Contentment.
Lately that's seemed like such an elusive word. I seem to be chasing after it...and occasionally running away from it. When I manage to hold it in my grasp, it floats away as normal life returns.
Senior year. I always thought I wouldn't be like everyone else. I had my pious view of what my senior year would be like. I would be content where I was. I wouldn't worry about my future, a job, where I was going to live. I would enjoy every moment of senior year and praise God without ceasing. I would love my friends well and live in the moment. I would be happy where I was, while still looking forward to what was going to come in May. Oh yes, I was going to have the perfect senior year and be oh so Godly through it all, unlike everyone else I knew.
Lately, God has been humbling me like crazy. It's so easy to become prideful and judge people based on the season they're in or the ways that they react. It's so easy to view ourselves as so much more spiritually mature simple because what we are struggling with is different than what they are.
And then we're reminded that we struggle with things, too. That we are not perfect, as much as we may like to think that we are. We are reminded that we are just as much in need of grace as the rest of the world.
So, here I am. Senior year. Struggling with discontentment and anxiety. The two things that I thought would never hit me this year. And yet, here they are. Humbled.
Yesterday, I picked up a book and hit with a truth that I had somehow forgotten. Seriously, I just picked up the book, opened it to where I had left off about a month ago and BAM. We're fighting a spiritual war, guys. Yes, Jesus promised that He would give us life and life abundantly. But, He also told us that there's a thief out there that's dead set on stealing, killing, and destroying that abundant life. That little thief is rather sneaky and conniving, too. He makes us forget that he even exists...or at least that he's fighting against us constantly.
And so, we sit in our discontentment. We sit in our anxiety. We wish it away. We wonder when life will be different...when we'll have our joy again. Yet, we do nothing to change it. We fight, but don't give much thought to who we are fighting for. Which side am I fighting on? Yes, there are times that the Lord tells us to "Be Still" and allow Him to fight for us. But, there are also times that we must go into battle. Goodness, even being still and allowing Him to fight is a battle against our instincts.
Lately, I've found that I fight for the wrong side rather frequently. I allow thoughts of anxiety to pester me and do nothing about it other than feel guilt and more anxiety about being anxious. I allow myself to wish away the present and think that I'll be more content when I'm out of school and live in my own little apartment. And I do nothing when these thoughts come. I don't always fight them. Instead, I agree with them because it's easier. In case you weren't already aware, fighting is hard. And I often wonder if it's really worth it...because the more I fight against the thief, the harder the battle becomes.
But, guys. We have to fight. We have to. I refuse to simply give up and give in. I refuse to let this little thief steal my joy, steal my peace, steal my life. Nope. I've decided to fight from now on. Hold me to that, okay? When I get weary, remind me to fight.
Remind me to find the simple things in life that used to bring me such joy.
Remind me to take a moment to listen to beautiful music.
Remind me to go outside and enjoy the beautiful sunset that He painted for me.
Remind me to go love the beautiful people in this beautiful world that He loves so deeply.
Remind me to enjoy my beautiful coffee. :)
Remind me to go enjoy beauty. to go create beauty. because that is what I love. and that is how I will fight.
Monday, November 12, 2012
Friday, November 9, 2012
On questions of His goodness...
Warning: this is crazy vulnerable and will probably lead to me weeping in this coffee shop. Welcome to the current depths of my heart...well, maybe not quite there, but pretty darn close.
There are two major things I've been struggling with the last couple weeks.
God's goodness and discontentment. This post will just be about the first.
God's goodness. I know that He is all-good. I also know that He is all-powerful. And yet, when a 19-year-old dies of cancer, you being to question, to doubt, to wonder. I know that my God can heal...and does. I know because I've read about in the Bible, I've heard testimonies of it happening, I've seen it happen directly before my eyes, and I've had it happen to me. So, is my God all-powerful and a Healer? I cannot deny that He is.
And so I pray for healing. I pray that the cancer goes away and I believe that it can. That it will, even. I know that the sweet girl fighting this terrible thing desperately longs to be healed by her Maker and believes that He will do that for her. She is filled with faith. And so, for six months, or however long it's been, I pray for healing. Some weeks, I pray more often and with more fervor than others. Some weeks, I completely forget and later struggle with guilt over this. And then last week came. The week where most of the hours of my days were filled with tears, heart-wrenching cries to my Healer and questions as I grasp for faith. The week that seemed like pure hell on earth. I could barely hold conversations without wanting to burst into tears or fall on my knees in prayer.
And when I could do other things, I felt guilty. I felt like I wasn't doing enough, that I hadn't done enough in the past. That I hadn't loved well enough or been a good enough RA before it all. That I hadn't prayed enough over the summer. That I simply was not enough. There was so much more I could have done. More conversations, more hugs, more prayers. More love.
Prayers, tears, guilt, questions. That was all last week was.
And then it all came down. She was gone. She was with Jesus forever, face-to-face. Part of me was joyous because it was finally over and she was finally with Him. Part of me couldn't stop crying and asking God "WHY?!" That was the part that began to question His goodness. How could He be good if He didn't step in and heal Emilee? How could He possibly be good and declare Love over us? How is that Love?
