Excuse me, your ugly is showing: 2018 in review

as the year winds down, and a new one is cresting, my mind is racing, trying to weed through all the lessons i've learned this past year, while also trying to excite myself for all those that lay ahead.

this year brought a lot of firsts for me. for the very first time, i had a job wholly independent from my family. the adjustments it brought were completely unexpected. the things i have learned have been tattooed onto my mind, shaping me into someone almost wholly unrecognizable from who i was last year this time. independence, respect, work ethic, customer service, new skills, sharpening ones i already had...when i look back i feel like all i've done is grown. in just about every area. 

there were aspects of my character, i didn't realize people in my life just...put up with, until i was working with someone who wasn't going to. and it was in these ways that i grew that were most painful. i took it personally when i felt aspects of my personality were under attack, when what was being refined was my character. i could speak of the tact used, but what matters is that i was refined. and whether i liked method or not, i was made a better person. and i have some painful moments to be reminded of that by. 

just when i think i've been stretched and grown and refined enough, a new mirror is held in front of my ever learning but ugly character, and a new opportunity to grow is shoved down my throat, and placed into my tightly clenched fists. 

i have quoted many times my pop, who wisely says "people are messy" and this year i learned just how messy they can be. and as i learned how messy loving people is and how messy being a person is, i learned that when people are with people, the ugly comes out. let me tell y'all, 

the ugly. 

showed. 

up. 

i saw ugly in myself and others that i never even fathomed could be there. as my work situation has shifted, i went from working with one guy, to five women and boy was that a change. the honeymoon phase has ended, and the ugly is leaking out now as we all find our bearings with each other. i though we were in better shape than this, but we're learning new ways to deal with people as we learn to deal well with one another. new people: new things to learn about myself. 

amidst all the ugly i would say this: the ugly shows up, but 

always. 

choose. 

to learn. 

there are lessons in every small trial we face. there are always opportunities for our character to be refined. i didn't always view the ugly (mine or others) as opportunity to grow and change. i didn't always learn from every situation that left me feeling inadequate, or unsatisfied. but when i did, i was better for it. among all the ugly, learn, grow, repeat, there was one other thing, always available for the taking or the giving: grace. 

so.

much. 

grace.

at every short coming, at every failed attempt, or lack of attempt, at every new situation, or not-my-greatest-moments, in every moment of weakness, at the ugly of myself and those around me, there was grace on grace on grace for everyone involved. i wish i always remembered that, when moments felt beyond repair, that there was grace, but i remember it now. 

so go into 2019, ready to face the ugly, ready to learn, and ready to extend grace, to you, and those around you. happy new year, friends. 

Do Not Let Your Heart Be Jonah

I'm standing at my mom's kitchen island feeling somewhat sporty, productive and Pinteresty. This morning I donned my favorite leggings, running shoes and a messy bun. I've got Jason Castro gently singing and some shortbread bars are baking in the oven, preparing for the second step. Life is alright. It's not what I want exactly, but it's alright. 

This morning, we sat down to read an expert from Andrea Lucado in a She Reads Truth study, and she wrote about Jonah and Nineveh. I've always viewed it as a story of great redemption, and it is. Mostly for me because, I have never been able to recall what happened to Jonah because I've always sort of...ignored it. I don't like that the great redemption doesn't seem to include his own. We in fact have every reason to believe that Jonah just kinda disappeared and died. He was angry at God and said as much (Jonah 4:9)

 But what do we do with that? What do we do when we experience the same emotion of "that's not fair"?

That moment, is where you find my heart this morning. Pondering the question "what do you do with the hurt and anger you feel when someone seemingly blatantly undeserving of redemption...gets redemption?" We have evidence that Jonah never did rejoice in their repentance and redemption. Andrea also brings up the prodigal son, and his faithful brother. He was angry. 

I confess I have found myself in that place more the past few years than I ever thought I would be. I confessed to my sisters this morning, and I confess to you now, I've tried to be the son that stays. I haven't always done a stand up job, but I have never left, nor have I ever wanted to. I have tried to live my life in a way that honors my Father, and yet there are people in my life who did not, and are now redeemed and leading the lives of wives and mommies: the life I have always prayed for. And more than once the last few years the thought "it's not fair" has screamed through my mind. What do you do, when you were the one who stayed, and you watch as your Nineveh confesses and repents and lives in the glories redemptive grace of God? 

You rejoice. 

You stop looking at your own merit, your own life, dreams, desires, hopes, purity, whatever, and you just rejoice. You follow the example set by the father of the prodigal, and you rejoice. 

If my desires ever come in the way of my truly rejoicing for a sister in Christ, then I have every reason to believe that they have become an idol. And when a sister experiences redemption,  my option is to rejoice. To find the joy, and to celebrate that with her. 

I haven't done a great job of this the last few years, but I am purposing to do so now. I rejoice in redemption, I rejoice in others joy, even if there hasn't been redemption. I rejoice at your joy, and I am celebrating with those who celebrate. 

It is so much easier to wallow and keep my eyes on me and all that I want and do not have, but I miss so many opportunities to rejoice when I do. No more. Joy from here on out! Let's rejoice sisters! 

Loving Different Abilities

It was Thanksgiving night, and eight year old me was sorely uncomfortable, standing in the basement of someone's house that I didn't know very well. We were visiting old friends of mom and dad, and I was dragged along, because where else was the eight year old supposed to go? My older sisters were all socializing with the other kids, friends of theirs as well. And since drama has been a strong trait my whole life, I began feeling very sorry for myself. Where I was probably being a brat, and pouting about being in a stranger's home, for whatever reason he took pity on me. The family's youngest son, almost five years my senior, was one of the kids who had a bad reaction to a vaccination shot, and it left him severely mentally handicapped. He has a gift of tenderness, and is forever hugging people from whom he gets a sad feeling. So there I was, pouting and carrying on, and he comes over, big as a teenager but awkward and fumbling, and hugs me. He stood there hugging me, until he felt like I was ready to be let go. What was probably only five or so minutes felt like an eternity, being hugged not just by someone I didn't know, but by someone who was distinctly different from myself. The memory is burned into my mind, etched forever into my memory- the smells, the movements. I can clearly see over his shoulder, watching his older sister decorate their Christmas tree. I can see the table of food to our left. There is hardly a detail from that moment that I don't remember. I will be eternally grateful for him, because even at so young an age, he was a tool used by the Father to instill in me a love for those with different abilities.
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Fast forward 8 years, I'm now a sixteen year old, sitting on a plane headed for Purdy, Missouri. (In fact, it was on this day six years ago I got home!) The destination was a camp that tells kids who are typically told "you can't", "here, you can". The whole of the camp is designed to be wheelchair accessible, with the needed equipment at every normal camp activity to make it possible for kids to participate. Each camper is paired with a camp volunteer, and they are cared for almost exclusively by their volunteer. My camper got to ride a horse, canoe, swim, do archery. She had the whole "camp" experience for an entire week, even though she was non-verbal, legally blind, bound to a wheelchair, and essentially only about 6 months old mentally.
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Yesterday I went to a beloved local park with the youth from my church. Roughly twenty or so 6-12 graders meandered through the park, enjoying the wildlife and gardens and probably being generally too loud. One 6th grader, however, tugged at my heart. He carried a little stuffed animal, which I found odd for his age. But as the day wore on, it became increasingly evident there was perhaps autism or other special abilities at play in his personality. I found myself drawn to asking him questions and trying to be his friend as he was fairly overlooked by the other students. I wanted him to feel loved, safe, and welcome. His imagination was beautifully vivid as he described in detail how his stuffed pig and he would fight giant shrimp with lasers. (yes, shrimp)
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I'm not a parent of children with different abilities, but I truly believe the Lord has given me a heart for kids who are different from others. My heart aches to love the kids who require someone to show interest in their unique day dreams, or will feed them through a G-tube, or will let them hug you for five minutes straight, because it's how they can express themselves. I will forever be thankful for the day when the Father began opening a tender spot in my heart, standing in the basement of that house that Thanksgiving night. I don't know how He will use it, but I have no doubt there is something more to be done with this love.

