The Burden of the Exception

It was a few weeks ago as I sat in my pastor's office, on the verge tears, as I wrestled to speak what I felt God had put in my heart.

It was a whisper.....Pastor.
It was a rolling thunder bursting forth.....Pastor.

A small word, with so much weight and it had rolled around in my heart for several weeks. While weeks are certainly not a lengthy amount of time, they had seemed like eternity as my heart grew restless and my spirit began to long. Yet I kept it in, hiding the words the Spirit had put on my heart - fear ruling rather than love reigning. Then in a prayer service, where my heart wasn't there and everything was distracting me, I opened my Bible, like I had as a child seeking God's words to me. I sought something to ease the angst, as my eyes fell upon the Psalms, the words leaping on the page speaking what I had yet to say. In the Psalm called "Triumphant Song of Confidence" I read "One thing I asked of the Lord, that will I seek after: to live in the house of the Lord" and I was uplifted. Then as my eyes swept over "If my father and mother forsake me, the Lord will take me up", I began to weep. All the fears came out, with sobs that threw my whole body. My inability to stand in the midst of this call, the fear of never being accepted, the words of two decades defining my identity, everything knocked at my heart burying me and telling me I could never be what the Spirit spoke.

It took two hours that night for my husband to pull out of me the Spirit's whisper. Yet the relief I felt in the sharing of this new "call", was unbelievable and with his encouragement I met with my pastor (which had been happening semi-regularly). Though it was with a lot of apprehension & anticipation with this new agenda. It was during this visit, the words pastor rolled in my heart and poured them out to my pastor. Being the first real pastor I could claim in my life, I doubted myself, wondered what he would say, fearful that every affirmation of my administrative skill would manifest and he'd encourage that but detour any other pastoral role.

Being a feminist, I knew my pastor supported women ministers - but I figured I'd be an exception. That he'd see the traits everyone else saw, but not look beyond them - assuming my role instead of speaking something that only God could fulfill. I was blessed when he said that he'd probably have his own agenda to nurture a Pentecostal women minister, and that I'd need to discern my call so I wouldn't be swayed by his agenda. Such a better response that I supposed! Then he asked about my family, would they support me? I doubted it, but I said, "In every area my parents and sisters have placed me in an exception - in leadership, in marriage; they respect my difference. So if they were to approve of anyone, it'd probably be me. But I don't know if they will."

I left that meeting encouraged, but assumed it'd be years for that to manifest with my parents. But God always meets us where we are! It was two days later, that my dad would have the Spirit press upon him to apologize for a hurt towards me, and release me to ministry (all without me saying anything!). Then my mom told me that her heart would be saddened if I wasn't involved in ministry and she was glad I'd be pursuing it more. After I expressed my fear of rejection, by those I value most - the Spirit honored me, and the values God put in me, by allowing my parents to express affirmation of my call and my identity in the church.
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I am reminded today about the burden of being the exception to the rule. Once again a family situation came up, where disagreements were likely but the various members deferred to me, and I was reminded me they wouldn't do that except for me. Being the exception sounds amazing, it seems like it would be an elitist role, a place of pride and honor. While it contains within it the possibility for such things, the daily living is one more of responsibility, of weightiness, of potential isolation, and the knowledge that you bear other's because of your exception. It is a role that can't be carried alone, it is not for one pair of shoulders to bear. A partner to my right, and the Spirit living inside is the only way to move forward.

Today I was so sharply reminded of my inability to do this - to live this exception - on my own. Being in a job that I am affirmed constantly, situations where I am often the "smartest in the room" and where my wit and naturally gifting can often lead difficult situations - I'm pretty resourceful. I really can do it on my own a lot of the time.

It was the third or fourth meeting with my pastor when my calling seemed to change, but the process really began in the first time. When he looked at me, and echoed the same wonders my husband had said days before, "You will learn your value before God. He will let you decide how." I can't weigh my value in how well I do things, as I always have but rather I need to know my value by the fact that He loves me and that is value enough. My pastor saw that I had never failed, and that was almost preventing me from seeing my value in God - because I was able to do it on my own. But as my beloved husband pointed out again today, my best self is void of the Spirit and tries to do it alone, which leaves everything unsatisfactory.

