He Restores.

It’s been such a wild and drawn out ride, I’m sure many of my friends and family are done hearing about it. But bear with me just one more time.

In March of 2016, the love of my life officially proposed to me with a ring I had picked out while still in Nepal. Handcrafted by an artist to resemble branches, it matched our wedding bands and was my pride and joy for the summer.

Just days before the wedding, however, the ring disappeared. I had taken it off during a time of sweet blessing and prayer with some of my dearest friends, and during that time it “mysteriously vanished.”

Being the amazing man that he is, my husband stole away with my brother in the middle of an utter bridezilla meltdown in Macy’s and figured out a way to surprise me with another ring, so I would still feel like a bride (despite my diva moments) on our wedding day. This is the ring I have worn and cherished since October 28th, 2016, when the most amazing man in the world took me as his wife.

Praying that the original ring would turn up, however, we had had the second ring sized a half size too large, so that should the first one surface, the second would fit on another finger as a reminder of the devotion of my husband, and my God. However, after endless searching it never materialized.

Today, on December 27, 2017, exactly a year from the date we celebrated our marriage in California, I received in the mail my husband’s Christmas surprise for me. Over a year later, as we continue in our new life in SoCal, my husband located the artist who originally crafted the ring for us, and had her make another. Today the ring sits proudly on my finger, with the wedding band it was designed to match, and the ring signifying the faithfulness of a husband sits on the other.

I’m aware how petty this may seem, but to Jon and I it symbolizes so much.

It symbolizes the faithfulness of the Lord in our marriage.
It symbolizes the strength of choosing love when everything seems to be going wrong.
It symbolizes redemption, in every area.
It symbolizes a fresh start, just in time for the new year.

When the ring first disappeared, the Lord told me He would restore it to me. I came across verses such as Joel 2:25 on a daily basis, often multiple times a day. At the time, I had no idea how it would come about. As I sit typing this proverbial journal entry, I am so grateful for the perfect beauty of His timing and methods. This is is so much more than a ring: it is a stone of remembrance of all that He has done and will do in our lives, of His unfailing love, and all of His fulfilled promises.

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And may I just say, I have the most devoted and romantic husband a woman could have.

Until next time,
XOXO

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The Beauty of Mediocrity.

It’s been nearly two months since Jon and I moved to California, bringing nothing but what fit inside the 1971 beetle which served as our main mode of transport when in Miami. As with any substantial life change, reflection and insecurity have been frequent kinesthesis. Through it I’m learning, maybe feelings of mediocrity are not always a bad thing, contrary to what society’s drum continually beats. Maybe it keeps us aware of the truth that we are mediocre, we are broken, we are ash falling to the ground and drifting with any lift of the wind. And maybe that’s okay, because when we’re aware of our futility there is room for Christ to step in and give substance to these bones.

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When I fail to present these emotions to the Lord, however, they often give rise to others, such as inferiority. While remembrance of our human insufficiency apart from our Maker is healthy, the sense of forlornness and desolation deriving from dwelling there, as opposed to turning eyes heavenward, are in no way beneficial. The truth of it all is we are each of us works in progress, hopeless without Him but miracles once inside His hands.

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Often I’ll find myself, when in these navel-gazing states, comparing my walk with those around me, wondering why (like the millennial I am), I am not yet rich and famous, or even on the road there yet. While in word I recognize that His calling for me is unique, as His calling for each of His children is, when the negative emotions come knocking I fall directly into the mode of contrasting my current situation with what the world says it should be if I am to reach location x within y amount of years to be z amount successful. It’s the same mistake Sarah made when the Lord promised she and Abram a son. Instead of trusting in His holy (although yet unexplained) method for achieving the promise, she proceeded to follow the route which seemed right to her, although ultimately it only produced a detour they had to double back from. In the end, God still worked out the promise in His way, not hers, not her family’s, not society’s.

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As much as I know this story like the back of my hand, when questions regarding my future arise I begin thinking like Sarah, trying to conjure up my plan for producing the results I desire, instead of trusting the Lord enough to simply do what He has instructed me to do in this current season, and refuse to worry about the rest. Over the holidays I was asked what my goals for the new year were, and at the time, besides finishing my associates well, I could think of none. After writing this post, I realize my goal for the new year is this: to simply do what the Lord sets before me with trust and diligence, and rely on Him to fill in the blanks.

