Eight Electrons

By Makenzie Allen –

You know what I love about God? He was, is, and forever will be the greatest scientist to ever live. Not in the sense that He studies and hypothesizes about things He cannot understand. God is a scientist because He created everything using the laws of science, which He engineered. He is the greatest because He designed science itself. You know Adam? Made out of dust, as soon as God commanded. You know atoms? God thought those up during His spare time. Which we all know was zilch time. Since when does God have spare time anyway? I can imagine Him speaking to the angels, “Schedule me a quiet time right between when those dear little children are praying to me and when those clanging cymbals need to be reminded for the seventy-seven times seventh time that stealing doesn’t go unpunished.”

So, in the beginning, God created Adam. And the atoms.

While it took God no time at all to come up with the atom, it has taken some of the greatest scientists centuries to come up with a model of what the atom could be composed of. And the model we now have as our closest representation is still just that, close, but not complete.

This year I am taking a chemistry class, which has sparked my love and fascination for science to a whole new level of awe. One night I sat in bed doing chemistry homework as my friend from Ohio read beside me. Sophia is her name. I call her Soph out of habit. Soph is amazing. She inspires and challenges me to not just offer a place in my heart to God, but to offer my whole heart and life to Him.

As I was drawing molecules—yes molecules. I was stoked!—a thought struck me. “Soph, you know what’s crazy?”

“What?” Soph asked, looking up from her book.

“Everything, not just people, but everything in some way is trying to gain perfection.”

Soph looked at me with curiosity and turned her full attention to me as I tried to explain.

Atoms are made up of three basic parts: the protons, neutrons, and electrons. Of the three, electrons are the most important part as far as chemistry goes. And every atom besides hydrogen has a strong desire for eight specific electrons. Once an atom has eight specific electrons, it is considered perfect and is satisfied.

In this world, perfection is something we all strive for in some way or another. As atoms try to gain eight electrons to be perfect, we might try to lose eight pounds.

“For I know that nothing good dwells within me, that is, in my flesh. I can will what is right, but I cannot perform it. I have the intention and urge to do what is right, but no power to carry it out” (Romans 7:18, AMP).

No, we cannot achieve perfection. And God has not asked us to, not on our own. Adam’s descendants, and the atoms, can only attain perfection by the power of their Savior. As Paul said, we have not the power to carry it out. But then, God does. God has the power and by Him we are made perfect, whole, and washed clean. And on that beautiful day, when I am brought to my Father’s house, He will see His power in me, and not the imperfections and insecurities that I was bound to as a fallen human.

P.S.

By Makenzie Allen –

To: The one I’m waiting for
Love: Kenzie

Last December, on a cold winter night, my dad and I ran from the car into an auditorium. It was alive with all kinds of colored lights. My dad had decided to surprise me with a ticket to go see The Nutcracker and have a night out with him. We sat and watched as the ballerinas twirled around and the Nutcracker fought valiantly against the Rat King. Afterwards, my dad took me to a coffee shop where I was given something that reminds me, almost daily, of you.

It was my purity ring. It means more to me than just being pure. The ring means that while I wait for you, I can learn to love in a Godly way. In a way that will last.

Something that I’ve learned through my teen years may come as a shock considering all the movies, books, and songs teaching us the key to happiness is a significant other. What I’ve learned is this—teen years are some of the most crucial years of life to find who God made you to be and to grow as your own person. The only thing is, you can’t grow as your own person when your whole goal in life is to keep someone’s attention. We cannot compromise our identity for love. I’m praying you won’t.

Right now, as I press through my junior year, my goal will not be to find a boyfriend. My goal will not be to seek a guy’s attention. My goal will not be to sway from my identity for a chance at synthetic love. My goal will be to give God my life, my love, and my devotion. Then someday, when I meet you, I’ll be able to give you a love worth waiting for.

Please wait for me.

“Love is patient, love is kind. It does not envy, it does not boast, it is not proud. It is not rude, it is not self-seeking, it is not easily angered, it keeps no record of wrongs. Love does not delight in evil but rejoices with the truth. It always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres” (1 Corinthians 13:4-7 NIV).