To be honest, I still don't know. But, after going to the service to celebrate Emilee's life and spending some much-needed time away from the Grove, I've been reminded of something.
I cannot decide what God should do based on my definition of goodness. Rather, my definition of goodness should adjust when I discover more and more of who God is.
I don't know why Emilee wasn't healed. I don't know why sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn't. I haven't a clue. And as much as I hate it at times, I'm glad that I can't understand my God. And I still know that He loves Emilee and that He loves healing His children...whether it's a headache or cancer. There are three simple things that I am taking from this:
1. God is all-powerful and all-good, NO MATTER WHAT.
2. I have a much deeper desire to fight for healing, both physically and emotionally, than I ever have had before. I want to be like Jesus and Jesus healed everyone that approached Him, end of story.
3. I will trust Him. NO MATTER WHAT.
Is this still a struggle? Yes. Do I still have questions and am I crying right now because of them? Yes.
But, I know that God will get me through...even if my questions are never answered. Even if I still have them sixty years from now. I will trust in the goodness and faithfulness of the Lord until the day I do...because when I don't...oh man, when I don't, I cannot live. I cannot function, I cannot do anything. When I am doubting, fearing, approaching Him with nothing but uncertainty, I might as well be dead. It is the worst thing ever and I never want to go back to those moments.
Instead, I am going to approach the throne room of my Papa with confidence that He is full of goodness and love and will give me the answers that I need...not the ones that I want, but the ones that I need. and from there, I will trust and believe.
There are two major things I've been struggling with the last couple weeks.
God's goodness and discontentment. This post will just be about the first.
God's goodness. I know that He is all-good. I also know that He is all-powerful. And yet, when a 19-year-old dies of cancer, you being to question, to doubt, to wonder. I know that my God can heal...and does. I know because I've read about in the Bible, I've heard testimonies of it happening, I've seen it happen directly before my eyes, and I've had it happen to me. So, is my God all-powerful and a Healer? I cannot deny that He is.
And so I pray for healing. I pray that the cancer goes away and I believe that it can. That it will, even. I know that the sweet girl fighting this terrible thing desperately longs to be healed by her Maker and believes that He will do that for her. She is filled with faith. And so, for six months, or however long it's been, I pray for healing. Some weeks, I pray more often and with more fervor than others. Some weeks, I completely forget and later struggle with guilt over this. And then last week came. The week where most of the hours of my days were filled with tears, heart-wrenching cries to my Healer and questions as I grasp for faith. The week that seemed like pure hell on earth. I could barely hold conversations without wanting to burst into tears or fall on my knees in prayer.
And when I could do other things, I felt guilty. I felt like I wasn't doing enough, that I hadn't done enough in the past. That I hadn't loved well enough or been a good enough RA before it all. That I hadn't prayed enough over the summer. That I simply was not enough. There was so much more I could have done. More conversations, more hugs, more prayers. More love.
Prayers, tears, guilt, questions. That was all last week was.
And then it all came down. She was gone. She was with Jesus forever, face-to-face. Part of me was joyous because it was finally over and she was finally with Him. Part of me couldn't stop crying and asking God "WHY?!" That was the part that began to question His goodness. How could He be good if He didn't step in and heal Emilee? How could He possibly be good and declare Love over us? How is that Love?
To be honest, I still don't know. But, after going to the service to celebrate Emilee's life and spending some much-needed time away from the Grove, I've been reminded of something.
I cannot decide what God should do based on my definition of goodness. Rather, my definition of goodness should adjust when I discover more and more of who God is.
I don't know why Emilee wasn't healed. I don't know why sometimes it happens and sometimes it doesn't. I haven't a clue. And as much as I hate it at times, I'm glad that I can't understand my God. And I still know that He loves Emilee and that He loves healing His children...whether it's a headache or cancer. There are three simple things that I am taking from this:
1. God is all-powerful and all-good, NO MATTER WHAT.
2. I have a much deeper desire to fight for healing, both physically and emotionally, than I ever have had before. I want to be like Jesus and Jesus healed everyone that approached Him, end of story.
3. I will trust Him. NO MATTER WHAT.
Is this still a struggle? Yes. Do I still have questions and am I crying right now because of them? Yes.
But, I know that God will get me through...even if my questions are never answered. Even if I still have them sixty years from now. I will trust in the goodness and faithfulness of the Lord until the day I do...because when I don't...oh man, when I don't, I cannot live. I cannot function, I cannot do anything. When I am doubting, fearing, approaching Him with nothing but uncertainty, I might as well be dead. It is the worst thing ever and I never want to go back to those moments.
Instead, I am going to approach the throne room of my Papa with confidence that He is full of goodness and love and will give me the answers that I need...not the ones that I want, but the ones that I need. and from there, I will trust and believe.
Monday, October 29, 2012
We've survived so much together...
"We've survived so much together. We'll survive this one together...
Life with You only gets better. It's like a fine wine -- aged with time.
There will be many, many sunny days!"
Just some pieces of last night's spontaneous worship.
I sat on the edge of a chair, singing what feels like has been the song of my heart for a while now, tears threatening to cascade down my face...which they eventually did.
You see, I used to think that the abundant life was an easy one. I thought that if I really was following Jesus, if I just loved Him enough, I would soar through every day completely carefree because my life was pure bliss, the easiest thing in the world.