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Until next time,
XOXO

The Dawn is Coming, Open Your Eyes.

I want to sit here and write some wise-sounding words, but I have none. As the days pass I am growing increasingly, brutally aware of my own naivety. Today I type this in front of an open window in a white and grey bedroom on a comforter that looks like the trees from a book my mom read me when I was little. Mike Mains and the Branches plays in the background (second album).

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Lately I find myself missing India and Nepal more than ever. I think it’s the mountains my habitat is surrounded by for the first time since backpacking through Asia. While reading my Bible on our second day here and sipping some coffee on the back patio, it occurred to me how much peace the mountains have always brought me. When I look back on my life, the Lord always brought me to the mountains after a season in the desert, and it was there that new life began. In the past I always brought that fresh outlook back to Miami from the mountains, but now the rocky outline hemming me in furnishes the city I’m learning to call “home.”

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Whenever my mother-in-love Liz and I go out, I try to spot Big Bear. I’m learning to recognize the peak more each day.


My writing, at least that which is intended for public reading, is increasingly sporadic these days. I don’t even remember when I began this post, but now it has been three weeks since Jonny and I arrived in the sunny California foothills, and we are finally about to get our new licenses. Once I see my face plastered onto that piece of plastic which will forever look like a toy to me, I think it will all become more real. For now it still feels somewhat like a holiday vacation.

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The Lord seems intent that I not work during this season, but instead focus on my studies (which goodness knows needs some TLC after a monumental hurricane heralded a cross-country move, all in the same semester). While it was a blow to my pride, I’m so grateful that’s what He has for me right now. As much as my millennial self desires to be “self-sufficient” and all that, my spirit needs rest. These past few weeks doing life with the family here, getting to learn how to best love my husband from the one who raised him, have been the sweetest blessing.

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I think I tend to want to run more than is good for me, and honestly more than I am yet able to. Contrary to my pride as well have been the Sunday morning sermons teaching me to yield to the Lord in ways which before were close enough I thought I could manage them. I never needed to yield my job, because it was always there. My school was never an issue of control, because I always naturally excelled. Until September. With Hurricane Irma came a serious drop in academic performance. For once, not only were my classes a serious academic struggle, but after returning from the evacuation I was displaced due to a lack of running water at the apartment we were renting. For two weeks, we lived at the church we were engaged in ministry at, where I tried to get back on top of things while realizing slowly, somewhat subconsciously, that Jonny and I were never going to return to our little North Miami apartment the same way. A week into our stay at CMB, on the side of the bridge on a Sunday afternoon, walking to get a Subway sandwich, he asked me what I thought about moving to California. And there was peace, transcending any ounce of understanding I thought I had.

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Three weeks later, I sit in a Starbucks sweetly familiar to my husband, and utterly foreign to me. The semester is almost over, and if I pass all my classes, it is only by the grace of God and skin of my teeth (prayers appreciated there). At 6:30 AM he shared a croissant with me here before heading to work. And just like every other season before this, I am confused as to what God has for us here, but I am so grateful to be here.

It’s a season of learning what it means to truly rest. Of trusting that the Lord will work out every detail for those who are faithful to Him. Of accepting that no element of life will go as I planned. Of recognizing that I am such a small element of His grand scheme, but such an important one to Him. Of learning what it means to truly dwell in an attitude of joy.

Until next time,

XOXO

 

Oh, California…

Sunday, September 9th, 2017
Sitting in the office in Calvary. There’s a strange bittersweetness in the air as everyone tries to put a brave face on. We meet in the cracks, connecting on the level of being terrified as anything, but determined to thrive, even if we don’t know how. A few people know that Jonny and I are heavily considering moving to California early this November, that it’s growing increasingly certain. I hide in the office because I feel fragile. As much as I know church is the place the weak ones can come to, I shy away from showing my frailty. Once again, I want to be strong, to be the shoulder for everyone else trying to figure out what life will look like and what the Lord is doing here. I want to suck it up, get out of my own self-focused head. Once again, I can’t. Because I’m human, and so are you. 