So I write today to say,

I am an exception.

Not compared to you, not to my parents or to my church - I am an exception by the grace of God to myself. He has formed me to be sufficient but horribly insufficient, to be competent and yet desperately in need. In living this life, I can fulfill enough on my own to be considered satisfactory or even good but yet I can't be great, or actually change the world for the Kingdom of God on my own. My heart is void of good when I am separate from God - for He gives me the ability to empathize, to care, to love.

I may be called to be a pastor, but I am first called to follow the Shepherd, joining in this dance with the Spirit, moving towards my Father's home. He is my standard, and I fail miserably, But God.....

Falling Deep - A poem of letting go

The current breaks under the line of sight
The undertow pulling us left and right
As the waves crash on to the shore
Our laboring breaths are almost no more

So I stop
Stand up and walk away
I will not drown
But neither will I swim
Instead I will just say, "No, wait!"

Not moving forward, nor falling back
Neither growing, nor withering cold
These waters are too deep for me
So I sail to a more shallow end

I put a cap on all these fears
To prevent the sinking of this ship
I burn the flags of yesteryear
No identity can yet be found

Yet the waters call, like sirens of old
A beckoning too deep to be ignored
To dive may mean my death
But was this living a life anymore?

So I stop
Stand up and jump in
I will not drown
But neither will I swim
Instead I will just stay, in this waters and wait

Wading in this deep
Knowing the ground's beyond my reach
Stead-fasting in the cold
My King calls me to let go of it all

Falling into the waters below
It's darkness is light
The depth's weight like air
As breathe fills my lungs I know
You're breaking me apart

The waters pull away my scales
Filling up the aches, the caverns of pain
Each crevasse of my soul is satisfied
For only You could make me, "me"

Moments or millenias I will never know
The waters depth was untold
Living, breathing Spirit overtaking it all
This was the deep the ancients all told

As the waves break against the shore
My body laid bare in the sand
I arise a new soul, a new man
As one who has been made whole

The waters flow in my veins
No longer the fears, the lies, the pains
Instead Truth is a person, holding my hand
And I can live again

Disappointed

I think I blinked a bit too long, as this fall has flown by. Days melt into weeks before I can even realize I am behind in life. There have been breakdowns, tears, screams, laughter, successes, progress, and realizations - all of which have beckoned me to move forward.

To do that, I have a few confessions to make.

I am disappointed

I don't know about you, but as a child I constantly played pretend to be older. Whether it be "house", "college" or "work" my sister Lizy, and I (along with a few playmates) would be rock stars, popular college students, successful housewives, disobedient runaways, or adventurous orphans. I often dreamt of growing up, but in a fantastical way. Much like I dreamt about being in the Lord of the Rings, or a strong warrior out of the 15th century, I dreamt of being an adult going to the mission field living among the people of Kenya never to see the paved streets of America again. But I never thought I'd actually grow up. It was a dream, a fantasy - not a reality. Being raised in the 90's Christian sub-culture of Jesus' soon return, combined with fictional tales of being Left Behind, I was well aware that any moment everything could change and I'd be in heaven. As a tween college seemed ridiculous, why would I postpone my calling for a futile education? Then as I grew up I knew I'd have to make decisions, start putting one foot in front of the other to actually be anything.

I remember the first time I did something. I was all talk, until I chose to pursue my call. I had found out about a youth leadership conference up in Denver (a 8 hour drive) and asked my parents if I could go. My grandparents had family near there so we drove up and stayed with my Grandmother's sister for two days. I remember driving through the bustling streets of Denver going to the northern part of the city, my music playing - realizing I was going forward in my call. I had always been told I was a leader, and I wanted to get my feet wet. I was full of butterflies as I pulled into the parking lot of an unfamiliar church, seeing peers (my least favorite age group) and knowing I knew no one. But I went, and while I don't remember a lot of that weekend - it was that moment that defined every other moment for me, I could go and be what I wanted to be. 