How have you seen the Father instill a love into your heart, and then see it come to fruition? Search your heart, its there ;-)

Xo,
M

Hey Christians, we're doing it wrong

**DISCLAIMER** This post is not in about tearing others to shreds. But these are things I have on a regular basis seen first hand. It has caused me to change the way that I tip when I eat out, and they way I listen when a friend or customer is talking to me. I simply wanted to call it back to the attention of others, that we have some work to do.
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MercyMe droned on in the background as the sweet, modestly dressed young woman slid two $1 bills towards me for her $1.90 coffee. She shifted awkwardly, waiting for me to finish my side of the transaction, and rotated her leather bound Bible so I could clearly see that it was in fact, a Bible. I gave her her $0.10, and she hurried it into her pocket and then over to the corner with her nose in her Bible, coffee cooling on the table. Nothing about this interaction particularly bothered me at the moment, I'm used to people feeling awkward and/or not tipping. It kind of just rolled off my back until a second customer followed soon after who I know for a fact is a professing believer. This time it was a $3.something coffee and a $5 bill. Again they left, again no tip. At this point it bothered me.
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A week ago, the shop experienced inexplicable generosity and "loving on" by a local restaurant we've connected with when they allowed us to use their deep freeze when ours crashed (which in case you didn't know, that's bad for an ice cream shop) They then supplied dinner to my family who had worked tirelessly that day to clean up the melted ice cream from the freezer and then transfer the salvageable ice cream to their freezer. We're still in awe that they so willingly allowed us access to their freezer, and gave so much of their time.
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I have a customer-turned-friend who is forever offering to pick up lunch for me, just because she knows that she gets out more than I do, and I might enjoy something. Although I haven't taken her up on it yet, she heard me say I couldn't afford a new restaurant I wanted to try, so she popped a $20 in my hand, specifically for this place whenever I get the chance to go. She's heard more than one meltdown rant, shared some shady side eye over really irritation customers, been a comic relief, and we've definitely filled a need in each other for companionship in the shopping strip.
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I'm going to guess that someone who preaches karma isn't in an particularly active relationship with Jesus. But if I'm wrong, I apologize. However, the mom sporting her coexist tshirt insisted that her daughter give their change to me as a pay-it-forward to the next customer. It was humbling as the one behind the counter, and humbling for the little girl, and humbling for the young lady that was receiver of the gift.
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I've had a lady pay for a $4.74 purchase with a $10 and say keep the change, and a man pay for the same priced drink with a  $20 and again say keep the change, because he just wants to see us succeed.
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This is not about the money- the money just happens to be the example. If you look deeper into each example I gave, you'll see that these people have given me so much more than just their money. Some gave time, an encouraging word, or the gift of their friendship.

Why are we as believers so stingy and busy? Why do I see more Jesus style coming from people who do not actively walk with him? Why are believers pocketing their time and money, and keeping their heads down? In case you didn't realize, we're the ones who are supposed to be doing this sort of thing. We shouldn't eat somewhere if we can't afford to tip there- it's not about the money, but believe me, a generous tip is humbling. And your monetary gift my put enough gas in her car for her to get home tonight. If you're too busy, stop it. No one has to be so absolutely busy that they can't just be there for people. We say "oh call any time you need anything" but I'll wager that most of us don't mean it if we think through the implications of what its going to take to actually be there for someone. What if it means using a personal day on someone else? Or getting up at 3am to take someone to the ER, or even just giving up your afternoon to go to that appointment with them.
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Jesus had incredible moments of grand gesture love, when what he did was loud, observable, and applauded. But He also loved quietly, practically, and generously. He ate meals with those who's class or reputation was far beneath Him. He talked to and hung out with the outcasts, dirty ones, and lowlifes. When did tangible love become beneath us? When did we stop loving from the overflow of love in our hearts?

We have been so hugely loved, it only seems logical that we would love right back.

To the believers who have "pocketed their change", I love you. And I genuinely hope that you were and are able to bless someone else with your time, because that's what we ought to be doing! I don't have to be nor do I expect to be the receiver of your blessings, but make sure someone is. Let the love Christ has for you burst out of every pore in your being, and love on others. Love freely, love until it hurts. Love until you feel the drain of energy that it takes to truly love someone else. Love completely, love unhindered. I don't care how you do it, just make sure you do. Love, love, love.

facebook, health and joy right here

Well in case you haven't noticed, my blog has been a bit sour as of late. *Insert every cringe emoji here*

I think we all by nature want to be joyful, and yet by nature are not. I know that's basically the conundrum I have found myself in. Wanting it, but not actually doing it.

There were a lot of reasons riding on the decision, but a week ago today, I decided to leave facebook for an indefinite period of time. I know that sounds so silly, and people may be wondering why on earth I even felt it was worth mentioning. Have you ever heart the term "keeping up with the Jones"? Being active on facebook fuels that like you wouldn't believe.

This in addition to the horrid behavior I was witnessing from people I love, admire and respect were really the basis of my decision to leave. I didn't need a constant reminder that everyone else's life looks better than mine and that politics can tear families to shreds.

Here's just four quick things I have learned since leaving a week ago:

1) I spend way to much time browsing social media
I hate to admit this, especially right at the top of the list. But this was the most immediate thing I realized. I would pickup my phone upwards of 50 times a day (towards the beginning) to just "check real quick" only to unlock my phone and realize the little icon was no longer there. I found myself substituting with other social media platforms (twitter, and instagram namely) but have started browsing there less as well.

2) Anything I need to know about can be found in other formats and places
So I have thought about going facebook free for a while, but my biggest excuse to myself was that it was the only place I was seeing news. And, that was true. But honestly after leaving, I haven't missed the petty and sometimes depressing headlines. I have however chosen to follow a few news outlets on twitter, and have been able to keep up with what I need to.

