“By selling another gospel to our generation, Satan has been employing many sincere men in preaching a dethroned Christ.”

Going along with my recurring post theme of how I’m always making plans, and God’s always telling me “Uh, No.” ….

A couple of months ago, I’d signed up with Crusade to go to a conference in Denver (DCC) over this winter break.  My sister went to DCC last winter and told me all about the impact the vulnerable community and blunt truth had on her.  I was kind of determined to go from the start.
I’d hesitated, however, to register officially because not having a job this semester has brought my steady income down a bit.  And by down a bit, I mean to an abrupt halt.  I’ve had no income for the first time in about 2 years, safe for what my generous Mommy will sometimes transfer to my account for necessities and inexpensive thrifty fun. 
So anyway, these conferences cost money.  At first, I’d asked my parents to just make that my Christmas present.  But when I got home, I talked with my mom about everything and even though she told me they’d be able to send me, something didn’t feel right about it as I saw how tired my dad’s been from working 60 hour weeks and the bill for my textbooks for next semester.  I reasoned with myself that I still have 3 more years (at the least) and the same opportunities will be there next year, then informed the staff with Cru that I wouldn’t make it this December.
On the other side of the family happenings, my sister’s been planning her leave for Haiti these last few months with a missions team from my home church.  Before I decided not to go to DCC, the way the break was going to work was that I would be in Denver at pretty much the same time Sissy would be in Haiti and I’d get back a few days before her, meaning she couldn’t go to DCC- which was a bummer at first. 
In all the last minute cancellation and the hype of everyone coming home for Christmas, I forgot to tell my sister I wasn’t going.  But I figured it didn’t matter since she wasn’t going to be here at the same time anyway.
So all this build leads to the twist:

Yesterday, my mom, my sister, and I were all sitting in the living room when my sister brought up DCC… and her new plans to go.  I hadn’t even realized she didn’t know I wasn’t going yet, figuring my mom would have said something.  But aside from feeling bad to disappoint her, it suddenly hit me that these plans obviously interfered with Haiti.  Only to find out that the trip was postponed due to spreading riots concerning the Haitian government and the danger it poses for the team’s efforts to get back to the U.S.
So then I was doubly bummed because not only was I missing out on the conference, but now my sister was going without me. 

Earlier, Mizzou Cru had offered me a scholarship for half of the trip but with complicated conditions involving my parents having to initially fork over the entire amount, not to mention the extra cash for gas to help my car get there, and to eat for the whole week.  The conditions pretty much defeated the purpose of the scholarship in my case, which made me feel like I should just stay home anyway.  Not only did the trip seem unfeasible financially, but I’ve felt pulled further and further away from the Cru community, making a week-long trip with a family I don’t particularly feel a part of these days somewhat filled with distractions.  See, I thought that was God giving a clear indication that He had something to do with me here, instead of there. Obviously… right?
But really, I think maybe He was just trying to let me see how uncomfortable I was willing to let myself become before He thrust it into overdrive.

When my sister realized the reason I wasn’t going to DCC, she wouldn’t have it.  A few texts and an argument (ending with my mom and my sister both telling me I should go) later, I was paid for (or exempt from pay) and signed up to go to the conference… with Missouri Baptist University.  I leave the day after tomorrow, and talk about being unprepared and uncomfortable.  I don’t know anyone besides my sister that I’ll be travelling with, rooming with, or spending the next week with, but I think this is a clear indication that He has something to do with me in Denver at this conference.
Not for the first time this semester, I am realizing I’m not the best person to ease into obedience or submission.  Sometimes it takes a giant metaphorical stop sign right in front of my face, a little more than what I can arrogantly and stubbornly write off as mere coincidence.  And lucky for me, my Creator knows His creation quite wholly. 

The conference is for “college students from all over the Midwest [to] come to grow closer to Jesus Christ through prayer, powerful worship, passionate bible teaching, and community…” with plenty of “opportunities to be equipped with life and ministry skills, to connect and network with other students, and to reach out locally and globally.”  The latter being something I’ve been feeling God pressing on me more and more heavily as this school year has progressed.  And as if that weren’t all “ironic” and “coincidental” enough, the conference board is partnering with Kids Against Hunger this year, having us prepare 100,000 meals… to send to Haiti. 

I started reading a book I got this morning (called Today’s Gospel: authentic or synthetic?) disputing the seemingly small differences (at least, that’s what we make ourselves believe) between the gospel Jesus taught and the one we find ourselves altering to fit into the ears of our peers more comfortably, seemingly small differences making a giant impact on the sincerity of our efforts to please the Lord and shed light on whole truth.  I’ve only started the beginning, but am already identifying with what Mr. Walter J. Chantry seemed to think was “wrong with evangelism today” (as if he got in my head and stole all these thoughts I felt were mine for so long)—this focus on unity that, while well-intentioned, causes us to start sharing a watered down gospel for the sake of a community that isn’t even benefitting from the way we’re delivering a shallow and undetailed half-version of what Jesus came here to say anyway.

I was reading Malachi yesterday and came across this:

“I am the Lord, and I do not change. That is why you descendants of Jacob are not already destroyed. Ever since the days of your ancestors, you have scorned my decrees and failed to obey them. Now return to me, and I will return to you,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
“But you ask, ‘How can we return when we have never gone away?’
“Should people cheat God? Yet you have cheated me!
  “But you ask, ‘What do you mean? When did we ever cheat you?’
  “You have cheated me of the tithes and offerings due to me. You are under a curse, for your whole nation has been cheating me. Bring all the tithes into the storehouse so there will be enough food in my Temple. If you do,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies, “I will open the windows of heaven for you. I will pour out a blessing so great you won’t have enough room to take it in! Try it! Put me to the test! Your crops will be abundant, for I will guard them from insects and disease. Your grapes will not fall from the vine before they are ripe,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies. “Then all nations will call you blessed, for your land will be such a delight,” says the Lord of Heaven’s Armies.
“You have said terrible things about me,” says the Lord.
“But you say, ‘What do you mean? What have we said against you?’
“You have said, ‘What’s the use of serving God? What have we gained by obeying his commands or by trying to show the Lord of Heaven’s Armies that we are sorry for our sins?  From now on we will call the arrogant blessed. For those who do evil get rich, and those who dare God to punish them suffer no harm.’”

The end of that struck me really hard and I just read it over and over, making the obvious connection between this community God is addressing, and my own.  My own society, sometimes my own community of believers, sometimes my own mind.  And while it was disheartening to a certain degree, it was also further pushing me in this unpromising world.  It made me think about what James was saying in his letter to the dispersed believers about the testing of their faith and the difference between simply reading the word of God and actually learning from what you read, between sitting in superficial acknowledgment and getting up to engage in the lost and brokenness of the world because that is what His word says to do.  Hearing and Doing.

Because is it not made apparent that--

Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world.  - James 1:27

Unstained, but not untouched.  For, how else are we to engage in the brokenhearted and the fatherless if we can’t jump into their afflictions confidently relying on His power? 

It’d be really cool for you guys to remain prayerful of His work in me, and the things He’s stirring up in my heart and in this trip to Denver.  I’m extremely excited to open up and let him reveal the next place He wants me to move from here.  I’m sure I’ll have a lot to share when I get back.  Until then!

God With Us

 

Immanuel.

This is the name Isaiah said the virgin would call our Savior by. 

Immanuel.  God with us.

Not against us; not separate from us; not detached from us, or isolated, or distant.

But with us, among us, beside us, for us, near us, upon us, in us.

I will recount the steadfast love of the Lord,
the praises of the Lord,
according to all that the Lord has granted us,
and the great goodness to the house of Israel
that he has granted them according to his compassion,
according to the abundance of his steadfast love.
For he said, “Surely they are my people,
children who will not deal falsely.”
And he became their Savior.
In all their affliction he was afflicted,
and the angel of his presence saved them;
in his love and in his pity he redeemed them;
he lifted them up and carried them all the days of old.

-Isaiah 63:7-9

This is my letter to the world, that never wrote to me

It will be said on that day, “ Behold this is our God; we have waited for him, that he might save us.  This is the Lord; we have waited for him; let us be glad and rejoice in his salvation.”- Isaiah 25:9

He himself bore our sins in his body on the tree, that we might die to sin and live to righteousness.  By his wounds you have been healed.  For you were straying like sheep but have now returned to the Shepherd and Overseer of your souls. – 1 Peter 2:24-25

Oh, that He could breathe life into this flesh; that He could come for rescue, for redemption, for love in the midst of utmost hate. 
Oh that He could show me what it means to treasure; that He could set purity before my eyes, and grace, and beauty in the midst of utmost brokenness. 
It makes no sense to me. 
Who am I to feel for the brokenhearted; who am I to hurt for the broken in spirit?  Who am I to wonder of love and hope in a world that has corrupted the very essence of either?

Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.  As obedient children, do not be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but as he who called you is holy, you also be holy in all your conduct – 1 Peter 1:13-15

I can convince myself for any set period of time that I belong here; that I can fit in, look like the world.  But then I wake up.  I open my eyes and there’s a shadow over everything I called my life.  Nothing is blurred anymore; all before my sight is crystal clear.  This is not my home.  She will not have me. The Spirit He allows me is too bright for her to contain, too pure for her to defile as she has polluted everything else. 

But sometimes I get so caught up in being awake that I let myself forget that He still has work for me here, in this unwelcoming hollow place.
I am learning still; I am but a child trying to mimic my Father, failing miserably so much of the time.

I am still learning to think of you before me, always.  I am still learning to love above all else.  I am still learning to do when I say, to act when I speak. 
I am still learning to let Him show me, to let Him move me… even when I’m hurt, even when I’m stubborn and comfortable where I am.

I am still learning what it meant that Jesus came here to this world that He did not belong to and succeeded greatly at all the things I fail at.  He walked with the lowly and became a servant to the poor.  How beautiful a paradox that the Savior of man came to the earth as a precious, fragile infant. 

 
Who am I that He gives strength to my movement, that He puts conviction in my heart, that He puts purpose in my action?
I am still learning; I am but a child trying to mimic a mighty King.

“a time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance”

For everything there is a season, and a time for every matter under heaven:

a time to be born, and a time to die;

a time to PLANT, and a time to pluck up what is planted;

a time to kill, and a time to heal;

a time to b r e a k d o w n, and a time to build up;

a time to weep, and a time to laugh;

a time to mourn, and a time to dance;

a time to cast----- away stones, and a time to gather stones together;

a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;

a time to keep, and a time to cast------- away;

a time to tear, and a time to sew;
a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;

a time to love, and a time to hate;

a time for war, and a time for peace.
                                                       -Ecclesiastes 3:1-8 (For my dear Chellie)

He makes beautiful things; He makes beautiful things out of the dust.

the world is speeding and I’m stuck, struck to my knees; face to the floor;  out from the hollow earth, the rusting of metal- the key to these doors;
it’s all I can do to stay where I am; progress to the frame, open me up
maybe it’s the joy I’m finding in hurt, the pain that’s teaching me how to love,
because my arms are stretched to the sky, Your name is on my mouth-
staining the air, wrapping up the staleness of misplaced doubt;
if those doors are what let everyone leave,
open them up— so I know it’s still me.

May we feel the draft of open doors; may we let people inside when they knock; may we close it gently after them when they leave, and wave from the window; may we trust that disconnecting a lock, or two, or all of them, doesn’t mean something will be stolen; sometimes strangers leave treasure behind. 
May we feel the weight of someone’s presence there; may we laugh in good memory, and cry when it hurts, cry for the things that are stolen in trust, but rejoice for the things that are restored in love.
May we find the strength to remember and save the things we learn when, all in His timing, He opens the doors. 

“But when two paths cross, no matter how brief
There's a lesson somewhere to be learned
It may be just that we're on the wrong path
and there's a corner that needs to be turned

It may be to teach us that we can still fly
and soar in the heavens above
or it may be a brief and torrid affair
to show us that we can still love.”
                   - Hawkins

Bind up these broken bones; mercy bend, and bring me back to life. But not before You show me how to die.

R-Dougs; Dougie,

I got news for you.  This letter’s going public.

When you’re strong,
you fight.
When you’re strong,
you cry words of silence
and never shed a tear.
You find all the ways
to make your heart
make sense,
and you hold your arms out
to everyone around you
to keep them all away--
when you’re strong.

You protect and
you provide
your own shelter;
you choose where
to lie down.
When you’re strong
you mask the ways
that could make you weak.
In defeat, you
claim a victory;
You Win.

When you’re strong
you’re never wrong,
you never hit rock bottom;
you talk until
your mouth runs dry
and you never
say a thing.

When you’re strong,
you don’t remember how
to be weak.
You forget the things
that make you feel,
and all the things you
Fight For
don’t even matter.

When you’re strong,
you mistake yourself
for bold too often,
and smudge the lines
between courage and fear.

And you go to bed
alone,
tracing moonlight in the blankets,
counting memories,
holding on to the things
you didn’t know were yours,
holding white flags in the air
[these bed sheets calling out
surrender]--
when you’re strong.

You have inspired me. 
I don’t like to make promises I can’t keep.
But I also try not to say things I don’t mean.
I love you, Dougie. 
Praise our God in Heaven that He is not contained by time; He’s changed me, awakened fear and hurt and in that, passion and thirst—because of you.  Because of a semester. 
And I’m sorry if I can’t show that to you.  I want you to know that you have done your job here; He’s done His job with you here. 
I want you to know that just because I’ve got a whole lot of pride and bitterness, that doesn’t make you a failure. 
I am proud of you. 
I am amazed by you.
I am encouraged by you.
I am challenged by you.
I’ve learned a lot through your strength, and your faith in our God.

Go change lives, Dougs.  Go walk in the strength He gives you.
He’s got big plans for you; I can feel it.

Take your story to Colorado, and remember that it isn’t yours to keep.  That story is His living testimony.  Spread it like a fire.

P.S. I am also sorry I can’t let myself cry in front of you.  I’ll have you know, I just cried like a little girl.  While lying on my dorm hall floor writing this out.  Pride broken.

Mad love, Lady.

By the undeserved grace of a God so good in His love (and timing).
Jane Doe.

I watched You carve streets of gold from sin and gravel; I gave You brokenness- You gave me innocence, and now this road leads to glory

  
So I was thinking [I do that sometimes… or a lot—too much]
       about how God is both precise (with every hair on our heads being numbered and all) and accurate (comes with the all-knowingness I suppose).   

Sometimes in my Chem lab, our results end up being precise but not accurate|| which basically means that we end up having averages that are consistent in relation to each other with the actual values we should have obtained, but not equal to the actual values. 

But God.
He has mastered precision and accuracy. 

Not only does He call the sun to submission, but He calls it in the early morning.
Not only does He form the oceans vast and wide, but He creates the rhythm of their waves to shape the lands.
Not only does He raise a bird to sing its song, but He gives them the wings to carry it.

Everything He does, He does it flawlessly and with purpose in time.

So I always say that Isaiah is my favorite book, but the truth is that I’ve read 40-66 too many times to count, but the first half only one time.  A week or so ago, I started going through it from the beginning. 

When I got to chapter 3, I saw something so familiar that I had to stop there and relish for a second. 

The heading for this chapter in my Bible is Judgment on Judah and Jerusalem.  Isaiah first explains that Judah is subject to judgment because its people have fallen before idols in worship, loved and valued wealth and power before God, and have earlier been deemed a “sinful nation, a people laden with iniquities” who have “forsaken the Lord, they have despised the Holy One of Israel, they are utterly estranged”- Isaiah 1:4.  They have turned from Him, put trust in “princes, in mortal men who cannot save” (Psalms 146:3), and aren’t even ashamed by their sin.  They have actively rejected God, and so in turn are rejected by Him.

Chapter 3 is just a list of all the ways God chooses to shame them, to break their pride.  And so accuracy and precision present themselves. 

To the men:
He strips them of their role as strong leaders.  Where power and courage once stood, He replaces with feebleness and fear.  Then He hands that role to the women and children.  “I will make boys their princes, and infants shall rule over them,”- 3:4 and “My people- infants are their oppressors and women rule over them.”- 3:12. 

To the women:
He strips them of their beauty.  He replaces perfume with “rottenness”- 3:24, and the pride they take in their outward appearance with disgust.  He makes their husbands and protectors “fall by the sword… in battle”- 3:25. They are left desolate and desperate for any man to “take away [their] reproach”- 4:1

The first thing I thought after reading that was how precise and accurate the Lord is.  He took the men’s leadership because He knew that’s where they stored all their value.  To give their role to children and women was so great an insult.  He took the women’s beauty and security because He knew that’s where they stored all their value.  To leave them without confidence in their outward appearance and protection from their husbands was how He knew He could finally get their attention because it would hurt the most. 

He just knows us.  Inside and out.  The ways we hide ourselves and things we store our value in.  He knows them all exactly.

The second thing I thought after reading it was: man, I’m really glad Jesus came already. I’m really glad His hands were pierced with the iniquity of man.  

And that is why my heart sings this song of gladness.  He gave me the words and the tune to which I sing it.  It is by Him that I hear the music. 

‘So I arrive at the conclusion: Love isn’t made [love doesn’t sell or pay] but we buy and sell our love away.’

We do not merely want to see beauty, though, God knows, even that is bounty enough.  We want something else which can hardly be put into words-- to be united with the beauty we see, to pass into it, to receive it into ourselves, to bathe in it, to become part of it. – C.S. Lewis

To the few men reading this: it’s about to get really girly (and incredibly personal) in here.  You have officially been forewarned.

[Sorrow is better than laughter, for by sadness of face the heart is made glad – Eccl. 7:3']

{My heart}
is a mess.  I have so many things wrong in that department that making a list of what ISN’T wrong with it would be far shorter.  Four years ago, I told Jesus it was His to take.  I didn’t know what kind of construction was in the future. 

is emptied often.  I used to think of people who were really good at breaking down my walls, making me uncomfortable, challenging me beyond what I thought reasonable, and holding me accountable.  But if those people were put together to form one MEGA-friend, Jesus would still put them to sad shame. 

is full.  The love for my God makes my heart so heavy sometimes that I wonder if it’s taking up too much room there, if my ribs can even contain so large a pulsing Love.  