Fast forward a year, and I'm heavily involved with church - the church mouse actually. When the doors were open, I was there. I was working at a local coffee shop, graduating from highschool, and had traveled internationally the year before - I was a pretty confident 16/17 year old. My family had gone to the International House of Prayer Conference in Kansas City over the new year, and I had felt a strong desire to participate in their Fire in the Night internship. I talked with the directors while being there, and they said that 17 would be fine, as long as I had a note from my parents and had graduated. So I did what any responsible ministry member would do - I began to prepare others to take my place. There was a young lady who had wanted to sing on Sunday's and I spent time with her and encouraged her to join, soon I wouldn't be singing on Sunday mornings. My involvement in tech, sound, kids ministry, and janitorial work was soon covered. I was ready to go to IHOP. Then came my first rejection - they had changed the policy shortly after the new year and I would have to wait till I was 18. I had finally made another step forward, pursuing all I thought I was to be, and yet a door was shut, slammed firmly in my face. In the pain I quickly picked myself up, and tried to go back to where I was.

I don't know how to articulate the weight of what happened next, because I know it sounds petty on paper - but the gut punch I still feel reminds me it wasn't petty. I had stepped down from the worship team for a month or so (maybe a bit longer) and our church was in a lot of transition - moving towards the arts, and musical excellence. After the plan changed, I approached my dear friend and co-worship leader, she and the pastor said I would have to audition if I wanted to rejoin the worship team. In that simple sentence, to which I know they had no idea the weight of, the wind was gone from my sails and I stood lost in the seas of pain. All the questions of self worth, all the doubts of my abilities, all my anger towards the church was now validated. See I had had a painful cut in another church a few yyears prior as a 13 year old, and it caused me to doubt the Holy Spirit's participation in our lives. Now the church that had given me my counselor, my first voice, the prayer partners, the mentors, my first boyfriend, my ability to be me - had kicked me out without a second thought.

It was here I met and fell in love with my now husband of almost six years. In the midst of the church's rejection I gave morality a middle finger, and said "I will be who I am, regardless of what you say". I told my now father-in-law (a pastor nonetheless) that I had no intention of marrying his son, and that we were just going to date for fun and they'd have to be okay with that. I was tired of being told who I was, so I formed who I wanted to be. I was strong, spiritually on fire (though certainly broken) and horribly emotionally vulnerable. The non-marrying thing only last a few weeks, before I looked at Phil in the fall and gave him my heart in a bracelet.

It was my World Vision bracelet that I had had since the IHOP conference back in January, it signified my calling to missions and my relentless commitment to it. I had been dating someone else a year ago, but because of their lack of similar calling, our relationship ended. I knew that if I was to be with someone, they had to be sold out to the same vision of missions as I, or no amount of love would be worth the heartache. Phil took that bracelet, and wore it for another two years - even in our "I do's" he wore it. It stayed on until it broke off his wrist while living in Israel for a few months together.

In the moment of pain, in the crushing weight of questioning everything I made an impulsive decision to marry, to grow up, to stop waiting for the world to happen. Wow, how did life happen! Within a 18 months of getting married we had live in two countries, two states, four cities, moved three times, had all our possessions stolen while living overseas, moved hundred of miles away from our family, finished our first semester of college, and had our daughter. I think we calculated that that first year almost 25% of our nights were spent in a hotel, with another 35% being spent in homes other than our own. At 19 and a few months, I was a mom, a student, a wife, an employee and completely lost. The plans I had, that pushed me forward for over a decade had not shaped out and in the midst of postpartum, I doubted I could even love the child of my womb.

Fast forward a few years, and I am here about to graduate with my Masters in Business Administration, my husband half way through his masters in Christian Discipleship, our daughter about to turn five and still living in the same town as five years ago. At the beginning of this year we started to get involved with a new church, and I fell instantly in love. During the season of Lent, I literally fell head over heels in love with the pastors, the people, the building, the sermons, and even with God, at least a bit. These last ten months have been a whirlwind, God breathing His life back into these dry bones, the Spirit challenging me to live again.

After one of my many recent breakdowns of tears, and anger, I fell into a passive and hurt silence. It was then my beloved husband began to chip away at it, and saw the cause - I felt wholly, entirely disappointed by God. The King of the Universe, the Spirit of Life, the Prince of Peace had let me down and I sat there with anger in my heart towards Him. I had put my value, my worth in all that I did. Now after 15 years of working hard, moving forward, pushing to be more, dying to myself, trying to grow up before my time - I had my list of accomplishments, my certificate of worth and God was silent.

