Sea Fort

It’s been a season of discovery. Of looking back and rediscovering little joys in areas I had either forgotten or forsaken, thinking I wasn’t “good enough” to savor the small habits such as photographing flowers and banging clumsy fingers on piano keys. In this moment of newness these simple acts of self-kindness have reemerged, but I find myself still struggling against whether or not I am “good enough” to claim them as the hobbies they are.

Protect me, God, for I take refuge in You. I said to the Lord, “You are my Lord; I have nothing good besides You.”

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In the grand scheme of life, I recognize that such debates are pure minutia. Still, I think they are a part of figuring out who you are as a twenty something. These little frivolities we so quickly write off are part of what bring us joy in the day to day, so I don’t think Christ would write them off. In fact, experience proves to me that He cares deeply. Deeply enough to bring me to a home in the canyons when I was expecting a little duplex in the hub of the Inland Empire to be my abode, knowing full well that my spirit needed these springtime flowers dotting the mountains.

As for the holy people who are in the land, they are the noble ones. All my delight is in them. The sorrows of those who take another god for themselves will multiply; I will not pour out their drink offerings of blood, and I will not speak their names with my lips.

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Photo: Annie Spratt of Unsplash

Amid these small buds, full blooms of newness have been emerging, with hints of more to come. Realizations of what the Lord truly created me for are coming into play. Like ocean spray caught in a breeze, I catch whiffs of these promises here and there. The ocean is there, on the other side of the wind- I must keep walking. The terrain may change again, but instead of being afraid of falling down the mountain because my foot slipped on a stream, I will simply learn to step differently as I walk towards the sea.

Lord, you are my portion and my cup of blessing; You hold my future. The boundary lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.

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Photo: Daniel Ribar of Unsplash

It’s amazing how insecurities rise up. Rarely are they new, it seems, but rather the same old lies flying around like crows in our heads since adolescence. Instead of getting frustrated at our insolence as we pause in fear every few moments along the path of obedience Yaweh has laid out for us; instead of growing as short as our faith when worry seizes our muscles, He patiently reminds us of that which He’s told us over and over and over before.

I will bless the Lord who counsels me- even at night when my thoughts trouble me. I will always let the Lord guide me. Because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken.

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Photo: Baptist Standaert of Unsplash

It’s not about you, love. 
I am the One holding you together.
I will keep you on the path I have set before you. 
Though you may stumble, I will never allow you to fall irrecoverably. 
These scrapes and bruises are strengthening you, growing you into the woman you are called to be. 
I never said the road would be easy, but that I would be with you the entire way. 
To know the end from the beginning would be too much for you; trust in My hand guiding you instead.
This route, though at times dull, at times terrifying, at times miraculous and at others confusing, is for good.
None of this is pointless; I know what I am doing.
Your destiny is for a future and hope; a life filled with Me.
In the end, it will all be beautiful.
The more you look to Me, the more beautiful you will see that it is even now.

Therefore my heart is glad, and my whole being rejoices; my body also rests securely. For You will not abandon me to Sheol; You will not allow Your faithful one to see decay.

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Photo: Ustav Shah of Unsplash

Like a child, we need the repetition. We need to be reminded time and again that obeying His edict, even when it seems as insignificant as photographing some flowers, is crucial. As His children, we do not always know where these small acts could lead in our lives. Even if they are only to maintain a level of joy and creativity in our private lives, that is of the utmost importance to our Father.

You reveal the path of life to me; in Your presence is abundant joy; at Your right hand are eternal pleasures.

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Photo: Joe Caione of Unsplash

So we step forward. We walk forward along the uneven mountain terrain, taking in the beauties of quiet streams trickling from a rock where we may fill our canteens and be refreshed once more in the purest of ways, and choosing to trust Him when the noises at night truly are what we dare not think, because though danger be present, so is our King.  Nothing can truly reach or harm us when we are His.

Psalm 16:1-11

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Retrospect.