One of my prayers for you is that you would be a man after God’s heart, and that you would love Him above all else. Even more than me.

I don’t know when I’ll meet you, or if I already have, or if I ever will. It doesn’t matter though. You and I can be content, loving God and living fully immersed in His presence. My greatest fear is that I’ll miss the gifts God has given me in the here and now because I’m too busy craving the future.

Let’s not crave the future, okay? I want so badly for us to not miss daily blessings. Pray for me, as I pray for you.

To the one I’m waiting for.

P.S. Hope to see you in a few years. Wait for me.

I Am

By Makenzie Allen –

I am Makenzie Brook Allen. My name means little warrior of God. I am a daughter, sister, grandchild, niece, and friend. A passion of mine since I craved pacifiers and had a “blanky,” is creation. That’s probably the explanation for why my first word was “woof,” as in dog noises. It’s also most likely why I know for a fact chipmunks have at least three noises when communicating, and the reason I know this is because I confess to having attempted conversation with one. So now that my sanity is in question, I’ll also point out I do in fact have a life and God living in and through me is the only reason I am not too many eggs short of a birthday cake.

My identity, who I am, is all because of what God has placed in my life. Strangely enough, I’m thankful for the rough times in life. The times when I feel alone and broken. Almost as if I’ve built myself one way and the Lord comes and says, “No, we need to start over with this.” And I feel like everything I’ve built my life around comes crashing down. Then, the Lord comes and rebuilds my life for me. He comes and rebuilds my life right.

My memories pull me back to a time and place where I felt desperately alone. So alone, the light in my eyes hardly shone and my laugh was misplaced. I remember the bowed head and the heavy drag to my feet. How does one move on from this solitude?Where has my joy gone? I racked my mind night and day for some hint as to where my joy had departed. Answers to solve my feelings of loneliness and stolen joy had fled like thoroughbreds out of the starting gate. And I was the one left to stand frozen, helpless, as those answers ran around just outside of my reach. One thought reverberated through my mind nonstop, How will I find what I’ve lost?

Time moved on, but my burdened soul could not. It stayed, unwilling to let time take its toll. I acknowledged I was broken and could no longer try to sustain the world I had made for myself. Every last ounce of my determined, structured, goals had been demolished. I felt detached. People had moved on. But I stayed, alone. Except for One. He stayed too, waiting patiently for the day I would relent from my terrible building-and-repair job. When I would hand Him the tool belt, because only He knew how long I had pounded nails with the wrong end of the hammer and measured in centimeters instead of inches. Finally, I saw Him waiting, lovingly holding out His nail-scarred hand for the tool belt.

God’s repairs in my life were hard to swallow at first. But He built me from the ground up. The Lord was giving me a new identity, one built with hands of expertise. My character was no longer attached to what I had done or who I had tried to be, it was ground solidly as my identity in Christ. He is my Lord, and nothing could divide me from that relationship. Neither height nor depth could ever separate me from the love of Jesus Christ. All I can say is thank you Lord for rebuilding my life to be firmly rooted in You.

I am Makenzie Brook Allen, loved by the Maker of things seen and unseen. I am a daughter of the King, cared for by Him who wears scars proclaiming His love for me with pride. My identity is in Him. I am His. Forever.

“For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do” Ephesians 2:10 (NIV).

Beyond a Ballad

By Makenzie Allen –

I once heard true love was such a beautiful thing that it’s impossible to write about because it is so full, so complex, and so delicate, words just don’t do justice. That’s why for centuries, people have attempted to portray love’s depth through poetry, music, dialogue, stories, and on the list goes.

I feel like this trying to explain my walk with the Lord. The relationship’s richness is indescribable; when I stay near to Him. I truly want to give God my heart, my full heart, but it’s so hard to do. Add all the distractions found in this world, and giving my life over fully to the Lord can be challenging. Especially with how strong willed I can be.

