore year in college. It's fun for me to go back from time to time and read some entries from my travels...one stuck out to me recently so I thought I would share. {also this is my attempt to make more blog posts on this blog...even if it is a recycled post...shhhh}

Sunday, May 11, 2008

When I read on our calendar that we were going to Giverny I had no initial excitement or extreme interest, because I had no idea what or even where Giverny was. When I found out that it would the place of Monet’s gardens I was very pleased: I like Monet it would be nice to see the garden’s that he painted so often.

If I had only known in that moment—when we walked up to Monet’s house you could not help but fall in love with everything around you.



The colors of the flowers were magnificent, and as our tour guide told us, were very particularly planted by Monet. He mixed certain warm and cool colors together to create a feeling or to draw your eyes in a certain way. Monet would love to see how the light played off of the different mixtures of color—it was just amazing to hear all of the specific detail he placed in his garden.
When we crossed the road toward the Japanese water garden my mind was still on the rows and rows of flowers back at the house, but when we came upon the water and the weeping willows my heart was stolen again.

Monet really knew how to capture the imagination through natural beauty. He saw how humanity grows and can really live through nature. He was a little eccentric (a little more than most) but his genius has left the world with beautiful works of art and with a garden restored to its original beauty to again tempt the public as it had tempted him.


My best friend/roommate Anna and me in Monet's garden...obviously having too much fun.

'I'm here to take photos...'

Event photographs or party pictures make up a lot of the content in the magazine I work for...we're essentially a socialite, city magazine, etc. And a part of my job is going to said events and snapping those coveted "party pics" of the attendees.

Sometimes people runaway from me...no joke. I guess they don't want their photo in one of the city's most read magazines but whatever. Other people squeal when I tell them I'm from Soiree magazine. If I had to choose I prefer the squealers to the runners...at least they will talk to me.

But the weird thing I have found about being an event photographer (or event photog as they say in the biz) is that you're essentially a stalker.

I am paid to stalk people.

I wait on the edge of the event ready to pounce on the next honoree or "in-the-know" person who walks by...I know who's who and I wait for my photo subjects to appear just like a lion waits for it's prey! It's not really that dramatic, but pretending it is makes going to tons of events more interesting from my perspective at least...

So as a photo stalker does that mean am I the equivalent of a paid assassin in the social world? Perhaps, because, seemingly, your social status could very well depend on whether or not you were seen at a certain event...and who has the power to permanently ("permanently") capture your presence? We'll that would be me.

Nice to meet you. Please don't run away from me.

Until the next party...look for me...I'll be lurking in the shadows or out in the open scrambling to get 30 photos so I can leave and go home ;)

the Buried Life

i am a poetry fan. i would not say i am obsessed or that i am an expert in the poetry genre BUT i do enjoy reading and writing poetry.

one of my favorite poems, which i discovered in college, is by English poet Matthew Arnold. I love this poem because it suggests that as humans we have a depth of emotion and thought that sometimes we do not even know exists. He talks about how in the most unassuming moments, in the times where we are most surrounded, distracted that we soon discover an inexplicable well of emotion, knowledge, whatever in ourselves. We suddenly identify with others or received a clarity about life we had not experienced before.

that at least is what i get out of the poem. But see that's what i love about poetry in the first place--you may read this. love it. but get a completely different message from it. {kind of like scripture...but that's another post}

here is an excerpt from "The Buried Life." If you have time you should read the whole thing BUT for now enjoy this snippet.


The Buried Life
By: Matthew Arnold


But often, in the world's most crowded streets,
But often, in the din of strife,
There rises an unspeakable desire
After the knowledge of our buried life;
A thirst to spend our fire and restless force
In tracking out our true, original course;
A longing to inquire
Into the mystery of this heart which beats
So wild, so deep in us--to know
Whence our lives come and where they go.

And many a man in his own breast then delves,
But deep enough, alas! none ever mines.
And we have been on many thousand lines,
And we have shown, on each, spirit and power;
But hardly have we, for one little hour,
Been on our own line, have we been ourselves--
Hardly had skill to utter one of all
The nameless feelings that course through our breast,
But they course on for ever unexpress'd.

And long we try in vain to speak and act
Our hidden self, and what we say and do
Is eloquent, is well--but 'tis not true!
And then we will no more be rack'd
With inward striving, and demand
Of all the thousand nothings of the hour

Their stupefying power;
Ah yes, and they benumb us at our call!
Yet still, from time to time, vague and forlorn,
From the soul's subterranean depth upborne
As from an infinitely distant land,
Come airs, and floating echoes, and convey
A melancholy into all our day.
Only--but this is rare--
When a belov'ed hand is laid in ours,
When, jaded with the rush and glare
Of the interminable hours,
Our eyes can in another's eyes read clear,
When our world-deafen'd ear
Is by the tones of a loved voice caress'd--
A bolt is shot back somewhere in our breast,
And a lost pulse of feeling stirs again.

The eye sinks inward, and the heart lies plain,
And what we mean, we say, and what we would, we know.
A man becomes aware of his life's flow,
And hears its winding murmur; and he sees
The meadows where it glides, the sun, the breeze.