How wrong I was.
Instead, I've found that the more I fall in love with Jesus, the more I follow Him, the more difficult my life becomes. Oh, there are days of blissful soaring. There are many, many sunny days! So many.
But, there are the storms. There is the rain, the hail, the hurricanes. Sometimes, I can't help but think that life was quite a bit easier before I really loved Him...Satan didn't care about me nearly so much. Now, it's like a constant battle for my soul, for my heart.
I'm not in the middle of a season of sunny days. No, I'm in the middle of a constant, raging war. There are times that I can see that we are winning, Jesus and I. There are also times that I find myself on my knees wondering how on earth He's going to turn this one around, what He could possibly have planned.
A friend just stopped to give a hug and ask how I am. I never seem to know how to answer that question anymore. Good feels like a lie. Bad feels like a lie. Life is good...but hard. That's my most common answer right now...though even that feels like a half-truth, like it's barely scratching the surface. But, any more than that and I'm either dying in laughter or about to collapse in my tears.
That's probably the most accurate answer to how I am...I'm often collapsing in joy and laughter with Jesus. And I'm also often collapsing in tears and questions that are cried out to my Lord. And then, there are the moments when I feel like doing both at the same time. Like right now. Friends come over to give hugs and offer words of love...and I truly don't know if that makes me feel like laughing or weeping.
Oh, my heart. It is such a fickle little thing. All I know is that no matter what I feel at the moment, we will survive this together. Jesus and me. We've survived so much together and we will survive this one together. There WILL be many, many sunny days...even in the midst of the rain.
"I love You, Oh Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer;
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
and I am saved from my enemies.
In my distress, I called to the Lord;
I cried to my God for help.
From His temple, He heard my voice;
my cry came before Him, into His ears.
He parted the heavens and came down;...
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
He drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of disaster,
but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place,
He rescued me because He delighted in me."
-- Psalm 18:1-3, 6, 9a, 16-19
Side Note: I would just like to say how thankful I am for the community I have. While writing this note, three people have stopped by to give me hugs and words of real love and encouragement, and I received a text reminding me that Jesus delights in me. Thank You, Lord, for blessing me with such love.
Life with You only gets better. It's like a fine wine -- aged with time.
There will be many, many sunny days!"
Just some pieces of last night's spontaneous worship.
I sat on the edge of a chair, singing what feels like has been the song of my heart for a while now, tears threatening to cascade down my face...which they eventually did.
You see, I used to think that the abundant life was an easy one. I thought that if I really was following Jesus, if I just loved Him enough, I would soar through every day completely carefree because my life was pure bliss, the easiest thing in the world.
How wrong I was.
Instead, I've found that the more I fall in love with Jesus, the more I follow Him, the more difficult my life becomes. Oh, there are days of blissful soaring. There are many, many sunny days! So many.
But, there are the storms. There is the rain, the hail, the hurricanes. Sometimes, I can't help but think that life was quite a bit easier before I really loved Him...Satan didn't care about me nearly so much. Now, it's like a constant battle for my soul, for my heart.
I'm not in the middle of a season of sunny days. No, I'm in the middle of a constant, raging war. There are times that I can see that we are winning, Jesus and I. There are also times that I find myself on my knees wondering how on earth He's going to turn this one around, what He could possibly have planned.
A friend just stopped to give a hug and ask how I am. I never seem to know how to answer that question anymore. Good feels like a lie. Bad feels like a lie. Life is good...but hard. That's my most common answer right now...though even that feels like a half-truth, like it's barely scratching the surface. But, any more than that and I'm either dying in laughter or about to collapse in my tears.
That's probably the most accurate answer to how I am...I'm often collapsing in joy and laughter with Jesus. And I'm also often collapsing in tears and questions that are cried out to my Lord. And then, there are the moments when I feel like doing both at the same time. Like right now. Friends come over to give hugs and offer words of love...and I truly don't know if that makes me feel like laughing or weeping.
Oh, my heart. It is such a fickle little thing. All I know is that no matter what I feel at the moment, we will survive this together. Jesus and me. We've survived so much together and we will survive this one together. There WILL be many, many sunny days...even in the midst of the rain.
"I love You, Oh Lord, my strength.
The Lord is my rock, my fortress, and my deliverer;
my God is my rock, in whom I take refuge.
He is my shield and the horn of my salvation, my stronghold.
I call to the Lord, who is worthy of praise,
and I am saved from my enemies.
In my distress, I called to the Lord;
I cried to my God for help.
From His temple, He heard my voice;
my cry came before Him, into His ears.
He parted the heavens and came down;...
He reached down from on high and took hold of me;
He drew me out of deep waters.
He rescued me from my powerful enemy,
from my foes, who were too strong for me.
They confronted me in the day of disaster,
but the Lord was my support.
He brought me out into a spacious place,
He rescued me because He delighted in me."
-- Psalm 18:1-3, 6, 9a, 16-19
Side Note: I would just like to say how thankful I am for the community I have. While writing this note, three people have stopped by to give me hugs and words of real love and encouragement, and I received a text reminding me that Jesus delights in me. Thank You, Lord, for blessing me with such love.