BUT

has been broken.  I think with my head much more often than I feel with my heart.  But for as much as I favor logic and reasoning, lately it seems God has a lot to show me where “sense” isn’t sensible. 

At the very beginning of the semester I met a fiery, Christ-loving young woman (we’ll call her J) who isn’t even aware of how much I’ve learned from her.  God has given her this bright spirit of boldness that I hope I learn to mimic, and she’s that girl that goes anywhere and engages every single person she comes into contact with.  She stains the love of God on everything she touches.  And it’s absolutely beautiful. 
What I haven’t written here (because the process has been every bit painful) is that a little over a month ago, God used her to speak some of the hardest words I’ve ever heard.  He told me that I was precious in His eyes, and honored, and that He loved me [from Isaiah 43:4].  He told me that He’s concerned for every matter in my life, that every part of what He’s done/is doing/will do is significant.  He told me that His love for me is so strong.  And for the first time, I believed that with all of me; I held on to it like it was all I had.  And nothing has looked the same since. 

Like I’ve said before, I’ve always believed in the forever kind of love- even before I knew it begins and ends with the Lord, even before I knew it lived and breathed by His lungs.  Even when I was lying in bed listening to my parents slam doors and raise voices louder and louder, even when I witnessed so much unfaithfulness among extended family, even when I was dispensed of at will and stayed far away from ever feeling for so long.  It’s been ingrained in me ::Love is real, and it’s forever::
What I didn’t realize, until J so boldly and truthfully convicted me, was that I was worthy of it from someone else.

Boys (I’m assuming you’re still reading out of pure curiosity to find out where the overload of estrogen is), this is where it’s about to get heavy.  Really.   

Our Lord, God of the Heavens- of the lands, and the sea, and everything in them- created me.  And He made no mistakes in His creation.  Everything that He gave me is beautiful, because God doesn’t make ugly things.  To any who look upon me, every part of Him that is me is the beauty I wish to wear.  It is the exceptional beauty I hope to be.
And for the last four years, I’ve let man determine my worth.  I’ve let man tell me it was less than something honored and loved by a King. I’ve let man tell me I was easy to dispose of.  I’ve let man tell me I had to be better.  I’ve let man tell me I wasn’t pretty enough, or smart enough, or skinny enough, or emotional enough, or sensitive enough, or just plain: enough.  Enough to stay.  I’ve let men tell me I wasn’t enough to deserve their time; their care; their love.  And don’t be mistaken, this isn’t just “men,” though I’ve had my share of heartache.  Women seek a woman’s approval just as often as a man’s.  For the last four years I’ve been selling into this lie that exceptional beauty isn’t worth cherishing, or marveling, or treasuring- that all the ways God makes me His aren’t worth recognition from anyone, because who am I to demand a love like that?  Who am I to ask that anyone could cherish me? 

The answer?  I’m a daughter of the God of the universe. 
I strive to look like the revolutionary this world hadn’t seen before, and won’t see again until He returns.
I strive to speak in Truth and teach in the wisdom He gives me.
I believe that the whole Bible is the complete word of God.
I find surpassing joy from the life He gives me.
I try to walk like He did.
I am struck by the fact that the only woman I should ever compare myself to is the Proverbs 31 woman because she is the woman worthy of praise.

I want to wear strength and dignity.  I want to reach out my hands to those in need.  I want to love strangers and serve servants.  And when I am a wife, I want to please my husband.  Where I’ve stored bitterness and resentment for men, I want that to be expelled indefinitely and I want to honor him and to respect him.  I want to tend to the ways of my household and have my children grow to call me blessed.  I want to fear the Lord; I want to honor Him and revere Him.  I want to get to the end of my stranger-loving, servant-serving, God-honoring days and have one man look upon me and say, “Many women may have done excellently, but you surpass them all.”  Because I will be worthy of those words from someone. 

And as my mind looks back on any despair these eyes have seen- any trust that’s been lost, any bonds that have been broken, any sadness this heart has felt in all the sorrow that’s stolen my laughter- my heart will rejoice in the love that it has learned and the Truth that it has sought and revealed. 

For those of you that know me and spend enough time with me, know that I often like to make the claim that I’m not a real girl because I don’t cry, I’m terribly insensitive, and I hate feelings.  Turns out, God made me a girl.  A big girl.  And I can hate feelings and fight crying as much as I want, but at the end of the day, I’m wired like His daughter. 

We serve a mighty King far beyond our comprehension, ladies and gents.

“Don’t put your trust in walls because walls will only crush you when they fall”

I’ve been sitting here staring at this blank page for about 20 minutes now. 
How is that my brain can just withhold those signals that tell my hands to move; how is it that my heart forms this barrier between honesty and this keyboard whenever it pleases?

God so intended that I would be this stubborn, immovable, set in strength young woman, but let me tell ya: when I’m not using it the way He intended, it’s not as useful as it sounds.

It’s easy to sit in silence
when no one
tells you it’s okay to speak;
and who knows--
maybe that was all
I could have needed
somehow,
someone to tell me
my thoughts made sense
outside of my head;
my words were worthy
of listening ears;
maybe I just needed
someone to tell me
that it was okay to cry for this-
okay to be alive for this,
that maybe I could have
asked for more from this,
or to be separated from it
fully.

Where does all the lost time go? 

How can I feel a peace that surpasses man’s understanding, and a comfort that the world does not know, and still be this cold and indifferent?

How can I forget too often that this is not a systematic matter, and rather a love uncontainable by the boundaries of my own imagination?  A love not silenced by the logic in my promises, or hindered by the most scientific reasoning.

How can I forget that I am urged to remain in faith and hope and love, the greatest being love?  How do I ignore that it is that love that makes this faith real? 

Because all of my pursuits to better know my Lord’s heart are getting nowhere without it.  All of my desire to feel Him fully in this place is cut off without love.  All of my hunger goes unsatisfied, and all of my thirst unquenched because I don’t know how to use love.

Running [and getting nowhere fast]

I’ve been flaking, guys.  Sorry about that.  There’s been so much that I found easier to not deal with in the last few weeks and while I am trying, hesitantly, yet freely, I admit that I’ve been cowering in the corner.  I have (obviously) avoided this place (and all writing in general) because I know it sparks truth and uncovers hurt like I can’t do anywhere else. 

I have avoided reading my Bible the last few days because I’ve been afraid of what I might find there.  I feel like I was knocked two steps backward, and my pride is fighting to keep these words to myself.  But I’m fighting back. 

As “going home” peeked up over the Known and the Comfortable, I began to get a little anxious.  And though God has worked some amazing things in my heart so far, it seems there’s still a lot to break through.  I rest in His power to restore fully.  I have to say that it came all too naturally to run, to avoid feeling altogether, to flee from any sort of conflict that could possibly bear hard questions or open my heart to any kind of grieving or hurt I’ve previously deprived it of.  It just felt right to run.  I didn’t give it a second thought because that would mean thinking of further uncovering my heart where all the wounds are just in open air, and that’s getting a little old these days if I’m being honest. 

It’s wearing-- entirely exhausting.  Being vulnerable hurts.  Everywhere.  And for someone like me (someone it doesn’t come naturally to), it’s like forcing yourself into a pair of jeans that don’t quite fit.  You might get that zipper up and the button through, but let me tell you, walking around for an extended period of time like that is terribly uncomfortable. 

Being back with my family isn’t easy at all.  I’ve finally heard Him reminding me in the last 24 hours: This isn’t who I am.  I hide behind so much, but if He took it all away, I’d still be His.  And such a simple Truth is one I forget much too often. 

I’m still not ready to tell all of me, or all of what I’m going through now.  And truthfully, I don’t know if I’ll ever get close to doing that here.  But I do know that as old as it’s getting, uncovering the wounds is giving them room to breathe, and in that, I know there’s supposed to be healing.  Even if it’s slow. 

I know this isn’t much, and I know it’s vague, and I know I’m holding out on a lot and that I wasn’t supposed to be doing that here.  I don’t really know what to say, or I guess how to say it.  But I can leave with this: in everything that it is, God is filling it up even as I’m trying to hold it all inside of me, mostly because He’s still filling me up. 

Here world: Here's my God

 

"I see His love and mercy washing over all our sin...
I see a generation rising up to take their place with selfless faith...
I see a near revival stirring as we pray and seek,
We're on our knees, we're on our knees. Hosanna."

In Matthew 13, the kingdom of heaven is compared to treasure hidden in a field, or a pearl of great value.  In both instances, the one in search of these great treasures sells everything he has to buy it.

That's how I'm feeling right about now.

When you spend weeks, days, hours with God, He starts to show you things you don't even think you're asking for.  And when you're face to face with such great conviction, harsh and real direction, undeniable Truth, you can't for a second pretend you could even try to disobey.  Like the perfect father He is, He directs me; He tells me how to move. 

