Unraveled

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

Somehow it happened. I've always been pretty sure of myself but then I unraveled. I've spent more days in the last year (plus) wishing I didn't feel the way I did, than being okay with how I feel. So many days have been sad days or lonely days, hard days. I've wondered a time or two if this is me now: a sort of cynical, "realistic" person who buries herself in television and struggles to get out of bed nearly every day.

Questions I didn't know I had have come to the surface. The basis of everything about life is up in the air. I've begun questioning why I believe certain things that I just always have. I'm longing to experience God tangibly as I have so much of my life, and yet I feel like I'm wandering a desert in circles. Explaining this to just about anyone has been impossible, I never quite feel like I've done it justice just how uncomfortable I feel with myself and the questions. I'm stuck between feeling completely apathetic and yet not being able to live life without a deeper meaning that makes sense.

I took a break from attending church for a few weeks, then last week I went back. No certain reason other than Easter seemed like as good a time as any to break a church fast (it happened to coincide with lent, oddly). I realized I'd really missed my pastor. He's an interesting and insightful speaker, and tends to be realistic and honest. That's what kept me at the same church for so long, I liked that the pastor wasn't acting holier than others, but self-deprecating. His message on Easter was the exact one I needed, honest in that sometimes it feels like we're still losing. I've been in a long season that feels like losing, and it's so easy for anyone to look at it and say it will turn around or that God loves me, but those things don't change the reality; those things haven't eased the pain, they haven't pulled me out of bed in the morning.

Thankfully I have had my wits about me enough to know that if I don't show up things will only get worse.

Easter was a special occasion but I decided to show up to church again today. I sat in the back because I was late, which is usually a death-sentence to my concentration. Naturally I was in and out of the sermon versus my thoughts. A few times something would hit me and I felt on the edge of tears. Then came the singing. It wasn't anything particular in the songs, I just decided totalk to God as I often do during worship and sat down. I thought about all the questions, the doubt, the loneliness, the distance, the pain. Tears started creeping down my face seemingly out of nowhere.

I feel so out of place and like I'm in pieces, but I don't even understand it – yet somehow it was important that I sit in the back row at church and let slow tears evolve into an ugly cry. I needed to show up, just for that. There aren't any easy answers, there's no quick solution, there's no cure, but there's space for ugly crying in the back and hoping that hope returns and that things make sense again. Somehow, someday.

Shifting the Lens

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.** 

"I think the Kingdom is more about poetry and life than it is definitions and boundaries." – Sarah Bessey, Out of Sorts

I've turned into so much more of a hippie than I ever could've imagined. I'd always sort of thought of myself as a free spirit, I don't brush my hair very often, and I've never tried pot because I don't need a substance to make my mind go to weird places. But on a fundamental level, I recognize a lot of beliefs I hold now that I used to judge others for having.

I'm always fascinated by the ways we evolve and change. And I would go so far as to say if we're unwilling to examine why we believe what we do, and possibly even abandon some perspectives for new ones, we're missing out on life to the fullest. We are learning beings. We aren't meant to be stagnant. I know a big part of why I've felt such a struggle for a long time is that I've felt stagnant. I haven't known how to change it, how to push myself forward.

My faith is the lens through which I view the world, and it has adapted vastly over the years. It has become something I didn't think it would, but I'm so much more comfortable with it being what it is, than what it was. Growing up I had pretty defined ideas about right and wrong, good and bad, left and right. As I began to encounter other schools of thought, other perspectives, I found things that made more sense than my previous doctrine. And ideas that fit with my experiences of God; happenings over years and years that I can't do justice to explain. Over time, I've come to settle firmly on the belief that God is love. That is the primary thing anyone should ever know about Him, and the thing that when nothing else makes sense, that still does.

So when lately I've been struggling to make sense out of the lens through which I view the world, one of the few things that gives me peace is knowing that I've transformed to arrive here. I sorted through so much unknown and I've sorted through so much pain before, I'm likely on course to discovering more depth, more answers, more freedom, and, Lord willing, more love.

May The Weary Rejoice

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

This is my very favorite day of the year! Truth is I wasn't even looking forward to it this year, I just wanted to hunker down and get through it, and through 2016 to January. I thought I'd just be reminded of what a miserable year it was, feeling singleness even more, not able to afford to buy anyone gifts, it being just another day off in a sea...

I woke up today with another dang sore throat, but ya know what? I am excited. I'm quietly thrilled I get to spend Christmas Eve at my own home church that I love! I'm looking forward to spending time with my family even though it's been a rough year for a lot of us. Though it's new and uncertain as new things of its nature are, I'm awed that [Cute] Coffee Shop Guy, or CSG (whose name will come in due time), came around and has been sweetly sweeping me off my feet for a few days. Just the pick me up this year needed to not go down as the worst ever.

I sit and ponder this day, this eve. It's not really about gifts, and everyone I love is hopefully convinced of that truth without my buying them some thing to symbolize it. It's about love. I did my annual bell ringing shift, on Christmas Eve eve. It was harder for me this year, usually I'm oozing joy and that's only been coming back to me for a few weeks. Some people flat out ignore a greeting directed specifically at them, others give generously in a way that was evident. A few times it brought me to tears the matter-of-fact way that someone would give. It was like a subtle marker of the proverbial joining into the struggles of another without hesitation. Maybe that's just me, and I'm over thinking it, like I can do. But I think there's something powerful in this season. Especially this year, I'm hopeful to see it, to see a weary world rejoice.

A Darkness Demands Light

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

The thing about darkness is that it demands light.

Let me elaborate. This year has sucked - I'm trying to get more concise when including that in every post. I recently realized something about my year of struggling, wading through these months of pain: I'm still here, and that means something. Aside from the teen years being, well the teen years and chock full of angst for legitimate reasons as well as at the fault of immaturity, this has been the hardest year of my life. There have certainly been good things, too, but I struggled to enjoy them as much as I should, as I process through having loved and lost being a part of my history now. Then! I lost my first truly professional (in the sense of what I studied to do) job before even hitting the two-year mark - in the midst of house-shopping. So much for concise...

