A Confident Illusion

I couldn't fight it anymore. The river of emotions that I'd been holding back for weeks was ready to burst like a dam at flood stage. My roommate listened as every shortcoming, fault, and uncertainty that was rooted deep inside poured from my heart. With each confession, I began to see a picture of myself as I really am, solidifying what I've feared most: I am a mess.

--

Throughout my life, the common perception of Christina Ludwick was [and sometimes still is] "That girl's got it together."

In school.
In sports.
At home.
With my friends.
At church.
In planning my future.

And it's my fault people think that.

Having it all together is an illusion I have prided myself in for years. Since the moment I dribbled a basketball and served a volleyball, my identity has been defined by a hardwood floor and the bleachers surrounding it. Wins and losses alongside statistics and recognition built a foundation (and not to mention an ego) that was sure to break some day down the road. (And it did, but I'm not quite ready to revisit that just yet...). But as far as any bystander knew, I had it all and loved every minute of it.

Not quite.

Sure I was a top student and an All-State athlete; most people would kill to have one or the other, let alone both. The problem? That's how I defined myself. I had built up a false sense of self and rooted my security in accomplishments. The roar of the crowd and the pats on the back fed the need to keep the charade going. They thought I was confident, and I promised myself they would never know different.

But oh, how different it was.

Long nights of crying alone in my room. Mornings of staring at the mirror through tear-filled eyes and hating what I saw. Lunch times eating with friends and questioning what they really thought about me. Drives home from practice wondering if people would still like me if I gave it all up.

If I ever had a second of downtime, my mind raced. What if they find out? What if they realize I don't believe half the things people say about me (or that I say about myself)? So I filled my schedule.

The busier I got, the easier it got to drown out the fears. The more in my schedule, the less I thought about who I was letting down. The stronger I portrayed confidence in myself, the deeper my insecurities dug and the more they grew.

You think I would have taken a step back, realized the destructive pattern, and stopped it all together. But that's the problem. Then they would know. They would know I'm not perfect. That I might not love myself. That I was finding my security in people's praise because I couldn't find it in myself. They would know I was a fake.

So the cycle continued.

And it still continues today. As I realized a few days ago.

---

So there we sat, my roommate and I, by the pool as I cried and let every unbecoming thought of myself come out in the open. My dreams remaining stagnant. My goals left unattained. My heart still unfulfilled. My passions drying up. My strength wearing thin.

What if they know I'm not sure of myself? What if they realize I don't have it all together? What will they do when they find out I have open wounds and persistent fears?

My fights and struggles are different today than they were back in high school and college. Some are still the same raging storms returning to wreak havoc on my perfect put-together life. Others are new, unfamiliar fears creeping up on me during my busy life and airtight schedule ready to take me by surprise at any moment. I fought many battles against the insecurities of my past before, and still know them by name.

Success.
Stature.
Respect.
Approval.
Applause.

These monsters still grip me today, much like they did before.

But if I know anything, it is this: God's love is stronger than any insecurity that eats away at my self-worth. He is sovereign and with him I can conquer any obstacle facing me: even those rooted deep inside my soul that I so often choose to bury. I was beautifully and wonderfully made by a Creator who loves me for all that I am, all that I was, and all that I am supposed to be. He loves me in my failures, shortcomings, and biggest mistakes. I serve a God who looks at me regardless of my accomplishments, my strivings, and my good deeds. His love is unconditional, His perception unskewed, and He longs for me to see myself through His eyes.

And I think that's a good place to start.

When we embrace God's sovereignity we find that
confidence increases,
insecurities fade,
worries decrease,
and calmness replaces striving.
-Charles Swindoll-

1 Year Ago Today...

...I graduated from college.


One year ago today, I walked across the stage, shook President McGee's hand, and in doing so, closed one of the greatest chapters so far in my life.


The awards and medals couldn't even begin to tell the story that was written in my four years at Eastern Nazarene.









The volleyball team.

Doubles.

No net practices.

All nighters.

Dunkin runs at midnight.

Wolly beach.

Boston.

Teammates that became your best friends.

I never thought about leaving them behind.

But this was it. College was over.

Nashville Flood: Meet Paul

People come in and out of your life every day.

