4:12

It's such a small thing. Almost silly, really.

For the last couple of years, I always see 4:12 on the clock. By always, I mean that I see it literally every day. And because of my work schedule, sometimes twice a day. It follows me.

4:12 happens to be my birthday (April 12th). The first few times it happened, I thought it was cool, but didn't think much of it. Until it kept happening. Over and over, day after day, without ceasing. 

I am not one to see God in the small things. I am constantly looking for big displays of Him, and even when I see those, I'm a little iffy on whether they're real or not. A critic and a skeptic, that's me!

But you can only see your birthday pop up every day for months on end, before you start to wonder if there's something holy behind it all. Maybe He has something for me here.

It's such a small thing, but now I not only love to see 4:12 roll around, I anticipate it. Sometimes if I see that it's almost 4:12, I will be disappointed because, surely, I'll miss it this time. I looked too soon, I'm too busy to look again. And so many times, I'm surprised by finding my eyes turned at just the right moment.

4:12 has become my daily (and sometimes twice a day) reminder that God loves me, and that He is mindful of me. I can't explain why this happens any other way than to just say that He wants it to.

He says to me "I love you" over and over, day after day, without ceasing. He surprises me daily...daily. 

He didn't have to give me a gift of a daily reminder. He has already done it, by sending His Son, by sending His Spirit, and His word - they are more than enough. And yet, He knows the insecure little girl that I am and embraces it. He delights in showing me, again and again, how much He loves me. He doesn't tire of it, He doesn't weary of me.

It's a small gift maybe, but He makes His presence known in the small things.

Every good and every perfect gift is from above, coming down from the Father of lights with whom there is variation or shadow due to change.

James 1:17

Advent

I don't know what it is about this year.

I've never been one to love Christmas. The season is nice, I like getting together with family, the lights, the general merriment. But I almost always leave the season with disappointment. I'm too much of an idealist, I think, and Christmas just doesn't live up to the hype.

But something about this year is different. I find myself with anticipation. Not giddy, breaking out all the Christmas decorations and singing Jingle Bells at the top of my lungs. It is quiet anticipation.

Hushed.

I find myself anticipating Him.

The idea of a time of advent has never made much sense to me. He came, He did it, I don't get why we look forward to the estimated day of His birth. It just didn't add up for me. Christmas is just an over-commercialized, over-celebrated day, right? Shouldn't I be more focused on believing it year round, day in and day out?

Maybe.

But I can't get this scripture out of my head:

But you, O Bethlehem Ephrathah,

who are too little be among the clans of Judah,

from you shall come forth for me

One who is to be ruler in Israel,

whose coming forth is from of old,

from ancient days.

Therefore he shall give them up until the time

when she who is in labor has given birth;

then the rest of his brothers shall return to the people of Israel. 

And he shall stand and shepherd his flock

in the strength of the Lord,

in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God.

And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great

to the ends of the earth.

And he shall be their peace.

Micah 5:2-5

It resonates deep in my soul. It is an ancient promise, and it was a late promise to those who heard it. 

All of creation had been holding it's breath for that moment. 

Even when this promise was made, years before the fulfillment, they were waiting. I can almost see them with the anticipation in their eyes, hoping against hope that salvation was coming. Despairing because it seemed like it wasn't going to happen.

Maybe I identify with that. With that mixture of despair and hope.

That promise is as much for me as it was for them. But I get to see it. I see it with my eyes, I feel it with my heart, my soul is defined by it. 

I dwell secure and He is my peace.

I am anticipating Him, and I have already received Him. 

Now....and not yet.

I don't know why this year is different. But I feel a deep joy, one that doesn't make sense, bubbling up at the thought of Him, His sacrifice to take on flesh in the most helpless form. To save my helpless form. 

O come Thou Dayspring, come and cheer

Our spirits by thine advent here;

Disperse the gloomy clouds of night,

And deaths dark shadows put to flight.

Rejoice! Rejoice! Emmanuel!

Shall come to thee, Oh Israel!

Mine

Today is a broken day.

There are always days like this that roll around, some worse than others. But nonetheless, it is a broken day.

It's the kind of day where all the lies that are constantly whispered in my ear get turned up a notch. Or twenty. Instead of the sinister, underlying current of lies, there's a roar in my ears, telling me how inadequate, how overly needy, how not enough I am. I hate that.

I know they're lies, I really do. But they feel true. And maybe some of them have some truth to them. Those are the hard ones to ignore. 

I just keep trying to shove them away, or justify them to appease these roaring thoughts. 

But only truth, real truth, can silence them.

As I sat, trying to distract myself away, a whisper penetrates the din of voices..."Mine," He says.

"Mine," He says to the voices, the liar who is filling my brain, trying to claim me as his.

"Mine," He says to me as I try to not listen while simultaneously falling apart because it's all I can hear.

"Mine," He declares over me, not because I am His in this moment, but because I always have been and always will be. And no amount of lies makes that not true.

David calls out to God for help because of his enemies many times. I've never related to it, honestly. Until this.

Be not silent, O God of my praise! For wicked and deceitful mouths are opened against me, speaking against me with lying tongues. They encircle me with words of hate, and attack me without cause.

Psalm 109:1-3

There is always a great battle for my mind, my heart. It is waged anywhere and everywhere. Nothing is off limits to this enemy of mine. He is not compassionate, but goes right for the throat.

But I am not without a protector. The war is won, even if the battle rages. 

Blood has covered me, hidden me, made me whole, made these lies that could be true...untrue.

And He declared me "His." 

It is a mystery I will never understand, but I'll try. It is too glorious for comprehension, but it is my reality. 

Oh, Praise the one who paid my debt and raised this life up from the dead!

Peace

Anxiety.

It can hit at any moment for any reason and sometimes for no reason at all. People who struggle with anxiety (and let's face it, we all have at some point) have all the verses about anxiety memorized backwards and forwards. They've been quoted to us so much that we probably get to a point where it feels like we're mouthing the words as it's being quoted.