Understand, this year I've felt on edge of losing my faith, stuck, alone, depressed, and downright broken. A few months ago, I realized it was the actual, tangible grace of God that I'm alive. #Realtalk. It feels a little melodramatic to say that now that I'm less and less fragile every day, but I believe it's true. Then last week, something else occurred to me, a silver-lining: I've survived; I am resilient. And that gives me hope; it helps me know this isn't it.

Furthermore, I haven't exactly had it rough in a while. All that has been good and great and gloriously splendid in my life over the years makes a time like this feel heavier. I think we can all agree, things have just felt heavy lately. For starters, our president elect is frightening. There was some kind of shooting in Ohio that I don't even have the energy to look into right now. I just read the news about a friend from church's (a husband and dad of two kids) diagnosis with an aggressive cancer...

And it got me thinking, this Jesus thing just has to be real. I look around at people, and when I have that thought in the forefront of my mind, I see us all in desperate need of Him. He has to be real. All this heavy darkness demands a great light. Not only is it impossible to be a darkness without a respective light, but how much more sweet will it be when it indeed shines!

So it is, through welling tears, my weary heart mutters, Come, O Light of the World...

Our Nature to Struggle, Doubt, & Trust

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

Sometimes peace is a choice - a destination you set course toward. My therapist told me this week, "you were doing so good," as if to say "What happened?"

She told me I'd found the right things to put me on a good path before, and I just need to return to those things. I felt a little confused from an emotional mini-whirlwind the last week or so - what did I do before that to be on a good path, in a good place?

Today at church it hit me, or God did with the truth: I lost my footing in an instant. I think of when Peter is initially trusting Jesus, he successfully walks on water - for like a hot second. Then when he sees what's happening, he loses focus on the trust and starts to sink. See, I like Peter because God starts the church through him, but he's kind of a dink sometimes. A real putz. It just goes to show, you could have the real, in-the-flesh Jesus doing miracles and stuff in front of you, and still have the struggles. It's in our nature to doubt.

I didn't lose my footing from anything so impressive as walking on water, but it's been a long and tumultuous time of weirdness in my faith. And I realized just this week, I'm still having trouble feeling close to God not because He's far away, but because I went through so much pain that I don't understand and I don't know quite how to recover from. Sure, the appointment before last I went to my therapist and thought, I don't really need to be here, I'm pretty okay. I felt finally normal again.

The truth of it is, I am still struggling to trust God after I feel like He let me down. But He tells us in so many places - today in my heart - that we need to trust Him, not our own understanding.

However, I've found the church doesn't have much to offer people who are trying to trust God in the midst or the wake of great pain. Words don't really do much to that feeling in you that's pretty damn undeniable; kinda feels like, "my life hurts right now." You can't just throw a 'God loves you' at that, because those words only do so much against certain levels of pain. They're not unimportant, but they're not always helpful. There is something to be said for the steadiness of it, though. When you rejoice; set yourself back on the facts of God's loving-kindness and trustworthiness, even if that feels hollow.

So this morning as my heart swelled in worship, thinking of the places in the lives of my friends that I trust God to work, the weight of my own situation crept in. And in His gentleness, He didn't give me any answers, but He reminded me that I can only be satisfied in Him. He reminded me that I cannot be at peace without trusting in His loving-kindness - and that that is a choice. I can't make sense out of loving someone deeply and being parted from them for reasons that my big God should be able to handle, but I can move forward in trust. That trust may feel weak, and the peace may feel weary, but it's less weak and weary than waiting for answers without Him. Because I think that longing for God is in our nature, too.

Slack: Never So Steady

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

I have books piling on the empty side of my full-sized bed. Most of them books about feelings stuff and relationships, one about overcoming, two journals, and several folded bulletins covered in sermon notes (the ones with an asterisk are things my pastor said that particularly struck me). And my bible, the small one that I bought to take with me on my six-month mission trip five years ago.

Five years ago this summer, I was on a mission trip having the time of my life, dodging cockroaches and motorbikes like a native, and feeling like God was in everything, great and small. I actually woke up early to read my bible in the morning - me! I was fearless and I was on fire. Eleven years ago this summer, I was on a mission trip in Appalachia when I "came to Jesus", as they say. A year ago this summer, I was nervously choking out the words "I love you" to a man.

Seasons roll over us recklessly like waves do in the ocean, complete disregard for you in their path. Here I am in the path as the waves roll over me. I don't really know what this season is, - maybe low tide? Instead of relishing in God's goodness to me, or seeing it all over the world, my heart is weary, and I feel like I see Him almost nowhere. It's strange because I haven't stopped believing what I do, but it just doesn't feel very impacting against the raging world, and the pain in my own heart and my own back yard. It feels like God is being quiet. And that doesn't make me much want to pick up the bible next to me in my bed.

Very in line with the metaphor, I have found that seasons like this in my life ebb and flow, although it feels one was never so steady as this. A thing happens with tides between the high and the low, the current has to slow to change directions (forgive me if I butchered it, I'm not sciency, I'm feely). This is a period called slack water, when it is calm and quiet. I can't say I'm in the calm and quiet of life, but certainly a calm and quiet of my faith. My hope is that this is something like the changing of the tides, this quietness.

A favorite author, speaker, thinker, teacher of mine, Graham Cooke talks about how we have seasons of manifestation and conversely, hiddenness. Times when we feel like we are running hand-in-hand with God and seeing His glory in the land of the living, and then there's times when we feel like we don't know where God went but He sure isn't with us. Cooke says that's when God is growing things in you and moving unbeknownst to you. That has been my little seed of hope that even though things feel completely stagnant, God is at work.

And surely He must be; surely the tides must soon turn. I guess that's one thing an ebb and flow ensures: one must always be followed by the other.

...But are we sinners?

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

"But God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." Romans 5:8

The Greek word "yet", or in more translations "still", has a meaning that implies it was a state that is no more. The interesting thing in this verse then, is that the implication of Paul's words is that we were sinners, but are no more. The language of this verse, as well as the context tells us Paul did not presently buy into the identity of "sinner" for himself or other believers. 

Even in Romans 7:24-25, Paul says that God "delivers" him - present tense. In the midst of the struggle within himself as to what he will or will not do, God delivers him through Christ. He even concludes at the end of verse 25, that he has a dual servitude: in his mind to God's law, in his nature (or flesh) the law of sin. 