I picture myself standing on a bank. Shoulders pressed back, chin up, eyes determinedly watching the swirling waters. Today’s the day I prove my strength. I will cross this river. Hair secure? Feels tight ponytail. Check. Warm towel for the return landing? A glance over my shoulder. Check. Last minute fears subdued? Blocks out all possible imagination for a watery death. Check. As I watch the water, my eyes sweep up and suddenly, the distant shore seems a little too distant. The liquid rushing past me looks like the jaws of a lion, taunting me to enter if I dare. Or is that just my imagination? No matter, this should be easy for someone as strong and determined as you. I inhale deeply, having the thought this could be the last time I use my lungs, and take the plunge. Cold, paralyzing, breathless. I’m so petrified my legs are useless, as are my arms. Helplessly, I watch the light fade above me, beautiful light shining like a flare on tiny crests in the water. Down, down, down, my heart sinks along with my body. God was more than willing to help you cross this. Why do you try so hard and fail to accomplish what man cannot do alone? Then, all is black.

“Why do you drown in the watery depths when you could be up here with Me, walking on top of them?”

I open my eyes and there I am, above the adversity I had tried so hard to conquer on my own. Tendrils of water run down my back, reminding me of the cool waters embrace.

“I ask again, why do you turn from My strength to your own weakness?”

In that moment, I cleanse my heart of all prideful notions and let the Lord lead me across, on top of the waters I was unable to overcome on my own.

For me, this is a picture of how real and indescribable God’s mercy and strength is. May I always have a faith so real, so full, and so steadfast, that even the best writers won’t be able to put into words the relationship I have with my Lord. As a sister in Christ, I dare us all to have a love and faith that reaches beyond any language ever taught, any ballad ever sung, any story ever written. What’s your river? Don’t let it pull you down, let God raise you up to walk beside Him.

“Fear not, for I have redeemed you; I have summoned you by name; you are Mine. When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and when you pass through the rivers, they will not sweep over you” (Isaiah 43:1-2 NIV).

Take My Hand

By Makenzie Allen –

When I was little, the word fear wasn’t in my vocabulary. Fear was nonexistent. Most of my childhood friends remember me as the kid who would crouch along the ground and sniff out snakes, coming home with handfuls of them. I spent my summer days with my buddy, hiding under a blanket, waiting for the squirrels to set off our homemade trap filled with irresistible peanut butter. We caught a grand total of zero squirrels, but that wasn’t what mattered. Sure, I thought it would be cool to finally hold one of those furry little critters, but in the end, I just loved the excitement when I went on adventures.

And sometimes, I wish I could be little again.

I remember when I had my critter cage in hand and grandma right beside me as I scanned my surroundings.

“Do you think this is a good spot for your little mouse friend?” Grandma asks, hope filling her face.

“No, I think we should keep looking. We have to find just the right spot to release him back into the wild,” I say.

Continuing our walk, we come across a little creek, with Indian Paint Brush flowers in bloom everywhere.

“How about here?” Grandma asks after many times of me declining other suggested spots. “He could get water from the creek and there’s plenty of plants for him to nibble on.”

Looking over every detail to make sure the home is just right for my mouse, I finally agree. “I think he’ll like it here.” Stooping down, I open the cage and the furry creature dashes out.

On our way home, I spy a long, scaly tail poking out of the brush. Excitement quickens my pace and I reach down and pull. Out comes a snake large enough to jump rope with.

“Honey, don’t you think that could be poisonous? You better put it down,” my nervous grandma says.

Propping my hand on my hip and holding the snake with the other I say, “Now grandma, there are no poisonous snakes on this side of the Wind River Range, my dad told me so.” And with that, the snake becomes my next resident to occupy the cage.

As my parents and grandparents could testify, that cage never stayed vacant for long. Years have gone by since that experience, but my heart still beats to the same rhythm it did when I was little. I couldn’t imagine life without being able to observe all that God has made.

Now I have the urge to find Never Never Land. So I don’t have to fear for the future, for the “what ifs,” and for my appearance. To be a child again and to act as if no one’s watching but God. I want to live fearless, knowing the Lord will be my rearguard and will take hold of my right hand. It’s time to be a child again, fearing nothing but the Creator, and knowing God’s protection is enough.

“For I am the Lord, your God, who takes hold of your right hand and says to you, Do not fear; I will help you” (Isaiah 41:13 NIV).

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