3) I think, in some way, being off of facebook has made me a more genuine, kinder person
This might be a bit of a stretch, it might not. But I feel like when I see friends I can ask what they have been up to with a more genuine attitude since I don't already know what they've been up to. It has already paved the way for me to be more personable with people I call "friends". As well, it has made me be more genuine. Its not longer just polished, edited photos that I am putting out there. When people see me now, all they see is the real me and however I actually look, not necessarily how I want to look.

and lastly, 4) facebook is not inherently bad
I felt like this was important to mention, because my post can come across judgmental and that I think it's bad, or wrong for people to use. I don't think it's bad or wrong in the least! However, social media, like anything, can quickly become a god and a point of worship- either of self or others. It most certainly had for me. I was comparing my life, even subconsciously, to the lives of those on my newfeed. I think facebook becomes wrong when we start to think our lives are better or worse than everyone's and when we put the use of it above so many other things. I probably spend an average of 1-2 minutes browsing every time I opened the app. That's almost an entire hour of my day that I could spend a different way.


In addition to my mental health, I have decided to get a reign in on my physical health as well. As I have mentioned, I have had a rapid weight gain for no real explicable reason. Where my eating habits aren't great, I certainly don't pig out. However, eating habits are just one facet. My gut health needed to be upgraded as well. So in addition to a daily workout, I have also started drinking one bottle of kombucha every other day, as well as 8-12 ounces of almond milk every morning. Almond milk has numerous health benefits, and many of them tended to be exactly what I needed. (Including boosting metabolism, and increasing kidney health and function- so look into it!) And at only 60 calories a serving, its a great filler without a lot of wasted calorie intake! What better combination?!

Look I'll be totally honest, the past week has been rough emotionally. So many little things have added up, and I have felt weary and joyless. But the Father has tenderly reminded me, that joy is not a circumstance. Joy is not a feeling. Joy is a choice. And I haven't been choosing it. Hold me accountable sisters, because today, I am choosing joy!

Joy Theif

A wise man (most of the sources I have found suggest it was Theodore Roosevelt) once said, "comparison is the thief of joy" truer words have been spoken, sure. But these are a close second and dear to my heart. I am always so sad when I compare myself, and yet it is something I relentlessly do.

I almost didn't post this picture. As I have said before, it is pictures, not the mirror, I loathe so much. This particular picture was actually, pretty good. My hair looked good, my belly wasn't huge, and I like my boots, brand new Nicole dress and my chambray shirt more than almost any other clothing I own.

But all my eye could see was the terrible double chin poking out the bottom of my face. "What a nasty looking lady"

It's such an unhealthy thing to think about yourself, and here I was, with my finger hovering over the post button thinking deeply about it. Post or not.

I didn't.

I didn't the next day either.

Or the next day.

But finally, I decided that I need to get over myself. It was a pretty decent picture.

No, posting the picture didn't bring me joy: my joy isn't found in posting a picture or getting likes on it: my joy is found in Christ. But joy can so quickly become damped when I begin to compare myself, in any regard.

"I want her _____(hair, wardrobe, body, boyfriend, family, job, church, car, phone, etc.)" the list is a black hole.

Stop comparing yourself, because when you do, you simply steal your own joy.

I plead the Blood

Growing up, my sisters and I watched a series called The Super Kids. Think 80's/90's cheap special effects, with the lead roll being the daughter of charismatic, name-it-claim-it pastor, Kenneth Copeland. Watching them as an adult? They're a little much. But as a kid, those movies were the bomb dot com. I actually remember when the last one came out('99 to clarify, there was a new one put out in 2013, and this one I have not seen)

The last (of the original) movies was when the leader of the group of kids, Commander Kellie was put on trial for being a Christian. As a little kid, I didn't get a lot of the lessons in the movie. Right over my head.

But the other day in church, (confession time) I zoned out. The pastor had just made a comment about how God punishes sins. That was all it took. One little phrase popped into my head.

I plead the Blood.

The thought took me right back to 2000 on the living room floor, watching as the bald, sleazy judge asks Commander Kellie if she pleads guilty or innocent, and after standing silent for a time, she says "I plead the Blood."

Once the thought was settled into my mind, I considered what it actually meant.

I plead the Blood.

What an enormous thing to be able to say.

you.

stand.

guilty.

You're guilty.

But JESUS came in, and took that punishment that you rightly deserved. You're still not innocent, but you no longer stand in your shame and sin, your life has been paid for, and you stand coated in the Blood of the most innocent Man to ever walk the earth. The only Man that has ever been both fully man, and fully God.

You are no longer charged as guilty. You have pled the Blood, and you walk a free man. Free only because of Christ, free only IN Christ!

What a massive thing to be thankful for, as we move into a season of thanksgiving. Be so beyond words thankful friends, that we live in the time in history, when we can plead the Blood.

The Jump

You know that feeling you get, right before you're about to jump off of something, where you're pretty sure you're going to land just fine on your feet, but there's always that small chance something will go terribly wrong? You have faith that the harness is strong enough or the distance isn't too big, but there's always that slight fear it could go terribly wrong, and so your belly kind of knots up. But you've worked to get to wherever you're jumping from, and so you get ready....



...and. you. jump.


Head first, into whatever abyss lies before you. No turning back, no redoes. Just freefalling into the plans the Father has laid out before you.

Sometimes those plans are one step, or jump, at a time.

"Just go!" your heart is screaming, blood pumping.

And so, you let your foot leave the ledge, then the other. And you go.

Here goes nothing.

*jumps*



(So there's some obvious "poetic" license[metaphoric license?] going on here; for those who would like to know, I'm starting my job at my parent's new gelato and espresso shop tomorrow!)

The Mountains past the Fog

I love the mountains. I love their beauty and their majesty and the glory I feel they represent. Its as if God placed them on earth to say to us "See how big I Am".

And yet yesterday, though I was in the mountains, I did not see the mountains. Not because I didn't look or wouldn't look, but because you simply could not see them. The fog was so dense, you could barely see quarter a mile down the road.

It gave me pause and made me think about my last blog post when I was constantly reassuring my heart of His goodness.

And then it hit me, He is still there, even when I can't see.

Its such a simple concept, and yet, standing in the valley, looking around for the mountains I knew were there, it sunk in. Those mountains are there. I have seen them a hundred times. Walked all over them, picked apples on them, had picnics on them, taken pictures on them and of them. The mountains are real, and beautiful. Yesterday, I could not see them. But behind the fog they were still there, still just as strong and big as they always have been. Yesterday the fog covered my eyes, and yesterday the fog was apart of my reality, but the sincerity of the fog did not in any way diminish the reality of the mountains.

In the same way, the sincerity of my circumstances in no way diminish the reality of God.

As I watched the fog, I began thinking about the Israelites (probably because my nephew was on this trip and to keep him happy we plugged in the Prince of Egypt), and the time they spent held captive in Egypt. I wondered if their circumstances may have caused them to no longer see that God was still a reality. Imagining what it must have been slaving for all those years under abusive conditions, and then what it was like when the gates swung open and Pharaoh finally said, "go". Imagine what it was like to finally see the reality of God and His promises, no longer tainted by your dark reality. Imagine to see what you have all along known and believed.

Imagine what it is like when the fog of your circumstances lifts, and you see His hand, not once again at work, but still at work, as it always have been. It's that "ah-ha!" moment when everything kind of shifts back into focus and you see things, not through the foggy lenses of your circumstances, but from the place of a reality where God is still on His throne as He always will be.

I don't think my circumstances have ever truly shrouded my view of Him, but I know it's certainly tainted it. I know that circumstances heavily dictate my view of God and His hand in my life.