How dare He not speak?! 

How after all these years of striving, of proving my best, of never settling, would He not speak? 

While the story of Martha is lined throughout this story, best not belittle someone's pain through pointing out its cliche. I always wanted to be Mary, but God never set the place for me to be. As a teen I looked longingly at those who 'sat' at the feet of Jesus. But someone  had to feed the disciples, someone had to care for families, work to provide a shelter - someone had to be the Martha and so I took up my cross and did. All the while looking longingly at the Marys all around me - a bit jealous and mostly hurt that that was not what I was meant to be. Thus in my first confessions of these changing seasons I need to say I have felt desperately disappointed by God, and I have found my value, my worth in all that I have done.

Selah.

A Skeptic's Prayer

Tonight I attended a night of renewal at my local church. After a week where I became lethargic and complacent, I doubted God's attendance in my heart this evening. While I struggled to engage in worship, I decided to engage in a lost love, reading the Bible and journaling while soaking in worship. This is the order of events for my evening, and at the end reflection it seemed the God brought me on a journey that I wasn't aware of in the moment.
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Prayer 

I the Skeptic, doubts
I the Romantic, hopes

I breathe in with anticipation
I wince in my hesitation

Silence
           Is not Your absence loud?

Noise
         Is not Your whisper seen?

So I relieve my heart
Letting go of my agenda

Cautious but with faith

Baggage at the door

Let me hear You more

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Lessons from 2 Peter 3 - an emotional reflection with little context.

Remember
              With sincerity and weight remember the Words from long ago

Oh God, time is not of Your concern
Yet within time You act
Your patience is our salvation
Though often the source of our frustration

And so we wait

                         proactively acting towards You
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Longing and Doubt

Our mouths dry, longing for Your water
Full and ready to burst     we long
Will our hopes be dashed upon the rocks of derision?
Yet...
      Yet...
           And yet.....
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Confession

Am I the fool, the arrogant minion acting against their Lord, perhaps unwittingly?
Consumed in the world of myself?!

So Speak!

Do we hear You?
           Or are our thoughts too loud?

Prayers for the other causing Selah.
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Trepidation and Celebration

Let Your love rush into this room
Flooding this home like a mighty wind

COME

And she came, and heaven broke forth speaking
"We now rejoice!"
The Father's voice of love echoing through the celebration,
"Welcome home my little one. You truly are home."

"To you my laborer, let your heart rest. For I have met you, and I do not fail, nor do I leave you unsatisfied.
I have made the difference."
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Reflection

Remember the height from which you have fallen. Oh Ephesus you have been running in your busy, and in your hard work. Remember! The early days, your first love! Repent! Return to the things you first did, when you first drew near to Me. Work out with Me your salvation. How did you engage with Me long ago? What captivated you? Go back, and do those things.

Belonging to Truth

My pastor once said he trusts himself more in the dark times than when he is happy. I have meditated on that concept a lot since he mentioned it - and I found my conclusion. I don't trust myself at any point - not during the high, or following the low. The concept of the heart being desperately wicked and no one knowing it resounds in this reflection.

And yet....

I have read through the Bible a few times - being raised in a Christian home offered opportunity and desire to do so. Yet there is a passage at the end of 1 John 3 that I never noticed before.

19 This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in his presence: 20 If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts, and he knows everything. 21 Dear friends, if our hearts do not condemn us, we have confidence before God 22 and receive from him anything we ask, because we keep his commands and do what pleases him.

I rarely feel my heart at rest. There have been seasons where my heart is not quite as erratic, yet peace is a rare phenomenon. And yet, I am encouraged by the power in these verses.

Belonging to the truth does not mean my heart is at rest in His presence. If my heart is going a million different directions in the midst of worship I am not far from Him, though my heart condemns me as such. The truth is found in knowing the God is greater than my heart. When I am running back and forth, getting hurt my the lack of information shared, feeling rejected or out of the loop - He is not. I know it may seem simple - of course God is not lacking, but in the heat of the moment when your heart is heavy we tend to project our weaknesses onto the Creator.