You see, when I began blogging about all the ways God was breaking my heart, I truly thought He was simply doing me this favor.  I truly thought He was just helping me out.  Only here I am now, and I'm starting to see that it was only the beginning.  Because there is no limit to God's perfection.  Where He is perfect in saving me, of freeing me of all the things I've been bound by (some, for my whole life), He is also perfect in redeeming the world.  His perfection does not exist merely in the capacity of my own life.  He has perfected righteousness.  He has perfected love.  He has perfected sacrifice.  He has perfected justice.  And as He's emptied me of all the things that were eating me from the inside out, He's filling me with Himself.  I can feel it.

I am just realizing the realness of the fact that I am a part of His plan; He is not a part of mine. 

This isn't about me anymore.  I mean, it was never about me.  But my heart's desire is not about me anymore.  I feel like God is calling this city to wake up.  I feel like God is calling this world to wake up.  I am realizing that He is pulling me to move, to stand, to speak.  He is calling me to use any ounce of boldness or conviction I possess in my soul to show my world who He is. 

Nothing even makes sense anymore.  But everything does.  I think of how it will look, that the "word of the cross is folly" to this campus (1 Corinthians 1:18).   

But I am not ashamed, for I know Whom I have believed and I am convinced that He is able to guard until that Day what has been entrusted to me.  -2 Timothy 1:12

My mind, my heart, my soul- they're set on one thing.  I've never been so consumed by God that I could not think about anything else.  I can just feel Him; I can feel Him calling me, moving me, challenging me to stand up for Him.  I can feel it.  And I can't even see where He's telling me to move, I'm just walking because I trust Him more than I ever have.  I don't even know what He's doing, but I'm giving up my world for Him because I can think of no better way to spend my time but to take up that cross, sell everything I have, and follow Him.  He didn't call me to the "spirit of timidity" I've been hiding behind for so many years, but "of power" (2 Timothy 1:7)-- His spirit, His power.  He has called me to "pursue righteousness, godliness, love, steadfastness, and gentleness" (1 Timothy 6:11).

He does not want me to sit still, to stay here, and I can't anymore.  Not when He's like: HEY.  HEY, YOU.  MOVE.

Everything else is falling away as I'm realizing that change starts with submission.  I used to say what God could and couldn't do.  I used to put Him in that box I talked about; I used to say where He fit.  I used to say what God had the capability of achieving.  I used to think money could stop Him, or inadequate resources, or inadequate people, but then I realized the world can't stop God.  The only thing He needs is adequate submission, adequate obedience, from adequate faith- from adequate love. 

I used to believe this could possibly be just about me and what I could do with Him.  And when I would think further into that, I would realize that I'm just one person; I'm just some girl in some college in some part of the world.  What am I supposed to do?  The answer: nothing.  Nothing at all.  Stop trying.  Let Him do. If God wanted an army, He'd call an army.  But He's calling me.  So He's going to use me, despite my many inadequacies, because I love Him.  And because He knows just how much that is.  And I have faith, like I've never possessed before now, that He is going to provide the other appendages to this body, to His body, for me to work alongside. 

This isn't about me, about what I'm doing, or these pretty words I search my most extended vocabulary for.  This is about God's glory, guys.  This is about the saving He is about to do.  This is about the reviving of dead faith, dead hearts, He is about to perform.  This is about how He doesn't have a limit of miracles to which He is contained.  This is about how He's told me He has a plan and nothing in this world, in this school, in our unbelief is going to stop Him now. 

So this is what fervency is about. 

For consider your calling, brothers: not many of you were wise according to worldly standards, not many were powerful, not many were of noble birth.  But God chose what is foolish in the world to shame the wise; God chose what is weak in the world to shame the strong.  - 1 Corinthians 1:26-27

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I am His.

My spirit's hurt, but it's not broken.  My heart- it aches, but it's not empty.  Not for this, not this time.

I'm so excited to move from here; I praise my God, my Savior, my King, my Love, my Heart, my Joy, my Purpose, my Worth, my Truth, and my Comfort the things- the possessions, the feelings, the love not rooted in Him- that He is freeing me of.  I praise Him the room He is making in my heart for more of Him.  I praise Him the chains that He is shedding from my wrists, the straps that I've been bound by- they're being torn.

This isn't easy.  It's never been easy.  And that's where He works.  That's where He reveals to me who He is more clearly.  I say that in full confidence, of His strength.  Because I didn't know it before, but I'm so sure of it now. 

 

        I GAINED it so,
        By climbing slow,
By catching at the twigs that grow
Between the bliss and me.
        It hung so high,
        As well the sky
        Attempt by strategy.

I said I gained it,---
        This was all.
Look, how I clutch it,
        Lest it fall,
And I a pauper go;
Unfitted by an instant's grace
For the contended beggar's face
I wore an hour ago.
- Emily Dickinson

"And when I fall, I fall in You"

 

"[People like to pretend that in our current struggle, it can't get worse because Paul says that God does not throw struggles for us to bear that surpass our ability to handle them.]  That's not true; it can always get worse."

I put that in quoted brackets because the wording is mine, but the thought was not. 

My sister gave me some derivation of that (thanks Sis).  And how true I am finding it is.  We struggle and we hurt and it's hard, but His promise isn't to only give us a limited amount of difficulty to our lives-- His promise is to give us strength to see them (the struggles) through, a "way of escape" found through full trust in His deliverance.

No temptation has overtaken you that is not common to man.  God is faithful, and He will not let you be tempted beyond your ability, but with the temptation He will also provide way of escape, that you may be able to endure it. - 1 Corinthians 10:13

I read through some of Matthew today.  It was strange;  I was sitting in my Anthropology class and my professor was talking about laborers, and carpenters, and I couldn't wait to get out because I needed to open up my Bible.  When he dismissed us, I went straight to Memorial Union and settled into a comfy chair to hear what God had to say.  Matthew was the book I thought of-- I'm not exactly sure why, other than wanting to read about the work Jesus did while he was walking on earth. 

This is what He told me in the time I spent with Him:

Seek first the kingdom of Heaven.

When you pray, pray that My will be done.

Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness, for I will satisfy them. 

Faith is all I'm asking for, but I ask for it wholly.

This week has been a big week of prayer for us at the Zou.  The ministries here have joined to focus on the power of prayer to our God that connects to us individually, our God that works for us and not against us, our God that hears, and listens, our God that has the strength to move this school in ways we cannot imagine.  We have a common meeting area in a church on campus that's been open for the last seven days, 24 hours a day, for us to go in and pray together (or separately).  Last night, I went in with a few girls from Crusade and we prayed together, and I can honestly say that it was the best communication I've had with Him... maybe ever. 

He's been showing me more about patience and obedience in my growth than I've ever cared to ask Him for before now.  He's showing what it means to be faithful and trusting in the most difficult times to give up my fight for control, when things are so hard that I can't understand what He's doing.  He's showing me what it means to be blessed through His infinite and unconditional love for me, His loving desire to show Himself to me more fully, the ways He works for me and not against me, and how every single way I embrace Him fulfills His will for my life.

And when I read in Matthew today the way Jesus shows us how to pray (because there is no desire we have that God does not already know), prayer to God took on a whole new meaning.  That prayer he gave us looked different than it ever has to me.  Because I'm beginning to see what surrendering to His will really looks like.  I'm beginning to feel, not simply know, the Truth in the fact that nothing is greater than my God that is for me, than His plans that are for me, than His love that is for me. 

Rejoice in the Lord always; again I say, Rejoice.  Let your reasonableness be known to everyone.  The Lord is at hand; do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.  And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.
- Philippians 4:4-7

The words don't start until about 1:40 or so.  It's worth the wait though. (:

"Love takes off the mask we fear we cannot live without, and know we cannot live within"

 

Even when I ask God to break me, I put Him in my own little box that I clearly and systematically label, "How God Can Break Me."  And every time, I see that He's much too big to fit in my boxes. 

I tell Him to take my burden and I hold it to my shoulders like it's a lifeline; I tell Him I find peace in Him and I stress over things I know He is in  full control of.  I hate admitting the ways I feel I don't know how to trust Him, when He's blatantly working before my stubborn eyes  I cannot seem to open.

There's a spirit that lives inside me, that makes me more aware of everything I try so hard to ignore.  He makes me alive, and He makes me feel- fully.  Even when it hurts, even when it's so good that it hurts.  Even when it's so uncertain and unknown that I don't know how to hurt.  He makes me feel that all.

And it's hard, and it's challenge, but it's growth and it's beautiful.

"You're 'in it' right now, aren't you?"

 

I watched Garden State for the first time in a while the other night with a beautiful little friend of mine. It isn't that the film is such a deep learning or move-you-to-think type of watch, or even a bring-a-new-not-yet-thought-of-concept-to-the-table kind of movie. But it does have an identifiable aspect of the characters' struggles that is easily recognized, an awkward realness that is both entertaining and raw, funny and depressing.  Plus, I just really think the filming techniques are kind of brilliant.  But that's besides the point. 