The barista at Starbucks.

The guy on the treadmill next to you at the gym.

The cashier at the grocery store.

Most of the contact we make with people day in and day out lasts mere seconds with the exception of coworkers, friends and family. But during the Nashville Floods, I have had the opportunity to come in contact with some incredible people under the most unfortunate of circumstances.

Paul is one of those people.

Paul is a 57 year old factory worker. He's worked in the same factory since he was 21, and has been married to his high school sweetheart, Becky, for almost 40 years. He has seen his share of both good and bad days, he's seen the sun shine and the rain pour. But on May 2, 2010, he saw a sight he never thought he'd see.

Paul's house was one of the sites I was given for Serving Saturday last weekend. Leading a team of about fifteen, we walked an old dirt road past demolished houses unaware of what state his house would be in. None of us had ever met Paul or his wife Becky- his daughter Sarah attends Crosspoint so to us, they're family. His two-story house seemed to be in tact, but as we got closer, we realized even its high foundation didn't hold off the flood. The water line was at about 13 feet, if not higher. As we got acquainted with Paul and his wife, I walked around the house to see all of their belongings piled high... literally thrown out the windows and porch door.

"That's all of it," he said as he pointed to the mountain of memories drenched in muck and merky water. I looked around to see where the water came from, only to find a beautiful field (now mud) for yards around. There was no river, lake or even a creek to blame for this devastation. It just didn't make sense.

Sense or not, we got to work. Fifteen "kids" (Paul kept calling us kids, it was the greatest compliment in his eyes) with crowbars, hammers, and serious ambition ripped the insides of his house apart. As we sat down to have lunch during the demolition of his house, Paul, a worn-out blue-collar man, opened up and showed me a side I don't think many have ever seen. As we sat side by side on what was left of his two rocking chairs, tears began to stream down Paul's face.

"I just don't understand why you would come here, Christina. Trust me, I know there's hundreds of things you kids would rather be doing on a Saturday. Christina why are you here?"

If I could remember what I said to him, I would tell you. It had something to do with him not being alone in this, that we were there not just to say we loved him but to show it. I probably rambled about love in action, and what "we" at Crosspoint believe is truly being the church. It wasn't a long answer, but I guess it was the right one. Through his tears, Paul smiled.

Over the rest of lunch, Paul told me stories of his younger days, back when he had strength and energy like me. He asked about my parents, where I came from, and why in the world a Yankee was in the middle of the Bible Belt. "Glad to have you, though." He laughed.

After lunch, we soon realized we had worked too quickly for our own good. We were done gutting his house, but knew it was far too soon to leave. I was walking through the backyard, trying to come up with a reason to stay when I stumbled upon the answer. Literally.

I know here in the Music City almost everyone is a musician- whether the real deal or just at heart. Visionaries and dreamers come from all corners of the country in attempt to obtain a record deal, a managing contract, or just a few good gigs. It's all about music here in Nashville. What I stumbled upon was Paul's connection to that music, his love for the city and reason for never leaving.

Records.

Hundreds of records.

Boxes... and boxes... and boxes of records.

Covered in mud.

Soaked in flood water.

The heartbeat of a worn down man was sopping wet and ready to be trashed.

"Can we clean these?" Our 3 youngest workers crouched next to the boxes. They began carefully pulling each one out, handling them like priceless works of art.

"You would do that?" Paul started to walk away. He did that a lot. He hated crying in front of us.

We took that as a yes and got to cleaning.

For hours we washed, cloroxed, and dried hundreds of records.

"Aunt Bev", Becky's sister, knew how to clean records and sat with us while we worked. As we picked up each record, Bev would begin to sing one of the tracks on the album. "You know this one girls? No, of course not. Y'all are too young!"

Before we knew it, it was 4:00pm, and time to go. As we packed up our things, I went and found Paul. He shook his head when he saw his records out on the lawn, clean.

"What did I do to deserve this?"

You asked. All you had to do was ask.