Anxiety has been my constant companion in some form or another. Maybe it's not always that panicky, heart beating fast, cold sweat anxiety. It shows up sometimes in my desire for others to like me. It shows up when I sit and imagine all the could-bes. It shows up when I am dissatisfied in my circumstances.

Not everyone's anxiety is about control. Mine is. I hate to write that, I hate to admit that I have control issues. Because that sounds so type A, and really, I'm not type A. I'm not.

But I want to control it all. Or at least, I'm ok with not controlling it, per se, so long as it goes how I want it to.

Then this morning these verses rub right up against what I have struggled with:

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 4:5-7

You probably skimmed it, right? Because we've all heard it. And struggled with it. And decided to just kind of leave it there, because it's too hard to reconcile what this verse says with our realities. I know I have done that.

I have had anxiety because I struggle with God's goodness. Not his goodness in general, but his goodness to me. God is good to others, and I am a leftover. So this whole "making my requests known to God thing" feels futile. Because when you're a leftover, you're just grateful you got in and try not to focus on how you're less than. 

And yet sometimes, with my hands shaking from anxiety, worst-case scenarios flooding my brain, I struggle because I know that he's the giver of all things. But how do I control what happens to me if I ask, and he says no? What if I follow the formula and still nothing happens. How do I protect myself from this very unpredictable, unsafe God?

How do I guard my heart from the God of heaven dashing my hopes and dreams against the rocks of his mighty will?

When you can mouth the words, but not understand them, it's a new level of ignorance.

The answer is at the end. If I make my requests known, then he provides the peace. I thought I had to do the good Christian girl thing and ask, but make sure at the end I say "thy will be done" and then brace for the inevitable blow to my fragile soul when he says no. Sure, I'll ask you, but I'll just be sitting right here out of reach in case you decide to actually do your will. 

He is the giver of all things. Even the things that I thought I had to bring to the table. Peace. He is the giver of peace, even if his answer is no. It isn't up to me to muster up peace, it's not up to me to guard my own heart. He is trustworthy. And if he is trustworthy, then I can ask freely, without feeling like my soul's well-being is dependent on the answer I want. He sees and equips, fills us to the brim and then keeps filling us. 

And he shall stand and shepherd his flock in the strength of the Lord, in the majesty of the name of the Lord his God. And they shall dwell secure, for now he shall be great to the ends of the earth. And he shall be their peace.

Micah 5:4-5

He himself is our peace.

Rejoice! Rejoice!

I woke up with this in my head:

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

It took me about 2 hours off and on of singing it to listen to the words coming out of my own mouth.

It's not a secret that I struggle with joy. Having it, knowing what it is....it seems a mystery. He is teaching me, slowly. 

It's not a coincidence that I woke up this morning with those words on my mind and an overhanging feeling of guilt and shame, not for any particular reason. It comes in waves, washing over, consuming and carrying me out to the depths. 

And yet, before I knew I needed it, I had the answer already there, in the form of an old Christmas song. And it's not even Thanksgiving yet. 

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Me, being me, immediately thought of what an amazing song this was for Israel. (Not that I think they sung this exactly, but probably something like it). After all those years of wandering, captivity, and silence, they are ransomed. It was done. But a lot of them missed it. I might venture to say that most of them missed it, straining to see past the weird guy on the cross to see when the real salvation was coming. Only a few got it. Only a few sang the song.

And then I got ahead of myself. "Won't we rejoice when He comes for us, when he ransoms us?" 

Instead of calling me fool, he just said, "Hey...look."

Isn't what I am anticipating, that day when we can finally rejoice...didn't that already happen? 

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Does my salvation from my captivity of sin, my guilt and shame heaped upon my head, mean any less than it did for Israel? Is it that commonplace for me?

Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter collide. Doesn't the joy I need come from the daily living of these three things?

He has come, it is finished. My soul gives thanks for what he has done. 

May he cause joy to roll forth from our lips. May our eyes be not downcast. May he fill us with the knowledge of him. Wondrous are your deeds, Oh Lord!

Rejoice! Rejoice!

Emmanuel!

Has ransomed captive Israel!

Brokenness Aside

Sometimes I can convince myself that I've moved past some issue...until it rears it's ugly head, showing me that I had pacified it, but not destroyed it.

I believe lies. I believe them easily, freely. I soak them up as truth and allow them to permeate my soul, my perspective, my worship. I don't know why, but I lap them up as truth, baptizing myself in them.

A friend sent me a text this morning: You believe a lot of lies. I already knew this but I had convinced myself that I had somehow managed to either hide that, justify it away, or "right-answered" it away. Wait, I lied to myself? Yup.

I can blame it on so many things, this propensity to absorb lies. I have been under attack for a long time. The enemy is cunning, seeking those he may devour and he has certainly found me to be a tasty snack. Just one quick deceitful thought and there I go down the path of worst case scenarios. He has been grooming me to respond to his lies since I was little when he would present me with the many awful ways a person could die and convincing me that it would most assuredly happen to me. He has upped his game, attacking me more personally, more aggressively. And because I've grown accustomed to his voice, I soak it up.

When my friend sent me that text this morning, an image and a phrase popped in my head. I am standing at the foot of the cross, facing away and the phrase "You wear your lies like a crown of thorns". And sure enough I see on my head this crown of thorns and bracelets of thorns and shackles of thorns, afflicting me, turning me away from Jesus. I punish myself for my perceived worthlessness by inflicting on myself what has been accomplished at the cross. I somehow feel like I should be the martyr because what he has done is not enough.

At the same time, I read in Hebrews this:

For it was indeed fitting that we should have such a high priest, holy, innocent, unstained, separated from sinners, and exalted above the heavens. He has no need, like those high priests, to offer sacrifices daily, first for his own sins and then for those of the people, since he did this once for all when he offered up himself.

