This is the paradox that is my life. It is where I have learned that when two extremes collide within me, nothing but beauty bursts forth.

I am running with all my strength unto the Lord, and at the same time He and I are walking hand in hand at a constant pace. I am living and walking in sweet communion with Him, and at that very moment, I am gasping for breath as I arrive at His feet.
A familiar combination of emotions constantly overwhelms my senses. Tears well up and spill over leaving a trail, and its not sadness, but it is, and its not joy, but it is. Joy and sadness confined in one body is difficult to understand, and it is a dense emotion to carry. Most of all, it demands to be felt.
Feeling joy and sorrow simultaneously is redemptive. I fail to put to words why that is so. Maybe it is because the joy is un-moveable, and the sorrow is valid. Maybe when two opposite truths stare each other in the face redemption oozes out. Maybe when sorrow trickles down from our King--the Man of Sorrows into the well of my Joy that is in Him, I am changed.

And maybe when the Lord looks down, He doesn't labyrinth of paradoxes that I need to straighten out. Maybe He sees beautifully intertwined truths, realities, emotions, and events. Maybe I am meant to feel everything all at once, or maybe I am supposed to sort it out and let Him redeem me through it. Maybe He means to teach me how to live hard pressed on every side, but not crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck down, but not destroyed. (2 Cor. 4:8). Maybe the paradoxes reveal more truth about God's greatness than they reveal about my inability to avoid contradiction.

Now I know that when paradoxes inconvenience me, I still have more to learn.

This December the Lord totally rocked my world and showed me where my purpose stands. He called me out of my career path and gave me a better, more impactful & greater calling. A calling that has been there since the day He washed me clean. For so long, my vision was foggy because I kept pulling myself down. My relationships were my fault, my emotions were my fault, my thoughts were my fault, so I stayed there awhile, soaking in all the blame and my self pity, as if I didn't have a Savior who conquered over those very things. 

It is surreal that I find myself about a semester and a half away from graduating college. As I let that statement settle into the depths of my mind, questions arise, emotions run wild, and hopes rush in.

I do not question the family that I was born into...the family that God gave me. No sir, I did that too often when I was younger. Back then, I was like any other teen. I wished my parents were more "modern". I begged for more freedom, and hoped for normality. In my mind, all I had were some old fashioned, Spanish speaking, loud talking, make-no-sense parents.

So, I felt captive. I felt shackled not only to my family but also to their beliefs, to their expectations, and because I lived to please others, I ended up never pleasing anyone. Back then, not only did I want more freedom and normality, I searched for their approval in ways that they were not intended to fulfill. I was left striving for something that my family couldn't give, healing.

If only I was a good daughter, than things would be better, and I'd feel better about my rebellion. If I was better, I wouldn't constantly fight with my parents about friends, or curfew, or boyfriends, or customs, or rules, or church, or money, or movies, or anything.

My senior year of high school, I met Jesus on a grainy stadium floor in Knoxville, TN. I got there by way of my best friends parent's van and my other best friends semi- made up youth group, "Four:12 Ministries". I got there by being a bad daughter.

I had concocted a master plan and had tricked my mom into believing that various people from school were going, including a chaperone. In reality, there were only three of us; all of 18 and under; me and two guys. In their eyes, a bad daughter.

Looking back, I think she let me go, in the midst of all the ambiguity, because she trusted God more than she trusted me. She knew I was into the party thing, the drinking thing, the lying thing, the teenage thing, but she saw a glimmer of hope when I told her it was a Christian conference. Even though she didn't want to let me go, I went.

Now, what I find so beautiful is that in the midst of my sin, in the midst of me being a bad daughter. Jesus found me. In the midst of my lie, here saw my dead bones in that packed stadium, and commanded them to live. 


Life, was something I knew nothing about. I became alive on that mercy-filled night. Then, I came home and a different struggle began. I didn't know what to do with my new found life.  I was new, but my old habits came knocking at my door. I ended up becoming a different version of myself, with different habits that irked my parents.


That was almost 3 years ago, and by the grace of God I have become more aware of the life that I received. Life means i am not my own, because Jesus is the I AM. 


Since that Saturday night in March of 2009, I've had the privilege of having more encounters with the Maker of Heaven and Earth, and every time more life has come forth. *

I have been home for Thanksgiving break for about 36 hours and I can see the difference that the LORD has made. He has made a world of difference in me. He exudes from me.

Sometimes, I get really self righteous and condemn myself for not verbally proclaiming Jesus with every word, but I truly believe that He permeates all that I do. My redeemed heart does not fit within my redeemed body. It flows freely through my actions, sometimes harshly, but always sweetly.

I see it more at home because home knows who I used to be. Oh, the horror these walls could speak. I see the growth more at home because home has known me for 21 years.