Tuesday, September 11, 2012
The Honor of Love.
Apparently, trips to Pittsburgh are very conducive to loving on random people.
On Sunday, I had an incredibly delightful morning in the Strip District with two of the most love-filled women I know -- Hannah Gehman and Jasmine Tate. The morning began with breakfast at the famous Pamela's...except there was a long wait, so we pre-gamed at Peace, Love and Little Donuts. Ohhhh my. I had a maple bacon doughnut. And it was incredibly delicious. At Pamela's, we got to catch up on each other's lives and watch an elderly man dance as he bussed the tables. Seriously, this man was crazy awesome and looked like he came right out of a musical. He saw us watching, came over to the table, and flexed his bicep. "Not bad for 50...but I'm 74." WHAAAAAT. This dude was ridiculously muscular for a 74-year-old. crazy. and he completely made our day. we told him so. :)
We then wandered around, explored a great little cigar and coffee shop called Leaf and Bean, and bought some pretty scarves. And then we got to meet an incredible woman named Alisa.
Alisa is a substitute teacher who sells Italian ice and Christian t-shirts on the weekends. The joy and thanksgiving in this woman's eyes is greater than just about anyone I have ever encountered. She told us that she had just turned 50...and had no one to celebrate with. She told us of her longing for Christian fellowship and community. She told us of the time she just wanted to talk to someone on the phone...so she sat down, dialed J-E-S-U-S and poured out her heart. We prayed for her, got a couple words of knowledge, and hugged her. We met the little Ecuadorian boy, David, that plays with her dog, Pepito. We were given the privilege of loving Alisa.
We then left and went to a fancy chocolate store. I suddenly had a deep desire to buy Alisa a chocolate bar, so we did just that. We decided milk chocolate was a safe bet...we chose Chocolove. :) When we brought it back to her, Alisa informed us that it was her favorite kind of chocolate and she was just contemplating buying it the night before. There was a love poem inside that spoke about the light behind her eyes. Wow.
Then we ran into Indie, who played his didgeridoo for us. He's essentially a traveling bum and wants to start a commune in Vancouver. Jasmine spoke truth over him about being an incredible father one day. He wants to be a stay-at-home dad. He told Hannah he liked her sweater. Jasmine gave him her leftover crepes.
A bit later, we ran into Indie again and his friend who played the fiddle. We were about to get in our car and leave. But, we turned around because Hannah wanted to give him her sweater. We listened to their music and met a girl named Joy who was covered in tattoos and facial piercings. Indie decided that we must be the kindest people ever. (hah. hardly.) We met an artist woman who originally told us how screwed up America is because all kids want to be is bums...eventually, she became "shy" and started talking about art and music instead. We loved them, and then we had to leave.
I realized as we were driving back home that we view loving people in the wrong way. Being Jesus to other people is viewed as a burden. We think that loving people is something difficult...something to be trudged through. But, that is the wrong perspective.
We are given the privilege of sharing the love of Christ with others. It is an honor to love. Showing love to baristas, busboys, and bums should be a joy. It should be a natural outpouring of the love that we are receiving from our Father. Jesus gave us the privilege of continuing His work...but do we see it that way? I know that I usually don't. I often see it as a command that I have to follow, rather than a joyful gift that I long to give away to everyone that I meet.
On Sunday, I felt deeply honored to have been given the opportunity to love these precious people. I pray that I feel this way every day. I pray that you get to experience this kind of honor, too.
I leave you with one of my all-time favorite quotes. It's by Jackie Pullinger.
""I lack nothing. I have everything -- everything I want in Christ. But that's not true for the world. There are millions and millions and millions of people who lack. They don't know those words about the Lord who feeds hungry people. Nobody ever told them that oppressed people could be freed. They live believing that corruption is the norm. They pay people back with what they've been paid -- whether it's bad words or injustice or blows or beatings. That's what most of them know. For these people I have no excuse, for these you have no excuse. If you will not reach them with the love of God, if you will not tell them that there is a God who loves them -- loves them enough to die to make them whole -- who will? That's why He's allowed us to remain here. So that we can take His ministry to them. It's a job that the angels longed to do. But he left it to you and me. Not just the responsibility -- but the joy, the privilege of sharing good news."
--Jackie Pullinger"
On Sunday, I had an incredibly delightful morning in the Strip District with two of the most love-filled women I know -- Hannah Gehman and Jasmine Tate. The morning began with breakfast at the famous Pamela's...except there was a long wait, so we pre-gamed at Peace, Love and Little Donuts. Ohhhh my. I had a maple bacon doughnut. And it was incredibly delicious. At Pamela's, we got to catch up on each other's lives and watch an elderly man dance as he bussed the tables. Seriously, this man was crazy awesome and looked like he came right out of a musical. He saw us watching, came over to the table, and flexed his bicep. "Not bad for 50...but I'm 74." WHAAAAAT. This dude was ridiculously muscular for a 74-year-old. crazy. and he completely made our day. we told him so. :)
We then wandered around, explored a great little cigar and coffee shop called Leaf and Bean, and bought some pretty scarves. And then we got to meet an incredible woman named Alisa.