*Paul and Becky's house was completely submerged in water Sunday, May 2. The river flooded all of their land and, before they knew it, was at the 13 ft mark. Both of them, along with their daughter and son-in-law, stood in the top floor of their house and waited. They were rescued by boat, having to climb out their top story window and onto their roof to get out and avoid drowning. They made us food (seriously, could have eaten for weeks) and took care of us like they were royalty with all the money in the world to spend. They epitomized gratitude. They claimed utmost blessing on their lives. In the midst of losing it all, they called themselves lucky.

Beautiful Things

Every Sunday after the message at Crosspoint, the worship team ends with one last song. The song is always relevant to the message, typically one that is on the radio and most of the body knows. This past Sunday, though, the band sang a song I had never heard before... but can't stop hearing now. Everywhere I look I am reminded of its lyrics.

I know it was written long before the Nashville floods, but it's almost as if Gungor's "Beautiful Things" was tailor made specifically for these moments in this city.

All this pain
I wonder if I’ll ever find my way
I wonder if my life could really change at all
All this earth
Could all that is lost ever be found
Could a garden come up from this ground at all

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

As the band played, pictures of our "Serving Saturday" were playing on the screen. We spent the day in some of the hardest hit areas gutting houses, saving pictures, and loving on the homeowners. The devastation was obvious, but throughout the pictures a new theme emerged: hope. Even amidst the gutted houses and destroyed memories, there was joy. The pain was still present, but something new was stirring. Love was in action.

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of the dust
You make beautiful things
You make beautiful things out of us

These floods have taught me a lot about God's character. But it has also shown me the character of His people. In the midst of tragedy and devastation, the Church jumped to its feet in action. No, we didn't have experience in flood relief - very few had ever experienced something like this before. What the Church did, though, was react. And reactions reveal character. Mark Batterson once said "In my experience, it's much easier to act like a Christian than it is to react like one. Anyone can put on an act. But your reactions reveal what is really in your heart."

It's been nice attending a church for the past year that acts like Christians. We claim we're committed to reaching the lost, dedicated to being "real" and Christ-like and we say we're accepting of everyone. We say anything is possible. But saying that is one thing.

Read this again:

"In my experience, it's much easier to act like a Christian than it is to react like one. Anyone can put on an act. But your reactions reveal what is really in your heart."
Mark Batterson

Saying what we claim is easy. It's much harder to react like that. But they did. We did. And let me tell you - it's a beautiful thing.

"And we know all things work together for good
for those that love God, for those called according to His purpose."
Romans 8:28

He can make anything glorious.
He takes your rags and turns them to riches.
He spoke into the darkness and created light.
He breathed into dust to create mankind.

Pete always says "we serve a God who specializes in resurrections." And we do. He makes beautiful things out of the dust, the rubble, the flooded houses and empty hearts. He makes beautiful things out of us: the broken, jacked up people that He loves so much. He makes beautiful things out of floods. He makes beautiful things out of Nashville.

All around
Hope is springing up from this old ground
Out of chaos life is being found in You

Nashville: Still Singing

I hope most of you caught AC360 last night on CNN. Anderson Cooper came to cover the flood disaster amidst a broken city and wound up covering the exact opposite- the relief. Anderson stated that throughout his entire career of disaster coverage never has he seen a community rally together in such a way that Nashville (and all of Middle Tennessee) has.

"This story is of a city rising, not a city on its knees."

As he said those words, every Nashvillian collectively let out a sigh. Thank you, Anderson. We've been waiting for someone to realize this.

Flip the channel a couple times and you would see what I mean. The Music City, with historic landmarks and precious memories destroyed, was doing what it does best- playing. Singing. Raising awareness and funds by strumming six strings and humming melodies. At private venues. On Channel 4. In homes with rescue victims. Musicians grabbed their guitar and headed where they could be heard. And they played. They sang. They paired up with fellow stars and did everything they could to help their city. Phone lines were jammed due to the overflowing willingness to give. More volunteers were called in, extra outlets to receive donations were implemented. And still they played. They continued to sing.

Stars didn't hop on a flight to get out. Some jumped on ones to get back. With damaged equipment, flooded basements, and destroyed tour buses, they did the unthinkable. They went next door, to the Smith's house - and cleaned out their house. They walked the streets giving hope and comfort to all affected with each water bottle, sandwich, and pat on the back. They didn't think of themselves, their tours, or their own well being.