One could rightly conclude, though my nature without Christ is to serve solely sin, in duality as a baptized believer, I am presently also in service of God's law. I think too often total depravity would say we are useless, worthless, incompetent...but that seems to discount that God delivers us - present tense! That Romans 7:25 is followed by one of likely the most well-known verses and truths of the bible - "There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ, because through Him the law of the Spirit who gives life has set us free from the law of sin and death."

I don't know just how or why that verse tends to get lost, ignored, or downplayed. Nor the one to follow (8:3) where it says the law was weakened by the flesh! God's law was weakened by our flesh warring against our desire to serve [the law] as our master instead of our sin nature. So, God had an alternative plan for handling sin, one that was equally just and merciful. Why do we insist on preaching God's justice but not living in His mercy? Why do we insist to land on one verse of Paul's letters and build an entire component of theology around it, placing ourselves continually under the burden of sin? Again, further in Romans 8 at verse 5, it says that those who live in accord with the Spirit have their minds set on what the Spirit desires. If we have our minds set on our sin nature, do we not hold ourselves to the fire in spite of the Word telling us we're already refined? Does not the insistence that we are worthless diminish what Romans later tells us, that though our body is subject to death, the Spirit gives life because of the righteousness of Christ in us? 

I tend to get a little perturbed when I hear people say they're sinners, clenching to that name for themselves, because I believe they're holding themselves in the mindset of the flesh, not fully walking in the freedom from the law of sin and death! Nothing about reading Romans gives me the impression that is strictly limited to the life after this one. I therefore refuse to refer to myself as a sinner...

Does my nature try to tempt me away from God? Yes. Shall I go on sinning so that grace may abound? Certainly not. Did I deserve Christ's death? It depends on which way you're asking - I deserved the punishment He took in my stead, but I did not deserve that He should take my place, yet I was worth it to Him. In fact, it was an act of love (as 5:8 tells us), that while I was undeserving He took the place which was rightfully mine. It was love, not law for which Christ took the cross. The law could remain in tact and thus we could perish, but He wouldn't have it, instead showing us love by His sacrifice to meet the law's wrath for our iniquities. The act is done. 

The place that was ours was taken by Jesus so that God could demonstrate His love for us and reconcile us who were sinful to Him through love, into righteousness. 

"The Spirit you received does not make you slaves, so that you live in fear again; rather, the Spirit you received brought about your adoption to sonship. And by him we cry, “Abba, Father.” The Spirit himself testifies with our spirit that we are God’s children. Now if we are children, then we are heirs — heirs of God and co-heirs with Christ, if indeed we share in his sufferings in order that we may also share in his glory." (Romans 8:15) 

Present, All-Sufficient, & Abundant

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

He just indignantly kept saying he had all he needed. And I think maybe that is true for him right now. Maybe right now, there is enough. But sometimes, there comes a time when there isn't enough; when it doesn't feel like it and the simple knowledge that there is doesn't make the doubt of that truth disappear. 

Sometimes our feeble, fickle hearts need more to not grow weary, laying down and giving up the fight. I've felt like that; I'm an emotional person and, I daresay, I need God to be Lord over my emotions and to interact in them. They don't just go away nor can I simply discount them, but as real as they are to me, I know there is another reality that they don't always pick up on. 

I've spent months of my life trying to explain to my best friend what it means to be spiritually engaged in faith - not in any romantic sense, not with another, but within yourself. And my spirit can be swayed by both my heart and mind. Even with a mind full of truth, my heart is still capable of discouragement that can be paralyzing, it's still capable of doubt that can breed discouragement, it's still capable of self-preservation which shuts out others for my own sake. I need God to interact with that place in me because in my life it is a motivator, whether at times good or bad, true or deceiving. 

I can't escape the thought that that's written into His very story. He came that we would have life abundantly, through His death and resurrection to life [everlasting]! And that moves me, at times motivates me, and settles my heart into peace. I don't always know peace with a close familiarity, I am human after all. Especially right now, I can't say I know a comforting peace. My heart is anxious and low, doubtful and discouraged, and I'm having trouble reconciling my circumstances to His truth. The beauty is: in that wreckage is the perfect place for my great and mighty Yaweh to come and dwell. The bible says He is near to the brokenhearted. 

A part of me has quietly wondered if that was the purpose of it all, in my life, that God would have a place to be nearer to me than there's recently been space for Him to be. I say 'quietly wondered', because I don't like to believe that God causes pain in our lives. Plain and simple, that's not a pillar of my beliefs about Him. I think evil is rampant in this world, and I long for God to pull me from every pit I may stumble or be pushed into, because He is the All-Sufficient, Almighty One who never leaves me; because that is the Truth.

In Hebrews 11, it says that Abraham placed the very conduit through which he was expectant to receive God's promise to him on the altar, because "he reasoned" that God could raise the dead. And in Romans Paul tells that even before the promised son existed, Abraham believed - against all hope - and that that faith was credited to him as righteousness:

"Against all hope, Abraham in hope believed and so became the father of many nations, just as it had been said to him, 'So shall your offspring be.' Without weakening in his faith, he faced the fact that his body was as good as dead—since he was about a hundred years old—and that Sarah’s womb was also dead. Yet he did not waver through unbelief regarding the promise of God, but was strengthened in his faith and gave glory to God, being fully persuaded that God had power to do what he had promised. This is why 'it was credited to him as righteousness.' The words 'it was credited to him' were written not for him alone, but also for us, to whom God will credit righteousness—for us who believe in him who raised Jesus our Lord from the dead." (Romans 4:18-24, NIV)

Abraham believed against all hope that God had power to do what He promised.

I was flabbergasted and tearful when I read up on the use of the word "LORD" (in the NIV) and stumbled on an explanation of "Lord Almighty" as well. The latter is where the name 'El Shaddai' would be used. It held the meaning of an all-powerful, all-sufficient God, one who is all-bountiful and sustains. Whereas, LORD, spelled out in capitals, was to avoid the use of 'YWH' which stood for Yaweh. That name was the one God gave of Himself and it meant, "I am that I am" or simply as we sometimes say, "I am". I read that it connoted a present God. Those two things astonished me. God is not only present and is, but is all-sufficient and all-powerful. That is my God.