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Photo by Daniel on Unsplash

Mingled with the bizarreness heralding the oncoming change is the intoxicating joy of what’s to come. However all the expectation hangs on a hook shaped like a question mark. What if we can’t find jobs? I’ve never worked in the “real world” before; what if I fail? What if we’re hearing the Lord’s voice wrong, despite all the confirmations? What were those confirmations again? While the Lord’s peace rings in my bones regarding each of these “ifs,” I’d be lying if I claimed I could feel it right now.

I want to tell you something I normally would in one of these posts: that I remind myself God is in control, pick myself up, and get back to work. It would be another lie. Instead I’m forced to tell you the truth that I am sleep deprived, hormonal, insecure and confused, and all I want is a cozy, grey knit blanket of practical answers. But show me someone who doesn’t feel this way. 

The Lord guards the inexperienced; I was helpless, and He saved me. Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you. For You, Lord, rescued me from death, my eyes from tears, my feet from stumbling.
– Psalm 116:6-8 –

Wednesday, September 20th, 2017
Power and water were restored to the house yesterday, so tonight we move back to the apartment. I struggle to call it “home,” since soon home will be changing. Overall, my circumstances haven’t altered. Homework is still looming (in a tab behind this one which I am determinedly pretending not to see), true slumber has yet to grace me with his presence, and answers to Sunday’s questions haven’t been given, but the pervasive peace of Christ floods my bloodstream. One step at a time. Today’s step involves writing this, completing my homework, and hurricane cleanup. Tomorrow’s will be different. But tomorrow is not today, and maybe the tension is not something we’re meant to run from, but rather grow through. It is time for a fresh season.

When asked why we are moving, I can only supply the answer “Because God told us to,” as that is the only complete reason He has given us.  Once confirmed, sometimes that’s all you need. I think often we get caught thinking about all the fallen trees that could block our path, unaware that the journey will teach the strength to climb over them. Perhaps that’s why He’s planned this specific journey we are on for this specific season. Everything is preparation for something else. 

We don’t know where this road will take us. All we know is that we felt the call, God confirmed it both to us and our leaders, and now it’s time to go. To stay would be to turn this beautiful castle into our prison. Instead, we lean into this unexpected turn, understanding that this season will be about a deeper dependence on God. It’s time to run further up and further into His magnificent plan for our lives. What’s your next step? 

I will plant cedars in the desert, acacias, myrtles, and olive trees. I will put juniper trees in the desert, elms and cypress trees together, so that all may see and know, consider and understand, that the hand of the Lord has done this, the Holy One of Israel has created it.
– Isaiah 41:18 –

Until next time,
XOXO

 

The Ark Encounter

A guest post by Don McChesney. 

In a seminal treatise, Notes Toward the Definition of Culture, TS Eliot observes, “’The term culture … includes all the characteristic activities and interests of a people; Derby Day, Henley Regatta, Cowes,… the dart board, Wensleydale cheese, boiled cabbage cut into sections, beetroot in vinegar, 19th-century Gothic churches and the music of Elgar. The reader can make his own list …” And a fellow named Ken Ham did make his own list that included a life size reproduction of Noah’s Ark. Here we have conspicuous example of what makes America great: that no matter how outlandish the dream, the only question that matters is, “Can you do it?” And they did. So on Friday, July 8th, 2017, we loaded up the minivan and went to the Ken Ham, Answers in Genesis, Ark Encounter, in Grant County, Kentucky.

For behold, I will bring a flood of waters upon the earth to destroy all flesh in which is the breath of life under heaven. Everything that is on the earth shall die. But I will establish my covenant with you, and you shall come into the ark, you, your sons, your wife, and your sons’ wives with you. Genesis 6:17-18

Scale

The thing is huge: 510 feet long, 85 feet wide, 51 feet high, weighing in around 8000 tons, or similar in size to an Arleigh Burk- class destroyer. Three public decks pack in movie theaters, exhibits, explanations, history, and food. Air conditioning and Pepsi products keep you cool (no Coke ☹). From arrival in the parking lot to departure, plan 3 hours for your self-guided tour. It could be done in 2 hours if necessary and those wanting a close inspection of every exhibit will want 4.

Genesis chapter 6 specifies the dimensions to which Noah is to build the ark. However, the “cubit” is a unit of measure no longer current. Therefore, an early task in construction of Ark Encounter was to determine the proper length of a cubit. It turns out there were several different cubits in use back in the day and the final analysis can be seen here. The parking lot is fair dinkum far from the Ark so bus transportation is provided.