"We Are Nashville" includes the superstar and homeless man. The stay at home mom and the single dad working two jobs to make ends meet. "We Are Nashville" means we are family. It means we are in this together - regardless of job, stardom, or economic class.

It also means we are a part of something bigger than ourselves.

Over the past several weeks, we have been going through a series at my church (Crosspoint) called Shattered Dreams. Pastor Pete set up this series months ago, unaware that week by week, God was using his words and his message to lay a foundation for what was to come. God's ultimate plan was in motion before we even knew a crisis was coming.

Serving Saturday is next. We are expecting over a thousand volunteers...

To be the hands and feet of Christ is a privilege.

Will you help?

Go to crosspoint.tv for more information on how you can help the Flood Relief Fund!

We Are Nashville

Today I want to share with you a post my good friend Adria Delaune posted about the situation here in Nashville. Lately I've felt there's too much I want to say and I've struggled to get my thoughts and feelings out... but somehow Adria was able to write it so well.

As a native Louisianian, Adria has experienced tragedy like this before... but not in the way most of you are expecting. Wrecked and ravaged by a hurricane (no, not Katrina), Adria knows what its like to be amongst people who are doers, those who band together and pick up the pieces that were to unexpectedly broken. "We Are Nashville" is not just a mantra to make us feel good... it is a way of life.

We Are Nashville - This is something we all need to know and understand.



Faith is Knowing

I am a Louisianian. That may not mean much to you. To you, it may just be another way I identify myself, like having dark hair or being of a certain height. But for me, and for everyone else classified as a Louisianian, it means a lot more. It means we cheer relentlessly for a professional football team that had a losing streak a mile wide until we finally won a Superbowl. It means we don’t know what in the world to do when it snows. It means we eat crawfish and pralines, drink Community coffee and Abita beer, and put Tony Chachere’s on just about everything. (And for the record, we just call it “Tony’s”.) But most importantly, it means we understand rebuilding. We have to...we do it just about every year. When you live in a hurricane path, that’s just a risk you take. Louisianians are a resilient people.

I am also a Nashvillian. This week marks the anniversary of my move to Nashville. I spent 3 years in Philadelphia and never felt as at home as I do here in Nashville. As I sat in traffic yesterday on I-40 after dropping my mom off at the airport, I started thinking about the similarities between Baton Rouge and Nashville and why these two places have always felt like home to me.

Over the past several days, I have watched my new home become so much like my original home. As my mom and I sat glued to the tv on Saturday watching the weather forecasts, it started to sink in. This storm was serious. We had seen it so many times in our own hometown that we could reasonably predict what would happen. On Sunday, our greatest fears for the city became a reality. But we never imagined what would follow in the next several days. Home after home filled up with water, the city’s historic buildings were bathed in dirty floodwater and the tourist hubs began to disappear as the water crept up farther and farther. And still, the story barely made the national news. It was an all-too-familiar situation.

In late August of 2008, Hurricane Gustav ripped through Baton Rouge, destroying homes and businesses and cars and lives. Like Nashville in the wake of the flood, the media graciously donated fifteen minutes to the “sad situation” in Baton Rouge and it was just as quickly brushed aside in favor of other news. But for 8 days, the city sat without power. The trees that once lined the beautiful streets of the capital city still lined the streets, but in a much sadder and more chaotic fashion. Debris was strewn about, cars were crushed and homes were roofless.

And yet, no one knew. Just a few years before, Hurricane Katrina had garnered more than her share of airtime. But she was different...she came with an abundance of crime and hate and anger and blame. Little (but equally as devastating) brother Gustav packed no such punch. In the aftermath of Gustav, neighbors pulled together to help each other out and clean up their streets. Church groups went from neighborhood to neighborhood offering to pick up debris and clean yards and driveways. Mayor Kip Holden was relentless in his pursuit to restore our city to its place and encouraged residents to lend a hand wherever they could, whether it was with their time or their money. In just a matter of a few months, no trace of a hurricane was left.