I can't help but look at these two things and think that I can be fully trusting in Him in spite of my circumstance looking different than I anticipated a year ago, and in the same breath I can trust that He is present, and will not leave me wanting for what He's spoken. No matter what it looks like, I can hope against all hope, I can hunger to see more of His sufficient bounty, and my heart will be satisfied. I know who He is, and I just can't get enough.

Why is it Good?

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

"Why is it good?" The words sting every time I hear them. The adjective applied to this particular Friday doesn't jive with a lot of Christians, usually the ones with a view of God as good, loving, forgiving, and merciful - my people! Turns out though, my people tend not to delight in Good Friday.

By now I might have you thinking I missed a word, or had a major typo or something, because no one could possibly delight in Good Friday! My roommates and I had this conversation just the other night. As I was at the sink doing dishes, I heard the fateful words. I explained how when I was younger someone ridiculed me for loving Good Friday. Thankfully, I don't even recall his words, and while I was younger and thinner skinned, I still know he was cruel about it. I went on to explain just the first reason I could think of to love this day.

Believers don't all too often set aside time to acknowledge, deeply, the sacrifice of death in our stead - though an undeserving people - that we may have life. Not to put ourselves back into shame, but to recognize just how great a gift is the grace that Christ would take to the cross to reconcile us to the Father, ushering us into eternal life.

My favorite thing about the crucifixion (yes, that's a real sentence I wrote) was after Jesus gave His last breath, and His spirit left Him, it says "At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom." In Hebrews, the author talks about the High Priest being the only one allowed to go past the curtain into the Most Holy Place, this where the Spirit of the Lord was. The author says that no longer do we have a High Priest who only enters once a year and sacrifices for himself and the people so they he may enter, but we have Jesus, the High Priest of the new covenant with God.

If not for Jesus, I would never be welcomed into the presence of God freely. To me, that is what the tearing of the veil means; all who are in Jesus are welcomed into the presence of God without reservation. In fact, we are expected! God is jealous and longs for us to come to Him. Jesus' sacrificial death is the very proof of that.

He is Mighty

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

Today, I woke up angry and hurt. I hated the silence. I hated that even though we broke up for what seem like good reasons, they also seem like crap ones. It was the first thought in my head yet again, as it seems it has been for weeks now: I hate this.

Last night I'd been mulling over and writing about how I feel like I'm settling into it; starting to come to terms with this reality. After sleeping on that, I woke up mad. I silently moved through our kitchen, my roommates and another good friend there, going about their morning. It's awkward feeling discontented and out of sorts, when everyone else is moving about in life... On to the office for Wednesday morning staff prayer and devotional time.

There was a turn. It seems that today God wanted to remind me that He is mighty.

I walked into work, and on my desk was a little card with a chocolate heart attached:

It warmed mine, it's a favorite verse in my family (my dad's personal anchor, which I'm also letting become one of mine).

We prayed together over many things as a staff, and then delved into a bible passage, 1 Corinthians 1:20-25. It talks about how the Jews and the Greeks have the different things they'd trust in, but that the Christians were preaching neither of those things -- rather the power of the Cross. The section embodies how it's not our doing, it's not our planning or catering to a certain school of thought. It is simple but mighty Truth: Christ crucified. As we discussed the passage, we collectively arrived at that place; it's not about us and what we do, but simply about Him and His Spirit at work! What relief there is in that, it nearly brought me to tears.

Right now, I'm struggling because there is nothing I can do. I am stuck wading through persistent, taunting, confusing pain; a shift in my daily reality. I saw things that needed to change, and perceived the way that if those things shifted, then everything would be good. I had true hope for all of that, hope I thought was founded. Now I am challenged; forced not to put my hope in those ideas because the exact opposite of what I wanted seems to be happening.

This morning brought a quiet, peace-bearing reminder that He is mighty and His Spirit is at work in powerful ways. I have to trust in His character, not my perceptions even if they are of an accurate reality, and even if that reality looks hopeless. Neither my plans nor my unbelief diminish the power of Christ on the cross and that Spirit at work.

I don't write this to say I've arrived at that place of steady comfort, but to say that He is speaking. He is whispering to me amidst the noise of my circumstance, the deafening silence between my friend and I. God is teaching me something - gently, quietly, even subtly. I can only revel in each whisper as it sustains me.

Righteous in Our Warm Beds

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

I'm curled up in my bed, down comforter layered with a fleece blanket and another knit one on top. I have a wool one wrapped around my shoulders. After complaining a little, as is my good American right and duty, our landlord visited the attic to discover no insulation in our 1950's house. The basement where my roommate sleeps is warmer than my room!

A few weeks ago I caved and bought a space heater. One that has a timer setting so I can schedule it to heat up my room a bit in the morning before my alarm. $30 for a wee baby space heater!

At work, we're gearing up for our partner churches to help pack and give away wool blankets with toiletries, and a few warm items wrapped up in the middle to homeless people. We call these, Homeless Care Kits. 

It was quite sobering when nearly a year ago I started working for this amazing organization. I learned about things I'd been pleasantly ignorant to before: one being the pain of homelessness. But I'd also never truly paid due attention to the way God's love was meant to intersect that pain, just as it does all others. I spent the first few weeks at this job, learning about what the bible says about how we ought show compassion to all, and especially the "the least of these," as Jesus called them.

The most startling realization was in Matthew 25. Here He tells us that if we do not do these things, we have ignored Him; we have not fed, clothed, or quenched the thirst of our Savior. This passage couldn't be more clear, I dare someone to try and water it down (though not really, if you read it that way, keep it to yourself) and yet we have so many other concepts in the bible we'd rather hang our hat on. Jesus clearly laid out, both in word and by example what compassion looked like. 

Compassion doesn't resemble judgment. Nor does it resemble fear for our supposed safety. It does however get referred to here as an act of the righteous - biblically meaning those who are in right standing with the requirements of God. That means Jesus was saying, this is part of what it means to be in right standing of me. 

