Wasted from Grief: Lament Straight from Psalms

Life is hard. Anxiety, depression, physical illness, death, loss, relational unfaithfulness, broken relationships, heartbreak, murder, persecution, suicide, cancer, car accidents, debt, job loss, divorce, eating disorders, doubts, family tensions, school failures, regrets, hurtful words, insecurities, loneliness... If we are honest with ourselves, any one of us can admit to experiencing suffering from pains like these. What do we do with them? "Grin and bear it," "Look up," "Think positively," "Think of those who have it worse than you and you'll feel better." These are all things that I have heard spoken in some of my times of hurt and pain. None of these things have made me "feel better" during times of deep suffering. I decided to take a look at the Psalms and compile a prayer "lament" based on words straight from these Scriptures. I hope that these words are as encouraging to you as they have been to me. They are honest expressions of suffering taken right out of various chapters of Psalms (3, 31, 44, 57, 90, 139; if you want the specific references, feel free to ask me).

Be gracious to me, O Lord, for I am in distress;
    my eye is wasted from grief;
    my soul and my body also.

For my life is spent with sorrow,
    and my years with sighing;
my strength fails because of my iniquity,
    and my bones waste away.

Awake, Lord! Why do You sleep?
    Rouse Yourself! Do not reject us forever.

Why do You hide Your face
    and forget our misery and oppression?

We are brought down to the dust;

    our bodies cling to the ground.

Rise up and help us;
    rescue us because of Your unfailing love.

Return, O Lord! How long?

    Have pity on Your servants!

Satisfy us in the morning with Your steadfast love,
    that we may rejoice and be glad all our days.

Make us glad for as many days as You have afflicted us,
    and for as many years as we have seen evil.

Let Your work be shown to Your servants,
    and Your glorious power to their children.

Let the favor of the Lord our God be upon us,
    and establish the work of our hands upon us;
    yes, establish the work of our hands!

Be merciful to me, O God, be merciful to me,
    for in You my soul takes refuge;
in the shadow of Your wings I will take refuge,
    till the storms of destruction pass by.

I cry out to God Most High,
    to God who fulfills His purpose for me.

He will send from heaven and save me;
     He will put to shame him who tramples on me. Selah
God will send out His steadfast love and His faithfulness!

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.

But You, O Lord, are a shield about me,
    my glory, and the lifter of my head.

I cried aloud to the Lord,
    and He answered me from His holy hill. 

It's okay to express your pain. It's okay and good to admit your feelings of despair and depression, of deep hurt and suffering. We have a God who redeems suffering, who heals suffering, who desires to draw us close to Him within the suffering. There's hope in Him - real and eternal and unchanging hope. "I cried aloud to the Lord, and He answered me from His holy hill." Have you cried out to the Lord in your suffering?

An Honest Confession

"Your weakness becomes a backdrop for the glory of Jesus Christ. Embrace your weakness as the ground of Christ's power and glory... This kind of weakness acknowledges our flesh and puts on humanity... Your weakness is the channel for God's strength. God chooses to use us in the place of our greatest dependency. Get rid of this perfectionism."

Dr. Laurie Norris mentioned it in chapel this morning. A counselor reassured me of it on Monday. Both Mrs. Kane and my resident supervisor challenged me with it on Tuesday. My boyfriend seems to console me with it every day.

The simple truth that I am human.

It may seem silly, but for most of my life I have had a hard time believing that I am human; or, at least, I have tried to be more than human because I believed that I had to be. Good? No, the best. Well done? No, perfectly done. My expectations of myself are often higher than those that others have of me. The standards I set for myself are often so high even God's grace can't meet me when I fail to meet them; or, at least, that's what I often live my life believing.

The truth is, there's something I've been hiding, covering up, concealing; or, at least, trying to. And that is the simple truth that I am human. I know I haven't actually been hiding this; I've just tried to, for almost all of my life. And that is why first of all, I need to confess... I am human. Second of all, I need to apologize... to each and every one of you who I have refused to be vulnerable with, who I have put walls up with, who I have acted composed and put together in front of when really, inside, I have always just been a big sinful mess. The truth is, I'm scared. I've always been scared that others will see my imperfections, my struggles, and my sins and see that I am human.

If there's something the Lord has been trying to pound into my head and drill into my heart this semester, it is the simple truth that I am human. It may seem silly, but for a perfectionist like me it is really one of the most profound and powerful truths He has taught me so far in this life. Apparently, I am a human who is capable of missing a class, missing a quiz, sleeping through a work shift, turning a paper in late, forgetting about a meeting, needing to postpone or cancel meetings, stuttering in class because I have nothing smart to say, saying hurtful things to those I love, being selfish and prideful, being fearful and anxious and down, crying, doubting, and committing the same sins over and over again.

Grace. I have never been more thankful for Grace than in this time of my life because His Grace has never been more real to me than now. Perhaps this is because I am only now realizing how much I desperately need it. The Grace of Jesus Christ, my Savior, who was wounded for me so that I could be made whole (Isaiah 53:5). The Grace of God my Father who continually forgives me (1 John 1:9), draws me near to Himself (James 4:8), and assures me that it is when I am weak that I am strong (2 Corinthians 12:10) and that His Grace is sufficient for me (2 Corinthians 12:9). And I am thankful for the Grace that God gives me through those in my life - the girls on my floor, my boyfriend, my friends, my mom, my dad, my brother, my sister, my bosses, and my professors. Thank you to all of you who have shown me grace when I least deserve it; you may never quite know or understand how much this has meant, and continues to mean, to me.

I do not share these things for attention or for my own glory. No, I share my weaknesses because I am finally finding the freedom to admit that I am human. Because I am finally finding the freedom to be human. Because God has given me this freedom. Because through my weaknesses God's glory can most clearly be seen. Because "sufficient enough" is His Grace for me (2 Corinthians 12:9). Because, hopefully, you can be encouraged as well and therefore, God be glorified.

"Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me" (2 Corinthians 12:9). I pray that I will reach this point. I pray that, with Paul, I will be able to allow myself to be so human that the Divine's power and glory can be clearly seen in me. When I pretend to be "perfect," I make it all about me and my own glory; when I allow myself to live in the freedom God has given me to be weak, to be frail and finite, I make it all about God and His glory and strength in me.

I am in no way justifying sin, because my sin is against my Father and is deserving of death (Romans 6:23). I am only confessing that I do sin and that I am simply human. To pretend that I am perfect when I am weak is to diminish the visibility of His Glory in my life. It is to replace the Glory that is rightfully His in order to bring glory to myself.

"When I am weak, then I am strong." Yes, Father. Make me weak so that Your strength and glory can be clearly seen in my life. Sufficient enough is Your Grace for me. Help me to live in this Truth.

Beauty From These Ashes

"To love and be loved is both a blessing and a tragedy. It both heals and wounds, salves and scars. Though I know in my heart it is, sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. I'm really scared to love, really scared to be loved."

"Molly, Mamaw is not going to be in the house when we go in this time." I had played on the floor by my grandma's deathbed and sat by my dad at her side for a few weeks prior to this and still I did not believe that she was actually gone.

"Yeah she is, Dad," I laughed playfully, sure that he was joking with me. My little four-year-old heart could not quite grasp the fact that my grandma wouldn't be there. I walked inside and saw the empty bed where I expected to see her lying as usual, and then I knew. I knew that my dad was right. I left her house that day and did not hear her voice calling out to me, "Watch your step!" as she had always lovingly warned me when I left her house and bounded down the porch steps carelessly.

Only a few months after I attended my grandma's funeral, I attended my grandpa's. Two years later, my teacher called all of us together to tell us that our school bus driver, an older man I had attached myself to, had died. A year after that it was an elderly woman I loved named Violet. A few years after that it was my great-grandma.