My heart condemning me is not a reflection of my salvation. I was that young girl who prayed every sinner's prayer just to be certain - as my heart would condemn me almost daily. I was baptized many times for the same reason. I have fallen back into sin, as my heart showed me as already defeated and condemned so I might as well get the perks of sin. I often associated my hearts condemnation with the Spirit's. I am the child who tries to fix everything before asking for help. I want to make my heart right, before I commune with the Father. Yet this verse reminds me that there are times, and they may be often, where my heart will not rest in His presence and the worse thing I can do is assume that that is God.

I am often led by my heart, emotions defining truth, circumstances forming who I am. God is greater than my heart, and in that He knows everything. When my heart feels ambiguous and I can't figure out why I am in turmoil - I don't need to figure it out before coming to Jesus' feet. Rather I will find my rest in giving my heart to Him, letting Him lay aside the ambiguity and letting Him speak the truth of the situation not just my emotion in the moment.

This verse lines up with the song that has been playing over and over in my heart the last few weeks. The last couple of months of been incredibly stretching, in new and unfamiliar ways. The rocks of life have been turned into sand, and path has seemingly disappeared - forcing me to just be here. Being is hard, and the most uncomfortable thing I have experienced - yet is in the being God is able to speak. I can be, exposing my most intimate self if I have the promise of being known in the process.

The last line of this song says - 'you memorize me'. God knows our hearts, even if we don't - and we can enter into His rest when we allow that truth to speak louder than the condemnation we hear.

Understanding Lies

When words drip from a broken vessel they often bring sour taste.

If I am His and He is mine, then why do I act so alone?

When listening to lies, the only way to be free is to hear Truth.

In the midst of my wanderings, I hear the whispers of the I AM.

If I could just express all that is in my chest, I'd be free.

So You call us to run, to let loose the things tight wound.

For in the moment of expression, we find the lies.

Then You can speak truth, BE Truth, and we can know.

Let us find You, Potter and form our clay anew.

Making this broken, white wash pot a pitcher of hope.

So we wait, You will not leave us tarrying for long.

In the Light

I've been reading 1 John intermittently throughout the last month or two. The first chapter is beautiful, intriguing and convicting.
Who among us walk in light, yet choose the darkness time after time?
How many in the dark grapple for the Light we've seen and touched, and yet we don't choose to hold fast to the Light.
Our sins can no longer hold us, they have no control over us anymore ad we walk in the Light. We are deceived and liars if we choose to walk in sin as we have seen the Light.
How many of us choose the path of ease and thus walk I'm darkness over the Light - a path of obedience, sacrifice, and freedom.
I know my will is strong, my self desire at times feels insurmountable even to the King of Kings.
Yet there lies in the beauty of the Light. The cleansing blood, that forgives our sins and reconciles us one to another. That gift cannot be taken away, as it was paid by the ultimate sacrifice of Jesus the Son of God.
He is faithful to forgive, but we must be faithful to repent. If we lie To ourselves, and say we have not sinned the Light cannot remain in us. Nor if we choose to sin over and over rather than remain in the Light.

It's not easy to admit our wrongdoings, nor is it easy to repent to the other (especially an intimate other). But Christ didn't differentiate between the stranger and the brother ; the soldier and the friend. Our repentance and heart towards the Light affects everything we cannot live in darkness anymore.

Being Strong

You don't have to be a charistmatic Type-A, white male to lead - but it certainly helps if you are.

Forget it if you are of

...a different ethnicity

...a different personality

...a different gender.

God bless you if you are all of the above and still hope to lead in this crazy world.

I don't know who told me this, who modeled this to me; but somewhere along childhood I felt that. It was at least easier to be a man, to be charismatic, to be a Type-A, and we all know being white makes life easier (at least in the US of A). 

However the wonder of Christ is He makes all things new. The order of Kingdom is nothing like the order of our world. The values of the King differ greatly from the treasures of this earth. Yet even then, Christ goes beyond the majors, and focuses in on the minors. He is the restorer of relationships. The healer of wounds. He takes our memories and offers them the filter of Truth - often causing memories to be so much more than painful, but explicit reminders of Christ's work in our life.

As I reflected on the lack of strong female leaders of my youth I was reminded of several that 'broke' the rules that I mentioned. 