The beauty and the tension is that it still needs to be done from the heart. Serving and giving needs to be done out of love. Jesus isn't saying it's the righteous who do this because He wants us to fall in-line out of obligation. See, in the Old Testament, based on our standing with God being measured by the old Law, we would've had to do things to earn that standing. Flash forward to Jesus telling us this, it was shortly before His atoning death where mere acceptance of His sacrifice is now the mark of our righteousness in God's eyes. That righteousness should then inform our actions, compelling us to show compassion to the ones that society rejects and overlooks, this by love not penance.

We're too busy trying to battle the worries of the world with our own might, slapping the label of 'Good Christendom' on it, in spite of the very contradictory nature that Christ himself lays out toward such Pharisaical ways.

I can't say I've mastered it, and I can't say I'm void of my own blind spots, but I do think this generation is in need of a reality check with what Christ called us to. Since my heart came alive to Jesus' sacrifice, I've never been able to see it as anything other than an act of love. Love was defined to the fullest in those hours.

Kind of makes one question, what are we living and dying for? And is it what we've been called to?

The Call: The Good Fight

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

Tonight while walking to my car downtown, a man approached me. Addressing me politely and seeming perplexed, he queried, "You from here? ('Born and raised!') Is everyone always this mean? And this cold - it's awful!" "I love it here, the cold's the worst part -- and the passive aggressive."

He was a week new to Minneapolis from LA, his job moved him,  and lo and behold, his car got towed tonight. He paid cash to park in a lot, but somehow got towed - his wallet in the car, and only $100 cash on him, short the towing fee by $18. He told me how everyone he tried to get help from, let alone talk to, in the last two hours was downright rude to him. A guy from LA. The police were "a-holes", yes he self-censored and then apologized. He told me how he went up to another lady, with the same gentleness and courtesy, began explaining his predicament when literally she ran away. He was perplexed and kept telling me I was peaceful, that he'd spent two hours stressed and cold,  but now he felt calm.

We passed a DID (peacekeeping) officer who seemed suspicious at the mere sight of us walking together - apparently someone who the man had sought help from earlier, ironically. I made sure to loudly imply I was walking with this man fully consensually, under no coercion.

We talked as we walked, he said he didn't understand why when he needed help, the cops treated him the way they did. I bluntly retorted, "Do ya watch the news at all - have you heard what's being goin' on around here, lately? Yeah, they're a little on edge, not to pardon it by any means, but it is probably why."

The gentleman was a tall, heavier set, likely middle class, middle-aged black man. Wore glasses. In a mellow in but lively downtown, between 6pm and 8pm, no one would help him or give him the time of day.

Before he spoke to me, I'd seen him walking, I knew I'd encounter him on the sidewalk as I intersected it. I had a moment to choose, and I let it be a small one. Not a wink of fear in me, and why should there be? I didn't notice him for any other reason than he was a person, and so I engaged him, walked with him, and helped him, because he's a person and my city did him wrong.

We're so fearful we overlook, or we jump to conclusions. We leave people in the freezing cold because of our fear. It pains me to think of how we fail each other. It appalls me that assuming something about someone without even interacting with them, rather only by their skin, is somehow justifiable!

I almost told him this was how I was raised, but - no disrespect to my parents - it's not that. It is however that my God instructs me to value each and every life, because He does. My God calls me to trust Him for my safety, not to fear for it as a means to secure it, whilst trampling His beloved.

I am astonished to hear "bible-believing Christians" perpetuating and defending their hateful fear as self-preservation. Tell me where Jesus taught that?

He did however say, "Whatever you did not do for one of the least of these, you did not do for me." (Matt 25, good chapter, check it out!) Earlier, He says the righteous did not ignore the least of these. This is by no means to say that others are lesser than us, but that somehow we as a society have let others become less, although their value is truly the same as anyone else's. They have inherent value and importance, as expressed by Christ himself for whom we call ourselves Christians.

I'm certainly not writing this to toot my own horn, so if you insist to perceive it this way, your ears are probably closed anyway; go ahead, quit now. This moment tonight was humbling. When these opportunities present themselves I consider it an honor to risk whatever to show someone kindness, while I lean into the Father's protection over me. To get to play a small role, and give away that which was so graciously given to me; to bring peace to someone's chaos; to bring support to someone's loneliness. This is our call. This is the good fight. This is mercy triumphing over judgment.

Picking Up Our Cross & Acknowledging Him

**Disclaimer: This piece was written pre-deconstruction of religious beliefs and faith system. Many of these beliefs inform the sentiments of the writing and are not in alignment with my values. As this is a part of my journey and an extensive blog over years, I have chosen not to remove a majority of my posts written on faith. Please as a reader, take this into consideration and take what works for you, leave what does not. I also apologize for any harm my words from this past perspective may cause to any readers.**

What does it even mean to pick up your cross daily?

Some believe that means daily we fall prostrate before the Lord, thanking Him for having Mercy on us, sinners. Sure. That's an option, I'd guess. Personally, I don't daily fall before the Lord, and I don't know that I feel terrible about that. What I do feel not great about is my failure to be with the Lord daily. He is there, He is with me, but do I acknowledge Him? Do I surrender daily to Him?

Sometime in the last year or so, I had a revelation on a much used verse, it's actually my dad's favorite: "Acknowledge me in all Him in all your ways, and He will make your paths straight." I think part of my having "majored" in English helps me pull this apart - our job here is to acknowledge Him. How do we do that and what does it have to do with not leaning on our own understanding? If we lean on our own understanding, we see with only human eyes and only in part, but if we trust the Lord and recognize Him all along our path, He will guide it. Acknowledging Him in all our ways requires that we surrender our path to Him; surrendering our desire to control to Him. The reality is, we cannot make our own paths straight, and our understanding is faulty, save for the understanding that God is sovereign and always with us, preparing our path and lighting it, if we will let Him.

It's exactly what Jesus was talking about when He said his disciples would have to pick up our crosses daily. He not only said that, but that we had to deny ourselves and follow Him; that we could not find our lives, but rather must surrender them.

I think some Christians think this means we ought to martyr ourselves daily, and that again we are disciples if we earn it. I think what Jesus is saying is that to follow Him in carrying a cross, is to follow Him in being sacrificial with your life to the benefit of others out of love, and therefore you have internalized the teaching and are a disciple. It's not simply that we wake up and lash ourselves on the back for our sinfulness - no! Not even close. It's that we wake up and say, "Father, my life is yours - how do you want me to love others today?" And not just asking, but listening and doing. Because again, the example of Jesus was that even knowing He was going to excruciating death, He submitted His will to the Father's.