One afternoon, I sat in a corner of my bedroom and sobbed over the pain and loss my little heart was experiencing. My mom came over to me and with tears gently told me, "Molly, please don't let this loss keep you from getting close to anyone else." At the time, though, my little heart was a lover, and it continued to attach itself to other people. It attached itself to an elderly couple, Roy and Mary, who became like my grandparents after the death of my biological grandparents. Roy is the one who gave me a mint that caused me to lose my first tooth, the one who had me convinced that he drank coffee for dinner every night, the one I visited almost every day just so I could sit by his side on his front porch. Mary is the one who I read books to, who I flipped through the pictures of my baby book with, who I sat beside while I did my homework; she was my "grandma," I was her "little angel."

Then one day when I was twelve our phone rang and my mom called me to her side. I immediately knew what had happened. "It's Roy... I'm so sorry, Molly." My mom cried and tried to console me at the same time, but my heart was broken. A month ago, my phone rang again and I tried to fight back tears in vain while I was on the phone with Mary's grandson. Again, my heart was wrenched. This time, I was 11 hours away and I didn't even get to say goodbye.

Why am I sharing these things? It is not because I want pity, because I don't. It is not because I want attention, because I really don't want that either. I write because I have to, because God has given me a story that He has not intended I keep to myself. I write because I know that every person has a story that is filled with its share of loss and pain.

"To love and be loved is both a blessing and a tragedy. It both heals and wounds, salves and scars. Though I know in my heart it is, sometimes I wonder if it's worth it. I'm really scared to love, really scared to be loved."

These are honest words that I prayed to my Father last night. The truth is, I love deeply and I am deeply loved and it terrifies me. At any moment my phone could ring again. At any moment my heart could be wrenched, wounded, and broken again.

So, why?! Why continue to love and continue to open up my heart just to invite in more pain that I really cannot bear?

Because this is what Christ has done for me (Isaiah 53:5). Because this is what my Heavenly Father has called me to do (John 13:34). Because the gift of loving someone far, far outweighs the pain of losing them. Because in the Family of God, I have all eternity to continue loving them (1 Thessalonians 4:13).

And this is why I trust that God is in the works of turning my mourning into joy, my despair into praise, my ashes into beauty (Isaiah 61:2-3). I trust that He is also in the works of doing the same for you. It's okay to wrestle with the Lord, to ask Him the hard questions, to wonder why He has allowed pain. It is okay to be heartbroken and angry that He has not allowed you to say goodbye. It is okay to pray honest prayers, to let your Heavenly Father hear your heart, to crawl on your knees to the Throne when everyone around you is telling you to run to it but you know you don't have the strength to even stand. He just wants you. The same God who has allowed the heart-wrenching, breath-taking pain is the same God who comforts and heals us of that very pain.

"He will wipe away every tear from their eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain anymore, for the former things have passed away" (Revelation 21:4).

That's the beauty in these ashes, the hope in the midst of this pain. This life is not all there is. Praise God this pain is temporary, this "light momentary affliction... preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison" (2 Corinthians 4:17).

Father, thank You that even when I do not understand Your ways I can still trust You. Help me to trust You more, especially when my heart is deeply grieved. Thank You that this is not my home, that You are even now preparing a place for me where there will be no more death or crying or pain. Thank You that even when I cannot "thank You," that even when I am in a place of despair and hurt because You would allow me to hurt so much, that You still love me and want me and pursue me. Thank You for holding my heart in Your hands. Thank You that when I cannot stand, I can fall on You; that when I cannot understand, I can still rest in You. Oh, God, You are good. Thanks for loving me.

By His Wounds

"Now that I have seen, I am responsible. Faith without deeds is dead."

I sit with her as she tells me about how she became homeless and now has nowhere to go. She sleeps in abandoned buildings every night, finding shelter wherever she can, and I know this woman is unsafe as she lays her head down to sleep each night. I wonder if I'll get to see her again, get to hear more of her story, get to be encouraged again by this woman's faith even in the midst of her loss.

Fast forward.

We're sitting in a circle; we call it "women's circle," but really it is a type of peace circle where each woman shares her perspective when the "talking piece" is handed to her. When the talking piece is handed to one of the women, she begins to cry, explaining that she has been homeless for the past five days and is at the lowest point of her life right now. Her faith pours forth from her speech as she says to us, "I will not let my circumstances define me." She has a resolved faith that "God causes all things to work together for good to those who love God" (Romans 8:28).

Flash back to three days ago.

I sit with her... her and five other women. I am leading devotions, and suddenly she changes the subject. "How can you rape me and then expect me to be your girlfriend? No! I hate you, but I don't hate you because I don't have time to hate you because I am a happy person." Another woman tries to calm her down, stating the fact that 1 in 3 women are sexually abused. She goes around the room, "That's 1...2...you. 1...2...me. You are not alone. It was me too." Another woman begins to cry. My heart is heavy, burdened by the weight of the pain that these women hold. "I will never love again. The risk is too great," one of the women speaks. And my heart breaks in two because this world is broken and women like these are torn apart by the pain of it.

Fast forward to later the same day.

I am sitting at a table, somehow doing art therapy with three women. I don't do art, let alone art therapy, but I was asked to do a craft with the women so I decide to do something with purpose. I found some small frames in the supply closet, so I bring these to the women and tell them to draw a picture on each side of the cardboard that the frame holds. One side is to portray where the women feel they are at in their lives right now, the other side to portray where they want to be. One of the women colored the entire backside of her piece of cardboard black. I asked her what it meant, but didn't need to have much explained to me when I realized she had written, "A very unhappy place" above the black background. Another woman didn't draw anything, and when I asked her about this, she simply said, "It's nothing. My life is nothing right now."

Father, how do I hold the pain of these women? I cannot help them, cannot take away their pain, cannot even hold it for myself without breaking.

Flashback.

"Do you want to go with me to get a diet coke?" she asked me, and I immediately said yes. Anything for an adventure through this neighborhood, the sixth most dangerous in the city of Chicago. Okay, obviously this little white girl had some hesitation about walking through "the hood" with this woman, but I went. As we walked the few long blocks to the little corner store, through the group of large guys who jeered at us, side-stepping all of the trash strewn across the sidewalk and grass around us, she talked. She did not stop talking until we set foot into the store, and even then it was only to find her diet coke. She told me her story - how she became homeless and how she is where she is right now. I barely spoke a word. A few nods, a few "mhmm"s and "yeah?"s were all she needed as affirmation to continue telling her story. I was enthralled, captivated, and broken all at once.

Flash forward one more time.

I am currently sitting in my apartment, looking outside my window as the sun begins to set. It penetrates the clouds in a golden stream of light that I am sure is a piece of Heaven. I often wonder how I got here, how in the world this country girl from small-town Pennsylvania ended up in inner-city Chicago doing urban ministry to women in the sixth most dangerous, most violent neighborhood in the city. I can hardly believe that the girl who just three years ago was scared to walk a block down the street to go to the bank, is the same girl who just a couple weeks ago walked through the hood with a woman she had only just met two months before. I can hardly believe that this girl who wanted to leave the city the moment she stepped foot into it now, three years later, cannot imagine leaving it.

A piece of my heart has been planted here and I cannot just uproot it. I have seen, and I cannot turn away. I have seen the immeasurable brokenness and felt a small part of the immense pain that these women carry, and I cannot just tear myself away from it. To truly care for someone, to see them with the eyes of Jesus and to love them with the same love that He loves, is incredibly eye-opening but also incredibly painful. It hurts to care. It hurts to carry pain that was never meant to be yours, was never never meant to be theirs.

Flashback, this time to over 2,000 years ago.

"Carrying His own cross, He went out to the place of the Skull (which in Aramaic is called Golgotha). There they crucified Him..." (John 19:17-18).

"'He Himself bore our sins' in His body on the cross, so that we might die to sins and live for righteousness; 'by His wounds you have been healed" (1 Peter 2:24).

"But He was pierced for our transgressions, He was crushed for our iniquities; the punishment that brought us peace was on Him, and by His wounds we are healed" (Isaiah 53:5).

That is exactly what Jesus has done for each one of us. He loves us with a love that, because of our sin, often incredibly pains Him. He carries our immense pain, pain that was never meant to be His. He desires to take us upon Himself, and this means all of us; He wants all of our pain, all of our burdens, all of our brokenness. "By His wounds we are healed." We cannot heal ourselves, let alone another. We cannot even carry our own pain, let alone the pain that someone else carries... But we have a great high priest who empathizes with us (Hebrews 4:15), who has carried our pain and tells us again to cast all of our anxiety on Him (1 Peter 5:7).