Alisa is a substitute teacher who sells Italian ice and Christian t-shirts on the weekends. The joy and thanksgiving in this woman's eyes is greater than just about anyone I have ever encountered. She told us that she had just turned 50...and had no one to celebrate with. She told us of her longing for Christian fellowship and community. She told us of the time she just wanted to talk to someone on the phone...so she sat down, dialed J-E-S-U-S and poured out her heart. We prayed for her, got a couple words of knowledge, and hugged her. We met the little Ecuadorian boy, David, that plays with her dog, Pepito. We were given the privilege of loving Alisa.
We then left and went to a fancy chocolate store. I suddenly had a deep desire to buy Alisa a chocolate bar, so we did just that. We decided milk chocolate was a safe bet...we chose Chocolove. :) When we brought it back to her, Alisa informed us that it was her favorite kind of chocolate and she was just contemplating buying it the night before. There was a love poem inside that spoke about the light behind her eyes. Wow.
Then we ran into Indie, who played his didgeridoo for us. He's essentially a traveling bum and wants to start a commune in Vancouver. Jasmine spoke truth over him about being an incredible father one day. He wants to be a stay-at-home dad. He told Hannah he liked her sweater. Jasmine gave him her leftover crepes.
A bit later, we ran into Indie again and his friend who played the fiddle. We were about to get in our car and leave. But, we turned around because Hannah wanted to give him her sweater. We listened to their music and met a girl named Joy who was covered in tattoos and facial piercings. Indie decided that we must be the kindest people ever. (hah. hardly.) We met an artist woman who originally told us how screwed up America is because all kids want to be is bums...eventually, she became "shy" and started talking about art and music instead. We loved them, and then we had to leave.
I realized as we were driving back home that we view loving people in the wrong way. Being Jesus to other people is viewed as a burden. We think that loving people is something difficult...something to be trudged through. But, that is the wrong perspective.
We are given the privilege of sharing the love of Christ with others. It is an honor to love. Showing love to baristas, busboys, and bums should be a joy. It should be a natural outpouring of the love that we are receiving from our Father. Jesus gave us the privilege of continuing His work...but do we see it that way? I know that I usually don't. I often see it as a command that I have to follow, rather than a joyful gift that I long to give away to everyone that I meet.
On Sunday, I felt deeply honored to have been given the opportunity to love these precious people. I pray that I feel this way every day. I pray that you get to experience this kind of honor, too.
I leave you with one of my all-time favorite quotes. It's by Jackie Pullinger.
""I lack nothing. I have everything -- everything I want in Christ. But that's not true for the world. There are millions and millions and millions of people who lack. They don't know those words about the Lord who feeds hungry people. Nobody ever told them that oppressed people could be freed. They live believing that corruption is the norm. They pay people back with what they've been paid -- whether it's bad words or injustice or blows or beatings. That's what most of them know. For these people I have no excuse, for these you have no excuse. If you will not reach them with the love of God, if you will not tell them that there is a God who loves them -- loves them enough to die to make them whole -- who will? That's why He's allowed us to remain here. So that we can take His ministry to them. It's a job that the angels longed to do. But he left it to you and me. Not just the responsibility -- but the joy, the privilege of sharing good news."
--Jackie Pullinger"
Tuesday, August 7, 2012
learning to love the one...now.
It was a Friday night and we were celebrating the 20th birthday of an incredible woman of God. Shopping. Dressing up all fancy and having "dates". Driving to Pittsburgh. Dinner at a nice Italian restaurant with a hilariously rude waitress.
And then we went to Mount Washington. The view was breathtaking. We took in the beauty that surrounded us and stood in awe of our Creator. We watched some middle school girls do their dance routine. Eventually, one girl got her guitar. Some people sang and danced. Others beatboxed and clapped. Others just smiled and enjoyed the presence of our Lord. We worshipped freely on the top of a mountain, surrounded by people we didn't know.
Soon after we started, it all shifted. People prophetically sang over those middle-school girls. Songs of identity and the love of the Father. We learned a little bit about their lives and exchanged contact info when they had to go.
One boy decided to break away from our group and talk to a young couple that was watching intently. He shared a bit of our stories and asked about theirs. He shared a bit of the Love story of Jesus. Then we all came over and met them. We laughed when the man said that he thought we must be high because he'd never seen people so happy. We explained that we just love Jesus and He gives us joy. We asked about their lives and their dreams. Eventually we left.
Later, we ran into an 18-year-old girl who was pounding on the door of a bar crying out for her friend. She was crying. She had too much to drink, had fallen and hurt her knee, was confused, and thought she had been abandoned. We prayed for her knee. God showed up and took away some of the pain. A girl held her cold water bottle to it. A boy took off his shirt to clean the blood off of her leg. Again we spoke identity and Love. We prayed against abandonment. We continually told her that she was NOT a burden and we wanted to help her. We lent a cell phone. We helped figure out the situation and met an amazing woman who owned the bar. We waited. We loved. We hugged and watched her leave. We decided to go to that bar one day to see Ms. Lisa again. Then we went home.
We came to have a good time and celebrate a life. We did that...while pouring out the Love that has been so lavishly given to us.
You see, it's easy to think "I'll love the orphans when I go to Africa. I'll love the prostitutes when I go to Thailand. I'll love the kids when I meet them for bible club.".