Home is where I grew into a family. The Lord not only knew who each individual in my family would be, and He purposely put me in the middle of it. He knew I would become just like my mother despite the foolish tantrum I threw on the way. He knew that my father would be stubborn and distant, while my mother abounds with devotion. He knew my older sister would travel the road of problematic friendships and find redemption along the way. He knew my little brother would be thinking about having a girlfriend a too young of an age, and that my youngest would come along when I was 16 and since then, he would not leave my side-- literally... right now he is sleeping beside me. He knew that parts of my family would be redeemed through the actions of the younger generation.

Right now, He knows my longing to see that salvation spread farther, higher & deeper in this household. I don't question my place in this family because my place in this family was determined before the beginning of time & it is covered with the blood of Christ.
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So, I write this to my 17 year old self:

Yessenia,

Your parents aren't the only ones who need a transformation; you need it, your life depends on it.

Sorry to break it to you, but you are not able to whisper and your reasoning will make no sense to others, just like your family. You will become like your mother in that your faithfulness to those whom you love will bring a bittersweet, but rewarding pain, and your humor will be sprinkled with some of your dad's wittiness.

There will come a time where the fighting, will for the most part, cease. There will come a time where you will view your family with a new set of eyes, but first...

...stop ignoring what your heart keeps telling you. Stop kidding yourself. Stop seeking out confusion to ease your weary soul. Stop tuning out your mother's prayers. Stop trying to run from the Lord. Stop willing yourself into sin. Stop talking yourself into death.


My parents still don't know English, they are still loud and their reasoning still makes absolutely no sense, but within me no longer lies a child striving to earn love. Instead, it is is filled with Christ, and those trivial things (the language, the loudness level etc.) are things I cherish, and if they annoy me, they are nothing compared to the Greatness of He who saves.

So, who cares, if not a single one of us can whisper.





* I am not suggesting that one true encounter Jesus as Lord is not enough. He is more than enough. I am speaking from my own experience of my foolishness and His greatness. I do believe that sanctification is gradual though because we cannot possibly behold all of His glory just once.


**Matthew 6:33

Hermano Sandoval, he was a kind man.

I wish I would have known the Lord while he was still alive. I say that because every time he preached, i yawned and every time he prayed, i stood looking the clock instead of postrated at the feet of the LORD.

He loved my mother like a daughter. He took her in when my father was gone and he took us in as well. I remember those days. He lost his daughter to suicide earlier in his life and my mom unknowingly took her place.

I still remember venturing out in the cold and into the city to go visit him. He was the oldest person i knew. I think he died at age 94?I remember him buying my sister and i our first digital camera and taking us to a jewelry store to buy us watches. I wish i hadn't lost mine within the week.

I don't know why i didn't like him back then. I had this terrible bitterness towards him. In my eyes, he was taking up all of my mothers time.

I was a foolish child. I look back now and although the amount of time my mother alloted to him was plenty, he was her spiritual father. I don't think i ever fully realized that until now, just sitting here.

Time.

Why am i so jealous for it and of it. Why?
I remember unplugging the telephone from the jack because i wanted to tell my mom something, but she had been talking to Bolivar for what seemed like an eternity.
I remember crying because my cousin Liz wouldn't sleep in my bed and instead chose to sleep with Mayra.

I remember, TIME.

I recall the punctuality of my family, and the warped notion of time at my house.
I recall how last year seems like yesterday and tomorrow seems forever from now.
I recall the way time stands still when i want it to pass and when i cling to it, it slips through the cracks
I recall the manner in which time rudely passes without any concern for my person.
I recall the way a deadline approaches too fast and a goodbye comes to soon.

TIME.

I express my love through time.  If you have my time, it means you are important to me. it means i care about you and that i value your company.


Time, just think about it.

Time, it ticks itself away. It counts itself down. Its hums down to nothing. It sings as the soundtrack of our lives never knowing when it will cease.

If i just sit; sit in the stillness with someone and be unbothered by the ticks that tock away. That is my gift.

Time, I cannot control but i was created to love through it. Time, something so precious. It is priceless, i can never get it back. Sometimes i spend 3 hours talking to someone, and never... can i ever, get it back. But still, i offer it up.

Time; I release it unto those i love.




God is above what offer to my fellow brothers/sisters. The priceless gift i give, does not even apply to my GOD and KING. The beautiful thing is that although God is not subject to time, the time i spend and offer to him is all the more valuable unto Him.

Wait, how can that be?

Its because offering time:
its sacrifice.

I think this is why the LORD emphasizes closet time. "Take the time to know Me for Me", He says. Do not settle to rely on what what you think I AM is or what people have told you I AM... child," I AM". He whispers.

Take time to know Me for yourself. I must take the time to know Him for myself.

"Seek ME while I may still found" He suggests that to you and i.

Time, we are bound by it for now, but one day time will be no more, and it will just be eternity.