Bring healing, Father. Pour Your healing touch on this city and claim these women as Your own. Draw them near to Your heart and use the loss and pain and tragedy of their lives to draw them even nearer to You. Show me how to love them with Your love... and hold me as You break my heart for what breaks Yours. May I never give up when it gets too hard, when the pain is too much to bear and caring for others means experiencing more brokenness and pain than I want to. Remind me that Your wounds are a result of greater pain than I will ever know, and it is by these wounds of Yours that we are healed. 

So be it.

I Carry them Home

They say it’s not a good thing to “take your job home with you.” I always said I wouldn’t do that, that I wouldn’t let my job affect my personal life, that I wouldn’t think about it or talk about it outside of my "9-5." Or, in this case, my 8-3.

But I’m not so sure that’s possible anymore.

How do you see a 19-year-old come over to you on the verge of tears, shaking uncontrollably and telling you to stay calm because she’s having a seizure… and not think about her, be concerned for her, after she's taken to the hospital by ambulance and you leave and go home? How can you look at a piece of paper with the face of a woman on it that the police hand to you, asking if you have seen her because she is wanted, and though you have never seen her face in person, how can you not carry it home with you and wonder what her story is, why she is wanted, what pain she is carrying? How do you not think about the woman who is always so happy to see you, overly happy, but one day she says she’s “not a talker and would just start crying” if she began to talk about her pain, and though she doesn’t want to, she begins to cry right there.

Part of my walk through the neighborhood where Breakthrough is located

I think about the woman who walked down the street with me in the rain, telling me how beautiful of a day it is, and when we reach the building she thanks the Lord that we got there safely. I think about another woman I just met, a cancer survivor, who wants me to teach her how to blog so she can share her story. And I think of the girl who walked with me the whole way to the bus, talking the whole length of the two city blocks and then some, and then gave me a hug before I stepped onto the bus to go home.

The woman who has become a completely different person, so disassociating herself with reality that she is not even herself, all in an effort to not face into the realness of her pain… The woman who walks through the halls murmuring something I cannot discern, and I wonder who she is talking to, what she is thinking about, where she is… The woman who sits all alone, and even when I approach her and ask her how she is doing, she looks down and chuckles… The woman who does not respond at all when I speak to her… The woman who gets upset every time I look at her because it makes her uncomfortable, and I wonder why this beautiful woman is so insecure… The woman who begins to cry to me because she has been taking care of her three younger brothers and recently became homeless... The woman who talks about the walls she puts up around men because of things that have happened to her in the past, and I know I can't assume yet I know that I know, and my heart breaks.

I carry these women home with me. I know I’m told I shouldn’t. I try not to. I didn’t even know that I did.

Healing. Freedom. Love. Acceptance. All four are needs of mine, of yours, of each one of these women. All four I can try to give, but not like Jesus can. Only Jesus has the power to heal (Luke 8:46-48). Only Jesus can set us free (Galatians 5:1). Only Jesus can love unconditionally (Romans 8), and He loves each one of these women even more than I think I do. Only Jesus offers complete and total acceptance, telling us to come to Him (Matthew 11:28)… even in our worst and weakest moments.

Only Jesus.

I bring these women home with me, in my heart, but I cannot carry their burdens. Only Jesus can do that. Only Jesus was meant to do that.

“Come to Me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest” (Matthew 11:28). It’s Jesus’ invitation to each of us, and it is only Jesus who can give us this true, deep rest that we desperately need.

“Cast all your anxiety on Him because He cares for you” (1 Peter 5:7). It’s Jesus’ invitation to me, to you, to each one of these women. And it is only Jesus who can take our anxiety and burdens off of our shoulders, only Jesus who can carry them.

Only Jesus.

May this serve as a reminder to me, and perhaps to you, that we cannot even carry our own burdens, let alone someone else's. Let us cast all of our anxiety upon Him without reserve. Let us come to Him, heeding His invitation to rest; for it is only Jesus who can save, who can heal, who can bring freedom.

Only Jesus.

Within these City Lights

I looked out the skyscraper window overlooking the city of Chicago. It was dark, and all I could see were lights. The beautiful city skyscraper lights and the lights from cars driving down the busy streets. The lights meant life. Life in the buildings and life in the cars, people living and traveling and working. People living wealthy and successful lives on one city block, and people living on cardboard boxes on the next block. I could not see this in the dark, but I knew because just a few hours earlier I had walked the city streets and saw the wealth and the poverty and felt the depth of brokenness and hopelessness. People striving for greater wealth, greater success, greater prosperity, while many of them were all the while missing the One who was truly Greater. People sitting on street corners asking for money and food, all the while being ignored by those who God has sent to love them.

As I looked out these skyscraper windows knowing the life that these city lights held, tears sprang to my eyes. I have sent you here, Molly. My heart was burdened and while every fiber of my being wanted to turn around and go home to the comforts that I knew there, God had already attached my heart to this great city that lay before me and all around me. If you don't go now, Molly, you never will. These words of my dad still ring in my ears and resound in my heart; Go. My heart was burdened and I knew that I must go.

Abandon. I don't think I really know what that word means. According to Dictionary.com, it means to "give up completely." According to Jesus, it is a "denial" of myself: "And He said to all, 'If anyone would come after me, let him deny himself and take up his cross daily and follow me'" (Luke 9:23).

To give up... to deny myself... abandon.

When I visited Chicago with my dad three years ago, my heart was immediately burdened. I fought it. I fought it so hard as I looked out over the city lights. God, I cannot go to a school in this city. I don't even like cities. "Go..." But I don't know anyone... All my friends are going to other schools. "Go." My family will be so far away. "Molly, go." My whole life is going to be so different. "Trust me." I'm scared. "Do not be afraid; do not be discouraged, for I will be with you wherever you go" (Joshua 1:9). Where You go, I'll go.

Abandon. It means different things for different seasons of life and for different people whom God has called. For me in that moment, it meant giving up my own desires and plans for my future for God's desires and plans. Little did I know then the work that God would do in my heart over those next three years as I allowed God to strip me down of everything that I thought I was and needed to be and began to slowly build me back up into who He wants me to be. I did not know that the heartstrings He had attached to the city of Chicago that night would not be easily severed or that He would ask me to do further ministry to the people there.

The reason I am writing tonight is to ask you to pray for me and for the people I will be ministering to in the city of Chicago this summer. I am a firm believer in prayer, knowing that God hears the prayers of His people (Psalm 34:7). I am a firm believer in the power of prayer, knowing that the God we pray to has the power to change hearts and lives (Psalm 62:11). And, frankly, I don't. I have been reminded again and again that I can do nothing in my own strength, for when I try I fail or burn out.

This summer, God has asked me to minister in a neighborhood on Chicago's West Side. While I am not getting on an airplane to enter an overseas, foreign country, I am flying back to a city to minister to an impoverished, crime-ridden neighborhood that so desperately needs the hope and love of God. If you would like to commit to praying for me this summer, I would love to know so that I can send you updates of my internship throughout the summer. You will be a great encouragement to me.

I will be ministering with Breakthrough Urban Ministries in their women's center, leading devotionals, co-facilitating a women's trauma therapy group and a support group, and building relationships with the women who live at the center. I am so excited for this opportunity that I have been given, yet ask that you would help to cover me, the women's center, and the women in prayer. God is asking me to go with little resources, asking me to have faith that He will provide for me, for my next month's rent, for my school bill, for my daily needs. Where God calls, He provides. I am so thankful for this truth and am looking with much anticipation to see how He will provide!

"Now faith is confidence in what we hope for and assurance about what we do not see" (Hebrews 11:1).