Make yourself an ark of gopher wood. Make rooms in the ark, and cover it inside and out with pitch. This is how you are to make it: the length of the ark 300 cubits, its breadth 50 cubits, and its height 30 cubits. Genesis 6:14-15

Quality

The thing is beautiful inside and out (not surprising given a production cost of over 100 million dollars). Animal sounds and exotic music follow you throughout the experience. Production values are more or less at the level of a Disney theme park. The only apparent inconsistency in construction is the obvious usage of metal fasteners where Noah almost certainly would’ve used wood (building codes required steel). Exposed hull ribs and tree-trunk vertical timbers lend authenticity and beauty. The only thing missing (from the Disney veteran’s point of view) is a more liberal use of animatronics.

Uniformly beautiful and thoughtful exhibits display bright colors, interesting ideas, and creative video visualizations and explanations. Countless animal exhibits include interesting solutions to the problems of housing so many animals such as food and water provision, waste removal, air exchange, and the need for light. Living quarters, complete with kitchen and foodstuffs, demonstrate what life might’ve been like for Noah and the fam. There is both a small live-animal exhibit for the kids and a small Museum of the Bible exhibit for the adults. Gorgeous. Inside and out.

Young Earth Creationism

Of course, no review of Ark Encounter could be complete without discussion of the major controversy facing the project: the young earth creationism of Ken Ham and the Answers in Genesis organization. Yes, it is true, dinosaurs in cages on the Ark! In one small, but remarkable exhibit early in the tour, we see a colorful, pre-flood coliseum of sorts, where normal people are attacked by a giant-looking human on one side and a dinosaur on the other for the amusement of spectators. Now, full disclosure: I am a Bible-believing Christian, who is, in CS Lewis’ words, a “thorough-going supernaturalist” and someone with a lot of skepticism about the explanatory power of the theory of evolution. But I am not a Ken Ham young earth creationist. Some Christians agree with young earth creationism and some don’t. Certainly, it would seem almost all skeptics would vehemently disagree. So what to do? Is it a visit deal-breaker for someone who believes in an old earth? I hope not.

I hope that the believer in an old earth will still visit Ark Encounter, first, for the spectacle of the thing, which is undoubtedly spectacular, second, for the possibility of exploring a story that arises in many civilizations outside the Judeo-Christian influence, and third, to appreciate the fact that there are people in the world who don’t think like they do. Non-Catholics tour the Vatican all the time and thinking Christians read Thus Spake Zarathustra.

My own view is that since at least the Scopes Monkey Trial, Darwin and his theory have been the primary flash-point between Christians and the broader culture. With an obviously evangelical purpose to Ark Encounter in view (more on that in a moment), it would seem to me that it might not be advisable to be so heavy-handed about the age of the earth. Unfortunately, the effect of the whole thing is to pick a fight over science that will prevent, for many skeptics I fear, consideration of the bigger issue at hand: a God in Heaven who cares about His creation.

 And of every living thing of all flesh, you shall bring two of every sort into the ark to keep them alive with you. They shall be male and female. Genesis 6:19

Evangelism

Ark Encounter is replete with evangelism and apologetics. Numerous displays highlight theism in general, Christianity in particular, and the reliability of the Bible. An extended, story-boarded comic-strip toward the end of the tour presents a case-study of life with and without God, finishing with a basket of gospel message tracts. The vast majority of the evangelism of Ark Encounter is artful, tasteful, and effective. However, there are a couple of exceptions.

In two movie theaters located in the stern on decks two and three, short films produced by Answers in Genesis lend in one case, a closer look at the life of Noah and in another, a skeptic’s view of Ark Encounter as a project. In both cases, the films suffer from the same maladies afflicting much of contemporary Christian filmmaking: Christians are invariably persecuted and skeptics invariably get saved. Worthwhile ideas motivate both films, but execution is lacking.