Hebrews 7:26-27

He is enough. What he did was more than enough to cover over my multitude of sins and everyone else's too. So when I crucify myself, it takes away the glory of what he has done. Behold, it is finished. He is making all things new. He is making me new. May he change me to reject lies and to hold onto the truth of his enough-ness, his everlasting covenant that he made with me that day at the cross.

Because I am a sinner

If it's not one thing it's another

Caught up in words

Tangled in lies

You are a Savior

And you take brokenness aside

And make it beautiful

Beautiful

Comparison

A lot of what I struggle with can be summed up in this one word - comparison.

I've talked about before how I always feel less than, incompetent, ashamed, and just plain not good enough. No one tells me that these things are true, and quite honestly, not many have done it in the past either. If anything, I have received more praise and less rebuke.

But something about me wants to look around at everybody around me and wonder what they have that is better than what I have. I don't even really have to look long at their lives without seeing my inadequacies as a person. They are more spiritual - they express their love for God better than me. They are more outgoing - they don't have this inexplicable desire to hide in the corner in big groups. They're married and have children, which must mean that they've figured something out that I haven't.

I look at others and measure myself against them. I'll tell you now that it's a very depressing way to live.

Now, I know this isn't just my issue. Pinterest and Facebook are full of quotes to tell you to do your own thing, walk to your own beat, or whatever cliche thing it takes to make you feel better....temporarily.

There's not anything wrong with that, but it misses the point. If just telling myself that I was good enough, that other people's lives are just different, not better, would fix this problem, then I'd be good. I've dealt with this long enough that it should have worked by now.

Unless I look at what is actually wrong with my heart, I won't be able to see why I keep believing these things.

I believe, and yet every nook and cranny of my heart is full of unbelief.

If I compare myself to others, then I'm saying that God is doing something wrong with me. He clearly is doing something with them, that he isn't doing with me, but he should be. So I beat myself up and push harder and end up disappointed again.

Peter tried this too. Peter is my favorite because he seems to be just as off kilter as me a lot of times.

When Peter saw him, he said to Jesus, “Lord, what about this man?” Jesus said to him, “If it is my will that he remain until I come, what is that to you? You follow me!” 

John 21:21

How many times do I do that? How many times a day do I do that? 

I'm processing through what it looks like for me to embrace whatever God has me in. And that means not looking to the right or left, but straight at him. What he's doing with other people isn't better or worse, but it's different. And my story is different than theirs. And undoubtedly, people look at my life and compare and find themselves lacking. I hate that. 

Again, God reminds me that he loves me. And that my story isn't the wrong thing. He is weaving a tapestry of stories that are unique and beautiful. All together they form the beautiful picture of the gospel. The gospel in my life. The gospel in yours. 

Let us be grateful for our stories. Let us rejoice in each other's stories without envy and comparison. Let us worship a good God who makes us different and loves us the same, unfathomable amount. May he root this comparison-less love for each other deep in our souls. He is good to do it.

For the body does not consist of one member but of many. If the foot should say, “Because I am not a hand, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. And if the ear should say, “Because I am not an eye, I do not belong to the body,” that would not make it any less a part of the body. If the whole body were an eye, where would be the sense of hearing? If the whole body were an ear, where would be the sense of smell? But as it is, God arranged the members in the body, each one of them, as he chose. If all were a single member, where would the body be? As it is, there are many parts, yet one body.

1 Corinthians 12:14-20

.....Love does not envy....

1 Corinthians 13:4

Why I Write

I've been thinking about why it is that I write. Not so much why I write in general, but why I write publicly. 

It's very counterintuitive for me to put this out there. It goes against a lot of my natural tendencies to be private, save face, and have everyone think that everything is fine. That's who I really want to be.

But God, for some reason, told me to write. And so I have written. Not a lot, but enough. 

And now I find myself wondering why? Why is it necessary to put all this emotional baggage out there? Why do people need to know what I think? I don't feel that I contribute anything to the ocean of voices in this never-filled-up void of the internet. Surely others are more eloquent (and they are). Surely someone else understands who God is better than me (and they do). My story is not even that unique...you could definitely google "Christian bloggers" and come up with way more interesting people, with may more spiritual things to say, who have tons of followers (as they should).

So why me? Why write? Why throw all caution to the wind and expose my struggles here?

Over the past few years there have been many videos posted. Videos that tell of the specific redemption in people's lives. They really are beautiful. I cry when I watch almost all of them. The couple that struggled with infertility and found God to be faithful, either in giving a biological or an adopted child. The wife of the unfaithful husband who loved him anyway through God's power, showing him Jesus, and he repents, and now they have a huge ministry. The marriage that could only have come together through God's mercy, because of some horrible thing in one or both of their pasts. 

These videos and stories are great. I love to see them, because I love to see how God has worked in others' lives. But there's a problem.

I keep waiting for my life to be wrapped up in a bow by the Lord. Everything will come together and it will all make sense. A 4 minute and 45 second video can be made about how God has redeemed me while worship music swells in the background at the joyous moment when it all comes together.

And that's why I write. That's why I tell my story. Because as amazing as those videos are, they don't do the beauty of God's redemption full justice. They are the big, bold Hallelujah. But most days, for most people, are not the Hallelujah.

Most of our days consist of please Gods, and whys, and hows. We struggle to make sense of it all. 

Without our daily struggle to believe God is who he says he is, and does what he says he will do, the Hallelujah is minimized. It becomes more of a Yay, and not a deep, guttural praise to our Father. 

I write publicly so that others can see God in my brokenness. Because it is only when I am broken that he can heal. And his healing is so much more than big moments. It's every day, when he calls my name, over and over, calls me back to look in his face. It's every day, when he sustains me and holds me close, even though I only want to ask why. His sanctification in my life is full of his glory.