Abandon. I believe that it has a lot to do with faith. Giving up completely, denying myself and my own desires and plans, picking up my cross every day and choosing to follow hard after Jesus. It is not easy and yet it is the definition of the Christian life. I cannot see how God will provide for my needs, yet I have confident assurance that He will. I cannot see the work that He will do both in my life and in the lives of the women He is sending me to this summer, but I have a confident hope that He will work. I am thankful that it is He who will be walking these city streets with me this summer, for Christ is the only One who knows the deep parts of the hearts of those I will pass by and those I will minister to. And He knows the deep parts of my own heart and its needs.

Though my heart is torn because I am leaving behind a summer filled with the family I love, I know that "my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior. Spirit, lead me where my trust is without borders. Let me walk upon the waters wherever You would call me. Take me deeper than my feet could ever wander and my faith will be made stronger in the presence of my Savior" (Hillsong, Oceans).

Abandon... He has called me to nothing less than this.

The Strength to be Weak

"When I am raw and vulnerable is when I am most fully alive."

My professor spoke it with such conviction that it immediately struck a chord in me and I quickly wrote it down in my notebook.

"When I am raw and vulnerable is when I am most fully alive. If I am not willing to be open and raw and vulnerable, others will not find freedom to go to that place."

Freedom.

As I finish out this semester, I look back on where God has brought me over these past four months and I am overwhelmed. From my new position as a resident assistant to my new relationship to a new floor and a new major and new job responsibilities and new ministry involvements and a new church and new friends, this semester was challenging. Perhaps "challenging" is not a strong enough word to evoke the emotions that I felt this semester during times when I was literally so exhausted I couldn't move or so sick I couldn't get out of bed. Or every day that I have been humbled in class as I realize more and more how little I know about the very things I am pursuing to do with my future. Or the times when I sat in tears as I saw the dark depths of my soul to a level I had never faced before. Or the moments when I fought with the Lord over these dark places of my heart and the tugging He had placed on my heart to share these places with others.

"If I am not willing to be open and raw and vulnerable, others will not find freedom to go to that place."

Yes, Lord. But I am afraid. I am afraid of love because I am afraid of loss.

I am convinced that to be vulnerable is the greatest act of love that anyone can ever perform, the deepest kind of love that anyone can ever give. To be vulnerable is to reveal pieces of your heart that perhaps no one has ever seen; it is to give a very tender and valuable piece of yourself to the care of someone else, risking heartache and loss if not received well by the one you choose to give it to. Yes, to risk love is to risk pain and loss and heartache; yet I believe that to isolate ourselves within the confines of the walls we build up around our hearts is to risk a life of joylessness, loneliness, and a degree of pain and loss and heartache that the one who risks love will never know.

And, so, this semester I chose to tear down the walls. To be vulnerable to a degree I had never been before. To risk being vulnerable to see if perhaps this freedom that was promised me really was the reward of a heart left open and raw before others. To see if I truly believed that Christ had come to set me free.

Freedom.

I sat with my boyfriend at the lake, just me and him and a boat that raced across the water in a seemingly purposeless route. Empty beer cans were strewn across the graffiti covered rocks, no doubt the leftovers from a teenage bonfire. The moon created a spotlight above us and the water crashed continuously against the rocky crags that were before us. It was the perfect place for me to share these deep places of my heart; the contrast between the beauty of the moon and lake and the disastrous mess of beer cans and graffiti around us was reflective of the disastrous mess of my heart and the beauty of God's infinite and incredible grace that was poured over me that night as my heart was exposed and God's grace covered it.

Freedom.

I sat before four of the women on my floor who I am in leadership over. Don't share, the Enemy sneered. They'll see who you really are and no longer respect you. Praise Jesus for the strength and courage that come from Him in the moments of greatest weakness. I laid my heart out, raw and open and vulnerable, and it was met with love and gratitude and respect. Share, my Savior pleads. They'll see more of who I really am; My strength in your weakness and My grace in your mess. He received glory and I received freedom.

Freedom.

I sat before eleven other women, highly esteemed women who I am in leadership with. Hide. Build up your walls. Feel shame. I was beginning to feel the spiritual battle in my flesh as my hands began to shake. I shared my testimony, this time testifying to God's grace more deeply than usual as I testified to my own depravity more honestly than usual. More grace and love were poured out on me and I left with a full heart of joy and grace and love. And freedom.

Freedom.

My boyfriend came running over to me, took my hand and led me to a bench down the street where I shared and he sat in silence, where I cried and he wiped away my tears, where I spoke despair and he sang words of forgiveness over me. When Satan tempts me to despair and tells me of the guilt within, upward I look and see Him there who made an end of all my sin. Because a sinless Savior died, my sinful soul is counted free. For God the Just is satisfied, to look on Him and pardon me. He sang the words until they penetrated the guilt covering my heart, and forgiveness and grace washed over it. Praise Jesus for His grace. And praise Him for a boyfriend who has shown me more than anyone else the love of Christ in offering grace where there should only be condemnation, forgiveness and acceptance where there should only be bitterness and rejection.

Freedom.

I sat with my mom, holding back tears and words that I knew needed to pour out. Hold back. You don't need to do this; in fact, it'd be better if you didn't. Praise Jesus for speaking over these irrational thoughts that were entering my mind and giving me the strength to be weak. And praise Him for a mother who has shown me more than anyone else the love of Christ in crying with those who mourn and taking on the burdens of others and making them her own. That night, she cried with me and took on my burden. Love washed over me and my burden was made light.

Freedom.

This semester, I have felt a greater depth of freedom than I have ever felt before. It is the kind of freedom that brings me to tears and draws me to my Savior. It is the kind of freedom that gives me the passion behind this life that I am living for Him. It is the kind of freedom that has deepened my relationships and enriched my life. The kind of freedom that has allowed others to go to the same depths and experience the same freedom. The kind of freedom that gives life.

When I am raw and vulnerable is when I am most fully alive. Fully alive. I have never felt so fully alive, so full of life and love and joy and wonder that cause me to dance and sing and worship and write and love and smile and laugh and live. 

His Grace is enough. I have opened my heart up to experience this, to prove this, to believe this. To close off the depths of my heart are to close off the depths of God's grace from being displayed, thus robbing God of the display of glory that He deserves in my life. Freedom is offered to the one who takes the risk to be vulnerable, to love, to richly display the Savior's glory and grace. Pray for the strength to be weak; for it is in our times of greatest weakness and vulnerability that His strength and grace are most vividly displayed.

Why Risk?

"At one time or another, we've all been hurt in love relationships. But if we cease to exercise our hearts by loving God and loving others, getting involved and taking risks, our hearts will become diseased and hardened." -Beth Moore

Tonight, this quote by Beth Moore has me thinking. We have all been hurt.. whether by a friend, parent, child, or significant other. When we open our hearts to love, we open it to a lot of other things as well - the risk of hurt, pain, and loss. When we allow another person to enter into our lives, we run the risk of losing them. And the closer they get and the more they know about us and our hurts and struggles and secrets and heart, the more vulnerable we are and the deeper the cut will be if they should decide to leave or if the Lord should suddenly allow them to be taken away.

By all means, then, we must guard our hearts. Barricade them with high, steel walls that nothing can penetrate. Surround them with the rocks of cynicism, sarcasm, and stubbornness. Never allow anyone through, never let anyone see past, never let anyone step foot within a hundred feet of the walls.

We can easily justify these walls with the idea of "guarding our hearts." Yes, the Lord does command us to guard our hearts (Proverbs 4:23). This idea of "guarding your heart" refers to every area of our lives - what we allow to flow into it from media, from sources of entertainment, from conversations, from friends. "For from it flow the springs of life" (Proverbs 4:23). May we keep our hearts pure for this very reason. May we do all that we can to keep our hearts pure before our holy God. With all vigilance, may we guard our hearts from all that is unclean and impure. In that sense, by all means let's guard our hearts. We are commanded to do so. No less is expected of us. "Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life" (Proverbs 4:23). 

The question that is piercing my heart tonight, convicting and challenging me, is what have I found so selfless about guarding my heart from love and loving others? What have I found so valiant, so courageous, so heroic about hiding behind the barricade I have so carefully surrounded my heart with? What good do I see in the cynicism, in the sarcasm, in the stubbornness that have sometimes become my "cop-out" from facing what is behind the walls, underneath the rubbish, hidden deep within my heart? Is it not a selfish thing to guard my heart from loving others?