Sisters, I'm not ignorant so let me remind you of this, our circumstances don't always change. Sometimes they stay the same. So if the fog isn't lifting, that's ok. But pray that He would let you see the mountains through it. Although it can be so very trying to look for His hand and not immediately see it, He's there. He has not abandoned you. My favorite promise comes straight out of Jeremiah 29:13 "You will seek Me and find Me when you search for Me with all your heart."

Search with all your heart, even through the fog, and you will find Him! <3

I promise, behind the fog, the mountains are there

Confessions from a chubby girl

Confession: this post is already mega hard. I hate to be this kind of vulnerable.

Confession: I'm about 60 pounds heavier than I should be for my gender, height and age. 21 years old. 60 is a big number. It feels too big. It's devastating because I don't even have pregnancy or illness to blame for the extra weight. It's just there. 


Confession: it's not actually the mirror that I hate so much. In fact, sometimes, I like what I see in the mirror. Sure I'd love to lose the belly, but the mirror isn't my worst enemy; its pictures. It's caught off guard, it's not being able to pose the most effectively, it's being caught in an outfit I detest how I look in. It's getting tagged in one of ~those~ pictures. I don't hate what I see in the mirror, I hate what I see in the pictures. 


Confession: I pray to get the weight off. I've watched my eating closely, and then nothing changes, or I just pack more weight on, and I feel frustrated and discouraged. So I stop being so careful. But all the while I'm pleading with Jesus to help me get it off. My weight is just steadily climbing, and I'm looking to Him for help because this isn't healthy, I know that. It's not like I'm stuffing bonbons and Twinkies in every day, I just can't shake the weight. No matter what I've tried. 


Confession: I feel like I look like I don't care about my body because of how massive I am. I do. And I'm trying to take care of it, but I don't have time to dedicate to a regular exercise routine and that frustrates me to no end. So I try to be more active during my days, but I know that's not doing much. 


Confession: sometimes I get out of breath doing the simplest. And I feel like a land yacht when I do. I'm 21! I should be at my healthiest right now. 


Confession: sometimes I feel like the only reason I've never had a relationship is because of my weight. Because no guy can see past the chubby to get to know me. Because I don't have a good body, I'm not worth their time. 


Confession: I've cried off and on writing this post. The humiliation. The shame. The embarrassment. It's so much. But people see pictures of me, and no. I'm not ignorant. I see it. I know it. My jeans tell me every time I put them on. The scale yells at me every time I dare to step foot on. I know I'm not losing the weight like I hoped. I know I'm not losing the weight at all. 


Confession: I'm not giving up. I hate this weight. I hate it enough to keep trying. To keep eating good for me foods, to keep walking the long way just to get in extra steps. I'm going to keep practicing portion control and drinking lots of water. I'm not going to stop trying my very best to be the healthiest me I can be. 


Confession: I dread the struggle, but I can't wait to relish in the ending. When the weight is gone and I'm healthy again. I can't wait to be beautiful inside and out. I can't wait to not hate pictures of me. I can't wait to be able to share clothes with my friends or order off of Jane because I can actually fit them. I can't wait to be able to buy the cheaper junior jeans because I can wear them without looking hoochie. I can't wait to love bathing suits again. I can't wait to want to hangout at the pool with people because I won't be hiding behind my towel any more. I'm ready to be the very best me I can be. 


Confession: I know Jesus isn't a genie who takes away the thorns at the first request. But I also know I can't do this without leaning into Him. This is the body He gave me. And I'm going to take care of it. And I'm going to do it with His help. 

Why Every Life Matters

How dare we.

How dare we get into little wars of who matters more.

How dare we say "my skin color means my life, and the lives of those like me, matters (exclusively)"

Obviously, that's not what people are explicitly saying, now is it? But it is by every means what they are implying, even when they do not intend to.

Isn't that just how things go? We cause the biggest offenses when we do not intend to.

How dare we.

How dare we say we are superior to one another on the basis of our skin or the uniform we wear or the people that we know or the job that we have.

How dare we decide to implement a system of status and importance on a person's life, and display it like brats in front of the eyes of children who are watching people say "I am better than you"

How dare we.

How dare we think one life is more precious than another, all lives are precious.

Every person, who has ever existed, in the history of the world, bears the Image of a perfect God. And if that person never saw outside the womb or if that person has seen the whole world, it does not matter because every single person is an Image bearer.

Every person was made, in the Image of God.

Every life matters, every single one, because the Father so lovingly planned out the days for each and every life. Not even the hairs on your head are miscounted by Him.

Brothers, sisters, fellow human- our sole purpose in life is to bring God glory. That sounds churchy, and impossible and impractical, and a whole gamit of other things. But its what our lives are built for. See the thing is, we can chose to give Him the glory, in all things, but if you give it or not, He's going to get it.

Let me be clear, GOD. GETS. THE GLORY. But we don't give it to Him when we decide that one of us is better than another. We don't give it to Him when we decide that because I am ________, I matter more.

We matter because we are apart of His plan for His glory and we have to stop because this isn't about us!

When "us" is the focus, the focus is wrong!

The sinner and the saint, Christ has died for both. There was no requirement we had to meet for Him to die for us. I am not better than you, because Christ suffered for us both. I am not better than you, because especially in the matter of eternity, I stand in the same, desperate, helpless place as you do. I am not better than you because like you there is nothing I can do to change that.

Our lives only matter because Christ has given us value. Our lives only matter, because He is worth living for. Our lives only matter because He is worth all the glory. Forever and ever.

Dear Future Husband

Dear Future Husband,

Per the sage advice of several older, wiser women, I have worked as hard as I possibly can to shed my expectations of you. For ten or more years, I have tried as diligently as I can to drum away my ideas of your face, physique, and voice. I've chased away images of you working on your car, or painting in our flat. I've put ideas of your hobbies, jobs, interests, tastes in music, food, and movies, and even your nationality out of my mind. I have tried to erase my expectations of your personality, your temper, your background, your height, your hairstyle, your everything. It is so sorely unfair of me to have expectations of you, and I know that from time to time, I've built some up, and I don't have it all right. But I think I've done ok putting an image of you out of my mind.

But there's something you need to know.

For as many ideas that I don't have about you, I have so many for our marriage.

I have been the blessed daughter of two amazing people. But the legacy goes deeper. You see, I watched as my grandparents, married sixty years, kissed and held hands. I watched as my ailing grandfather wept over seeing his Darling in a rehab environment. Even thought I know it's helping her get better, his mind couldn't grasp it. And that's a thing that I love. She is still so patient with him.

Even with his fragile mind, she loves him. Even when his world is muddled and confused and frustrating, she's the only thing he knows and loves. Even when he asks the same question 15 times in a row; even when he forgets what he's done with her things; even when she can't physically handle helping him do things, she still loves him. Her love is deeper than "in love". His love is deeper than "in love".

They have built a marriage of "Three Strands", and 60 years, two kids, 9 grandkids and a growing number of great grands later, this is so evident. The only constant in their life, is the cord of Christ, the cross of Christ.

This is the expectation I have for us. This is the kind of marriage I long for us to fight for.

Better or worse.