He is the God of the big picture and the God of every day. They complement each other. And if someone can look at my every day and glimpse the big picture, then this writing is not for nothing. 

Let the words of my mouth and the meditation of my heart be acceptable in your sight, O Lord, my rock and my redeemer. 

Psalm 19:14

Reality

The Lord your God is in your midst,

a mighty one who will save;

He will rejoice over you with gladness;

He will quiet you by his love;

He will exult over you with loud singing.

Zephaniah 3:17

I started to write a very different blog post last night, and I scratched it. It just wasn't right to write now.

I have been silent. Many of you have noticed and asked why. Thank you for asking why. I'm sorry I haven't had much answer for you.

I could tell you why I've been silent. All the little reasons that have contributed to my discouragement. My depression. Let's call it what it is. 

Ultimately, me running through all those things doesn't help. That's what's gotten me here, to this dark place. Dark doesn't actually accurately describe it - it's very gray here. It's apathy, it's grieving, it's discouragement.

All these things have added up to feel like reality. They do seem so real. They feel real, they look real, and it feels like everyone can see this reality of mine. It feels like others are disappointed in my reality. I'm disappointed in what feels like my reality.

He is so good. He is so good. He is so good.

The title of this blog is accurate. He binds. I wander. I always wander, I allow myself to be thrown around by the waves of life. Life will throw me and I can either look at the waves and tremble, or I can stand firmly, looking at my real reality.

His eyes are so clear. My reality is full of Him. My reality is that this reality is not my reality. His blood is poured out to make what looks like my reality, not real. My reality is full of grace, joy, laughter, tears from the depths of gratitude, mercy. 

A friend sent me the verse at the top of this page several months ago, saying that the Lord gave it to him for me. I honestly couldn't receive it. I don't know that I fully receive it now. But it's my reality. 

May I hear Him singing loudly over me. May the things that drag me down not drown out His precious voice. 

May I rejoice over Him with gladness.

Sovereign

There's a lot going on.

That's probably an understatement. It feels like everything is going on. And none of it is good.

The world feels like it's falling apart this summer. Ebola, beheadings, riots. That's just the tip of the iceberg. 

I've been listening to a lot of NPR. Laugh if you want, but I'm feeling much more informed now. As much as I can, I know what's happening all over the world. And I feel the weight. 

It's so easy to get angry and to have opinions both pro and con about ice bucket challenges, military action, injustices of all kinds, healthcare (or lack thereof). We are an opinion forming people, right? It's our right to do so. 

So Facebook is full of it. The media is full of it. I'm full of it.

And it's not necessarily bad to form opinions, to be educated about the world. But it's also really hard. 

I honestly don't want to know a lot of the information I'm getting. It's so much easier to ignore it and just live life, because when you look at all the bad things that are happening, you start to wonder where is God? Maybe not so much where is he, but what, exactly, is he doing?

It's been a summer of world chaos. And maybe a little chaos in my own head, trying to figure out what is right, what do we do, how do we help?

At work a few days ago, we had chaos of our own. And we lost the battle. And it was awful and I hated it. 

But in that moment, he was there. And even though it was horrible and we all cried and looked stunned for the rest of the night, he was there. And even when I don't have time to process it, and yet, all of a sudden, I'm processing it, he's here. 

I wish I knew all the answers to why so many are suffering. But I was privileged to be allowed to see him work in the suffering, in what, comparatively, is a small circumstance. And his presence was so real and so tangible. 

I know that if he can be in a hospital here in Sacramento, at the darkest moment of some people's lives, then he can be in West Africa. And the mountains of Iraq. And Ferguson. 

The big picture looks grim. Nothing about it sounds right. But I trust that the God that I know is a personal and loving God. Even if the media can't tell us that part of the story. He is there with those people. He knows their names, just like he knows mine. He is writing a story that maybe doesn't make sense right now, but I promise you, it is beautiful.

Where shall I go from your Spirit?

Or where shall I flee from your presence?

If I ascend to heaven, you are there!

If I make my bed in Sheol, you are there!

If I take the wings of the morning and dwell in the uttermost parts of the sea, 

even there your hand shall lead me, and your right hand shall hold me.

If I say, "Surely the darkness shall cover me, and the light about me be night,"

even the darkness is not dark to you; the night is bright as the day,

for darkness is as light with you.

Psalm 139:7-12

Perspective

Only 36 hours after leaving home, sitting at the same conference that 2 years ago changed my life, it's clear that I lack perspective. 

It's like that ride at the amusement parks...the one that shoots you up high all of a sudden, taking your breath away, and then you can see for miles (or it feels like miles) and all the people below you look small. 

Nothing changes in that moment that you're on the ride. Except that you can see from a different point of view.

Being pulled up here, to what is traditionally called a "mountaintop experience" (I've always hated that expression), I can see now what my life really looks like.

It's so easy for me to get caught up in the daily. The stuff that is right here in front of me, demanding my attention, either because it is a responsibility or because it is deeply felt. Work, work out, church, Origin kids, eat, sleep, keep going.

It's not that all of those things are bad. It's not even that many of those things should change. I get dragged down by them though, when I can't see above them. Or when I forget to try.

But at a conference with a million (give or take) women, where everything fell apart and came together 2 years ago, I can see so much better for a second. 

If I walk in shadows, with my head hung low, hopelessness in my eyes as I survey my life, it is because I Do. Not. Understand. The Gospel.

Don't be fooled by my ability to quote the events of the gospel. Don't let me deceive you with my words that make sense and flashes of understanding you've seen here. 

If the gospel is true, and if I believe it, there is no cause for anything but rejoicing. 

If what He says is true, and if I'm really saved, and if I really get to live with Him, and if He really promises all of His promises to me, I should feel JOY. It should radiate from my very being. 

Forget singleness, forget night shift, forget struggles and relationship frustrations and being tired and weary. 