Yes, it is a risk to love. I am not even solely talking about the love that is found between a couple, although that is part of it. I am talking about the risk that it is to love the little girl who is a challenge to work with, the teenager who cuts you deep with his harsh words against you, the old person who has stubbornly decided their own way. What about the outcasts in society, or the AIDS orphans that no one else wants to hold, or the employee that everyone constantly complains about and no one likes? Or the parents who you never see and who have done nothing but hurt you all of your life? What about the church member who sits in the back of the building every week as an outcast because of the smell of smoke and alcohol that often permeate from her?

Church, are we loving? Love is a verb. Are we loving those around us? Do we risk our own hurt and pain in order to love others? Why? Why would we ever risk our own hurt and pain to love those around us who do not deserve any love at all? I guess a better question would be, why did Christ risk His own hurt and pain and suffering to love us, who do not deserve any love at all? We are to love as Christ loved us (John 13:34-35) and that means unconditionally, without reserve, without favoritism, and without looking to our own needs and interests before the needs and interests of others. It's what He did for me and for you, and that is why we have no reason - no excuse whatsoever - to not do the same. We will love imperfectly, yes, but we must still love. For it is through our imperfections that the Lord's glory shines (2 Corinthians 12:9). And it is for His glory that we live and love.

So as for guarding my heart, yes, I will guard my heart with all vigilance. With all of my ability, I will do my part to keep my heart guarded from all that is impure and unclean. But I will not tolerate these walls any longer. These walls are my enemy, dressed as my friend. They are keeping my heart safe from hurt and pain and suffering and the admittance of all of these things in my life. They are keeping me safe from the risk of loss. Yet they are paralyzing me in my ability to love. Behind these walls, I cannot love. These walls may help me to look perfect, spiritual, cleaned up, and pure. Yet they are only there so that no one can see what lies behind them... the coward who refuses to love out of fear of rejection, of pain, of loss. What selfishness. What joy we often forfeit all because we do not know the reward of loving others the way that the Lord has loved us - unconditionally, undeservingly, unwaveringly. The Lord has placed those whom He has placed in my life to love, in the truest meaning of the word. This means that I will love my parents, I will love my brother and my sister and my friends and my boyfriend and my co-workers.

Will I get hurt? Yes, because no one is perfect and therefore no one loves perfectly. In my vulnerability, do I run the risk of rejection and pain? No doubt. Yet Christ, naked and broken and bleeding on the cross, is a picture of the most vulnerable love has ever been. And that love was for me and for you, and therefore I have no excuse to love any less than He has shown His love to me.

Let's love, Church. Let's break down these walls and allow ourselves to love as Christ has first loved us.

The Fog

Life. The best way that I know how to describe it is as a path... a short, but windy path that I can never predict and can never plan for. There is a fog on this path, a thick fog that I cannot see through and that never goes away. I can dream about what is past that fog; I can think and pray and hope, but I can never know for sure. Sometimes, the mystery behind the fog excites me; most times, I stand on the path and stare into the fog in confusion, longing to know what lies behind it, but often too scared to step into it.


The Lord is my shepherd, I lack nothing.
He makes me lie down in green pastures,
He leads me beside quiet waters,
He refreshes my soul.
He guides me along the right paths
for His name’s sake.
-Psalm 23:1-3

Sometimes, on this pathway of life, the Lord asks me to make decisions - some small, some life-altering. If I can't see beyond the fog on my own path, then I can't expect those around me to be able to see any more clearly beyond it. Oftentimes, I cannot understand why I am making a decision except for the fact that the Lord is asking me to make it; and, therefore, I cannot expect those around me to understand, either. This is when I fall back into my Father's arms and I am overwhelmed by the peace that I have that I do not understand - and I am able to rest. Sometimes, I seek after the Lord so hard and so long about a decision, and the only answer that I get is peace. It's an excited, peaceful, "I don't understand this or how this is going to work" feeling. Yet it is a peace, and I can rest in His peace, and so I move on. I step forward into the fog, shaking and weak and scared, yet reaching out for the Hand that beckons me - and I grasp it tightly and I take a breath and I trust.

"You can't steal second base if you still have one foot on first."

I have to learn to let go of the things which are behind me if I am to move forward - with both feet - into the fog. The only reason that I can do this is because my God's Name is El Roi - "the God who sees" me right where I am. My God's Name is El Shaddai - "God all sufficient," able to provide for my every need. My God's Name is Jehovah Nissi - "The Lord our banner," and His banner over me is love (Song of Solomon 2:4). My God's Name is Jehovah-Shalom - "The Lord our peace," and this is a peace that passes my understanding (Romans 5:1). My God's Name is Jehovah-Shammah - "The Lord is present with us," never leaving me to be alone (Hebrews 13:5). My God's Name is Jehovah-Raah - "The Lord our Shepherd," and He leads me and guides me in His wisdom. And my God's Name is Abba Father - my protector, my friend, my rock, my fortress, the lover of my soul.

Yet the snare that often wraps itself around me, causing me to stumble, is the fact that the Lord often says "no" to things that I have thought were so right for so long. Sometimes, I ask Him why He says "no," why I can't have what I have longed for for so long. And then I realize that maybe I have been asking the wrong question all along. "In all your ways submit to Me, and I will make your path straight," He says to me (Proverbs 3:6). He may say "no" to something that I have prayed for, longed for, and sought after for so long - but He never says "no" to His Plan, to the way that He has shaped my path before I was even born. His Plan has been and is and will be forever... it has never changed, is not changing, and will never change. It is eternal, and it is best - best for His Kingdom purposes and best for my life. When I come to truly believe that and completely trust Him in that is when I will realize that the right question is not, "Why have You said no to this thing that I have longed for?" but, "Why am I so loved by You, so covered in Your grace, so held in Your hand that You have chosen to protect me from the things that only You can see?" Sometimes, the Lord gives us a glimpse into His reason for things; every time, He has a reason more perfect than any we could ever have.

I can't see past the fog on this pathway of my life. I am not supposed to. I am only responsible to be faithful to the Lord with every step of my life - to obey Him every step of the way, even when I do not understand. I am not supposed to understand. I am only responsible to trust Him when He asks me to move forward, even when I cannot see what lies ahead. I am not supposed to see what lies ahead. I am only to reach out for His hand that is already reached out for mine, and to cling to it with my life, knowing that I can trust Him with everything.

And, when I view the fog in that light, I am able to rest. When I see God for Who He really is - a God whose Plan has not changed, is not changing, and will never change, a God who keeps His promises forever, a God who loves me so much that He desires to protect me from the things that I cannot see - when I see God as the God that He really is, I am able to rest. And so, tonight, I am resting and thanking God for the fog.

The Climb

This post goes out to my dad, because I know without a doubt that I would not be who or where I am today without him:

     I climb the small hills that surround the creek, one slippery rock at a time. It was my favorite part about going fishing with Dad. Whether or not I caught a fish did not matter in comparison to the sense of adventure that I felt when walking through the woods with Dad. Except for the morning that my brother came along with us, and I caught a fish before they ever did. Dad’s face lit up with such a sense of joy and pride, and my little eight-year-old heart could not have felt prouder. I always made Dad put the worm on the hook, but as soon as he got the line ready for me, I would fling the line out and it would land on the water with a smooth plop. I would stare at the bright orange bobber that sat calmly on the surface, listening to nothing but the water as it calmly ran downstream, the birds’ early morning song, and the occasional woodpecker that would try in vain to interrupt. Most of the time it was just me and Dad, and we often sat in silence as to not disrupt the fish. After a few hours, we would climb through the woods and over the rocks, back to his grey Chevy pick-up truck. Whether or not we caught a fish, we both knew without a word that it was a successful day.