 And God said, “This is the sign of the covenant that I make between me and you and every living creature that is with you, for all future generations: I have set my bow in the cloud, and it shall be a sign of the covenant between me and the earth. Genesis 9:12-13

Overall

In the end, I give Ark Encounter five stars out of five. Why? For its contribution to Eliot’s definition of culture. It offers visitors of all stripes the opportunity to think, engage in conversation, and talk to their children. Christians should visit in order to enjoy the scale, quality, and thought that went into an impressive representation of a larger than life story. And skeptics ought to visit – not to ridicule that with which they don’t agree, but rather to gain some understanding of a section of American culture with which they might not be familiar. Mortimer Adler would be horrified at the state of the great conversation in our day. We talk at each other but not to each other. We construct echo chambers around ourselves to interdict disparate opinion. We think we have nothing to learn. But TS Eliot would suggest to us that our worlds are greater, not lesser, and richer, not poorer, as we broaden our definition of and appreciation of a widely diverse and thus exceedingly abundant common culture. That, to me, is why Ark Encounter matters. It’s three hours of larger than life, thought-provoking pageant that could restart an important conversation – the one where we listen to each other. You should go!

 

It’s Not About You.

Life is always filled with complicated situations and confusing choices. The type of choices which you know deep in your marrow will forever alter the course of your future. Feverishly we seek counsel, read self-help books and articles, try and pave some way through this maze, but still everything feels muddy and grey.

In the midst of these unsolvable plights, He remains simple. But let’s be real. As you read that sentence there was a two-fold thought passing through your mind: “I know, I know,” and “But how is that relevant to my current situation?” Because, darling, it’s not about you. This post has been in my drafts for a month. Even then, it was around a month overdue. I’m at the inevitable intersection every twenty year old faces, when life is changing and paths are opening up all around. 

“All kinds of trees providing food will grow along both banks of the river. Their leaves will not wither, and their fruit will not fail. Each month they will bear fresh fruit because the water comes from the sanctuary. Their fruit will be used for food and their leaves for medicine.”
Ezekiel 47:12

When I first wrote this post, it was too raw. With every crossroad there are deep elements of fear, confusion, dreams, and hope. The junction this post was first written about was more personal than the professional future it now regards. However, the premise is the same. Every crossroad can be handled and simplified the same way: realize that it’s not about you. Scarcely anything of this life is actually about you.

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If we only knew His heart more, I am convinced we would understand the beauty in this statement to a much deeper degree. Instead, we often slip into the mourning of a season’s end, overwhelming celebration of a fresh beginning, or the confusion of what it will all mean. Once we recognize that it is not about us, but rather we are simply allowed to be a part of something God is already doing, the weight is lifted and joy re-enters. He will guide you! If we’re willing to listen, He won’t withhold the wisdom of which route to take. Even when He seems silent, that is in itself for a reason regarding His purpose.

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Friend, He is doing something new. Don’t let the unknown or novelty of it all frighten you out of your calling. Stare it in the face! We’re made to be a piece of something so much grander than ourselves. While you will be immensely blessed by being a part of the beauty He is working, in the end, it will never be about you. It is always about the Kingdom. While He does not ask you not to feel the fear, just to obey nonetheless, He also doesn’t request you not feel the joy of a fresh season beginning.

“After these things I will return and rebuild David’s fallen tent. I will rebuild its ruins and set it up again, so the rest of humanity may seek the Lord- even all the Gentiles who are called by My name, declares the Lord who does these things, known from long ago.”
Acts 15:16-18

Whatever it is He is asking of you, charge forward! He is already there, on the other side of it all, just as He is here, walking you through it and helping you decide which road to take. No matter the intersection of decisions you may be struggling to make sense of, ask Him, think outside the realm of yourself, and He will give you clarity and peace. Even if you accidentally choose wrong and mess it up, so what? Yes, it’ll be frustrating and something to work through, but He’ll take you through it! It’s time to begin the trek into the Promised Land. The only true questions then are will you listen, will you trust Him, and will you start walking?

“And I will give them one heart and put a new spirit within them; I will remove their heart of stone from their bodies and give them a heart of flesh, so they may follow My ordinances, and practice them. They will be My people, and I will be their God.”
Ezekiel 11:19-20

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XOXO

Brockway in June.

I came here to study. But this post is overdue, and my soul needs it.

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Friends, how do we live in light of eternity without raising a facade? Look me in the eye and say there is no one in your life who the thought of seeing causes your blood to chill a bit and nerves to suddenly grow tighter, and I will call you a liar. However, we are called to “live at peace with all people,” to remember that we “have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God.” But what does the reality of this look like?