But what about NOW? What about when I go out to dinner? What about when I'm walking around downtown? What about when I'm in America and see people in need of Love all around me? Will I love the one? Will I love the ones that He has placed in front of me right here, right now?
Or will I be self-absorbed and remain in my little comfortable bubble? Will I be too afraid to step out and talk to them? Will I allow fear to keep me from freely giving out the Love that my Papa has so freely given to me?
I'm learning not to. I'm learning how to love well. I'm learning how to pay attention and value every person that I meet. I don't always do it. But I'm trying. And I want to be able to say that I live a life of Love always. I long to love naturally every single person, every single day.
In class, at dinner, on the street. I WILL walk in love. Will you join me?
And then we went to Mount Washington. The view was breathtaking. We took in the beauty that surrounded us and stood in awe of our Creator. We watched some middle school girls do their dance routine. Eventually, one girl got her guitar. Some people sang and danced. Others beatboxed and clapped. Others just smiled and enjoyed the presence of our Lord. We worshipped freely on the top of a mountain, surrounded by people we didn't know.
Soon after we started, it all shifted. People prophetically sang over those middle-school girls. Songs of identity and the love of the Father. We learned a little bit about their lives and exchanged contact info when they had to go.
One boy decided to break away from our group and talk to a young couple that was watching intently. He shared a bit of our stories and asked about theirs. He shared a bit of the Love story of Jesus. Then we all came over and met them. We laughed when the man said that he thought we must be high because he'd never seen people so happy. We explained that we just love Jesus and He gives us joy. We asked about their lives and their dreams. Eventually we left.
Later, we ran into an 18-year-old girl who was pounding on the door of a bar crying out for her friend. She was crying. She had too much to drink, had fallen and hurt her knee, was confused, and thought she had been abandoned. We prayed for her knee. God showed up and took away some of the pain. A girl held her cold water bottle to it. A boy took off his shirt to clean the blood off of her leg. Again we spoke identity and Love. We prayed against abandonment. We continually told her that she was NOT a burden and we wanted to help her. We lent a cell phone. We helped figure out the situation and met an amazing woman who owned the bar. We waited. We loved. We hugged and watched her leave. We decided to go to that bar one day to see Ms. Lisa again. Then we went home.
We came to have a good time and celebrate a life. We did that...while pouring out the Love that has been so lavishly given to us.
You see, it's easy to think "I'll love the orphans when I go to Africa. I'll love the prostitutes when I go to Thailand. I'll love the kids when I meet them for bible club.".
But what about NOW? What about when I go out to dinner? What about when I'm walking around downtown? What about when I'm in America and see people in need of Love all around me? Will I love the one? Will I love the ones that He has placed in front of me right here, right now?
Or will I be self-absorbed and remain in my little comfortable bubble? Will I be too afraid to step out and talk to them? Will I allow fear to keep me from freely giving out the Love that my Papa has so freely given to me?
I'm learning not to. I'm learning how to love well. I'm learning how to pay attention and value every person that I meet. I don't always do it. But I'm trying. And I want to be able to say that I live a life of Love always. I long to love naturally every single person, every single day.
In class, at dinner, on the street. I WILL walk in love. Will you join me?
Tuesday, June 26, 2012
the fight for Joy.
Some days, every waking moment is a fight.
You can feel the spiritual warfare waging all around you. You can feel Satan waging war on your family, your heart, your mind, your community, your life. You know that he's angry and he's throwing a temper tantrum. You know that he is attackng you. constantly. consistently. over. and over. and over again.
Yet, you know that Jesus has already won.
You know that Jesus is fighting for your family, fighting for your heart, fighting for your mind, fighting for your community, and fighting for your life...EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND.
You know that the more Satan attacks, the more the deep love and incomprehensible power of Jesus is put on display.
I'm having one of those days. Actually, I've had quite a few of those days lately. Days that I spend all day long in conversation with my God, yet he seems far off. He is constantly speaking to me and I'm hearing Him...yet I still feel the constant fight, the constant turmoil in my soul.
A part of me hates these days. They are HARD. they are not the easy, fun days of being a Christian. they are not the nice, neat days of dancing and giggling and having a smile that simply can't be wiped off all day. Rather, tears and laughter are intermingled. They flow together. Pain being washed over by JOY.
and I am reminded that the joy that has been fought for is so much sweeter. it's a joy that has grown with Jesus. it's a deeper joy...the overflow of an unshakable love that clings to Him through it all.
and so, I refuse to stop fighting. I refuse to give up my joy. Some days, every moment is a fight for joy. and that's okay, because it's worth it. HE is worth it. He thinks I am worth it. So, I keep fighting.
In Jesus, I will find the fullness of joy forevermore.
You can feel the spiritual warfare waging all around you. You can feel Satan waging war on your family, your heart, your mind, your community, your life. You know that he's angry and he's throwing a temper tantrum. You know that he is attackng you. constantly. consistently. over. and over. and over again.
Yet, you know that Jesus has already won.
You know that Jesus is fighting for your family, fighting for your heart, fighting for your mind, fighting for your community, and fighting for your life...EVERY. SINGLE. SECOND.