Nancy Nelson Bliss 

She was my father's mother. She was tall, beautiful, and smart. Never went to college, but rather was raised by her mom and her grandmother in San Francisco and was groomed as a debutante. She was certainly a strong woman. Having her husband sent out to WWII, she was faithful and active in the States. She would raise three children, and have nine grandchildren. She hosted magnificent parties, had large groups of friends to which she was fiercely loyal. While the Light of Christ was dim in her life, it was there and caused her to move ever slightly forward. Looking back, her tall stature shadows the halls of memories as a woman of hospitality and strength.

WCA Principal

William Carey Academy and the US Center for World Missions was a game changer for my 4th and 5th grade mind. All woman teachers, and a woman principal - they were strong leaders, of diverse ethnic and social background. Yet they all had in common the desire to teach, and enrich the lives of these missionary kids in their classes. My principal was Armenian, and because of my rebellious nature I met with her more than once. She was strong, stern, compassionate and loved the Lord. Looking back I am grateful for her impact on my life - not letting me stay in my mess, demanding reconciliation with my classmates instead.

Tuggy Dunton

This woman entered my life in the most crucial of times - I was 14, suicidal, depressed and defeated in my attempts to fix the deep sexual torment my mind went through. She was an MK who was raised in Venezuela, but had unfortunately been sexually abused by her family. Yet here she was in her 30s/40s married to a wonderful Native American man doing Native Missions throughout the Western United States. She was fluent in ASL, and did counseling regularly. While she was far from perfect, our relationship ended abruptly because of misunderstandings. She saw this broken teen, and began to speak God's truth of my identity. She worked in cross-cultural settings, drawing others who had been broken to see the Light and stood strong in the midst of racism, sexism, and discrimination. 

Karen Wells

Most of the pastor's wives I met were always behind the scenes, and often absent from any real part of the church and community. Karen Wells was different, she was the wife of an AoG pastor in Colorado. She was the girls basketball coach at the highschool, taught various ministries at the church, and was involved in a large part of the congregation. As a kid her personality seemed strict and large, intimidating for a the tallest kid in the group who stuck out but didn't understand everything yet. Looking back she was a wonder. I remember a distinct moment when she came to youth group to be a spiritual parent that night. I was 13 and just beginning to go through my baggage; I was certainly discouraged as I cried on the stairs alone. When Karen saw me she came up and inquired. Her tall stature, large frame, and big personality seemed to close around me, blocking the darkness that dared to creep by. She was one of the first people I opened up to about everything, and she did the best thing a leader can do - she offered hope. She told me her story, her struggle and said to hold fast to Scripture. To ask God for a verse of promise, of comfort and of hope - a lifeline through the insanity. I still remember her verse that she used, "the marriage bed will be kept undefiled". It wasn't a rule, but a promise for her. Her strength reached across the congregation and the community to leave an impact.

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Often we can't see the beauty around us in the midst of the mud. Our memories are too tarnished to keep right the Truth displayed throughout our lives. None of these women were famous, none would be known by the world, but their leadership in the little and big ways changed my life. I still wish I could have found a woman that modeled all I wanted to be. I still haven't found her. But I remember reading the autobiography of one of my favorite women, and she reflected that there was no model for her. She had to push forth and become who she was meant to be with the strength of her husband, God and herself. I won't quit, I won't give up - I want to be the model I never had. I want to reflect the beauty of the models that I did. I don't have to be anything less or more than who I've been created. The sight of Christ offers true 20/20 vision to our blinded state. Dive into who He is, and our identity will come forth like a mountain spring. 

Coming Home ?

"I was wounded."
"There is this issue that keeps coming up."
"I went through counseling, but it's still a work in progress."

I have uttered all of these or similar phrases - especially in the recent months. I have walked around with a wound in my foot, uncertain of what freedom looks like and after the years the limp seems normal. Freedom sounds more like a myth; dancing a nightmarish task - better to stay "a work in progress". This last week has brought a lot of these internal struggles to head. From anxiety, to tears I have said these phrases much more often and began to wonder what they meant.

"I was wounded."