To carry our cross is also to acknowledge Him in everything. God is never gone, so if our faulty understanding tells us He is, we should acknowledge Him; call out to Him, in surrender and longing, that He would guide us, and make straight the way.

Wisdom: Laying Down My Will to See His

I learned a really hard lesson once in saying no right now, in order that I could say yes later. I didn't even slightly know that that was what I was learning at the time, but as I saw it out and trusted, it unfolded...

I have written about it before, I was planning to study abroad in Paris one fall. I'd been dying to go for a while, so I started telling everyone in the early summer that I was going, (I'm still learning that lesson, I think) and almost completely believed it myself, though ignoring a small, quiet feeling that I wouldn't in fact board a plane in the coming months to fulfill my dream.

The nagging feeling clawed at my logic (thank God for giving me any at all!), eventually getting to me. The cost was so great, I could not justify it; it just wasn't right! With everything lined up but the plane ticket and signing away my eternity to the student loans to cover the trip, I decided not to go. In as much as anyone can be heartbroken over a thing and not a person, I was. I felt silly for going back on all that talk, and putting a dream on hold after leading myself to believe it was about to be realized.

Months later, as other plans and parts of my life came to a screeching halt, at this intersection I found another dream of mine: Youth With a Mission. I could not only go take a breather from my stinted life, but I could go to Paris and go to a Discipleship Training School with YWAM. That turned out to be the very best experience of my life so far; valued far beyond its cost, especially in comparison with my college experience! I cherish my time abroad as the perfect gift it was intended to be. His plans certainly did exceed my own.

It may sound mediocre to some, but to me this experience was huge. And I will never forget that God spoke to me in the midst of the pain of giving up my plans for the sake of wisdom. He told me He was with me, and that He had something far better than I had imagined. He is never wrong.

Sometimes, wisdom tugs at your pantleg until you acknowledge it. That tug is no small thing, but it is quiet and subtle, requiring faith to respond. Sometimes the things it calls us to may seem uncertain, even difficult, but surrendered in the hands of the Almighty, life will never be short on His goodness. I believe that when wisdom tells us to lay down our will at God's feet, we will get to see just how lavish His is.

Unafraid Over Wavering

Never would I have said that I am particularly susceptible to wavering with the wind. I may be indecisive, that I'll own, but easily-persuaded? Never. I never would have described myself that way. I have even unofficially (or unbeknownst to them) coached people in the art of gleaning wisdom, then making a decision for yourself! Somehow, here I sit feeling emotionally exhausted from being tossed from the left to the right, and back again in a vicious cycle. Though when I can pause long enough to get my bearings, I know how I feel; I am not wavering...then I get thrown again.

Several weeks back, God told me something very clearly: He said, "You can go headlong into what I have before you, unafraid." Unafraid. Months further back, He told me "There is no place unsafe to go with me." Nowhere unsafe with Him. Then just today I was reminded of a very similar word given to me by someone else, almost exactly a year ago; don't be afraid. That last one, - given specific to a relationship that would enter my life.

Being unafraid is a choice. Not only is it a choice not to adhere to mere logic, but it is a choice to acknowledge and trust God. To trust God beyond what seems logical is something I have been learning about for nearly a decade. It was about nine years ago that He brought me to Psalm 91, in an hour of great fear. It floored me that God was so bent on protecting me, that I could not "strike my foot against a stone," - or as I always paraphrase, stub my toe. "A thousand at your side, ten thousand at your right hand, but it will not come near you." That's my life verse. That's what's tattooed in my very own, everyday sight-line.

So I become ever increasingly familiar with flack for such a lofty belief. Pfft, God as protector! Not just protector, Refuge. And yet, I am emotionally toiled. On one hand, I have this exciting new thing that I am not afraid of, rather I want to study. Then on the other hand, there are all these voices drowning out my ability to even hear the Lord. These voices are those of logic and reason, but in this I have further realized something: fear masquerades cleverly under the guise of "logic". Logic is so respected, we could never question its validity...but I think as believers we should. The Bible is an entire book of logic-defied; the very Messiah himself is logic-defied. So much so, there are people who still believe Jesus wasn't it! Receiving Grace in spite of being undeserved, that is logic-defied. Walking unscathed through fire is logic-defied.

I find it perplexing that I struggle to find people who believe in such a big, boundless God. That I receive criticism because I would much rather trust the Lord and seek His wisdom, than put my trust in the logic of this world. No amount of logic can truly protect me, but He can. And though I know I'll never be completely rid of the skeptical questioners, I hope that they will let me walk out my faith the way God has so graciously shown me to; trusting in Him. I hope that I root down deeper in that, so as to be unwavering.

From Ritual to Revival

A few weeks ago, I took communion at a church where I hadn't before. While my home church, Mercy, already does it a lot different than many churches, this was even further from anything I'd experienced. For me it can seem a mere ritual and a backslide into some of the old ways, those of my religion.

I grew up in a much different way of practicing Christianity than what it looks like to me now. I honestly don't remember a day of my life without a notion of God existing; doing whatever He does, wherever He is, up somewhere. I went to grade school where I had to memorize bible verses that were theologically way over my head. I jokingly say you can only read about Noah's ark so many times, but it's somewhat true - I haven't much touched the Old Testament in a long time, partially because of my childhood. We attended weekly chapel services where we sang several hymns. None of what I was raised in was wrong or tainted me, but I lived so many years without understanding in my heart why I even believed all this stuff. Some of it is probably even tainted in my memory because of my lack of understanding.

Then while hearing the gospel presented while on a mission trip in Appalachia as a freshman, it clicked. There's no more of an in-depth story, save for the sweet memory of spending probably an hour alone in awe. Flash forward through all the years to follow that moment, I honestly think I would have been one of the ones who didn't make it, if it weren't for that mysterious moment of truly knowing. As my faith climbed, so it felt did the weight of the things I faced.