I guess it's semi-weird to admit that I was affected even after the movie was over.  It genuinely made me feel down a little. I think it was strange for me to recognize how similar my life had looked compared to his (the main character).  Because we all feel that sometimes, right?  Like life seems to be the prominent antagonist in our own story.  But that isn't where the similarities ended.  Not only is life his antagonist, but he runs from it too.  The whole movie is about this guy who chooses to live in life, instead of living it, because it's easier that way.

I think I thought about it so much because my pretty friend and I had a good long conversation about it afterward- what simply "living in life" has looked like for us. One of the biggest challenges for me since I hit the mighty idea that I was going to learn to love (because that's the only real way to live) is letting go of my past, and yet not forgetting the way's He's grown me through it.  I always find myself pulling too far to one extreme or the other, never quite hitting the nail on the head.  If I wasn't dwelling on the things I could not change, I was shoving the things I could far from sight, out of fear.  And while He has been revealing Himself to me in ways I had not anticipated by any stretch of the imagination, all that stuff is still there.  All the ways I cowered, all the things  I chose not to say, all the instances I walked away, all the secrets my heart still holds, all the lies I told myself could change things.  They're all still there.  And funny story: the lies didn't change things.

I know He is still healing, and I know, for that, we're on His time.  Patience is something I'm learning to embrace openly as He takes every little stain my heart has held and trades it for Himself, with such executed and precise detail. 

I praise Him the time He's taking as I learn more and more about obedience and submission to the Holder of that [MY] heart, the Love of my life.  And I think He's having a good time showing me how to live, in true love and true faith-- faith that moves by, and stands up through, the God of the universe.

"you cut me down to size, and opened up my eyes, made me realize what I could not see"

 

I hate that I'm a failure; I hate that I'm never going to live up to this image of perfection I have built up in my mind.  I hate that in all my striving, I won't attain it.  I hate it, and yet-- I love it.  Oh, the humility.

I love that He works in me.  I love that He works through me.  And I love that He works for me.  I love that I am not great, I am not amazing, I am not perfect, but He is.  I listened to a Tommy Nelson sermon this morning about Gideon, about His willingness to make a great tool from a small servant.  I was incredibly encouraged to hear Mr. Nelson put it so directly:

"God does not look for great men, or great women; He looks for very defeated, humiliated, ignorant ones, who are willing to let Jesus Christ be their life, their wisdom, their righteousness, and their sovereign.  That's where greatness is born from-- out of the hull of weakness."

What an important message I find so easy to miss at times.  When God calls me to something big- or anything at all- what is my immediate response?  I admit in shame that it is some form of doubt.  In myself.  And only because I've forgotten that God calls me to do something, as His hands.  His vessel.  It isn't from my power or strength, but His Spirit working through my life.  His love becomes an outpour in my words, in my actions.  And none of it is from me.  How beautiful.  The story of salvation is not one in which I am earning my place in heaven with how I am perfecting myself here, on earth.  If that were the case, I wouldn't be "trying" anymore.  There isn't an amount of "good things" I could accomplish that would cancel out the amount of times I've turned my back on Him.  There are no acts of myself that could "make me right" with God.  If that were the case, Christ died for nothing. 

I said before that I really love the story of how God transformed Paul's life.  Before God called Paul out, he was murdering His followers.  Paul had the blood of God's beloved on his hands.  And God said: I don't care who YOU are or what you can do, I'm God; And I'm going to use you. 

And He did.  Paul's testimony is incredibly real.  And not because of how Paul turned his life around, got his act together, did all the right things, became perfect.  No.  It's amazing because God made it amazing.  And Paul willingly professes just that:

I have been crucified with Christ.  It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me.  And the life I live in the flesh I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.  I do not nullify the grace of God, for if righteousness were through the law, then Christ died for no purpose.

- Galatians 2:20-21

“It’s like forgetting the words to your favorite song”

 

Sometimes its harder to hold on
and if i keep my eyes open long enough
I know there can’t be sleep,
and I don’t remember when I cant find sleep,
Sometimes its hard to breathe
when I know there isn’t any time left
and I recount all these memories
as those that I’ve lost;
Sometimes this is fair--
to forget
and I’d like to think I’m fair
where this is concerned.
Sometimes it’s hard to let go
I retrace my steps in my mind
all the words that were left unsaid--
sometimes those were the best left unheard.
Because sometimes it’s harder to hold on.

 

Sometimes, I get a “writer’s block” and words don’t come as easy as my thoughts.

I have a woman crush.

And I held my tongue as she told me, “Son, fear is the heart of love.” So I never went back.

 

It’s amusing that I’d forgotten what it was like to hear about Jesus for the first time—I mean, the Truth.  I “knew” who Jesus was for as far back as I can remember, but I went a long time unaware of what He did for me, how He would change me.  It feels like I’ve known Him my whole life now, though.  I guess that’s half true.  He’s known me my whole life.  And He’s been the root of any life I’ve ever known.

I first heard the gospel presented in a hint of its glory when I was 14 years old.  For 14 years prior to that, I wasn’t interested in anything God was offering.  I played the church game; if I remember correctly,  I called myself a Christian—threw the term around loosely, not grasping its meaning even slightly.  But I knew He wasn’t for me.  And I didn’t have many friendly encounters with His “kids," either.  My mom would force us to go to Mass every once in a while, and I’d get my gold star attending Sunday School.  In one minute, I was serving at the altar in service- and in the next, debating with the teacher the actual significance of any of the “garbage” she was teaching, never acknowledging the hypocrisy streaming from my words.
She would tell my whole class what we needed to do to get to Heaven.  She would tell me that if anything, I should be afraid of what would happen if I didn’t serve God.  She told me that if God was love, fear was at the root. All I could hear was how I was wrong, how I needed to ask forgiveness of all my sins.  But I had way too much fun provoking them with my “bad behavior.”  And what did repentance even mean, anyway?  I laughed through my first Confession, and Father John told me I could cure my unbelief with 10 Hail Mary’s and an Our Father.  Maybe God was God, but I was too far gone for Him to pay any attention to me.  I didn’t get His systems and rules—there was no way I could commit to all of them, and that was that.

I recount these things, and feel slightly ridiculous.  And for the record, I am in no way trying to hate on the church I grew up in.  There are plenty of people from that church that I can look back on now and know that they served God, or genuinely had my best interest at heart.  Much of my misunderstanding and misconceptions of who God is was born from ignorance and my disinterest in seeking actual Truth.  All of this to punctuate the following events. 

God, the Puppet Master, just wanted to pull the strings on everything in my life and control what I clearly had in control; I wouldn’t give Him the satisfaction.  So imagine my surprise, when walking into a classroom in my high school’s math wing on a random morning of the first semester of my freshman year, I hear people talking to Him.  There wasn’t a priest.  And they weren’t praying a prayer I’d ever learned.  (Let me tell you, when you’re getting ready to make your Confirmation, you learn those prayers.)  This wasn’t one of them. 

And that was it.  One seed planted.  To grow… to this. 

It began with pure curiosity.  I didn’t get it; these Christians weren’t anything like the judgmental, condemning stereotypes I’d squeezed them into.  The opposite, actually.  And the story was different than the way I’d heard it.  They were making it sound like God was… for me.  They were preaching this story of hope, and of redemption, and love.  I’d never heard anything so crazy.  But they looked like they believed it.  Their lives reflected this compassion that agreed with the lessons they were teaching, They lived like they believed the stories I sat in a crowded basement to listen to every Thursday night, soaking it all in like a sponge, coming back for this unexplainable fill every week.

And it just kept growing, over four years, a never-ending cycle of failing over and over only to sit in His love and be reminded of how great He is, and how much less I needed to be on my own.  The most amazing part is His persistence.  He has pursued me.. all my life.  And I was never willing, but He didn’t need me to be.  I have always been stubborn, set in my ways, slow to admit the ways I’m wrong, but He captured me.  I fought Him all the way here, and He didn’t give up.  He let me throw punches like a child throwing her tantrum, and stood there waiting for my fits to cease.  Every time.  I’m amazed at His patience.

I remember reading the letters for the first time, and Acts.  I remember falling in love with Paul’s story, with how God transformed his heart—just like He’d transformed mine.  I remember realizing the power of transformation of the heart as I read that I was something entirely new, no longer defined by what I did or what was in the world, but instead by Christ. 

I remember the first time I read Isaiah 40-44, and was just overwhelmed by a God that was first and foremost before anything, and everlasting. I remember looking at the words before me that shed light on the history of Israel, God’s people, and I recall being captivated by His faithfulness to a people that were so unfaithful.  Because I was Israel. And He told Israel to fear nothing; He told Israel of His love for her; He told Israel there was only one savior and that He was there for redemption.  To redeem her, to win her back, to restore her forever.  I read how He was the God who would “blot out” my transgressions and how He’d throw them out, remembering them no more (Isaiah 43:25).  I sat in comfort knowing that I didn’t have to win His affection; I didn’t have to work for His love.  He just gave it to me. 