Pursue peace with everyone, and holinesst — without it no one will see the Lord.Make surethat no one falls short of the grace of God and that no root of bitterness springs up, causing trouble and by it, defiling many.
Hebrews 12:14-15

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Recently a dear friend challenged me on my thought-priorities; on the level of mental space I was giving to someone. She called out its disproportion when compared with God’s room inside my mind. From there began my futile attempts to figure out how one maintains feeling and keeps fighting for truth, without slipping into a form of battle-idolatry. Having grown up in the trenches of ministry, this is my lifelong struggle. All too often I will seamlessly switch the spotlight from Jesus to the job at hand.

And make sure that there isn’t any immoral or irreverentwperson like Esau, who sold his birthright in exchange for one mealFor you know that later, when he wanted to inherit the blessing, he was rejected because he didn’t find any opportunity for repentance, though he sought it with tears.
Hebrews 12:16-17

Any war strategist will tell you the dangers of this. You become either blood-weary, overly nearsighted, and hopeless, or blood hungry, farsighted to a fault, and arrogant. You have to keep the great cause in mind, and our Cause, our driving Force, the Reason behind all we do, must be Christ alone.

For you have not come to what could be touched, to a blazing fire, to darkness, gloom, andstorm, to the blast of a trumpet, and the sound of words. (Those who heard it begged that notanother word be spoken to them, for they could not bear what was commanded: And if even an animal touches the mountain, it must be stonedThe appearance was so terrifying that Moses said, I am terrified and trembling) 
Hebrews 12:18-21

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In light of Christ and His goodness, strife with anything on this earth is just a bit of dust on my Birkenstocks. When I was praying for peace, I should have been asking the Lord to wreck them with His love- and renew my comfort in His love. While I was trying to “play nice,” I should have been asking Him to give me His heart for them. As worry fought to overtake me, and I begged for courage, the plea ought to have been that I might see the issue for how small it truly is. Eternity is going to be so much more beautiful than anything we can imagine. Any question I fear accompanying me to the grave will be answered completely on the other side. Why? Because He is good. That is the only foundation secure enough to carry all the drama of life, and somehow fashion it back into the glorious adventure it is intended to be. Remembering this is the only way I have found to be both authentic and responsive, without allowing the continual warfare to consume me.

Instead, you have come to Mount Zion, to the city of the living God (the heavenly Jerusalem), to myriads of angels in festive gatheringto the assembly of the firstborn whose names have been writtenae in heaven, to God who is the Judge of all, to the spirits of righteous people made perfectto Jesus (mediatorag of a new covenant), and to the sprinkled blood, which says better things than the blood of Abel.
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Written on the Subway Walls.

I had a dream the other day that I was on a riverbank with Him. Sins were patches on my sleeve sewn with black thread. Sitting beside me, He began tearing at the patches, only to find the seam had woven its way into my skin, hunting for my bloodstream. IMG_1790.JPG

Tears filled His eyes as my own dull means of sight grew watery from the pain of His knife. I was silent. There was nothing I could say – this clearly hurt Him more than me. Having removed the patch, He worked His pruning blade through my flesh until only fragments of the former parasitical cord remained.

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“They will grow into new burs,” He warned me, “and this operation will be needed again, but you will be stronger for the fresh oxygen which now can reach your veins.”

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All we could long for lies in the hands of surrender. Maybe not every answer will be explained immediately. But He is good. New doors are opening before me, and with each door comes questions and fears filling my mouth with bitterness. I feel it as it rushes from my lips in the form of self-pity, pungent as the Kolkata sewers. But He is good. Self-pity only has room when surrender is absent. If my life is truly surrendered to Him, it will uproot those burs. When their weeds rise again then, forming their way into black threads becoming another patch of sin on the arm meant to bear the seal of His love, it’s proof that something is dwelling outside the realm of surrender. Even as I write this, self-pity is fighting to worm its way in, proving there is an element of me that doesn’t trust God to use this. But He is good. And He has promised to use those who make themselves available to Him, no matter how broken we are. So I write. And I sit on the riverbank and allow Him to rip each black cord from my dying skin. Because He is good.