I remember so clearly, after a difficult few weeks there was a night where my best friend at the time confirmed she was walking out of my life, cold-turkey without so much as a warning or even a good blowout. She didn't even plan to tell me. The gravity of that moment could until recently still take my breath away. That night, I cried so hard my nose bled. Even in the aftermath of that, I don't remember all the gritty details, but that I spent a lot of time pleading with God to ease my pain and He did. I don't know where else I would have found hope.

My recent radically-refreshed taking communion wasn't necessarily different in the way you might expect. The pastor simply invited us all to take pause and ponder what Jesus' death has meant to us personally. In the span of those two or three spared minutes, a wave of gratitude came over me, as when someone gives you exactly what you need right when you do - because that's what I recalled all in an instant. Years of my life, learning to trust the God I learned so much about all that time, through the realities of the pain of life and even find the hope to press on with joy!

I often wish I had a better "story" to tell, because it's just so subtly knit into my life that it's hard to pinpoint a moment, or tell of something beyond God giving me peace or hope, but that is what takes my breath away now. Not the pain of anything that previously ruled my life, but now the gravity of how God's hand has been in it all, and the freedom I continue to know deeper in Christ.

Talk is Cheap, Grace Isn't

There's an old cliche: put your money where your mouth is. We can all talk, and talk is cheap (there's another, for you). The value of what we say is exemplified in a few phrases, which came from where I'm sure there are many more. The things we stand for will be challenged, and there will be times when we lose our focus. It is completely human and it happens to everyone. The key is what we do when we realize we've gone off track.

The last time she saw me, a cousin of mine who reads much of my writing said, "You're always trying to define yourself." She said it like it was a bad thing, but it's something that, in being hyper-self-aware, I know and am on good terms with. I am someone who likes to know myself, which is a challenge as we are ever-changing beings. So I am constantly trying to define myself. I would almost go so far as to say I fear finding myself at a place where I do not know myself well. It's not necessarily that I pride myself on it, but that I think it's important.

For as much as I aim to know myself and be self-aware, I too am prone to the occasional one step back. I did that recently. As I've talked about before, I went through a partying stage after returning from YWAM (of all things). I call it a stage because there aren't many stupid things I've done that I really care about, but this - this was a stretch of being really stupid. Basically I drank a lot. Thankfully (believe me) I survived said stage relatively unscathed, save for the fact that you can't un-have experiences. I'd realized after a patchy night of celebrating a party-friend's birthday, it wasn't even close to smart and definitely not worthwhile. Ever since, I haven't disappointed myself.

Finally this fall, in spite of out of character isolation in reaction to stress, I felt like I was moving forward, almost exponentially. I was re-entering a heart-understanding of where God has me and what He wants me to do. This amid heights of anxiety and...then I cut loose, a little too hard. Nothing detrimental further than disappointing myself in a way I've been very done with. I don't often wear guilt, but I never want my talk to be cheap; I mean to mean what I say. So I brought it to God, this isn't who I am anymore, how did I do it again? He kindly reminded me of something that He had kindly told me several years ago when I was similarly at a loss on account of my weakness:

You can fail a thousand times, and still...

It wasn't to say there's a limit, but the opposite! That my imperfection isn't a hindrance to His grace; there is no hindrance to His grace.

So I have been lounging in something; not quite guilt, but...a tension. There is this tension of recognizing my imperfection but moving away from it to the best of my ability. There's no promise I won't fail again; that I won't eat my words and swallow my convictions, but because of Grace I can aspire to move forward.

Many people have a misconception about the biblical meaning of "repent". It doesn't just mean to feel sorry, but to turn around and go in the other direction. It's so tricky that Grace allows us to turn around and change that which we would not otherwise have the opportunity, let alone the will to change.

Hope Amid Darkness

Walking through or into darkness, it is often hard to find hope. Moving through turmoil and turbulence doesn't seem to lend aid. You find yourself hungry for the change, but despairing that it might not come. Where in this darkness are you likely to find light? Where in the turbulence is the steadiness?

Though it seems melodramatic to say, as this is hardly comparable to other much darker difficult places I have known, I have found it difficult lately to have hope; to be joyful. This state isn't typically noticeable to those who don't know me all that well. While I've grown more blunt as life has taken the edge off my timidity (I'm sure some would read this and think, "What timidity?"), most people say that I'm always happy.

Case in point, in a very normal occurrence for me, last weekend two strangers remarked at it. One man I met interrupted the flow of conversation to indignantly inquire as to what I was "giggling" at. Of course, not only was I largely unaware I was even doing it, but hadn't a clue as to its inspiration. Not in a crazy, get-her-help sort of way, but it's just something I do all the time - not to mention get called out for regularly. I suppose it's peculiar to not withhold ones outbursts. The other instance was with a French man I met (less surprising that he should take note of my abnormal happiness, as the French tend to be more reserved in their expressions). After hours of conversation, most of which had been translated triangularly due to my out of practice ear, he told our friend he noticed that I smile all the time. I remember explaining this to others when I was in Paris with a cheerful shrug, "Je suis heureuse! [I'm happy!]".

I have been so out of sorts that I have been retreating to be alone as much as I can stand, being a rather undeniable extrovert. Subconsciously yet consciously avoiding that, when in the company of people, they want to talk about things. Further irony is that I'm a verbal processor... This is all exactly what I do when I shut down: isolate and muse. Though it may sound strictly negative, (and maybe someday I'll decide that it is,) I know I'm doing it and yet I'm fairly certain it's just what I need.

There are a few gems of activities where I can distract myself. Thankfully, sleep is still one of them. Running. Volleyball. Prayer. That's the big one. Currently, the idea of sitting down with the Bible is exhausting. Worship has felt a little dry. I felt like I couldn't lead people when I barely have the capacity to ponder my own circumstances, so I put down my small group. But prayer...it's this bizarre space where I'm focusing my energy and my communication with God on others, yet I feel alive and whole. That is my zone right there.

It simultaneously scares and excites me, because I do worry that I'll say the wrong thing, but it's also so great when somehow I say exactly the right thing and I can see the person before me being encouraged. I leave those interactions with more fuel than I came into them with. God showed up, and met someone where they were at, getting at me in the process! It is the only beautiful battle, one where freedom is truly bestowed; that is a sacred space. There, there is joy and there is hope amid whatever darkness.