     Ten years later, and I am again climbing. This time, it’s the small slope up the ramp that leads to the airplane that promises to take me three states away from Dad – Dad and Mom and my brother and sister and all that I knew and loved. Whether or not I got a window seat or sat uncomfortably in between two overweight men did not matter to me in comparison to the weight of overwhelming desperation that was lying heavy on my heart – desperation for things to be back to the way that they always were. I looked back and saw Dad standing at the top of the stairs. His face lit up with such a sense of joy and pride in the woman that I had become, and tears sprang to my eyes because my eighteen-year-old heart could not have felt prouder. Dad had gotten the line ready for me. He had done his part in raising me to become the woman that I was, and now it was time for me to fling the line out – to step out into the unknown, to walk into the adventure that was before me, to “put the worm on the hook” for myself as Dad had taught me to do. Looking back at Dad, it was clear that we both knew without a word that these eighteen years were a success. Now it was my turn to pass on what he had taught me, and to step out into this season of life that he had been preparing me for all these years. Early Saturday morning fishing adventures were only just a part of it.         

The Refiner's Fire

It's good to be home.

To be away from my job (even though it is great), my classes (even though I am learning so much in them), my city (even though I have learned how to love it), and even my friends (even though they are wonderful). It is just good to be away from everything and to be at home, with my family and friends here, and to be refreshed by them and by this wonderful country air that I seem to love and appreciate even more now than ever.

To be refreshed and to reflect. That is what I have been doing. I have been reflecting on how difficult and wonderful this semester has been. Difficult in that it has been so challenging both mentally and spiritually. Wonderful in that, in the process, I am being refined by the Great Refiner into more of who He wants me to be.

This semester has been different. It has been more than I thought it would be and it has been less than I thought it would be. It has been filled with changing friendships, deepening friendships, weekends running away from everything with my roommate, learning how to write and preach an exegetical message for a women's class and being so stretched in this new challenge, meeting Nancy Leigh DeMoss and being reminded of how faithful my God is, being given a job that I could have never asked for, more homesickness than I have ever experienced, two bouts of sickness that left me in bed and even more homesick, being challenged in my faith and in my beliefs, being stripped of the legalism of my past, making decisions that caused my heart to battle so fiercely within that I have fallen to my knees in desperate prayer, crying through Psalms on the roof, waging war against the powerful assault of doubts from the Enemy, learning how to read God's Word with the deep realization that it is truly living and active, and falling more in love with my Savior as I get to know my rebellious and sinful state more and Him and His great grace and love better. Yes, this semester has been different. It has been more and it has been less than I thought it would be and it has been wonderful and it has been challenging.

Overall, it has been extremely refining.

The dictionary defines this word, "refine," as "remove impurities: to produce a purer form of something by removing the impurities from it, or become pure through such a process" or "make something more effective: to improve something through small changes that make it more effective or more subtle."

This is what the Lord has been doing in my life. He has been removing my impurities to produce a purer heart within so that I may be more effective for ministry to further His Kingdom. It is so painful to go through the Refiner's Fire. Some days, it is excruciating as I feel as though I am standing in the front lines of a full fledged battle and the Enemy's troops look so much fiercer and bigger and stronger than me. And then I remember the Armor of the Lord (Ephesians 6) that I wear and I remember the One who not only stands before me, but goes with me. I remember the promise of the outcome of this Fire and I sometimes whisper, sometimes scream, back to the Lord, "Let it be so!"

The outcome of this Refiner's Fire is purity. It is effectiveness. It is being purified, as with fire, of all of the things in my heart and life that are not of the Lord so that I can be more effective for His Kingdom. It is excruciatingly painful at times, this Refiner's Fire. Not only does this fire purify my heart of all of its impurities (which are so ugly and painful to look at and face in the light of the Fire), but it purifies my life of all of the actions, habits, relationships, and beliefs that are not of the Lord. Sometimes I scream out to the Lord to please give me a break from the Fire, to please allow me to "just be" for a moment.

And then I realize that what I am asking from Him is to be removed from His hand as He is guiding me through the Fire, so that I can sit in the scum of the world for a while. It would sure be easier that way - to be able to make my own choices based on my feelings and not on the Truth of His Word, to be able to live my life my own way and on my own time instead of His way and His time, to be able to compromise and live like the world for just a moment.

To get to the heart of the matter, I must ask the question: "Why?" Why don't I just remove myself from this Fire if it is this painful? Why don't I just live my life my own way, based on my feelings and not His Truth, if it would be so easier that way? The Lord asked me that question tonight. It stopped me in my tracks.

And then I felt Him whisper to my heart, "Would you trade knowing Me for this easier path?" Tears sprang to my eyes as I whispered back, "No. I would not trade knowing You for the world." This is why I choose to be thankful for the Refiner's Fire, for through it I am purified and made more effective for His Kingdom. This is why I can smile under the Potter's Hand, for it is under His hand that I am shaped into who He wants me to be. This is why I choose to live in relationship with Him and to live in light of His will, His plan, and His life for me. To whom shall I go? I know too much of His faithfulness, too much of His love, too much of Him to ever step foot outside of the Fire. Knowing Him is the great reward of this life. Getting to know Him better every day is the great joy of it.

In this Fire, the Lord is more real to me than He has ever been. His Word to me is more living and active than I have ever noticed it to be. He is more trustworthy and faithful than I have ever known Him to be. Therefore, I trust that He knows exactly what I need in each season of my life and, because of that, I have exactly what I need in this season.

Yes, this Refiner's Fire is painful. It is more challenging than I ever expected it to be. Why do I stay? A better question to ask is, To whom else shall I go? There is nothing and no One who compares to this One. And, therefore, I say with earnestness and desperation and tears, I would not trade this for the world.

"I will refine them like silver and test them like gold. They will call on my name and I will answer them; I will say, ‘They are my people,’ and they will say, ‘The LORD is our God.’”
-Zechariah 13:9

All of life is meaningless if I am not His and He is not mine. Therefore, to the Fire and the Refiner behind it Who I trust and love with my life, I say: So be it. Purify me that I may be made more effective for Your Kingdom. It is the great reward of my life to know You and the great joy of my life to get to know You more.

When the Treasure Becomes Terrifying

It was just a fun night at the lake. It was just me and my friends filling the Chicago air with laughter.

Laughter. Fun. Happiness. We were carefree.

I looked out into the dark lake, as I have done so many times over this past year and a half.

But I was the only one looking. And as I stared out into the lake, a glowing circle fell from the sky. "Was that the moon?" I asked my friends. My answer came when an electric explosion rose from the lake. I knew that it was the moon the instant everything grew the blackest of black that I had ever seen.

Chaos ensued. I noticed for the first time the crowds of people that surrounded me. My friends and I were not alone. There were cries of desperation and devastation as the crowds had no idea what was going on. I became frantic. I knew.

I knew that Jesus was returning soon - at any moment. I knew that I was going to be with Him soon. I also knew that this crowd of people around me did not know where they were going because they were frantically searching for answers in the dark. I cried out to my friends, "We have to tell them! We have to tell them where they're going! We have to tell them that there is hope. This is our last and only chance!" I cried out in desperation.

And then I woke up.

I was thankful that this dream wasn't a reality. It was vivid. It felt real. But I woke up in my room, in my dorm at school, just like any other day. What did this mean? I didn't think too much of it that day.

Then I went out into the city. As I began to walk across the crosswalk, I flippantly commented to my roommate, "Sometimes I forget that these cars have people in them." I didn't think much of it until she looked back at me and said, "Wow, that was deep." I didn't mean for it to be deep. Actually, I didn't mean anything profound by it at all. But she got me thinking. I have forgotten. I have forgotten that this city is filled with real people with real needs and a real eternity ahead of them.

Then I rode on a city bus. I looked around at all of the faces before me who have so easily just blended together as I mind my own business, go where I need to go, and hardly acknowledge their presence. That night was different. The Lord brought back my dream. He brought back the flippant remark I had made about forgetting that the hundreds of cars around me are filled with people. And my heart broke. I have become numb. I study at Moody Bible Institute. Every day, I am being prepared for more ministry. Every day, I have conversations with friends about the Lord and His work in our lives and where He is leading us. Every single day.

And, yet, I have lost myself in theology. I have lost myself in my pile of books, in my twelve page papers, in my hours of classes and work. I have lost myself in the petty controversial issues that ensnare the Church. Although I believe it is good to talk about these issues and although I am thoroughly enjoying and learning from my time here at Moody and although I feel extremely blessed because I know that I am, I have forgotten.