Condemn all of that rotten, putrid negativity to hell. 

I am saved. And He is with me. And He loves me. Not just me, but He loves us so much that He did the unthinkable. And He wants us to live with Him for always.

Even as I write that, I think to myself, "Come on, that's the cliche ending to a blog, maybe you should write something different."

And that's the problem, that I even think that. 

That which is incomprehensible and the greatest mystery we will ever know can never be cliche. So I'll say it again. And again. And again. It. Is. Not. Old. News. It's not.

I know this is maybe what you would expect from somebody who just got to hear Don Carson, John Piper, Tim Keller and a whole bunch of other people talk about the gospel for a whole weekend. And you might be thinking, "yeah, we'll see how long that lasts." 

Oh, I know because I'm the cynic. I think that about myself, even now.

I don't know a lot right now. I do know this: I'm going to mess this up. I'm going to get depressed again. I'm going to lose perspective. But I also know my tendencies and shortcomings will not be allowed to devalue what God has/is/will do through His son. He has already fought this battle. 

So, I want to learn what it is to truly be filled with joy not because of my circumstances, not because of how God blesses me or withholds, but because the Gospel is enough. Pray for Him to keep my perspective where it ought to be.

Consider and answer me, O Lord my God; light up my eyes, lest I sleep the sleep of death, lest my enemy say, “I have prevailed over him,” lest my foes rejoice because I am shaken. But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me. 

Psalm 13:3-6

Idol

I've been silent for a while now. I mean blog-wise, but maybe you could say I've been silent in general.

I haven't known what to say.

I'm not even sure I know what to say now. This will either be very short or very long.

All I know is that I'm convicted to write something. I even asked the Holy Spirit "ummm....what exactly do you want me to say?"

Immediately, I saw Moses and the burning bush, and Moses telling God he doesn't talk so good, can somebody else go?

Alright, I'm not going to say that what I have to say is remotely as epic as what Moses had to say. But there was my answer, anyway.

I haven't known what to say, because I haven't even known how to fully express where I am, exactly.

Guess what? I'm struggling with being single. Which is really just another way to say that I'm struggling because of my idolatry of marriage and my lack of trust. I don't believe that God is doing his best for me.

I have honestly come to a point of utter hopelessness about ever getting married. There. I said it. Cue the sympathetic "awws" and encouragement that I will TOTALLY get married, I just need to do x, y, or z.

That's not the point. I've been waiting for something, anything or anybody to encourage me. A verse that can be taken as a sign from the Lord that it will really happen for me. Maybe somebody will have a vision and see my future husband and it's so soon and oh my gosh, we better plan the wedding.

Maybe this is why I haven't been writing.

But all of this is not the real problem.

My real problem is that I refuse to let it go. I refuse to open my fist and let him take this desire of my heart, the one that makes me feel like I'm not sure I want to keep doing this life thing if I don't get it. (No, I'm not suicidal. I promise.) I refuse to let him have the most intimate desires of my heart and soul.

I don't know if it was a breakthrough or just a good day today, but I was thinking about it and it was like he was saying "OK, you can either be miserable and stay here, or you can come with me, and we'll deal with it."

Umm, excuse me, I want you to deal with it by fixing it!

But that's not where I am. And ultimately, is that going to help me? Because what happens when marriage isn't what I thought or what happens if my husband dies or just plain old leaves and then what? Who do I stand with then?

So, I have to deal with it. I have to just hand it to him. Honestly, I don't feel like I have the best attitude about it. There's not so much sweet surrender as there is a chucking the thing and saying "Fine, whatever." Hopefully this will get prettier than that.

But I'm willing to do this. Because deep down in my heart and soul, I know that he's the only one who can fix it. And not just by bringing me a husband, but dealing with my absolute idol that I have made it. I know that, even though I don't feel it right now, or maybe I won't ever, this is the best thing. He's not making a mistake. He's not making a mistake. He's not making a mistake.

Please don't think I'm in despair. Please don't worry about me. We all have something like this.

Please do pray for me. Pray for God to take this really awful idol out of my hands. Pray for my stubborn hands to let go when he pulls. Pray for my heart to be full of joy. Pray for whatever this is going to look like to glorify him. Ultimately, when I get past all the ugly layers, that's what I actually want.

But who are you, O man, to answer back to God? Will what is molded say to its molder, “Why have you made me like this?” Has the potter no right over the clay, to make out of the same lump one vessel for honorable use and another for dishonorable use? What if God, desiring to show his wrath and to make known his power, has endured with much patiencevessels of wrath prepared for destruction, in order to make known the riches of his glory for vessels of mercy, which he has prepared beforehand for glory— even us whom he has called, not from the Jews only but also from the Gentiles? As indeed he says in Hosea,

“Those who were not my people I will call ‘my people,’
    and her who was not beloved I will call ‘beloved.’”
“And in the very place where it was said to them, ‘You are not my people,’
    there they will be called ‘sons of the living God.’”

The Word

Lately I have found myself more negative and cynical, words lashing out of my mouth, not realizing how negative they are until they're out there, hanging thick in the air. I'm almost always surprised by the bitterness in my mouth after. Where did that come from? 

Not that I don't already have negative tendencies. That's just me, and something to fight against. But it's the little tiny things, the things that honestly shouldn't bother me, that show me that something isn't right. The hardest part is that often, when I look back at what I said and how I actually feel about it, what I said is worse than how I feel. 

I've been ignoring it for a while, maybe giving myself a little too much grace by thinking "oh well, that was weird" and moving on. But now the negativity is invading my thoughts.

I've found myself annoyed by cheesy Christian statements. I'm embarrassed to admit that I have even found myself annoyed by scripture sometimes, when a "cliche" verse pops up on my newsfeed on Facebook. I've even thought a few times, in those moments, I'm not sure I buy this anymore.

Scared for me yet?