In the days since the flooding, I have seen Nashville pull together in that same exact manner. Just as Baton Rouge clung to the motto “We are BR”, Nashville is living up to “We are Nashville,” and with such radiance! This part, too, is familiar. Neighbors are helping neighbors, church groups are sending out volunteers in droves and Mayor Karl Dean is leading the charge to restore his city. There is very little crime resulting from the flood and no one is whining. People are just doing the only thing they know to do, supporting one another. Perhaps that’s why the national media is only just now picking up the story the way they should.

People helping themselves doesn’t garner big ratings. Communities pulling together to accomplish more in a day than major agencies accomplish in weeks doesn’t sell. Picking up the pieces and moving on doesn’t make the front page. But cities that repair themselves and hold their heads high come back. And they come back better than ever.

In his inaugural speech in 2007, Mayor Dean said "Nashville needs to be a city for families." Well, Mayor Dean, Nashville is a city for families, but its also a city of families. This isn’t just a city, it is a community. It is a family.

My heart aches for the people facing loss and devastation. But I am also filled with a sense of immense hope that we will all pull through this because of the faith this city has in God, in itself and in its people. My favorite quote is quite possibly more relevant now than ever before.

“When you come to the end of all the light you know and are forced to step off into the darkness, faith is knowing that one of two things will happen: Either there will be something solid for you to stand on or you will be given wings and taught to fly.”

Faith is knowing we will recover. So go ahead Nashville, spread your wings. Fly.

Flood: Heavy Heart

Yesterday I spent the day working relief efforts with my church. I planned on bringing my camera to capture photos of the devastation and of the service that so many people were providing. My camera never moved from my front seat, but those images will stay in my mind forever. I went to Wendy's house, where the waterline was at least 8 feet high through her house. A river literally rushed through her home destroying all of her belongings. I sifted through mud and debris for hours, hoping for a picture, a keepsake, a memory. Very little was saved.

Our church is continuing to reach out to numerous neighborhoods - and you can see some of the images HERE.

I left Wendy's yesterday drained, empty, and brokenhearted. I didn't go coach volleyball like my typical Tuesday night... I sat alone, prayed a lot, and wondered how I would find the passion to reach out again. And today, I feel much of the same. In the midst of the typical "end of semester push" that has happened for the last 5 Mays, this year I am finding it hard to care. As grade driven and overachiever focused I typically am, I just can't find the gumption to study, to write, to network.

Now don't get me wrong, I love where I'm at. I look forward to work every day, enjoy teaching volleyball lessons, and running training clinics. But today, that passion just isn't there.

My heart is heavy.

My prayers are constant.

My mind is elsewhere.

I can't focus on anything but Wendy, and all those like her, sifting through the mud and debris, hoping to find something worthwhile.

"Do not store up for yourselves treasures on earth, where moth and rust destroy, and where thieves break in and steal. But store up for yourselves treasures in heaven... "
Matthew 6:19-20

Nashville: Where is your hope?

Nashville.
The music city.
Some see it as the promised land, others the city of broken dreams. This city is the melting pot for every dreamer, hopeful, and wishful thinker. Musicians and businessmen alike ventured into this city to make it big - and many have.

But these days, Nashville is singing a new tune. Watch the news and you no longer see concerts at riverside, street musicians playing for a few bucks, or celebrities walking through their favorite coffee shops.

The images show you a city of devastation.

Of heartbreak.

Of grieving.

Of loss.

But in the midst of all this chaos, many of us can hear that still small voice, whispering peace and love to all those in need of comfort.

"Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid."
-John 14:27-

Let not your heart be troubled.


I have never been in the midst of a natural disaster. I, like many of you, have sat at home watching floods, tornadoes and hurricanes devastate different areas of the world and been in disbelief. Shock, awe, and confusion have gripped me during news reports and I often wonder how God could have let any disaster happen. But now, here I sit in the midst of it all, feeling it touch far too close to home.

I never question God's sovereignty, but after this weekend I have questioned His protection.

It's hard to walk through the wreckage without asking some major questions. Why that particular house when the rest of the street was untouched? Why was an entire interstate washed away during a heavy traffic flow? Why were the homeless flooded out? Those with little children now without clothes, a roof over their head, or food to feed their kids? What about the missing?

And then, I asked, why them... and not me?