I think it’s important that I recall this often, that I remember exactly how He rescued me.  Because I am that girl.  I’m His girl.

I’m the girl He called to Him, the girl He freely redeemed, the girl He loved before she knew what love could be.

I read of His promise to me:

Behold I have engraved you on the palms of my hands;  your walls are continually before me.
-Isaiah 49:16

And I, an Israel of sorts, write on my hand:

“The Lord’s,” and name [myself] by the name of Israel.
-from Isaiah 44:5

“There now, steady, love; so few come and don’t go”

 

Someone was making fun of me recently (story of my life) about the fact that I label myself a realist because sometimes I refuse to live in a fantasy world where everything is a possible attempt at greatness, where every moment we breathe is worry-free because we’re still “ok", and beauty still exists.  Oh, the nerve I possess sometimes. 

Last week, I was sitting in the lounge studying (and, ok, maybe people- watching a little bit) and overheard the girl sitting next to me explain into her phone that “he told her he’d leave his fiancé for her, but she wasn’t ready to leave her boyfriend yet.”  I was done listening after I heard that.  It was made apparent the extent to which our generation has been desensitized to unfaithfulness and infidelity as I’d heard her explain the situation in a level tone while multi-taskingly checking her facebook, half listening to the person on the other line.  I, however, am not desensitized.

Seeing people- witnessing the world- love so conditionally, and emptily, and falsely has always been hard for me.  Because, even before I knew it had been defined by God, I believed in love.  And I believed in its ability to sustain forever.  [Interesting coming from self-proclaimed cynicism; I am aware.] 
I never understood how people could place the ones they loved in unfair or callous and obstinate positions… willingly, in some circumstances.  It’s not enough that we unintentionally hurt the ones we say we love, but there are those of us that choose to hurt the ones we claim to love when we can help it.  And why?  Selfishness.  There is never a reason to place someone into such miniscule importance unless you’ve determined that your well-being and joy is somehow above theirs.  But I guess that’s where I’d argue that your love for said person cannot possibly be so strong—if you can’t make their joy and well-being priority over yours.

It’s strange.  I believe that, yet I count myself quite selfish on many an occasion with many a person I myself have claimed to love.  It’s another one of those things that’s “just the way of the world,” as I’m learning.  The incredibly cool thing is that I know the difference.  I don’t look at the empty form of love man has learned to abuse one another with and imagine that its touched its full potential.  I know love when I see it.  And I dare say I’ve seen it.

I’ve actually been reading a true love story, and sitting in the wonder of it, noting its purity and loveliness.  One in which a broken soul so undeserving was rescued from the depth of large darkness and redeemed by a Savior, the definitive Defender that created light. And everyday I am silenced and stilled by the beauty of it.  The beauty of His effortless success of greatness.
And it is an absolute wonder to me that I can be so “realistic,” so cynical, about the abilities of love to conquer in my life.  How can I look at the story of his life, leaking of sacrifice and fairness and at the same time,salvation and faithfulness, and doubt the power that love had when it nailed my failings to the cross?  How can I look at my hurt, the brokenness I kept hidden, knowing that I’ve never been capable of healing myself, and not see how great His affection is for me? 

It’s incredible how it’s written around us: love.  I am fascinated, captivated, entranced, overwhelmed, overcome--absolutely in love-- with it: love.

“Love is more than three words mumbled before bedtime.  Love is sustained by action, a pattern of devotion in the things we do for each other every day.” – Good ol’ Nick Sparks

Prone to wander, LORD I FEEL IT, prone to leave the God I love; Here’s my heart, Lord. Take and seal it; seal it for Thy courts above.

 

This weekend I spent by a lake beneath the stars in the country.  Campus Crusade plans this trip called “Fall Getaway” which is basically a … getaway.  Friday night, after the first session, our campus had us break up into smaller teams and talk about what we were hoping to get out of our time away.  My answer was that I wanted to reconnect with my Father, and give true recognition as to what I’m really doing here (in college).  His plans were just that, and then some.

The last week has been such an insane time of realization, reconnection, and resonating Truth to an extent that is just overwhelming.  Spare time that I possessed I wanted to spend reading His Word, because I had a literal need to expel everything inside of me that was further separating me from my Savior, the Man that died to set me free, the God that sacrificed to make me clean.  I needed my heart to be cleaned.  I needed to counter all the lies I’d stored up in my head with Truth, His Truth.  I needed it.  I read through the gospel of John.  Spread over 3 days, I read it like a story.  I read the story of Jesus’ life.  And death.

Because there just came a point that I could deny Love no longer; I could resist Him no further.  And all the foundation of my self collapsed.  And nothing looked more beautiful than my cross on my shoulder—nothing.  Nothing tasted sweeter than His mercy, His abounding Love (that is, love WITHOUT BOUNDS).  I looked at my heart, caught more than a glance, and saw that His name was written there—placed in the depth by the very hands that bore my name.  I looked and saw that His power was inscribed there. How wonderful.
And the “story” I was reading was no longer a story.  It was life.  It was sustaining; it was nourishing; it was food, and I was starving.  So I ate.  So I tasted, and saw that it was good.  I held His book in my hands and saw that it- the Truth- was good; it was more real than…this, than where I am, than the world.  It was more reality than my own skin.  And I believed that it was good.  And I believed that it was TRUE.  And I ate.

This weekend they showed us this little “pump-up video” one night (as Michael called it).  It was from a sermon by a Dr. S. M. Lockeridge in 1976.  In it, He vividly describes the attributes of God and there were some things that just struck me.  So I looked up the sermon when I got home and wanted to take a few (okay, many) excerpts to share here (but the whole spiel is pretty good; it’s only six and half minutes, so take the time to listen to it all).  These were just my favorite parts:

“My King was born King…
My King is the only one of whom there are no means of measure that can define His limitless love. No far seeing telescope can bring into visibility the coastline of the shore of His supplies. No barriers can hinder Him from pouring out His blessing…
He's enduringly strong. He's entirely sincere. He's eternally steadfast. He's immortally graceful. He's imperially powerful. He's impartially merciful. That's my King…
He stands alone in Himself…
He's unparalleled. He's unprecedented. He's supreme. He's pre-eminent. He's the grandest idea in literature. He's the highest personality in philosophy…
He's the superlative of everything good that you choose to call Him. He's the only one able to supply all our needs simultaneously. He supplies strength for the weak. He's available for the tempted and the tried. He sympathizes and He saves…
He forgives sinners. He discharged debtors. He delivers the captives. He defends the feeble…
…my King is a King of knowledge. He's the wellspring of wisdom. He's the doorway of deliverance. He's the pathway of peace. He's the roadway of righteousness. He's the highway of holiness. He's the gateway of glory…
His Word is enough. His grace is sufficient. His reign is righteous. His yoke is easy, and His burden is light. I wish I could describe Him to you . . . but He's indescribable. That's my King. He's incomprehensible, He's invincible, and He is irresistible…
The Pharisees couldn't stand Him, but they found out they couldn't stop Him. Pilate couldn't find any fault in Him. The witnesses couldn't get their testimonies to agree about Him. Herod couldn't kill Him. Death couldn't handle Him and the grave couldn't hold Him. That's my King…
He always has been and He always will be. I'm talking about the fact that He had no predecessor and He'll have no successor. There's nobody before Him and there'll be nobody after Him. You can't impeach Him and He's not going to resign. That's my King!”

He, to RESCUE me from danger, interposed his precious blood.

That’s MY King.

The Millionth Time’s the Charm

 

This week has been nothing but solid encouragement.  I used to pray that God would break me, make me completely uncomfortable, tire me of the strength I always pretended to have, to be vulnerable, and open, and aware of how dependent I am on Him. 
I think I’ve talked so much and to so many people in the last 5 days that my throat is starting to feel a little dry.  Before I got here… that just wasn’t me.   I’ve broken a lot of “never-will-I-evers” I’d previously possessed since I got here; that one takes the cake.

I also used to pray that God would show me real community.  When I first read about that first church in Acts, I fell in love. 

“Now the full number of those who believed were of one heart and soul, and no one said that any of the things that belonged to him was his own, but they had everything in common. And with great power the apostles were giving testimony to the resurrection of the Lord Jesus, and great grace was upon them all.” – Acts 4:32-33

I never really took into account that I had to be open with people before they could be my community, though.  I was too often discouraged with the Body, accusing fellowship of being fake or empty.  I didn’t know I was a part of the problem.  I was fake with the Body. 

Sharing my joy was always easier than sharing my burdens, so the people I loved often only saw one side of me.   But, there is so much beauty in letting my family carry my burdens with me that I’ve been missing all this time.  I praise God His love for me that I am seeing in my peers as they care, and carry.  I praise His pursuits for me and the people He’s kept here, waiting for this, waiting for me. 
I heard this song, and though I am not a fan of the style at all, I really liked these words:

Last time we spoke, you said you were hurting,
And I felt your pain in my heart;
I want to tell you that I keep on praying,
Love will find you where you are,
I know cause I've already been there,
So please hear these simple truths:
Be strong in the Lord and never give up hope,
You're going to do great things; I already know,
God's got His hand on you so don't live life in fear,
Forgive and forget, but don't forget why you're here.