I've known for a little while that something isn't right. Because at the same time that all of this negativity has invaded my heart and my mind, I've also not been praying. I felt kind of fed up with it. I haven't been reading my bible either. How's that for being a good Christian girl?

It's becoming clear that these things have a direct relationship. The less I seek the Lord, the more room there is for the enemy to wedge himself in there. If I'm not filling my head with truth, the lies come easily. 

The worst part? I knew about the direct relationship but I just didn't want to do anything about it. I'm tired, I just want to relax, there's this other thing I'd rather do. 

I've been treating Him like an option, instead of a necessity. 

It wasn't until I sat down to read my bible this morning that I felt the severity of my fault. As I read, I felt relief. Comfort. Like he hadn't left me after all, I was the one that left. 

His waters of truth rushed over me. 

The Word is there because He knew what a fool I'd be. That I would cry out "why will you not answer me?!" while His answer is written down. Bound and preserved meticulously. Full of life. Full of truth. 

Pray for me as I understand the necessity of His word. Pray that I don't give in to laziness or negativity but that I seek his face continually through prayer and His beautiful conversation. It is necessary. And it is good.

I hold back my feet from every evil way, in order to keep your word. I do not turn aside from your rules, for you have taught me. How sweet are your words to my taste, sweeter than honey to my mouth! Through your precepts I get understanding; therefore I hate every false way. Your word is a lamp to my feet and a light to my path. 

Psalm 119:101-105

Surprise

Some friends of mine have recently been scheming. An elaborate plan was formed behind my back and executed almost flawlessly.

My birthday was this past weekend. I was convinced I had figured out this plan. I really had no idea.

If you know me much, you'll know that pulling off a surprise for me is almost impossible. I am one of the best guessers I know and I also hate being "out of the loop" which means I will figure things out by (almost) any means necessary. I am relentless.

These beautiful friends of mine planned a surprise breakfast. That they had managed that, was shock enough. But as I left the restaurant, I found the surprise had only begun. These crazy people had rented a LIMO. A limo, for crying out loud. Not only that, but this limo was taking is to Napa. For the whole day. 

It was one of the most amazing and beautiful days of my life. I couldn't believe they had done it. Not just that they had pulled it off but that they had exerted so much time, energy, and money...for me.

I came home and cried from the sheer magnitude of their love for me.

This week, as I have thought about this best of Fridays and what that means I have been struck by two things.

Jesus loves me MORE than these friends of mine. His effort to love me trumps them everytime. 

And should I not be more surprised by the magnitude of his love for me?

It has become old news for many of us, I think. God, ultimate plan, Jesus, yeah yeah.

But what these friends, who love Jesus with all of their hearts, have shown me is that I should be made breathless by him. I should fall at the foot of his most precious surprise, the cross, and bawl my eyes out because of how he loves. I should stand in awe even more of his surprise than theirs. 

So, on this Good Friday I'm full of sorrow. And joy. And surprise. So much beautiful surprise. 

There is therefore now no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. For the law of the Spirit of life has set you free in Christ Jesus from the law of sin and death. For God has done what the law, weakened by the flesh, could not do. By sending his own Son in the likeness of sinful flesh and for sin, he condemned sin in the flesh, in order that the righteous requirement of the law might be fulfilled in us, who walk not according to the flesh but according to the Spirit. 

Romans 8:1-4

Hopeless Wanderer

Prone to wander

Lord, I feel it

Prone to leave the God I love

Here's my heart

Oh, take and seal it

Seal it for thy courts above!

I realize that I've been wandering. I actually probably realized it a while ago, but just decided to ignore it and that it would be fine. After all, I'm secure, right?

I haven't been wandering so far that I have left my faith or anything that drastic at all. It's actually been the more sinister kind of wandering...the kind that is so subtle, you don't think it's a problem.

I have always struggled with praying. I want to pray. I want to be a pray-er. But I grow weary with it. My short attention span, distractibility, and overall discontent make it hard to keep it up. It's not like I make a conscious decision to just stop praying, so much as it just trickles out of my thought process. Things like "oh, He already knows" or "what's the point of asking, He's going to do what He wants anyway" usually fuel the fire behind not praying. I'm probably not supposed to think stuff like that. Whoops.

I picture the kind of wandering I'm doing to be something like a stake in the ground, with a rope and my foot tied to it. My faith is the rope that holds me to the stake that is Jesus. My God-given, hard-earned faith will keep me tied to him. Maybe it would be a chain, so it's less severable? (This analogy is not worked out all the way, clearly). There isn't any chance of me just freeing myself from the stake. But instead I somehow manage to stretch out my rope so I'm just a little bit further away. As much as I know that I should always want to be as close to the Lord as possible, sometimes I just don't want to. When things are hard. Or actually more when things are mediocre - mediocre is easier to wander in because my need for Him isn't as clearly visible.

It's not till I start to feel all weird and uncomfortable that I realize I've stretched my rope too far. I probably make it far enough to cut off circulation before I think that I should head back. Dumb, dumb kid.

So, I start back toward the stake with a sore foot and not much to show for my journey. 

The beauty of it is that He is always there. He doesn't move, even if I were to run around like a crazy person, trying to break the rope, or if I just slowly shuffle away. He stays in the same place. I can count on that. 

What a patient God we have. He deals with a maniac like me who wanders to the edge, even though I know better. And He continues to love me. And even if I wander, it's ok, because His grip is tight. And while I realize my actions are not the best and I repent for them, I'm still free. We're still ok. 

Make me to know your ways, O Lord;

teach me your paths.

Lead me in truth and teach me,

for you are the God of my salvation;

for you I wait all the day long.

Remember your mercy, O Lord,

and your steadfast love,

for they have been from of old.

Remember not the sins of my youth or my transgressions,

according to your steadfast love remember me,

for the sake of your goodness, O Lord!