A friend of mine told me that I was blessed and that it was undeniable God was protecting me. I cringe at that thought. If God was protecting me, does that mean He wasn't protecting the Williams? or the Smiths? What about the Jenkins? and the Banters? Claiming supernatural protection on my life in this particular situation in some way insinuates that He chose to protect me and not someone else.

And I refuse to accept that.

Now, I'm no Biblical scholar, and many might disagree with me, but my "being blessed" has nothing to do with whether or not the storm flooded me out, destroyed my belongings, or took my life. Since when is God's blessing on my life defined by purely physical things? Isn't God's love for me and His promises to be with me blessing enough?

Those who were wrecked and ravaged in this disaster remain blessed - and I pray they come to see that. Regardless of possessions, though it might not look like it, God's blessing is reigning down on their lives. It might be manifested differently than before, but hasn't gone anywhere.

Pete Wilson, my pastor at Crosspoint, once said:

"God is more concerned about your character than with your comfort."

God allowed Job to suffer and lose all he had in order to bring Him glory.
He let Lazarus die so that His disciples would "see and believe." (John 11:15)
And He's going to use Nashville's suffering to bring light into this world.

"God will allow suffering, pain and crisis in order to detach our Hope from other things and attach it to Himself."

-Pete Wilson-

So, Nashville, where is your hope?

Nashville Flood: How you can help

As most of you know by now, Nashville and its surrounding communities are under water. The past two days have been absolutely devastating to all of us here in the city and it looks as though the rain may stop by tomorrow. There's no way to truly assess the damage but:

-Thousands have been evacuated from homes
-Even more are landlocked and trapped in their homes with no way out
-7 inches of rain fell Saturday, 13.5 inches fell as of 9pm on Sunday
-On Sunday, literally every major road in Middle Tennessee was under water
-At least 13 deaths have been reported, even more missing
-Hundreds of cars had to be abandoned on the highway when the river came through

What breaks my heart most, though, are the people that had nothing to begin with. My church and community group work closely with the people at Tent City, a "city" built of tents that the homeless have built with their families. This is their home. In the past 36 hours, all of Tent City has been destroyed. We have grown to love, care for, and have friendships with those who live there... and now they have nothing. They have lost all they know - their homes, blankets, and shoes. Just recently we re-equipped a few of them with new batteries for flashlights and oil for lamps. We've built pallets for their tents to sit on to keep them dry. All of it is gone.

With the devastation touching close to home for me and many of my friends, I know that I must look at the fact that I still have a house, a car, and a change of clothes. Our brothers and sisters at Tent City must literally start all over. I sit here with tears in my eyes questioning why the less fortunate get affected so much worse than the rest of us. They didn't do anything to deserve this... no one did.

Instead of sitting and questioning, wondering and being sad, I am asking that any of my friends/readers outside of Nashville would consider buying and sending me a Home Depot/Lowe's gift card (or anything, really) to begin purchasing new tents, supplies, etc. Every penny of the gift card will be used to help rebuild not only Tent City but any other refuge we've worked with here in Nashville. People are hurting, they need our help.

It's time to show the love of Christ through action. Pray about how you can help.

Flooding in Nashville

In case you haven't heard, Nashville is under water. Literally. A rain storm moved in yesterday that has devastated communities throughout the middle Tennessee area... and it's not done yet. Although the tornadoes and thunder storms have subsided, the rain just keeps coming.

Roads have turned to rivers.

Houses and cars under water.

And the rain keeps coming.




Currently, I'm stuck in my old apartment with my roommate, Liz. The apartment is empty, with a tv, two blankets, and some food. My new place is in Brentwood, and the roads between here and there are impassible. We've been here two days now and are praying for a break in the rain. But honestly, I can't complain. Some of my friends have lost so much - their cars, their basements, and some - their houses. I've always watched terrible stories like this on tv, but now, I'm living it.

A woman lost her husband yesterday when he stepped outside to try and help a girl stranded on her car. The road had a current as strong as a raging river. As he tried to pull her to safety, the man lost his footing and they were both swept away. The woman could only watch as her husband was swept away on the street they drive every day. He didn't survive.


This is my city... and we're hurting.

Will you take a moment and pray for Nashville?