It’s been such an amazing occurrence to see the family of God come together to lift up the broken parts, working simultaneously to heal, working for His purpose, and most definitely to His glory.  I’ll just keep standing in awe of that. 

I am filled to empty, to be humbled… to be reminded that I’m nothing if not desperate

 

“For the death he [Jesus] died to sin, once for all, but the life he lives he lives to God.  So you also must consider yourselves dead to sin and alive to God in Christ Jesus.” -Romans 6:10-11

When I finally let God break me all the way, I saw nothing but the ground.  Face to face with all my weakness in the dirt that was my own shame, all the brokenness I tried to conceal with my empty smile and glamour entirely revealed, I was relieved to be defeated. 

I was relieved to be fully convinced that I am still in need of Him.  I am still nothing without Him, and nothing in the world that I have found has been able to satisfy that in me.  

I’d done a good job so far of victimizing myself.  I began separating myself from God a long time ago, with each day I spent away from Him telling myself I didn’t know how to be near Him.  It started with the notion that I could just quit listening for a while, until it go to the point that I couldn’t remember how to hear Him anymore.  And I liked the way my thoughts sounded better.  And I didn’t like that I didn’t look like everyone else in the world anyway.  And I let myself fall out of love with God—because I traded Him for the world.  All along I’d been imagining God standing with His back to me as each attempt to be more glorious than Him, each selfish thought, each night, each drink, each kiss, made me more numb.  I imagined wrong, though.

Because I turned my back on Him before any of that happened.  I let myself fall for the world – that looked so pretty, so enticing, so easy- and I broke His heart in the midst.  And when I got to the inside (of the world), it wasn’t beautiful at all.  It was disgusting.  It was filled with .. nothing, absolutely nothing that I was looking for.  It was ugly.  And I was ugly for my attachment to it.

In the shame of all I’ve let myself sell into, I didn’t want to face Him.  There is truth to the fact that I’m not good enough to do so.  He is so good; and I am nothing in comparison to that.  But the point of the cross wasn’t only death, but counteractively to the death of sin, life in Christ.  He died for redemption.  He died to free.  I don’t have to stand before Him with just my flesh; if that were the case, then I wouldn’t be able to.  I can stand before Him with the cross, though.  With full confidence that Jesus has interceded for me.  That his death wasn’t for nothing, but for everything that I’m fighting for now.

I am doing my best to allow my heart to be emptied of all my greed for things, and rather let it cling to Him in the process.  I am falling back in love with who He is, because I am seeing how great His love is for me.  How long He’s been standing there for me, just waiting for me to turn around. How nothing I’ve done has made Him any less of what He is.  How He can stay so faithful to a daughter that has been nothing but faithless.

I’ve got doors and windows boarded up; all your dead end fury is not enough.

 

I didn’t really prepare for college much-- emotionally.  I figured it’d be tough and all that… but I didn’t anticipate this, in all honesty.  When I left for college, I was comfortable with where I was at.  Problem number 1.

I hold firmly to the belief that our Father is never done teaching us things.  Never, at any one point in time, have I truly believed that I was finished learning.  The minute I pretend that I don’t have anything left to learn is the same minute I’m de-glorifying the power of God.  Sometimes it feels like I’m just saying that, though.  I can’t help but think that if I really believed that, it should be easier to keep my heart open to the things He’s trying to show me, mold it into a teachable device. 

I guess on some accounts I have kept it open; this blog is here after all. 

College is hard though, guys.  I wasn’t prepared to be so lost when I got here.  When everything is entirely overwhelming and you start seeing things in yourself you didn’t think existed, all you want is to hold on to something a little familiar.  You want to find a ground that you can stand on with both feet, feel confident in anything that you’re doing.  I haven’t had a moment like that yet. Nothing about this place is familiar; nowhere feels like a place I really belong.  And all I’ve done since I’ve gotten here is forced things that are completely unfamiliar into a person I recognize less and less.  A person I know cannot be me, a person I definitely don’t want to spend the rest of my time here becoming.  It is completely confusing to hold these thoughts at the same time that I’m forcing all that unfamiliarity in. 

I’ve always been so arrogant, and stubborn; I never want to admit when I can’t do something on my own.  I always liked to convince myself that I could fix my own heart; I could change it for myself.  I can’t.

But that stubbornness is also what keeps me here.  In this place.  I’m not moving.  I will not be moved from my faith in a God that is bigger than all of it.  I refuse to believe that anything I’ve done has made Him any less of what He is.  I refuse to give into a lie the world is trying to sell to me at such a cheap price that it could ever replace what He’s done to my heart, what He’s done to my life; I could never deny that He gave me life.  Even when I don’t know how to talk to Him; even when I find that the hardest thing to do is stand before Him. 

I am afraid I’ve lost sight of who I am to Him.  I am afraid sometimes that He couldn’t possibly recognize me now, when I don’t recognize myself.  I fear He should be about ready to give up on me; I would be.  But some tell me He’s too good to let me go.  I want to believe that, because in my heart, I am fully aware He’s everything I’m not.  He is so much more than I need to be. 

This song (Wedding Dress by Derek Webb) breaks my heart a little every time I listen to it, because I know I’m breaking His:

If You could love me as a wife
and for my wedding gift: Your life
Should that be all I’d ever need
or is there more I’m looking for?

and should I read between the lines
and look for blessings in disguise
To make me handsome, rich, and wise
Is that really what You want?

I am a whore, I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle
I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put You on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to You

So could You love this bastard child
Though I don’t trust You to provide
With one hand in a pot of gold
and with the other in Your side

I am so easily satisfied
by the call of lovers so less wild
That I would take a little cash
Over Your very flesh and blood

Because money cannot buy
a husband’s jealous eye
When you have knowingly deceived his wife.

I am a whore, I do confess
But I put You on just like a wedding dress
and I run down the aisle,
I run down the aisle
I’m a prodigal with no way home
but I put You on just like a ring of gold
and I run down the aisle to You

I talked to a few good friends today, friends from home.   It was a relief to have that reminder that there are people who still see me, when I can’t see a thing.  I was really missing the things that were able to remind me I have a higher potential, that has nothing to do with what I can do at all—His name is Jesus.  It was like that familiarity was enough to show me this fight- that is so exhausting, so wearing- is still worth it.  Because He’s still fighting for me.

“Don’t give up, because you want to be heard; if silence keeps you, I will break it for you.”

 

Ever play a song so many times you just know it’s going to be worn out by the end of the week, but you keep playing it over on end anyway?  The Troy Tones a cappella version of You Are Loved (Don’t Give Up).  Check that one out; it’s only available on iTunes.  Well-worth the purchase.  If you bought the South High Spring Revue CD, it’s on there, sung by Emily.

I’ve been studying for my Chem exam like a mad woman, but I’m all Chem’ed out for the moment and I’m waiting to meet with my Cru leader so I thought I’d kill some time bloggin’ away.

Last night was the first round in Life Eggs.  I was almost brought to tears… and I haven’t even delivered mine yet.   I’ll take it as a good sign.  There was just something about the honesty and openness of the other girls that was really… inspiring.  And convicting in a weird way.  They did it; there were real struggles shared, hard stuff that they didn’t even know me well enough to trust me with.  It’s only fair that I be equally trusting and tell the whole truth.

And timing was all so interesting because I’d been listening to that song over and over, and thinking about how God never intended for us to go through these hurts and struggles alone.  I’d just gotten so comfortable with everyone at arms length, that I forgot what it was like to have community, to have people that are there to encourage you and talk about the hard stuff, walk in the struggle with you and address where He is present—remind you of His truths when the lies you tell yourself are filling up your own head.  God works through people that way.  I think I used the excuse too often that I couldn’t depend on anybody but God, and didn’t even recognize Him when He was prying through the words of someone who cared about me.

God intended us for community. 

And they devoted themselves to the apostles' teaching and the fellowship, to the breaking of bread and the prayers.  And awe came upon every soul, and many wonders and signs were being done through the apostles.  And all who believed were together and had all things in common.  And they were selling their possessions and belongings and distributing the proceeds to all, as any had need.  And day by day, attending the temple together and breaking bread in their homes, they received their food with glad and generous hearts, praising God ([together, they did that]) and having favor with all the people.  And the Lord added to their number day by day those who were being saved. – Acts 2:42-47

Fellowship, guys.  He created us for togetherness, in Him; He intended for us to walk alongside each other, and I haven’t allowed anyone to be next to me for so long… Sometimes I feel like I don’t even know how to let someone be near me, stand close to me-- much less show me any kind of comfort.  I guess I’m just really lucky that my God is such a persistent God in His pursuits for me. 

I praise Him the people He’s used to break me.  I praise Him the people He’s still using to break me.  I praise Him there are still people that remember who I really am when I’ve forgotten.