Wounded by what? Was it terminal? Will the mark fade, or is the limp permanent? Why was I wounded? Are we all wounded? How does this wound affect me? Is this wound preventing my freedom? Have I actually been walking in freedom, but just not willing to take on the level of responsibility freedom has?

Let me say that last part again, but in a different way.

A child longs for freedom, the ability to make their own choices and direct their own life. But honestly, who is going to let their four year old free to roam in a city of a few million people? That would be reckless and your child would be taken away from your for such irresponsibility. In order to allow a child the freedom the desire, they have to show the capacity to carry its weight. To sound cheesy - Freedom is not free. Rather it demands that the child is no longer a child, but rather an individual able to handle making tough decisions, using discernment, common sense and have the knowledge necessary to decide.

While we all may say "I want to be free", to be free is to leave the confines of our parent; their protection, their immediate supervision and counsel. They are ever accessible but the weight of life is on our own shoulders. I wonder then, if in the process of being wounded that being sheltered from the crazy of the world did not become more enticing than freedom? After the imago Dei has been marred, who really wants to put ourselves back out there? I believe we are given time to heal, but the problem is many of us stay in hospice though we have made a full recovery. Imagine being fed, sheltered, entertained, and cared for without ever having to make an effort, never having to take a risk? Us wounded ones find this option wonderfully inviting.

After years of staying in recovery, we can begin to believe we will never be more than what we were - a wounded broken soul. We have built our lives around the wound - our friendships, our hobbies, our relationships (even those most intimate), our view of God, our way of worship, how we breath is shaped around that gaping hole. But once the hole is filled, are we really willing to reframe our life? Restructuring our world to a new way of being, that cannot be pre-wound nor like in recovery?

This has been mulling around in my heart, and my head. Pushing its way through the dusty hallways of my soul, shedding light on my own weaknesses. At the same time another melody has been playing. I am a singer, my life revolves around music. I hear life through various notes and keys. As I have been struggling with 'being wounded' I have heard this song play over, and over, and over in my head. It is as though God Himself is singing the song - drawing me to Him. Seeking me out in the midst of the chaos to remind me of Himself. Yes, I've been wounded. I've walked with a limp for far too long. But as I step forth out of the darkness I hope to come face to face with the Light and let Truth flood this heart once again. This is the beginning of something, and I look forward to running Home.
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I am the Lord your God, I go before you now
I stand beside you, I'm all around you
Though you feel I'm far away, I'm closer than your breath
I am with you, more than you know

I am the Lord your peace, no evil will conquer you
Steady now your heart and mind, come into My rest
Oh, let your faith arise, lift up your weary head
I am with you wherever you go

Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm everything
Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything

I am your anchor, in the wind and the waves
I am your steadfast, so don't be afraid
Though your heart and flesh may fail you, I'm your faithful strength
I am with you wherever you go

Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything
Come to Me, I'm all you need.
Come to Me, I'm your everything

Don't look to the right or to the left but keep your eyes on Me
You will not be shaken, you will not be moved ooh
I am the hand to hold, I am the truth, I am the way
Just come to Me, come to Me, cause I'm all that you need

http://youtu.be/sY0Vz8fvIhE

Reminders of Failure

I keep a picture of a friend above my stove. I put her face there, hoping it would remind me to pray for her, to call her regularly, and keep up a friendship with her lost soul.

I set an alarm in my phone, that goes off everyday reminding me to pray for my best friend's daughter. I realized that while my friend may not change her life, her daughter is just beginning it so my daily prayer for her could change something.

Instead of praying after seeing my friend's face - I cringe and try to not look at the stove because of the depth of guilt I feel for not calling her.

Instead of stopping and praying at the alarm, I put it on snooze and forget. The next time I silence it, and feel guilty after a few days so I pray a quick prayer at some point in the day to make up for my slackerness.

I have a stack of books to the right of my futon, and a couple journals. There is dust on all of them.

The spiritual and practical 'to do list' is longer than the day, and as every evening comes I feel the weight of a day unfinished, tasks left undone.
________________________________________________

Ask any coworker, any boss, ask my parents, my friends, my husband, my daughter - follow through is my failure. Everyday I face mirrors of these failures - reminders of my shortcomings and the reflections are sometimes too much to handle.