I have forgotten about the moment a year and a half ago when I looked out over the city from the hotel window when I was visiting Chicago for the first time. I have forgotten the brokenness that my heart felt for the hundreds of people that I saw walking in crowds. I saw them as individuals then, as individual hearts in need of a Savior.

Now I just see crowds. Crowds and cars and faces without souls. I am thankful that my dream was not a reality. I am thankful that I can take it as a wake-up call. I am not sure what to do about it now. I don't even know what my next step is yet... but I know that the Lord has not placed me here in this great city to study at this great college to selfishly hoard my faith. It is a treasure that must be shared.

"For God, who said, 'Let light shine out of darkness' made his light shine in our hearts to give us the light of the knowledge of God’s glory displayed in the face of Christ. But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing power is from God and not from us." -2 Corinthians 4:6-7

It is a treasure not meant to be hoarded or stashed away. If it were meant to be, Jesus would have never come. There is no joy in selfishly hoarding our faith. Actually, it becomes terrifying when I hoard it. Images of my dream, of the people frantically searching in the dark for hope, flood back to me and it haunts me. Some of those people in that crowd are people that I know. Others are strangers whom I have never met. All of them are people that Christ has died for.

It is a treasure meant to give away, for to us it has been given. Eternity is before us and we must not forget the reality we are living in that we will enter His presence at any moment.

Let's not forget or become numb. May I give my life away for the King and His Kingdom, for it is my desire that when He returns, I will not be found hoarding this Treasure.

Poisonous Perfection

I had it all together. I was the youth group student leader, Bible Study teacher, AWANA Cubbies helper, missions committee member, once-a-year-every-year short-term missions trip participant, Jr. Church teacher, small group leader, advice giver, counseler, devotional writer, Christian website administrator, campaign coordinator, twice-a-week church going girl. This was me. I was "perfect." No, really, those around me used the word to describe me more than once. I "had it all together." My family life was one of encouragement, support, and joy. My friendships were deep, loving, and wonderful. I never made a mistake - or, at least, that was the impression of those around me. Life was good. I was serving the King. My days were bliss.

And then I came to the end of myself. This "perfect" life had become a poison. I cringe when I think of how easily others considered me to be this perfect girl who led a perfect life. How disgusting. How fake. How unloving and pious and ugly and ungenuine. How Pharaisaical. How displeasing to the Lord. It was an oxymoron of a life, really; I was striving so hard to please the Lord so perfectly that, in the process, I was really only displeasing Him.

Why do I say that? Because the Lord desires a relationship with us - a pure, humble, genuine relationship. He desires that we live in unity and love with one another. This includes serving, yes; it also sometimes includes letting our guards down, admitting that we truly are not perfect, and in humility considering others better than ourselves. This wasn't me. I was the girl with all of her walls up, never admitting any failures with anyone, and always (even if subconsciously) considering herself to be leading a much better, pure life than those around her.

How disgusting. How fake and unloving and pious and ugly and displeasing to the Lord.

"God opposes the proud, but gives grace to the humble" (James 4:6).

Ouch. Those words are like a piercing arrow to my heart. Really. It hurts. Again, it's an oxymoron, but although this verse hurts my heart because I know that I am prideful, it also just plain hurts my pride. God opposes me? No way. That is impossible. And in my stubborn pride I once again go back to my pharaisaical, Martha way of living.

How disgusting. How fake and unloving and pious and ugly and displeasing to the Lord.

How untruthful. In putting on the facade of "having it all together" and "never making a mistake" and "living a perfect life," I was living a complete and flat-out lie.

The truth is, I am not perfect. In bringing me to Moody Bible Institute, the Lord has been bringing me to terms with that fact. Here, I am broken. I am so, so imperfect. I thought that I knew everything there was to know about the Bible; every day, I am continuing to learn more and as a result, realizing just how much I do not know. I thought that I was a brilliant teacher; I have taken Studying and Teaching the Bible and Message Preparation for Women and have been brought to some of my lowest points in realizing how ineloquent I am. I thought that I was a wonderful leader; I am continually humbled every day by the amazing men and women of the Lord around me who lead in a way that I have never seen, let alone have been able to do myself. I thought that I was strong and unable to be broken by anyone or anything; thank the Lord, that isn't true either.

The truth is, I am more broken now than I ever have been in my life. The Lord has stripped me down of everything that I ever was or thought I was and is continually, slowly building me back up into who He wants me to be. It's beautiful. It's painful. It's lovely and it's hard and it's necessary. I do not want to enter the Lord's presence one day having lived my life as a lie before others - having put on the facade that somehow I am the only one on the planet who truly has it together. Because the truth is, only the Lord Jesus Christ truly had it all together. We are broken people in need of a Savior to make us whole. Thank the Lord, He has sent us that Savior.

In my brokenness, I am free. In my shortcomings and failures and mistakes, I am human. In my desperation and repentance to the Lord, I am healed. In my admittance to those around me that I am imperfect, I am free - free to love others and to be loved in return. What a burden has been lifted off of my shoulders - and only because it has been placed on the One who walked to Calvary for me. Praise Jesus. Thank you, Lord.

It brings tears to my eyes and a heaviness to my heart to think of this oxymoron of a life that I have lived. Pride is dangerous and subtle and directly of the Enemy of our souls, who desires to see us living these pent-up lives of poisonous perfection. Why? Because he is a liar and he desires to see us live our lives as liars. But why would anyone ever want to be like the pious, judgmental, perfect Christians that they see? It only offers more shame - just what the Enemy wants. This is why I call it a poison. It permeates the Church and leaves the rest of the world in resistance of ever wanting to follow the Christ that all of these unloving, lieing, perfect Christians claim to love and follow.

It pains me. May I live my days in the freedom and love of the Lord who makes this imperfect, shallow, unloving, prideful heart whole. As a result, the walls around my heart will be knocked down, giving room for the Lord to enter as King and others to enter my life. I will be more free and able to love and be loved by others and by my Savior.

I thought that I was too strong, too "put together," too tough to ever be broken. Today, I am thanking God that that isn't so.

Livin' the Ephesians 3:20 Life

Last night, as my hands were outstretched in praise to the Lord and the voices of about fifty other Moody students resounded around me in praise and surrender to our God, I smiled. As I sang out to my God that there is no other place that I'd rather be than right here in His love, I couldn't help but giggle a little. Suddenly the image of a blank piece of paper flashed across my mind. You may have heard the analogy that in surrendering our lives to the Lord, He hands us a blank piece of paper and asks us to sign our name at the bottom - no disclaimers, no "buts", no strings attached - just simply signing our name in complete surrender to all of the details that the Lord would fill in about our lives. Sometimes, that scares me. Sometimes, I wish I would have signed my name in pencil so that I could go back and erase it. Yesterday, it just made me smile.

God is not a God who is "somewhere out there." He is not aloof from us, far out of our reach, or only there when He has time to be. No, the Lord is a personal God who loves each and every one of us in a personal, intimate, passionate way. When He asks us to "sign our life away", He does not laugh in mockery; He does not sit up on His Throne and laugh a sinister laugh of selfish pleasure, as if He is a dictator pleased that we have agreed to be under His dictatorship.

No, the Lord is Jehovah-Shammah, the Lord who is present with us (Ezekiel 48:35). He is Jehovah-Shalom, the Lord who is our Peace (Judges 6:24). He is Jehovah-Rohi, the Lord who is our Shepherd (Psalm 23:1).

This is the Lord who I serve, the Lord who I love and the Lord who loves me passionately. When I signed my life away, I did it with a smile - knowing that He is trustworthy, knowing that He is always present with me, knowing that He is my Peace, knowing that He is my Shepherd who leads and guides me and wants what is best for me. It is a Joy to know Him and to get to know Him more. The more that I know Him, the more I know whole-heartedly and with full assurance of faith that I can trust Him. And the more that I trust Him, the easier it is for me to relinquish control of my life to Him. When I say that it is a Joy to honor and serve and live for the Lord, I truly mean that it is a Joy.