Understanding that the Life Eggs are just the things that have made us who we are, pieces of our pasts, makes the whole thing a little bit easier.  And Paul always said that if we have anything to be proud of, it is only our struggles.  Because that means we’re boasting in God’s power to heal.  I found it funny today that to me, “the past” is synonymous with “the struggle.” 

I’ve got something to be shared there, at least.  How else could I even begin to show how remarkable God has ever been made evident to me?

“Come and listen; Come and listen to what He’s done.”

 

The human heart is a complex structure.  It’s got its storage space, spare bedrooms, locks and keys, dusty attic, cold basement.  And windows.  Can’t forget those windows.  Maybe my heart was made with only one window.  Maybe the window is really small.  And maybe its hidden behind shutters. Or a door, a locked door. 

I know that’s not the case, but it seems that way sometimes.  Sometimes my heart seems so… out of reach.  Like maybe even if I found the key and opened that door, or drew open those shutters, there might be a screen, and then curtains.  Anything and everything to keep you out… or everything inside.

Analyzing this for the umpteenth time only reminds me that I don’t want to—I refuse to be this person anymore.  I couldn’t be more genuine when I say that, this time, I really am done keeping everyone at a distance. 

I want Love to quit existing as this idea in my head, and become real in application.

I don’t want to lose all that He is making me.  Yeah, He’s breaking me.  And yeah, that’s really hard sometimes.  I fail.  A lot.  But I swear I’m learning.  And I know that if I just press through it, get through it… He’s going to use it. 

I have a love/hate relationship with this blog.  I won’t lie and say that it’s ever easy to be this honest.  It’s not.  I won’t pretend that I always want to press that square PUBLISH button, so that you can read this, read me, and know the truth.  But I always press it.  I haven’t kept anything in since I started this blog.  It’s all out, for us to see.  And I don’t even know what it’s for; I only know that it’s helped me to see this:

I never want to take someone that I really love for granted again.

I never want to see something that could be so beautiful rot to the core because of something I did.  Or even worse, didn’t do.

I never want to disappoint another person to save myself from feeling.

I don’t want to watch opportunities to give all that I am pass right by me.

The last thing I wanted to do was break your heart; and that was all I did.

I don’t want to look back at the things I destroyed for the rest of my life, and regret every attempt I never made to save them because I was too afraid.  Starting today.  Starting now.

But as for me, my prayer is to you, O Lord.  At an acceptable time, O God, in the abundance of your steadfast love answer me in your saving faithfulness. – Psalm 69:13

Heal me; restore me.

Open that window and let a little air in; let a little of me out.  Or all of it.

“And that was the day that I promised I’d never sing of love if it does not exist”

 

A life egg: something that brings up the need to say that word I really hate (“egg”… not “life”).  A life egg: a compilation of events that have shaped us.  A life egg: what my Cru girls are doing these next couple of weeks.  A life egg: my next test in vulnerability. 

The whole point of the egg is to show the other girls in our group where and what exactly we’re coming from.  It’s not like I can just preface the thing with, “Oh hey, by the way, this makes me more than uncomfortable; I don’t even know you guys.”  How do I explain to the group that I just don’t do stuff like this?  Especially because I want them to feel comfortable around me; I want to be open and share too.  Or I guess, want to want it.

I felt like after I began to open up, it was supposed to get easier from there.  Like after doing it a few times, it was supposed to feel like less of a challenge.  But in all actuality, it’s much harder.  As I’ve started to peel back these layers to get a look at my own heart (to show it to you… and everyone), I’m only realizing that there’s more bulk than I ever cared to notice before.  It runs a lot deeper than I ever saw.

“Some things we
don’t talk about,”
He says.
And I close my lips,
hold my breath
Hold my heart away from my head--
from what I’m thinking,
all the words I want to say.
All my world is crumbling now.
And my eyes watch
each piece on the ground,
bounce with no precision,
nothing is constant--
this is out of control.
This isn’t me,
this is not how I work;
I can’t function like this.
And I think,
maybe I should leave;
maybe I should walk,
put my feet to the ground-
feel something beneath me,
feel how something is
holding me up.
Feel the weight of gravity.
But I can’t let me leave;
tied here, I stay.
Some things we
don’t talk about,
And some things we
just don’t do.
No, I don’t scream;
I retreat with conflict; I run constantly.
I avoid fights;
except to fight for you;
I can’t just walk away,
not like this,
not right now.
But, I hold my breath--
some things we just
don’t talk about.

Today, at The Crossing, the pastor brought up a point that I feel I’ve always come up with in mind, and just never put words to.  He said that we often counter the word “love” with “hate,” but that he believed the exact opposite of love is selfishness.  Number one cause of my largest guilt: selfishness.  I have become consumed by the opposite of Love.  No wonder I can’t hear Him; my own voice is louder in my head. 

In light of these struggles, someone told me that if I was doubting— to doubt, as long as I took guilt out of the equation.  And it hit me at that moment: I don’t doubt love at all.  If there is one thing I believe in at all it is love.  That much is easy.  I don’t for a minute doubt that God is … God.  And that He is love.  I believe in Love like it’s all I have left (because that is all we have); it’s myself that I can’t trust for a second.  I don’t believe in me. 

These days, I’m trying to put a connection between that and the Truth that I don’t have to believe in me, in what I’m capable of… because that’s what Jesus was for.  He did what we were not capable of doing on our own. 

“If you, O Lord, should mark iniquities,

O Lord, who could stand?

But with you there is forgiveness,

that you may be feared.” – Psalm 130:3-4

Heart, let go of your angry grasp on all you want to do on your own.  Heart, break.  Heart, no; you are not capable.  Heart, you don’t need to be. 

Heart, break.

“The Antonym of me, You Are Divinity”

 

“Who is to condemn?  Christ Jesus is the one who died—more than that, the one who was raised—who is at the right hand of God, who indeed is interceding for us.”- Romans 8:34

I’m beginning to like the look of my words as they fill this space on my screen more and more.  I don’t want to make it seem, however, that everyday in my life is this dramatic and prodding experience, pulling insight and deep provocation from inside.  It’s not.  There are days that I wake up and go to class, eat lunch while cramming some serious studying, go back to class, and finish my day watching OTH without even taking a moment to appreciate, consider, or process anything.  There are days I barely use my brain at all, giving it a little rest—that, along with my heart.  There are days I pretend like I’m here to “live my life” and not stand in His name.  Those are the worst.

I have to say: dramatic and prodding experiences are draining, true.  But they are the most useful and rewarding at the end of the day.  The best days here yet have been the ones that have ended in a mini-breakdown, crying (yes, crying) and all.

As each day at the Zou makes the reality of My Present Starting New Life set in, all of it seeming more permanent as every second passes, I am forced to embrace not only change, but the fact that there are no longer people making choices for me in face of these changes.  I can’t go with the crowd on this one.  Such a simple question has become such a daily challenge for me: “Am I going to love the World today, or am I going to love God?”  Sounds like a no-brainer, right?  Is it weak for me to say that it isn’t?  At least not from where I’m standing. 

True Confession: it is an effort to choose God everyday.  It makes me feel incompetent.  But I am aware that I never regret my choice to live for Him instead of the world.  I may feel inadequate for having to choose at all; but I am inadequate when I choose the world.  I am never proud of that choice.  Because I know there is no balance.  It happens, nevertheless: I choose the world sometimes.  And that’s what I’ve been trying to figure out for a while… the recent underlying-not-everyday-consciously-but-most-days-at-least-unconsciously provoking question.  Why is it hard for me to choose what I want?

When I first decided that following the Way and the Truth and the Life was something that sounded at the very least appealing to me, I used to think if I could just juggle God… and my life… well, I’d have it made.  See, there was a disconnect. I wasn’t yet aware that God, and my life… weren’t two separate things.  I cannot juggle God and my life because when I make room for something else to become as valuable to my time, my mind, my heart—there’s nowhere for Him to belong.  He’s a big God.  There’s not enough room for Him, and the world, to occupy me.  Christianity ceased to exist as something that I did, and became something that I am.  Christianity became me.  Because I learned that,

“Those who are in the flesh cannot please God.”- Romans 8:8

There is no way for me to live for the World and for God simultaneously.  I have to choose daily what I’m here for, what I’m doing.  Why isn’t the right choice the one my mind automatically points to, even when it’s what I know my heart truly hungers for—to be closer to my Father?  It’s like a Tug of War where my Body (my Flesh) is on one side of the rope, my Heart on the other, my Mind caught in the middle, the product of its inspiration, my Actions, being the flag.

“Come to Me, you who are weak;

Let My strength be yours tonight.

Come and rest; let My love be your bed.

Let My heart be yours tonight.

Peace be still, peace be still;

Please be still, and know that I am God.

Come, empty cup; Let Me fill you up.”

The truth is: my Flesh, disgusting and weighty, is strong. 

But the better (and more important) Truth is: my God is stronger.

He says, “Come, empty cup; Let Me fill you up.”  So for Him to do that, first my cup must be emptied completely of everything I’ve stored up for me that isn’t Him.  My cup must be emptied of me.  And that is exactly what I’m doing: learning how to empty my cup, so He can fill it.  So He can fill me, again.