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“Yet I am always with You; You hold my right hand. You guide me with Your counsel, and afterward You will take me up into glory.” – Psalm 73:23-24 

Until next time,

XOXO

Seasick.

More times than I can recall in this past week I have abruptly changed subjects from depth to superficialities, and I’m ashamed to admit it. With oceans raging inside my own brain, any drop of water outside felt forceful enough to drown me. This morning the Lord confronted me with the simple truth that until I unloaded on Him, it would always feel that way. Salt was drying out my skin and coating my tongue till it was all I could taste. Thinking it was a way of moving on, that it would help me forgive because I wouldn’t be as focused on it, I had stopped bringing it to Him. Instead, it remained in the forefront, growing ever larger and darker outside the light of His power.

“Search for the Lord and for His strength; seek His face always.” – 1 Chronicles 16:11 


How often do we do this? We fill our minds and conversations with fluff to cover the jagged rocks our waves of consciousness don’t dare confront. Meanwhile He’s standing in the depths, longing to teach us to walk on water. It started out as a joke between friends, but the continual punch line of “Our God is an awesome God” inserted after any frustrating event or act of clumsiness has become a sweet reminder that Yaweh remains stalwart in the midst of what we’re facing; He is good in the midst of the storm.

“Though a thousand fall at your side, and ten thousand at your right hand, the pestilence will not reach you.” – Psalm 91:7 

This storm is wilder than any I’ve yet sailed. Looking out my window all I see is surging black tides threatening to wreck this young ship. The scent of fish ravaged by the tempest assault my senses, auguring their fate upon me. I am not much stronger than they. Seasick, I return to my bunk. Maybe I can sleep, and when I come around it will all be over. The clap of thunder wakes me from this dream. He’s teaching me to handle things I never thought I would face.

“Now to Him who is able to protect you from stumbling and to make you stand in the presence of His glory, blameless and with great joy, to the only God our Savior, through Jesus Christ our Lord, be glory, majesty, power, and authority before all time, now and forever.” – Jude 24-25 

The irony of it all is that, for both my husband and myself, this is the most amazing season either of us can remember. For the majority of the day we dance to the ebb and flow of the flood. When the water rises, knocking us to our knees, it is sent to strengthen these tired muscles, to train these bones from the art of running away. This is the life we were called to, and in the midst of these gales it has proven to be more fulfilling than either of us could have imagined. 

“Commit your way to the Lord; trust in Him, and He will act, making your righteousness shine like the dawn, your justice like the noonday.” – Psalm 37:5-6 

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Our God is an awesome God.

 

 

Ataxic Kiss.

As the music plays, I let the words wash over me like wet concrete strengthening these broken bones. I keep the playlist on because after replaying it somewhere near a hundred times (if not more) over the past four years, it’s become mindless, yet continues to say everything I can’t right now. Sometimes emotions and thoughts run so deep inside your bloodstream that vocalizing it is an impossibility, and yet their lyrics belt it out with such eloquence that I can through them gain the necessary relief. The sound of the synth helps me order my thoughts just enough to gather the week’s notes and write this post.

The mess means He’s rebuilding. In the midst of this war zone coated in blood and dust don’t let yourself become a shadow. The enemy seeks to break you through whichever method he can find. Yahweh has me in a place right now of simply watching Him fight for me from inside the hospital tent. Because of this pain of healing there are pieces of me considering the old apathy. Then, I could turn on emotion like a switch. All it took was a few drinks. They tasted like the poison they were, but they made me feel everything that was bottled up tight. But I was a shadow of a person then. After a while I began to feel the emptiness. And when He knew it was time, He restored me. Now I sit in the midst of a beauty so vibrant it’s overwhelming. This time I’m not giving up. If it takes forever, I’ll be screaming “hallelujah.”


But where will I be standing when He returns from fighting for me? Choosing apathy would be to kiss the enemy. Some things I’ll never know, and I had to let them go. But I know He’s working, and is at the door even now. Will He find me screaming “hallelujah” or with my tongue in the enemy’s mouth? His tent seems so clean, but the chaos is only hiding down below. I’d rather face the wreckage with the King holding on to me than be swallowed by it, and thus turn rancid myself. For such is the end result of all those little sins we acquiesce. I’d rather face the mess than become ataxic.


Do you hear the footsteps? The King is waiting outside the tent.