Richer or poorer.

Sickness and health.

Love and cherish.

Till death do us part.

I want to be decades deep and still just in love. I want to be 60 years in and still just as willing to love and serve you.

But I can assure you the only way we will ever have this kind of forever love, is if we both are first madly in love with Christ.

So please, wherever you are, whoever you are, whatever you're doing, fall in love with Christ first.

This kind of marriage is such a testament to His mercy. Their marriage has brought Him glory...isn't that what marriage should do? Bring Him glory?

Isn't that what our lives are to do? Bring Him glory?

I don't know that I do that well every day, or ever, but I hope I can bring Him glory as a single person until I can bring Him glory as your bride. Until we can with our marriage.

So I will continue to push away expectations of you, but I can assure you I'm storing up many for the quality of our marriage.

To the One Who Stayed

To the One Who Stayed,

This post is not easy. I feel like I've endured a roller coaster of emotions and I'm trying desperately to get off, but just when I think it's done, that it's all over, it takes another loop. Another uphill climb and another downward spiral. It goes on and on and I'm weary.

Its not all your fault, I get it. But I confess, all day yesterday, until this morning, I was so angry with you. All you wanted to do was leave, but it was so unlike you. You broke my heart and for the first time in the whole of my life I wanted to shout at you.

Sweet, loveable, gentle, docile you.

I wanted to grab your shoulders and plead with you. I wanted to release the floodgate, banging the doors behind my eyes. I wanted to scream and cry and pitch a fit. I wanted to explode for the pain in my heart.

You are so tired. And that breaks my heart. How I want to ease your pain and bring you joy. I can't, but I want to. I know you are tired. I know you are done.

But you're not done.

I am so selfish! I want you to be here with me! I want you to meet whoever I marry. I want to know you approve of him.

I want you to meet whatever children the Lord blesses me with.

I want to talk books and big words with you. I want to talk about family history and geek out over names with you.

I know I'm being so incredibly selfish, but I still want you here.

But if you're ready, there's one thing I need to say:

If you're going to leave, I understand. I love you, I'm going to miss you, and I promise you I'm going to cry a lot, but do me one favor. Please, just one.

When you leave, be you. Be you when you go from here.

Do you remember who you are?

You're sassy but sweet. You like scrabble and novels and fresh picked figs. You like coffee infused water and gooey butter cake. You like things that grow and you always have plants in your windowsill. You like bird watching, wave watching, and 500 piece puzzles. You follow baseball, and basketball and a mired of other sports I didn't even realize.

You have the patience of a saint! You've endured 30+ years of excruciating pain with minimum complaint, and been the faithful, joyful wife of an ailing man. And the gentle, peaceful woman in the life of so many.

So when you go, please! Please be you! You've fought wars of loving a PTSD husband, crippling arthritis, a number of other minor and (semi)major surgeries...so when you go, please don't just wane to another war, you're a fighter, a soldier. When you go, go like you. Still be you. Leave the way you have done all things: with gentleness and strength; the kind I hope to one day attain. Stay the lady I love and admire so very much.

But for now, one last thing.

If it's ok with you, please stay.

Firefly Forest: A story about Jesus

Earlier this week, I read an article that hit me right between the eyes. You know, that spot that connects your thinking brain to your convicted heart. The article is good, by all means please go read it, but it was one line that triggered a memory that brought a smile to my face and proved her point simultaneously. (Side note, if you chose not to read the article for whatever reason, it is a wonderful and convicting post and not as worldly feely as this quote makes it sound, this quote is simply something that jumped out at me.)

"when humans experience awe...we become less individualistic, less self-focused, less materialistic, more connected to those around us. In marveling at something greater than ourselves, we become more able to reach out to others."

 

 

 

I was driving back into town tonight, reflecting on Bible study and all that we had talked about. I had referenced this article, specifically the portion about (obviously not verbatim here) how when the focus is us, the focus is wrong, but when our heart is one of awe of God, our focus is right, and our awe drives us to reach out to others. My dear friend listened quietly as a I rattled on and on about the memory that this one little quote had sparked.

 

It was summer before senior year. I was young, hopeful, and all kinds of selfish. How I wish I could say I wasn't, but don't we all. I was perfectly happy to be on this missions trip to Philadelphia, no fight there. But could have done with out the incessant bathroom themed jokes from the abundant amount of middle school boys who had somehow secured a spot on this trip. As one of the few high schoolers there, we had few options of people to hang out with and chose instead to be all together. For the most part this was fine. But after a few days of it, my total lack of brothers growing up became increasingly clear. Its amazing how fast you can learn to tune something or someone out...by day three I'm pretty sure I had thoroughly installed my "middle school boy" filter. So one night when they came running up to me and my best friend, huffing and puffing and obviously overexcited, it was all I could do to listen to them go on and on about the "GROVE OF TREES" that we "ABSOLUTELY HAD TO SEE RIGHT THIS SECOND BEFORE THEY WENT AWAY!" Literally the only reason my attitude-ed self tuned into them was because the only things these boys got excited about were, food, farts and video games. And since I'm pretty sure the weren't coming to fill me in on the latter two, and we had already had dinner, I listened. And to this day, I'm so glad I did.

 

After they all took a breath and could speak more than one word between gasps for air, they got out that in this little grove of trees, just into the woods at the edge of camp there were innumerable fireflies. Since that was clearly a big word for their vocabulary my friend and I decided to go see the "firefly forest" as they had been calling it. A few steps down into the woods, and you hit a clearing, and you didn't even have to look up, your eyes could see it everywhere. Thousands, if not millions of fireflies dotted the canvas of dark trees against a gently lit sky.

 

Awe doesn't even begin to describe it. Not one person could believe or shake it. So the few high schoolers that had gotten wrangled into going down there promptly turned around and ran out- everyone needed to see this.

 

We raced back to the camp, gathered up blankets, sleeping bags, tarps- anything people could sit on, and the hand of anyone who would listen to us talk about the fireflies in the forest. After grabbing things up as quickly as we could we raced back down to the little grove- not wanting to miss a moment of the light show God had set there.

 

We laid out our blankets and laid in a circle, just staring at them all. So overwhelmed by the little piece of majesty we were watching.

 

And here's where things got intense. One by one, middle school right up to high school, boys and girls, grabbed the hand of the person sitting next to them. Some prayed a loud, some shouted attributes and qualities of God, other sang, and still others were so struck by awe, they were silent. I had never had worship quite like it, so raw, so vulnerable- so full of awe.

 

We all marveled. We all sat in this little bit of glory. And we worshipped. And we only knew about it- because the awe of the moment touched the hearts of six middle school boys. It moved them beyond themselves to tell everyone, anyone, about what they had seen.

 

Friends, when the focus is us, the focus is wrong. Be awed  by our Savior. If you look at the mountains, praise their Maker. If you look at the sea, praise its Creator. Allow these wonders to be the vehicle to awe- and not the point of praise. But look for them! If you aren't awed by Him, find it again. Praise Him for it. And then tell others.

The journey ahead: all that is new

So since I don't like the "media bombs" people sometimes drop, I thought I would give the world a proper update on me.