You know that the more Satan attacks, the more the deep love and incomprehensible power of Jesus is put on display.
I'm having one of those days. Actually, I've had quite a few of those days lately. Days that I spend all day long in conversation with my God, yet he seems far off. He is constantly speaking to me and I'm hearing Him...yet I still feel the constant fight, the constant turmoil in my soul.
A part of me hates these days. They are HARD. they are not the easy, fun days of being a Christian. they are not the nice, neat days of dancing and giggling and having a smile that simply can't be wiped off all day. Rather, tears and laughter are intermingled. They flow together. Pain being washed over by JOY.
and I am reminded that the joy that has been fought for is so much sweeter. it's a joy that has grown with Jesus. it's a deeper joy...the overflow of an unshakable love that clings to Him through it all.
and so, I refuse to stop fighting. I refuse to give up my joy. Some days, every moment is a fight for joy. and that's okay, because it's worth it. HE is worth it. He thinks I am worth it. So, I keep fighting.
In Jesus, I will find the fullness of joy forevermore.
Thursday, February 23, 2012
Reviving Dreams
Sometimes, God likes to remind me of old passions and dreams that have drifted away.
Today was that kind of day.
How it all began:
Monday night, a friend and I were talking about wanting a group we're involved in on campus to be more passionate about our cause...to pray together with power. to really care. to make a difference. I fell asleep praying for Africa. I woke up looking at the map next to my bed and the painting above it that says "Passionate Prayers not only change the world, they transform the people who pray them."
Today, Resolve posted an update on the LRA and Uganda. I read it. Because of that, I decided to read some other things. I went to the website www.discoverthejourney.org and watched videos of former child soldiers begging for the US to help them and do something because we have more power. I watched the trailer for a documentary that asked questions about whether or not children who were trained to kill can becomes instruments of peace. And I was reminded of the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. He renews our minds. He causes change. He can take a former member of the LRA and use them to affect their country for peace.
And then, I was reminded of prayer. Prayer is powerful. It is...truly. I've seen it work in power in the natural. I've known that strongholds have been broken in the supernatural. Yes, in Africa, Joseph Kony may have many powers of darkness working with him. No, I may not be able to do much in the physical world. But, guess what.
I can pray. I have the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead living in me. And He wins. And so, when we devote ourselves to prayer, things happen. Atmospheres change. Things in the spiritual realm shift. We co-labor with Christ to WIN.
After I was reminded of all these things, I decided to make an "African Love" playlist on Spotify. Silly, I know. But it's beautiful. I don't know what they're saying...but they're praising my Jesus in their beautiful native tongues. I love it. :) It makes my heart really really happy.
Then tonight, at Okello, we prayed. passionately. our hearts broke for what is breaking our Papa's heart. things are changing because of that.
And then, a friend shared a video with me. As much powerful truth as was contained in that spoken word piece...that's not what hit me. What hit me was who the person was who was speaking it. He was a man who is a part of The World Race. You see, The World Race used to be my ultimate dream. It was my deepest desire. It's what I wanted to do after graduation...or before. It's what I prayed for, read about, and constantly asked Jesus for. 11 months. 11 countries. seemed pretty perfect to me. And then as school continued and Jesus started deepening my love for Grove City, I completely forgot about it...until tonight.
Dreams are being revived. Do I know if I will actually do this one day? No. But, it's a dream again. It's a thought. But, more importantly, it's a reminder of the root of the dreams. The desire for the nations. The desire to reach them. The desire to love them. Dreams of hugging the unhuggable, touching the untouchable, loving the unloveable. Dreams of stepping out in confidence in the Holy Spirit who lives in me. Dreams of speaking value and identity into children who have been abandoned.
The most beautiful part? These dreams are so much more real now. Because my commitment to and love for Christ is so much greater. My relationship with Him is deep and unshakable. No longer are they pipe dreams because I'm naive and want to do something good for the world. No, now they're dreams that have been dreamed up with the Holy Spirit speaking life into them. They are dreams that came out of a place of surrender. They are mature and grounded in the fact that I can't change the world on my own...but I belong to the one who can...and He says I can. What a lucky girl I am.
What are your dreams? What are the things God has put in your heart that you have forgotten or suppressed? Let Him revive them.
Today was that kind of day.
How it all began:
Monday night, a friend and I were talking about wanting a group we're involved in on campus to be more passionate about our cause...to pray together with power. to really care. to make a difference. I fell asleep praying for Africa. I woke up looking at the map next to my bed and the painting above it that says "Passionate Prayers not only change the world, they transform the people who pray them."
Today, Resolve posted an update on the LRA and Uganda. I read it. Because of that, I decided to read some other things. I went to the website www.discoverthejourney.org and watched videos of former child soldiers begging for the US to help them and do something because we have more power. I watched the trailer for a documentary that asked questions about whether or not children who were trained to kill can becomes instruments of peace. And I was reminded of the transforming power of the Holy Spirit. He renews our minds. He causes change. He can take a former member of the LRA and use them to affect their country for peace.
And then, I was reminded of prayer. Prayer is powerful. It is...truly. I've seen it work in power in the natural. I've known that strongholds have been broken in the supernatural. Yes, in Africa, Joseph Kony may have many powers of darkness working with him. No, I may not be able to do much in the physical world. But, guess what.