Psalm 25:4-7

Holding Back

This has been a long time brewing (ok, a couple of weeks). 

We're going through the book of Genesis in church this year. A few weeks ago we went through the story of Cain and Abel.

"Just so you know, you're Cain in this story." 

That's how it opened. 

Having thought about it longer, I was always supposed to assume I was Cain. Somewhere along my self-righteous path, I put myself in Abel's spot. Blameless and persecuted. Not in everything, but in a lot of ways, I did. 

I've been Cain in so many ways. And I'm so grateful for grace because of that. But I realized that I'm still being Cain in one very specific way.

Abel brought a sacrifice. So did Cain. The difference was that Cain's sacrifice was not whole hearted. Abel's sacrifice was the best he had to offer. Cain's was what he wanted to offer.

Cain held back from the Lord.

Who knows why? Maybe he was the selfish, hateful person we make him out to be. He probably was. Aren't we all? Maybe he felt like God wouldn't provide for him if he gave the best. Maybe he thought he was being wise by keeping it to provide for himself. Maybe he even thought he was doing well to look to the future and make sure God didn't have to work too hard to help him. Maybe he wasn't that different from us. 

Cain's first sin wasn't murdering his brother and hiding the evidence. His first sin was not engaging and trusting the Lord with abandon.

It was then I saw myself. Holding back from the full intimacy of trusting the Lord. It's hard to explain because it isn't tangible. Maybe some of you would say you haven't even seen that in me. Maybe you have. 

I have functioned so long with this complex that God is going to get me someday. One of these days he's really going to make me suffer. This makes him untrustworthy. So, yeah, I trust you, God. Until I don't. Until that moment when you unleash your fury on me. And if I know it's coming, I'll just wait right here out of reach, praising you. Kind of.

And yet, as I listened about Cain and Abel, I realized that God wanted all of Cain. And he actually had Cain, except that Cain would not be had. He held back. 

What does it look like to fall, limp, not trying to save myself anymore, into the arms of the God who has loved me since before time? To tumble into the scary vastness and care of the intimacy he has been asking me to enter into for so long.

Reality is that he has always been there. He has always known me, known me more than I can ever know myself. More than anyone else can know me. Would

I seek to let him know me like that?

The last few weeks have been interesting. I will sometimes feel my soul tense up with the scariness of letting go of my control. Control I never had.

But then I'm reminded of how he loves me. Fiercely, intimately, unconditionally. It's easier to relax when you know the one holding you loves you like that.

Maybe this is all rambling. But, if you didn't get any of the above, know this. 

I am his daughter. And I'm resting in a sweet embrace I didn't know was there for me. And he is so good.

Praise the Lord! I will give thanks to the Lord with my whole heart, in the company of the upright, in the congregation. Great are the works of the Lord, studied by all who delight in them. Full of splendor and majesty is his work, and his righteousness endures forever. He has caused his wondrous works to be remembered; the Lord is gracious and merciful. He provides food for those who fear him; he remembers his covenant forever. He has shown his people the power of his works, in giving them the inheritance of the nations. The works of his hands are faithful and just; all his precepts are trustworthy; they are established forever and ever, to be performed with faithfulness and uprightness. He sent redemption to his people; he has commanded his covenant forever. Holy and awesome is his name! The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom; all those who practice it have a good understanding. His praise endures forever! 

Psalm 111:1-10

Beauty and Shame

A sermon on shame and a bet to lose weight collide and expose.

I live a life of shame. If I were to write everything that I have felt shame over, it would be more like a book than a blog.

But prior to the sermon, I had been thinking. A lot of videos and blogs have been going around about women talking about their bodies, their body image, and how they've been shamed by the media and the world into thinking something was wrong with them.

And I sit there and watch those videos, and see these beautiful women saying they have always thought themselves not good enough, and think "what a travesty! Can't they see they are gorgeous? I would love to look like them!" 

Wait....

I apply it so well to others. I can discount those lies and see the shame, not in them, but in how the world has shamed them. They shouldn't be told that! They shouldn't be expected to believe that. And I go on, accepting the lies about me as truth.

I have almost always been overweight. Even as a little girl, when I don't know why, but it started, I became ashamed of my body. I looked around and compared and found myself lacking. Or rather, abundant, when I should have been a little more lacking.

So, when I was 17, I decided, no, not me! I'm going to be skinny! And I watched movies and compared, and cried that I couldn't be like that actress. I repulsed myself. I worked out and didn't eat much and felt so deprived, but guess what? I got skinny. Guess what else? I still thought I was fat. 

My body image had been so distorted by so many things that I couldn't see that I had arrived where I had so desperately wanted to be! Blinded by my own shame, I continued to work and got discouraged when the weight wouldn't come off (there wasn't much else to lose!).

So, I quit.

Not all at once, but slowly and surely it crept back on. But it sat there, constantly telling me that not only was I fat, but now I'm a failure because I had gone back. I allowed it to take my worth. 

I was so ashamed. I didn't want to go see anyone I hadn't seen in a while because they would see. My shame would be exposed.

I need to take a minute here and say that no one ever said anything negative to me to make me believe these things. Everyone was nothing but encouraging. I heaped shame on myself.

So, as I watched these videos and even then, compared my body to theirs, I look down at my own body and a tiny thought appeared...."so....what?"

So what if I have rolls? So what if the number on the scale is more than that other girl's? So what if I'm so tall it's weird and so what if I'm pasty white? So what if the clothes size I buy is bigger than society tells me I should buy? So what?

Does it change who I am? Maybe in a few ways. But does it change the fact that I am me, and that God and so many people love me? Not love me anyway, but just genuinely love me? 

This is hard one for me: does it change the fact that maybe, just maybe, I'm beautiful? Just like this? 

I'm beginning to think that I've bought into the lie. The one the enemy said in the garden to Eve - "you're not good enough yet. You just need to do x, eat this, and then you'll be perfect." 