Well first things first, lets go back to January. Yikes, I know, January. And not just January, early January. I went to Atlanta with some friends for the Passion conference. It was an incredible weekend, and when I came home my parents informed me that the company my dad worked for was going under. Since my dad found out he began actively working towards a new job. Nothing was panning out the way we thought it should.

The story is full of lots of God ordained, beautiful details. The way that all the pieces fell into place was a work only He could have accomplished. Maybe someday I will get my parents to do a guest post so you can give God the glory He so deserves in all He did for them.

So all of that to say, long story short, after some conversations and a whole lot of prayer, my parents moved forward, and they are opening a gelato and espresso shop.

YIKES. Yay! What? Seriously?!

YES. To all of the above.

My parents are taking a terrifying leap of faith right into the arms of God. I'm proud of them. The timeline is all His, and we don't know when the shop will open, but it will open when God intends it- because nothing has happened unless He has intended for it to. He knows best in all things, the faith this is instilling is vital.

So where does this leave me? Back to January...

My career as a nanny was literally all over the place. I was working for a school teacher as my main job, and doing some part time childcare for some long time family friends. Their situation, however, was changing and they were needing something more consistent. I love the kids, love the parents, love the grandparents- it made sense. So I jumped in with two feet, and by February I had three kids under the age of three; all in (cloth) diapers. Three different schedules, two different families. It was me and three little people that needed me to remember that this one couldn't eat this and that this one has to go down at this time. I had to have this kids on a rigid schedule or something important would be forgotten. (like naps. more than once...) Their diaper changes were scheduled for Pete's sake. To say I was overwhelmed is to put it lightly. I was frazzled, burnt out, stressed out and exhausted. I had Irish triplets and no idea what to do with these three precious babies.

By April I was a literal mess. The Bible study I was "leading" was not getting my best. In fact they were just sort of getting my leftovers. I didn't like to say I was leading, I said I was "facilitating" because leading was too much responsibility. I guess I thought that if I called it something else and didn't put the work in, it would be ok. But it wasn't. By the middle of spring, the study had all but fallen apart. My help around the house was all but nonexistent, and my social life was certainly no better.

It all started adding up, the best way I knew to give something of quality to these other areas of my life was to take the energy from somewhere else. But as I have learned, when you spread yourself too thing, you run out of "you" to spread. When I finally realized that I was no longer giving my best to the babies, that they didn't have my full energy, creativity, and enjoyment, I knew something had to change. I loved them, but in order to survive, I had to have way to much of a schedule. Not that schedules are bad!!! I was just so locked into it, that none of us were enjoying it- me or the babies. So I gulped down the pride, and gave the family my notice. Can we please just get real for a second? This was one of the hardest things I have ever done. Those kids, those precious babies, meant and mean so much to me. My sassy girl and my capuchin monkey man. My kiddos. I loved them. I do love them. Letting them go, however, was the most loving thing I could do for them. They needed to be in their home, on a freer schedule, with someone who had the energy to dedicate to helping grow their creativity and curiosity. They needed something I could not be at this point in my life. So in May, I said good-bye as their nanny and returned to my place as long time family friend and occasional babysitter.

For like, a split second, life chilled out. It was kind of...smooth sailing. I should have known.

I felt like I was doing better with just the one little guy. My baby baby. I've had the kid since he was 2ish months old. He's going to be two soon. Which, isn't a ton of time, ok, I get it. But that's most of his life. I've walked this kid through hours of sleepless naps, argued over quinoa, and cuddled the teething crankies away. I got to help him learn how to walk, speak, learn his shapes and colors. I've been able to teach him signs, Spanish, counting and how to work a crowd (go on, ask him if he pooped his diaper. It's hilarious.)

Needless to say, I had no intention of quitting. I was going to keep my baby, work for my parents over the summer (working for the school teacher came quite handy at times like summer. And holidays.)  and come fall, when I went back full time for them, my parents' shop would be up and running enough, that me being there part time would be enough.

But remember that whole "God is controlling the timeline" thing? Yeah well, if my plan had panned out, my parents would have been open by now and all of ^that would have been fine. But as it is, they aren't even going to be open in the next four weeks. Since this is a "family owned and operated" and everyone else was not able to walk away from what they were doing in life, it was down to me. I was and am the only daughter that will be able to dedicate the kind of time they need.

If we're being totally honest, I knew I didn't want to nanny forever. I did not, however, anticipate leaving it so soon. And yet here I am: walking away from the only career I have ever known. My older sister is sending her baby to kindergarten this year. I would have loved to see my guy that far and then had a parting at such time. But our end came three years sooner.

I'm going to sound super Greek when I say this, but babies are all I have ever known, really. It is the only job I have ever really had.

So, after some prayer and council from my parents, today I took a giant leap of faith. I quit my job, the only job I have ever truly known, and have agreed to work for my parents (as a barista....so. there's that)

YIKES. Yay! What? Seriously?!

Yes. To all of the above.

If you asked me five years ago where I saw myself in five years, I wouldn't have said as a barista in my parents gelato shop. It's not what I imagined for me. To be honest, I've been pretty scared to dream. As totally downer as this sounds, dreams don't seem to pan out too well for me. So I stopped trying to hope for something, and just take each day, each new challenge as it comes. It reminds me of a quote I read, probably on Pinterest, "Maybe the plans God has for me are better than the plans I had for myself." Really it was when I let go, and stopped trying to rip into every door I saw, that the one I'm pretty sure I am supposed to walk through was placed right in front of me. A big neon sign blinking saying, "This is the One". I'm not just stepping into a new job- I am totally switching gears here. I can't wait to be around new people all day. Meeting them and getting to know them. Learning my regulars and learning their stories. I can't wait to be surrounded by the smell of coffee all day. I can't wait to get to be in such a unique and special place with my parents. Working full time, the three of us. I can't wait to see if this is a "reason or a season" (God will use it in my future, or what He will teach me through it...or both.)

I'm terrified, excited, nervous, sad, ready, and totally unprepared all at once. But one thing I guarantee:

I. Can't. Wait.

Cover my Weakness

Oh my goodness, how I love to sing in Latin! I love the way the words themselves sound like a song. It is such a beautiful language. I love singing, period. I love being able to soar through high notes and hit them with crystal voices as the altos bring that low, mournful sound. I love that the second sopranos carry the melody. I love that when we all sing our parts, correctly and when we're supposed to, that we sound so beautiful. But I sat as our lovely director worked with each part, and listened to them sing. Each part, sounded funny. The notes just didn't sound quite- right. Even when the notes were sung correctly, it didn't sound good. It was only when we all sang together that the harmony and the melody, the high notes and the low notes, the loud voices and the low rumbles, all worked together and made beautiful, haunting, clear music.

How like the body of Christ.

 

We have become such a culture of "I can do it myself" that we don't even realize how stupid we look, trying to function on our own. Trust me, those high notes are a blast to hit, but without the altos and the seconds there to add some other notes, we would get tired, sound funny, and really, I don't think it would be an enjoyable experience to listen to us sing. Our high notes wouldn't be as effective without the other singers to support us, and in turn, they are more effective with us there to support them.