"Now to Him who is able to do far more abundantly than all that we ask or think, according to the power at work within us..." (Ephesians 3:20)

It is an Ephesians 3:20 life, this life that He has given me. Thank you, Kimberly Wagner, for reminding me of this Truth. The Lord has given me a life that I have sometimes been too afraid and too doubtful to even ask for. He has given me a life that I never thought possible. Why? According to the power at work within me... Not power that is my own; no, this is the Power of God. And that is why I rejoice, that is why I smile, that is why I am so full of Joy and Peace. "It is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me" (Galatians 2:20).

Of course, there are things in my life that are not easy. There are things that the Lord has had to so lovingly pry my stubborn fingers off of so that I could experience the freedom of letting go and allowing the Lord to have control. There have been times when I was so discouraged, I did not want to get back up again. There have been times when I almost missed out on this Ephesians 3:20 life because of my own doubts and fears. Looking back, I cannot believe that I am where I am today; it is only by God's Grace that I am able to say that the Lord has done "far more abundantly than all that" I "ask or think, according to the power at work within" me....

"...to Him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, forever and ever. Amen" (Ephesians 3:21).

Amen. May I continue to know, love, and trust Him more as I follow in this path that He has set before me. I am loving living this Ephesians 3:20 life; it is my heart's desire that everyone would experience this Joy and Peace and Love and Life that is in Christ Jesus my Lord. To God be the glory!

Wait: A Recurring Theme

I never - ever - share what I write in my journal... with anyone. The contents of it are my heart, as I pour it out before the Lord - my Rock, my Redeemer, my Father, and my Friend. He is my safe place, my place of refuge, and so what I share with Him are the pure contents of my heart. However, something that I recently wrote in my journal explains perfectly how I feel right now and what God has been teaching me through it, so I am going to share it here:

"I can hardly believe my life; honestly, I am always in transition... Whenever I get settled, You move me again. I see the purpose and the wisdom in that, for if I were to get comfortable in any place, I may get complacent. And I realize the dangers in that (complacency), especially as You have called me into full-time ministry. My flesh yearns for settlement and comfort, but I know You are pulling my spirit to higher places ~ places of Your calling and will in my life. Give me continued grace to accept that, I pray."

If my life had one theme word, it would probably be "wait." I think many of us who are following the Lord and desiring to obey Him would attest to this. I have many desires in this heart of mine, but to many of them the Lord continues to say, "Wait."

"Wait for the Lord; be strong and take heart and wait for the Lord." -Psalm 27:14

The reason that my life is this one big transition is because I am waiting on the Lord - actively waiting... pursuing His best, following His lead, doing what I can to do my part within His will for my life. This does not mean that I am perfect; I say with Paul, "Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus" (Philippians 3:13-14).

To wait on the Lord does not mean to sit back, relax, and stare into space until the Lord shows you what it is you are to do next. To wait on the Lord means to actively pursue Him and His purposes, actively following Him as He shows you the next step, using your God-given wisdom to make informed and wise decisions. This is why I can say that the reason that my life is this one big transition is because I am waiting on the Lord.

Why? Why do I wait on the Lord instead of pursuing my own pleasures and desires and hopes and dreams? I realize that human logic, determination, and lots of hard work can get a lot of things done. I have tried, many times, to accomplish many things in my own strength - and, oftentimes, have accomplished them; exhausted and burnt-out, yes, but productive. So why do I wait instead of relying on my own flesh to do what I want to do?

Love.

That is it - love. My love for the Lord and His love for me. For, "In fact, this is love for God: to keep his commands. And his commands are not burdensome..." (1 John 5:3)

Love. His love for me overwhelms me and my love for Him is why I follow, why I pursue Him, why I wait. Looking back on my life and seeing how the Lord has so perfectly designed my life (full of its heartaches, changes, transitions, and joys), I rejoice. I have seen how the Lord has so graciously designed my life and given me even more than I ever would have chosen for myself had I decided to do things my way instead of waiting on the Lord... And so I won't turn back.

The cross before me, this world behind me...

A few specific things you can be praying for me for as I leave for another year at Moody Bible Institute:
*That I will find a job that will not only provide for my room-and-board, but will work with my crazy class schedule
*That the Lord will prepare my heart and work through me as I become (and am trained to become) a coach for some of the women's small group leaders
*That the Lord will keep this heart of mine humble, teachable, useable, and flexible

Lord, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; courage to change the things I can; and wisdom to know the difference. Thank You, thank You, thank You for being my safe place - my place of refuge. Thank You for always knowing what is best for my life, even if that means that I must wait for it. Thank You for being my Rock - holding me fast - throughout all of these transitions and changes in my life. Thank You for being my Joy - making my life joyful, oh so abundantly joyful and full of peace and love and hope. Keep this heart of mine humble, teachable, useable, and flexible. Amen.

Free Indeed

Always striving... Always placing one heavy foot in front of another, seemingly running in place and never getting anywhere. The bar of perfection seems to always be ahead of me; it seems with every step I take, it moves forward two. The standard of holiness seems to always be above me; with every vain move I make to reach it, it moves higher another mile.

Always striving... and never reaching. Always running... but never moving. Always trying to please others' standards, others' expectations, others' rules... and never being quite enough.

Always striving... and always failing. Burnt-out and exhausted, I fall to the Throne of Grace where I hear these refreshing words in my ears:

"Therefore, since we have been justified through faith, we have peace with God through our Lord Jesus Christ..." (Romans 5:1)

Justified. This means that even in my sinful state, the Lord has declared me as righteous in His sight. That means that I have peace with God. Peace.

The truth of these words goes in my ears and into my mind and begins to penetrate my heart as I look up to my Savior and hear these words spoken:

"So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed." (John 8:36)

I am free. I am free indeed.

The God of the universe chose to send His perfect, sinless Son to earth to live and die for us so that we could be set free. He died for our freedom. It is for this very reason that I wonder why so many of us live as if we are still in bondage when the Son has died to set us free?

Bondage to others' expectations. Bondage to religious rules. Bondage to a list of "dos" and "don'ts." Bondage to a cycle of sin, confession, and sin because we do not know the true freedom that we have in Christ.

But the Son has set us free! "For sin shall no longer be your master, because you are not under the law, but under grace." (Romans 6:14, emphasis mine)

We are no longer under a yoke of slavery if the Son has set us free. We are no longer "under the law" because we are now "under grace." We are not to live lives of legalism, of strict adherence to a certain law or a certain person's or group of people's list of rules that are most often merely preferences for living, for the Son has set us free from bondage and a yoke of slavery. Let us instead be servants of Christ, for:

"Am I now trying to win the approval of human beings, or of God? Or am I trying to please people? If I were still trying to please people, I would not be a servant of Christ" (Galatians 1:10).

As a seminary professor so aptly put it in 1963, "Legalism wrenches the joy of the Lord from the Christian believer, and with the joy of the Lord goes his power for vital worship and vibrant service. Nothing is left but cramped, somber, dull, and listless profession. The truth is betrayed, and the glorious name of the Lord becomes a synonym for a gloomy kill-joy. The Christian under law is a miserable parody of the real thing." -S. Lewis Johnson

God is not a kill-joy. The Creator of joy and of all things good is not the one who desires to steal joy and all good things from us. No, there is another One who holds that desire, and that is our Enemy: "The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy..." (John 10:10a)

But, contrary to popular belief, God has "come that they may have life, and have it to the full" (John 10:10b).

May we stop our vain strivings, our treadmill runs to nowhere, and our joyless pursuit of perfection and instead fall at the Throne of Grace where Christ lifts up our weary souls and penetrates our hearts with these refreshing words, "So if the Son sets you free, you will be free indeed" (John 8:36).

Free indeed. Oh, how my heart sings with the lighthearted realization that I am free, no longer held in bondage to others' expectations or to the law... but free to live life as the woman that Christ has created me to be, loving Him and obeying Him and living to please Him only.

Freedom. Infinite Joy. Peace. Life to the fullest. This is the life that I live because the Son has set me free - and I am free indeed.