In an evening filled with the Spirit and raw emotion, He whispered to me through the vessel of a sister the purpose for which I had been created. With what I have and will see, I am to speak and create, and in that discover my blessing. However, flash forward six months and I am huddled up in a heap on the front porch of my first big-girl house, sobbing at midnight because it was all simply too much. I had sensed the burden for years, but could never determine its origin or identity. When Hannah spoke to me, I began to understand, but now that I was back in the field I was raised in, I did not know what to do with the revelation. The pouring out – the speaking and creating with which I was designed to bless and serve – were  coming from my own shallow pond of strength. I would allow Him to give me His topic, then fill it in with my words and judge the reaction according to a self-perceived dosage of talent. It would originate from Him, but get polluted along the way, leaving me frustrated, burnt out, confused and crying.

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A year later, my husband and I lie exhausted after fleeing a hurricane in the one place we could find power and running water- on an air mattress in an upstairs office at the church where we served. After setting up camp there on Thursday, the Lord gave us our next assignment that Sunday. We were to move to California. While in the process of packing up and saying goodbye the excitement never waned, the familiar theme kept rising up in the form of what has proven to be my life’s most pervasive question: Am I enough? Each time I received the same answer: Of course not, because it’s not about me.

Do you realize how hard that is to learn? As the only daughter? As my daddy’s baby? As the pastor’s daughter raised the sweetheart of the congregation? I can tell myself as much as I want that it is not about me, but when it comes to the grit of things, there is a part of me that will always think that it is.

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But before I am anything else, I am a Christian. From the moment I was born I was on a sort of pedestal. I would breathe and to some it was miraculous. I would yawn and to others it was sin. And then I went to YWAM and the proverbial plastic tiara proved transparent in the Pacific breeze, and I was worn out and without identity. For all my years either directly rebelling against the PK stereotypes or picking one to decidedly play into, while trying to figure out life, I had found my identity in the diadem rather than the Maker of my soul. So what happened when no one could see the thin little outline framing my artificial crown? I shut down. I came home and tried to stand back up but found I was crippled and dirty and confused. But during that time of paralysis, the Lord was slowly cleansing my knees, straightening my bones and picking the broken shards of  plastic out of my hair. When I hit the ground, so did the chaplet, and in the confrontation it broke.

The next year and a half – my time in Miami, with all the sidewalk tears and air mattress edicts – was about learning to hold my neck without the weight. Often I’d reach for other things to place there instead – a sewing machine here, a bit of dirt formed in the shape of a trial there – but in His grace He’d take it down and readjust my neck held crooked for the old balancing act. He was never offended, never frustrated that I had just dumped a mudpie into the hair He had just washed. He just smiled (sometimes I think He chuckled), and kept the shampoo close.

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When we were reassigned to California, a new lesson began for the new season. Now I was to learn to say my name, and nothing else; to present myself as the same girl who sat alone with Jesus in a tree instead of the one poising a synthetic wreath with synthetic gems tilting slightly off my head, staring at you sideways, searching for eye contact through the shadow of the falling crown. I’m learning what it means to truly find my identity in Christ and nothing else. I’m learning how to thrive.

So what does it mean that I am a Christian first? It means that He has a waterfall gushing through these carbon bones. It means my entire being is made up of those moments sitting with Him, where His love flows into me just to rain on someone else as I do as He instructs, and perhaps those droplets of Living Water can help lead to their eternal life. Yet even as I make these notes, the girl who is used to the plastic crown cringes within me at the Christianese of it all and the amount of “I’s” written down. She is used to looking at her own talent and performance, and now Satan knows he can use that to stop my hands and mouth from doing as commanded.

That is what it all comes back to. It is not about me. It is not about my talent or performance but pouring out what He has put in me in the way He assigns, without worrying if my voice sounds like the old princess or if any of those old dregs of manufactured dignity come falling out of my hair. They will. The plastic polluted me. It is a part of my broken humanity. But it is not my identity. He is, and He alone.

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What’s the plastic polluting the garden of your identity? Would you bring it to Him?

“I have told you these things so that in Me you may have peace. You will have suffering in this world. Be courageous! I have overcome the world.”
John 16:33

“For we are His creation, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared ahead of time so that we should walk in them.”
Ephesians 2:10

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

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

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

 

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.
Hebrews 12:22-24

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.