That is not specific to just me, which I think may be the best part.

What Does Being Christian Even Mean?

I find it interesting that there are so many definitions of what it means to be Christian. There are definitions from the inside, which tend to vary widely between denominations or doctrines, and then there are the perceptions of non-Christians. I often think that being a Christian is a bizarre thing, that if I wasn't one, I myself would probably find quite strange.

However, having been raised Christian, I grew up with some ideas of what being one meant by the things that were rote. We went to church every Sunday like clockwork, my siblings and I went to private grade school, and as a family we rarely ate dinner without praying a simple prayer before hand. Thankfully, in my adolescence, in the midst of some of the great hardship of my thus far young life, God got a hold of me in a way that broke through my misconception. So while I would say I was raised Christian, there is a specific time I'd say I became one. Unfortunately that's not necessarily what I'm writing about here, now.

Growing up in it long before I understood it on a personal level, there were periods of time where I felt like I saw through a lot of things; like there were parts of being a Christian that I didn't like. I took a break from church for a while when I felt like it didn't fit what I was feeling like God is about. Looking back on that time, my faith was by no means on the rocks, but on the contrary there were many moments of deeper intimacy with God than I even feel like I've had in a while, and I'm really thankful for it. I learned a bit about how faith isn't dependent on church, which began what I think is a long journey of figuring out that being a Christian doesn't mean what so many of us think.

Admittedly, I often struggle to tell someone I'm a christian, not at all because of what it means to me, but because of whatever connotation or stigma the word may have to them.

Being a Christian doesn't mean voting republican. It isn't defined by my stance on gay marriage. It's not in my tattoos, or nullified by them. It's also not nullified by swearing, or proved by withstanding. My faith is not upheld by listening solely to Christian music. Being Christian isn't dependent on your ability to abstain from sex outside of marriage. It's not by ritually reading the Bible. It's not in evangelizing from a ladder on a street. It's definitely not holding signs on the street condemning people; it's not condemning people. It's not judging. It's not segregating. It's not obligatory. It's not hinged on saying "Grace" before a meal. It's not hinged on using the right lingo.

To be a Christian means [to me] that you have had a personal revelation of the merit and reality of the death of Christ, as it pertains to your life, and have acknowledged God as giving that gift. There are so many facets and pieces that come after that, but they do not define one's adherence to the identity of being saved by Jesus. The etymology of the word "Christian" even implies a belonging; as in slave ownership. That might sound scary to some, but I think that with the understanding of what that personal realization of the cross is, there is a feeling of indebtedness, of service which is born from thankfulness. It is wanting to serve the One who you know saved you. That is a better definition of "Christian".

No doubt, from this Christian life should come fruit; good things, but those look much different than the many stereotypes would have us believe. It means a selflessness. It is a countenance of grace. It is a life lived with and seeking wisdom. It is self-control. It's showing mercy, and not judgment. A Christian life should display love. A Christian life should display hope. It should display a relationship with God in which He allows you to partner with Him in heavenly works, not because you are doing what a Christian should do, but you have acknowledged your need for Him in your life and are open to following the example of Christ.

The Good & Perfect Giver

If you have ever been burned in a situation you know the feeling of being, as they say, gun-shy. Once it's happened in a big way, it's easier to recognize an arguably justifiable hesitancy in other areas or seasons of life. I have had it happen in my expectations. One particular instance became a mark on my life, even if only to myself.

See, I had a grand plan and expectations from the bottom of my heart to the top: to go to Paris. It might seem frivolous, but it was a life dream of mine and as Audrey Hepburn famously said, "Paris is always a good idea." She wouldn't lie, not with those big glistening eyes! I set my heart right on my own plans that I crafted. I even did all steps to get myself there, save for one thing on which I hesitated...buying my plane ticket.

I had just begun attending my church, and returning to a life immersed in a community of believers after a year and a half of solitary faith. In hindsight, of course, it is so clear to me now - knowing all that I have learned in the just over five years I've spent at Mercy Vineyard - that I didn't even think to really see if I was supposed to go. Thankfully, God steered me in my conscience, and I could not manage to buy that plane ticket. The date edged closer, and though I constantly talked as if I was going, I never bought it. At a point of no particular consequence or significance in my memory, I came to the conclusion it would be irresponsible for me to go, and quite frankly a terrible decision. And again, in retrospect, I was trying to force something that just wasn't.

I didn't really express the disappointment I felt to anyone. In August, shortly following my decision to stay stateside, I went to a Vineyard conference in Duluth with some friends. Again, though insignificant in memory, something in the teaching or singing prompted me to go up to the front to get prayer (in my early months of Mercy every call to receive prayer was for me; I lived up front of the church getting prayer!) Despite what I asked for prayer for being completely unrelated, the woman who prayed for me, Amy (the older sister of my now best friend) having never met me or knowing anything of my life, she spoke right to the part of my heart that broke for my crushed dream. Even her words are lost in my memory, but the sentiment is absolutely not. I was rocked that a perfect stranger not only knew exactly what was on my heart, but took the risk to speak to it what she heard God saying.

Part of it was, God knows the huge disappointment on your heart, but He wants you to know He has something even greater in store. I didn't know the full weight of what that would look like, but in that instant the big dream broken into pieces and the unknown of the immediate future were peripheral. God just spoke to my heart, what I really needed to hear. And He wasn't lying.

To this day, I will say Paris was the best thing I've done in my life. It was far beyond what I could have imagined...just like God had told me through Amy. That time was not only a huge blessing for all it encompassed, but a great lesson in patience, trust, discernment, and wisdom. For me, it is one of the things in my life that exemplifies a characteristic of God that I firmly believe in: He is a good and perfect giver. Often, the reality of having been given such a great gift hits me, and it makes me cry. It's already come and gone, and I still can't believe it was given to me. My heart bobs at the thought; both sad that it's gone, and joyful that it was mine.

Now, when faced circumstances that go against the grain of my wants - though I may have to remind myself - this is the lens I view it through. I find peace in knowing that, whatever comes, He doesn't disappoint, rather He surpasses, and is lavish.

"As the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways...declares the LORD." Isaiah 55:9