I'm done believing this. Because even though I'm not going to stand here and say that I'm perfect or that there aren't things I want to change, I will stand here and say that I am good enough. Not by my own merit, but by His. He has done the work, the spiritual and the physical. 

I want to lose weight, but because I want to be healthy, not because I've bought into a lie. And I'm done yelling at myself and being repulsed by myself for a number on a scale. It doesn't define me. It doesn't even factor into the equation of my worth.

That equation was solved on a cross. 

He has made everything beautiful in its time. Also, he has put eternity into man’s heart, yet so that he cannot find out what God has done from the beginning to the end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil—this is God’s gift to man. I perceived that whatever God does endures forever; nothing can be added to it, nor anything taken from it. God has done it, so that people fear before him. That which is, already has been; that which is to be, already has been; and God seeks what has been driven away. Ecclesiastes 3:11-15

Abundant Gifts

Things are changing in this crazy old heart of mine. That shouldn't surprise anyone, as the blog seems to chronicle the ups and downs of an unsteady woman. 

A few months ago, I think I was at my lowest, emotionally and spiritually, than I have been in a very long time. I would wake up with despair in my heart and cry every night. I don't think it's a secret that last year was really, really hard. 

In the midst of all that low-ness and, let's face it, depression, a need arose in our church. They needed someone to head up the children's ministry.

I don't think it takes a genius to look at the crazy crying girl over here and the magnitude of a children's ministry over there and realize that maybe those two shouldn't mix right now. 

So, I waited to see who would step up. I was already partially involved, but I didn't want to take a spot when I knew what a wreck I was. And I know others could do it better.

Nobody came.

I was baffled by it, a little. I knew I had the time. I did not think I had the gifting in any way. And I was positive somebody amazing was out there and had just forgotten to say they would do it. So, I'm not sure what propelled me to tell them that I would. Not true, actually, I know Who did that. 

So, for the last few months, I have walked forward in fear and trembling, trying to figure this all out. 

I had no idea what a gift He was giving me.

I didn't know how much joy I would receive in being able to serve in the kids' classes on Sunday morning. 

I didn't know how amazing it would be to get to know everyone who selflessly serves our children and our church.

I didn't know that it would mean that my heart that longs to be a mother would get to love so many children, all at once.

I didn't know that being able to help in any way would be such a balm to my cracked, bleeding soul. 

I am not doing this perfectly. Actually, I'm pretty sure I'm screwing it up in a lot of ways.

But it is such an overwhelming gift that I can't help but rejoice and worship and pray for help in every moment of being able to serve this way. 

I pray that I can do it well. My number one fear is that I will fail all of the people who are looking to me. May He be gracious to all of us. 

Truly, joy comes in the morning. And after the mourning. And if I can just look up from my mourning, His joy can permeate my soul. And He is a good Father who knows how to give gifts we never anticipated.

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of the dust

You make beautiful things

You make beautiful things out of us

O Lord my God, I cried to you for help, and you have healed me. O Lord, you have brought up my soul from Sheol; you restored me to life from among those who go down to the pit. Sing praises to the Lord, O you his saints, and give thanks to his holy name. For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime. Weeping may tarry for the night, but joy comes with the morning. 

Psalm 30:2-5

Choosing Joy

My idolatry is revealed again.

Culture has taught us, taught me, that if I don't feel happy I should do whatever it takes to obtain the feeling. Does my job make me unhappy? Find a new one! Does my church not meet my needs? Go to a different one. Is my marital status an issue that causes deep hurt? Do whatever it takes to find that person to fill the emptiness.

I didn't know I had bought into it.

I thought I was safe, safe from thinking like "them." I knew all the answers already.

But a new thought crept in a couple months ago and has begun to grow, sprouting into something beautiful. 

I'm not sure how it even came about. Actually, I'm pretty sure I know Who put it there, just not how He did it.

What if I were to count my feelings as nothing and trust the truth?

My feelings have only one guarantee - to be everywhere at once. I can fluctuate from contentment to bitterness to apathy to pseudo-happiness in the span of about one hour. And that's without even trying. 

I've trusted my feelings for so long. If I have felt that my life was going well, then it must be going well. If I have felt that I'm a miserable failure, I must be the worst failure of all. 

I've been riding this roller coaster, wondering why God doesn't let me off. Why doesn't He just do what I want Him to do so that I don't have to keep feeling so terrible? It's really His fault.

But then, the thought: are my feelings what are really real, or is He? Because when the two are so opposed, one of us is wrong.

It's painfully obvious, when I think about it.

If I don't feel like He is present, but He says He is, then I'm wrong. He's here.

If I don't feel like He has a plan for me, but He says He does, then I'm wrong. He's got it under control.

If I don't feel like I can live the life I don't want, but He says that my life is for His glory, then I'm wrong. He is working something good.

It's not as easy to remember as it sounds. This kind of faith comes with a lot of work. It comes with eyes fixed on Him, ears tuned to the Holy Spirit for Him to show me when I'm valuing my opinion over His truth. I'm not doing it perfectly at all. It's hard.

But there is such a relief in believing Him. He has so many amazing blessings for me that I couldn't see because of my wallowing in my opinion of what my life should be. His word is so much better than mine. His truth is so much better than my perception.

And so, in choosing to believe that what He says is true, I choose joy. I choose to allow His blessings, whatever they look like, to wash over me, and be enough. More than enough.

I am finding a joy I didn't know possible. May He root it ever deeper.

The Lord upholds all who are falling and raises up all who are bowed down. The eyes of all look to you, and you give them their food in due season. You open your hand; you satisfy the desire of every living thing. The Lord is righteous in all his ways and kind in all his works. The Lord is near to all who call on him, to all who call on him in truth. He fulfills the desire of those who fear him; he also hears their cry and saves them. 

Psalm 145:14-19