 

Paul talks about the importance of every part of the Body of Christ working together- it is such a simple idea. And yet, we have chose, the church at large, to forfeit it. We "don't want to inconvenience anyone" or "we're fine on our own" or my favorite "someone else will do that"- and so we don't "sing" at all.

 

Oh friends! Why have we stopped meeting the needs of one another? We do we battle through our own weaknesses, trying to subsidize for them, when others are called to cover our weaknesses with their strength?

I worked at a special needs camp one summer. A life changing experience, and a story for another time. The counselors from each cabin would spend each night debriefing, and then a good amount in prayer. It was the weirdest thing: they insisted we hold hands, with our fingers locked. So here sat 10 or so girls who had never met, holding hands in prayer, fingers intertwined like some teenybopper couple. "WHY?" was the internal scream of every worker there. But as we sat, holding hands, before we prayed that first night, the cabin leaders explained exactly why. "We ask you to hold hands like this, to remind you of a very valuable truth: we are meant to cover each other's weaknesses; to carry each others' burdens. When you look at your hands, your knuckles are the strongest part, these remain exposed. But between your knuckles are where your hands are most sensitive and weak. When you hold hands like this in prayer, you are using your strength to cover someone else's weakness."

We are supposed to work together to help cover those weaknesses. Guess what! Everybody has them. No one person is good at everything, and for the body to be effective, we must all be doing our part.

Singing may not be your thing, talent, or favorite pastime, but it was how the Father chose to remind me of this truth.

He recently sat someone in my life, who is organized and good at administration. I immediately recognized her value to me as we planned, because she was strong where I was not. She has a skill, where I have none. I needed her to be the most effective to my community group.

Find the people in your life that you need to need again. Value them. Thank them. Let them be to you, what you should be to them.

 

Let's all really sing together again.

Five Years

Five years ago, I traveled to the big hospital in the city. I hate hospitals. They almost didn't let me see you. because you were in the PICU, I was only 16, and visiting hours had ended long before I showed up. I wanted to see you so badly it hurt. When I finally did though, it hurt worse. You didn't look like you. You didn't smell like you. You didn't act like you- you didn't do anything. You just laid there, breathing slow and deep. You looked peaceful. You didn't look like you were in pain, but there was pain in the room. I could feel it; the weight of your parents prayers sat on my chest as I looked down at your sunken, sleeping face. I remember thinking "God, this is so unfair!" It shouldn't have been you.

When I met you, you seemed like the strongest person I knew; and in so many ways, you were. I knew that that night was going to be it. But I didn't want to believe it. I didn't want it to be the end. But it was.

I stood at the door forever. Too afraid to come close. So afraid that if I breathed too hard, I would break you. Finally I walked towards your bed, and I took your gaunt hand into mine and rubbed my thumb along the back of your knuckles. These hands were so strong. I had seen you work hard with them, be gentle with them, pray with them. You had given me high fives with this hand, and hugged me with this hand. You had touched the world with this hand.

You hair was longer than you usually kept it, and your dark brown curls were tight around your head. I ran my fingers through them, feeling like I was standing at heaven's door with my brother. I knew what was coming for you, and my heart rejoiced. But I knew what was coming for me, and my heart also grieved. I leaned my head down beside yours and rested beside you. Tears streaming down my face, I watched your chest slowly rise and fall. No one spoke. No one moved. This was my moment with you. My moment to build one last memory. My moment to say good-bye. I kissed the side of your face, and buried mine in the pillow by your head, and slowly I began croaking out the words to my favorite hymn, "Amazing Grace". Your dad heart me, and began singing with me. We sang all four verses to you, and I watched as you just laid there, and breathed.

Before I left, you did one thing.

Only one.

You squeezed my hand.

So little.

Barely noticeable.

So insignificant at any other moment in time.

But one tiny movement of your hand, meant the world to me.

I love you. And I miss you, not every day, but often. I wait for the day when I can see your face, whole and healthy, again!


In Loving Memory of Y.K.S., 2/4/95-5/10/11. May we all live with such gentle passion.

Dear GrandPa

Dear GrandPa,

You won't read this, and if you do, you won't know who I am. I think for me, that is the most difficult piece about all of this: we know you better than you know yourself.

I sat with you today, and smiled at your "grandpa-isms". It was a lovely afternoon. Thank you for that. I needed to sit with the man I loved and love so dearly. I sat then with happiness, but confess I now am writing through tears.

The last few days have made me consider in detail just why I'm so thankful for you. You may never read this, it will never matter to you, but it matters to me. I don't want to forget anything you have taught me.

1. Among my earliest memories are the homemade ice cream. An ability you have passed down the line. Pawpaw, you taught me to make ice cream. Thank you.
2. There is a famous story in our family about the time you broke your ankle and used it for two days anyways. So maybe this wasn't your best move, but Grandpa, you taught me to stay tough through painful things. Thank you.
3. You enlisted at 17 and fought bravely, at the sacrifice of your own mental and physical health. You taught me bravery. Thank you.
4. You have lead our whole family in a number of ways. You taught me leadership. Thank you.
5. You have talked always with love and fear of our God. You taught me to love Him. Thank you.
6. You have loved on and honored your darling since the day you met her. You have taught me how marriage should look. Thank you.
7. You are known for your clever one liners, and little rhymes. They're cheesy and silly and give hilarious tidbits of "advice" clothed in humor. You taught me to laugh. Thank you.
8. No elbows on the table, bow your head when you pray, stand when your grandmother needs a seat. You taught me respect. Thank you.
9. You find faces in trees, and trees in the clouds. You taught me to be creative. Thank you.
10. You always asked about my school or my work, depending. You taught me to take an interest in the life of others. Thank you.
11. As I got older, things started changing. You and Mamaw needed more help, and for a time I would clean your house with you. You taught me how to serve. Thank you.
12. You whistle all the time. Everywhere, anywhere. You taught me to find and love music and pretty sounds. Thank you.
13. You go back for thirds and fourths on dessert, you play with our hair, and mimic us when we make girly sounds. You taught me how to enjoy the little things. Thank you.
14. You took our family on vacation many times. You taught me generosity. Thank you.
15. "If at first you don't succeed, try, try again. If you don't succeed again, you may be sucking on a seedless orange." You taught me to walk away from doors when they don't open. Thank you.
16. You started asking questions a lot, repeatedly. You didn't mean to, but you taught me how to answer each question as if it was the first time I was asked. You taught me joyful patience. Thank you.
17. You were shivering and miserable today, so I got down on my knees to put on a second pair of socks for you. Grandpa, you taught me to be humble.

Thank you for teaching me so much Grandpa. Thank you for letting me serve you today. I'm honored, truly, to be in your family. I love you Grandpa!

In Jesus Name

 

You may have noticed that I am pretty bad at keeping up with my blog. Honestly, I wish you could live a day in my shoes. I am working three jobs, which includes four kids and some personal assistant/office type work, keeping up a social life, continuing to invest in my church and my family, and really trying so desperately hard to be a real adult...it catches up with me every single day. Usually around 10am. I feel like my life is a constant seesaw between thinking I did alright, and discovering the reality that I didn't do that good of a job. Oh, your family had dinner? How nice. They have no clean clothes for tomorrow, and you were supposed to send that email three days ago. Its a two step forward, three steps back process for me.