I can pray. I have the same Spirit that raised Jesus from the dead living in me. And He wins. And so, when we devote ourselves to prayer, things happen. Atmospheres change. Things in the spiritual realm shift. We co-labor with Christ to WIN.
After I was reminded of all these things, I decided to make an "African Love" playlist on Spotify. Silly, I know. But it's beautiful. I don't know what they're saying...but they're praising my Jesus in their beautiful native tongues. I love it. :) It makes my heart really really happy.
Then tonight, at Okello, we prayed. passionately. our hearts broke for what is breaking our Papa's heart. things are changing because of that.
And then, a friend shared a video with me. As much powerful truth as was contained in that spoken word piece...that's not what hit me. What hit me was who the person was who was speaking it. He was a man who is a part of The World Race. You see, The World Race used to be my ultimate dream. It was my deepest desire. It's what I wanted to do after graduation...or before. It's what I prayed for, read about, and constantly asked Jesus for. 11 months. 11 countries. seemed pretty perfect to me. And then as school continued and Jesus started deepening my love for Grove City, I completely forgot about it...until tonight.
Dreams are being revived. Do I know if I will actually do this one day? No. But, it's a dream again. It's a thought. But, more importantly, it's a reminder of the root of the dreams. The desire for the nations. The desire to reach them. The desire to love them. Dreams of hugging the unhuggable, touching the untouchable, loving the unloveable. Dreams of stepping out in confidence in the Holy Spirit who lives in me. Dreams of speaking value and identity into children who have been abandoned.
The most beautiful part? These dreams are so much more real now. Because my commitment to and love for Christ is so much greater. My relationship with Him is deep and unshakable. No longer are they pipe dreams because I'm naive and want to do something good for the world. No, now they're dreams that have been dreamed up with the Holy Spirit speaking life into them. They are dreams that came out of a place of surrender. They are mature and grounded in the fact that I can't change the world on my own...but I belong to the one who can...and He says I can. What a lucky girl I am.
What are your dreams? What are the things God has put in your heart that you have forgotten or suppressed? Let Him revive them.
Saturday, January 7, 2012
learning to walk with You
I run along the edge of the cliff, You call out of me, yet I just keep going. You call again, still I run. I run with abandon, but without direction...until I fall. I begin to tumble off the edge of the cliff.
But, You are there. You grab my hand and hold on. I tell you to let go. I kick and climb. I try to fight my way up the cliff on my own, but it doesn't work. I scream and cry and beg You to let me fall. Still, You hold on. I yell at You and tell You that I want to fall, that falling would be better than this. You look at me and tell me that You're not letting go. I become angry and bitter. And so, I pull the nail out of my pocket and start jamming it into You perfect hand, the hand that holds me. I had hoped this would make You give up on me and leave me. No, Your fingers clench even more tightly around mine. As I keep pounding at the nail, I realize there are hot tears streaming down my face.
Tears of anger. Tears of frustration, of confusion. Tears that speak of a fear of love.
As they pour down my face, You start pulling. The nail is still in Your hand, yet still You pull me up. Your flesh tears and rips; Your blood flows out. In silence, You keep pulling. You pull until I'm upon the ground, looking into Your face. We stare in silence. You tell me to stop running, that first I must learn to get up and walk with You. I stand. We begin our journey again. I am tempted to run full speed ahead, without knowing the way.
Then I look down and see Your hand, still bloodied from my nail. And on we walk, hand in hand.
Yesterday, a friend was playing the guitar and singing/praying. As she did, this scene played out in my head. Today, I wrote it down after reading part of Romans 5 with a couple friends. The weight of the cross is so real to me today. It seems the deeper my relationship with God goes, the more I learn about Him, the more I realize that I still have to discover.
But, You are there. You grab my hand and hold on. I tell you to let go. I kick and climb. I try to fight my way up the cliff on my own, but it doesn't work. I scream and cry and beg You to let me fall. Still, You hold on. I yell at You and tell You that I want to fall, that falling would be better than this. You look at me and tell me that You're not letting go. I become angry and bitter. And so, I pull the nail out of my pocket and start jamming it into You perfect hand, the hand that holds me. I had hoped this would make You give up on me and leave me. No, Your fingers clench even more tightly around mine. As I keep pounding at the nail, I realize there are hot tears streaming down my face.
Tears of anger. Tears of frustration, of confusion. Tears that speak of a fear of love.
As they pour down my face, You start pulling. The nail is still in Your hand, yet still You pull me up. Your flesh tears and rips; Your blood flows out. In silence, You keep pulling. You pull until I'm upon the ground, looking into Your face. We stare in silence. You tell me to stop running, that first I must learn to get up and walk with You. I stand. We begin our journey again. I am tempted to run full speed ahead, without knowing the way.
Then I look down and see Your hand, still bloodied from my nail. And on we walk, hand in hand.
Yesterday, a friend was playing the guitar and singing/praying. As she did, this scene played out in my head. Today, I wrote it down after reading part of Romans 5 with a couple friends. The weight of the cross is so real to me today. It seems the deeper my relationship with God goes, the more I learn about Him, the more I realize that I still have to discover.
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