 

I feel like I'm the awkward 13 year old all over again. I feel like I just don't know where I fit. I'm 21, not in school, I'm working my butt off, not in a relationship...I'm really not doing any of the things that everyone else my age is doing. I don't know my place in this world. I'm telling you, it feels like middle school part 2. I am trying so hard to come into adulthood, and do so with grace. I'm doing taxes, ordering checks, managing my time and days so I give enough to everything that my time is dedicated to, and most days, if not every day, I am failing.

 

Some days, in fact the majority of them, it feels like my life has spiraled out of my control. And the faster I try to get a hold on it, the more overwhelming it becomes, and the more it slips out of my hands. Its terrifying. Its embarrassing. It makes me look immature, careless, and incapable.

 

But God.

 

The only constant in my life has been Jesus.

 

In my last post, I briefly mentioned that before worshipping, I have been praying my heart into a place of worship. Since coming home, the Father has continued to expand on what I learned to do while there. And while I've been obsessively listening to the album from Passion, (which I highly recommend), my favorite song has played over and over and over in my head. The chorus of Salvation's Tide is as follows:

 

||Let the walls come down in Jesus name/Let the lost be found in Jesus name/Open eyes to see in Jesus name/Let the city sing in Jesus name||

 

The phrase "in Jesus name" is something I grew up hearing plugged onto the end of prayers. And then it hit me. When our hearts are right, songs can be a form of prayer. I think we formalize prayer so much. I keep a prayer journal, and trust me, when my heart needs to be gushed out to the Father, it is perfect for that. But prayer doesn't have to be so limited to pen, paper, and whispers.

 

When my heart is in a place of true worship, singing the phrase "Let ___ in Jesus name" is a prayer.

 

My life has felt beyond my reach for three or more years, but when my heart is right, I can be in constant communication with the One who wrote every detail of my life. When I allow myself to really consider what I am singing, and truly believe it, I am sitting in the presence of a Holy and Perfect God. A Holy, Perfect God, who chose to love me.

 

Just to be clear, I'm not being "name it, claim it." By relishing in His presence, I am choosing a joyful and peaceful place from which to live. My circumstances don't change because I chose God over chaos.

 

My life, is still 100% beyond my power to control. I still feel like I fall short, come up empty, and don't have it all together. I still feel like my life can be a joke to some people. I still feel like I haven't gotten where I am supposed to be. I still feel like 90% of what I want to do with my life is unattainable. But I chose Jesus a long time ago, and now that I am facing a life full of bills, taxes, payments, jobs, and relationships, I still choose Jesus.

Let us love, live, and serve, In Jesus Name.

Stop Saying Jesus is Enough

Maybe its the fact that I was with 40,000 other believers. Maybe its the fact that I haven't done anything like this since high school. Maybe its the fact that I was with a new group of friends. Maybe it's because my faith was needing to drink deep again.

Maybe it was all of these in tandem.

Whatever the reason, or reasons, I was excited. I felt like little kid excited.

As we were sitting in our seats, I looked around at the thousands of people milling around, trying to find theirs. Thousands and thousands together for one purpose: to worship. I decided to do something I don't recall ever doing, so I sat waiting, and prayed my heart into a place of worship. I assure you, it made all the difference in the world. I wasn't just robotically singing along, I was in a place where I could believe what I was singing. I had never experienced worship quite like it. It was beautiful. So bold and bare before our Lord, I poured my whole heart and soul out, and not just "caught up in the moment" type of pour. A pouring of total surrender. I did this before every session, and the worship maintained a "whole heart" atmosphere for me. If you've never done this...do it! I don't know why I waited so long.

The first session starts and Louie Giglio walks out on stage. This is my all time favorite speaker and this was the third time I've heard him live. Remember that excitement I described? It was so still there. He starts speaking, and all of the sudden I'm the only one in the room. He is talking directly to me. There's no one beside me, in front of me, behind me or around me. I'm the only one. And bit by bit, I feel myself breaking down.

This isn't supposed to happen this soon... I'm not even exhausted yet!

I experienced a rush of emotions as pieces of my past flew into my heart and God said "Let's deal with it."

Louie addressed the "broken girl" and I have never felt more vulnerable than that moment, when I sat weeping, my soul gushing out before the Maker, Savior, and Lord. I didn't even care that no one else in my group didn't seem near as effected as I was, I was with my Father and it did not matter. The weight of sins, mine and others that effected me, sat on my lap as I sat listening to the Father's Word come forth this speaker.

"When Jesus came back from hell, he brought the keys for your salvation and the keys for your freedom"

He went on to say that He brought back the keys to set me free from whatever someone did, or didn't do, from whatever hurt, or anger, or fear, or pain, or jealousy, or rage, or sorrow, or malice I felt. Jesus knew what happened, and HE IS BIGGER THAN ALL OF IT.

I knew so much of this, but I realized, I didn't believe any of it.

But in those moments before my Father, I was liberated into His grace and love and freedom. I felt a literal weight lift from my soul. One I did not realize I was carrying.

Over the course of the next few hours and days I had a whole perspective shift, and I never want to forget it.

I was able to sing, and mean every word as a prayer for my heart. It was then we sang a song that had an impact on my heart.

"Nothing and no one comes close to you. Nothing could ever come close." (Simple Pursuit, Melodie Malone)

I didn't believe this. SO many things "come close" to Him where they aught not.

"If you stayed right where you are, I Am everything."
"If everything changed overnight, I Am everything."
"If you lost your job, I Am everything."
"If you never get married, I Am everything."
"If you do get married, I Am everything."
"If you got sick, I Am everything."
"If you lose everyone you love, I Am everything."
"If I called you away, I Am everything."
"If I kept you here, I Am everything."
"If you don't see another day, I Am everything."
"If you walk this world, I Am everything."

Jesus Christ isn't "just enough" HE IS EVERYTHING.

Saying that "Jesus is enough" suddenly felt like I was settling for less. "Enough" suddenly felt like I was saying "well I wanted more, but this will be fine...it's just enough." JESUS CHRIST IS MORE THAN ENOUGH. HE MORE THAN SATISFIES. HE MORE THAN CARES. HE MORE THAN LOVES. He paid such a price, just because of love, and had every right to hate me because of what He suffered, and He chose to love me anyways, and I have the audacity to say He's just enough?

Nothing and No One comes close to Him!

I walked away from this weekend, believing this with my whole heart. The God that gave me freedom from everything that has bound me, LOVES ME. And He, no matter where I stand in this life, is Everything to me.

He is and will be my Joy.
He is and will be my Love.
He is and will be my Life.

I came home, and real life started back- and I had to firmly stand on the guarantee that He is more than enough, He is everything.

Circumstances were immediately rocky, and Jesus was still everything. Even when life doesn't seem right. So much happened this weekend, and Jesus was still the "everything" that made it last. That made it so important.

"When the angel rolled the stone away, it wasn't so Jesus could get out [He walks through walls, it didn't have to move], the stone was rolled away, so that we could see in. Jesus isn't here, HE IS RISEN. He was the victim of our sin but it wasn't His identity. He has become the Victor! Jesus is alive, HE HAS RISEN."