Yet I am also reminded by how many times I am affirmed, how often people talk about my quality of work, compliment the job well done. It's funny - when you don't let words hurt you, they tend to not help you either. Or put another, more personal way - perhaps I don't lack confidence just in God like I always presumed, maybe I lack confidence in me too. If I think about it, the lack I see in me I project into God - assuming my shortcomings will be His and my failures restricting His success.

You can laugh at those ideas, but when one truly believes anything even the most twisted lie becomes truth.
______________________________________________

Maybe you're right
And I'm not as certain as I thought
Maybe I'm wrong
And it's not as bad as I saw
Maybe it's fine
And we need to begin to hear

Open these ears
To know the melodies of truth
Break open the skies
Letting the light mold our eyes
Catch the tears
Of the thousands unsaid prayers

Maybe we fell
And thought we'd never get up again
Maybe they failed
And broke our hearts in the process
Maybe our souls
can be mended to sing again

I am so self-absorbed
Self obsessed
Self sustained
A one person circus
A one man band
A one member Body
A self contained church

Yet we long for approval
For affirmation
For home
For a friend

We are all searching for acceptance
A safe haven to rest our hearts
Laying it all on the line with everyone else
I don't doubt it can happen
But sometimes wonder where it is

Maybe You're right
And it starts with love and obedience
Maybe I'm made right
Not a mistake needing to be something else
Maybe the person of Truth
Is waiting to make it all right again?

God break down these towers
The lies that You are not enough
That You are not able
That You don't want my best
Break my heart and let the waters flow 
Over the fields of rejection
Putting out the flames of fame & recognition
Let the waters flood these barren hearts
Then maybe healing will begin
_____________________________________________

Remember Me

"Tending to manifest or express one's feelings easily or unreservedly."

That is what I am typically - demonstrative. There were many years I expressed myself unreserved, forgoing context and social timing. After several painful experiences I tried to reign in this 'outbursts' - I put that which I didn't hold to be demigods. Restraint. Social timing. Context. Expectation. The rules of propriety that I often saw manifest in my dad's side of the family - would slowly overtake most of my life.

I believe you can know restraint in a healthy manner. But I also know for those 'obsessive' personalities, those that live in all-or-nothing realities - balance is hard, and seems often impossible. Instead of being a balanced individual I became controlling, and hardened to the most intimate of relationships. I put social timing over the well-being of another; restraint over reaching out in love; context over fleshing out necessary wounds; expectation over everything else. Even as I type it is hard to not put some of those on a higher pedestal than the others.

Living as my own solitary individual would allow me more space for duality. But living in intimate community with others (family, church etc.) doesn't afford such individualistic luxuries.

My husband has often said that after we got married I changed. The young passionate spiritual lady he knew was lost - and another person came in her stead.
I could list the lengthy reasons why I think that changed.
I was 18, in a matter of a year I would live in two countries, 2 states, 4 homes, find out I was pregnant, have all my earthly possessions stolen (except two suitcases), enroll in college, move away from family, and spend 364 days with a man I knew barely over a year.
Those are just the external realities - not mentioning the deep, lengthy spiritual and emotional turbulence that would accompany all of those changes. Looking back I know those drastic changes would allow Phil and I to grow closer, to know our stuff and be able to withstand the less glorious years to come. We all change, but as a Christian we should be moving forward not reversing as it seemed to my husband I was doing.

I can honestly say now I am a much more whole person that I ever was before. I lived in a state of demoniac-like conflict - a mind that was constantly double-minded. I wrote in my journals that I just wanted to be okay, that I would hold onto hope that okay would come. I was spiritual, I prayed, felt an intimacy with the Lord; I wasn't as irritable, or easily frustrated - though I could have a temper. I struggled SO strongly with authority, and submission - to the point where none of those words were allowed in my vows. (A decision we still hold to, but would have liked to have a better motive than my authority issues.) But I loved the Lord; I felt that I knew Him. I could be in His presence so easily. Whether it was an age thing or a different season in life or something, regardless I find being with God is much harder now. I have to fight to not fall asleep, I don't feel Him like I used to. Often I feel He is a stranger that I trust but don't know.

I always wanted to be one of those prayer warriors, like from Kansas City's IHOP or one of those individuals that could feel Jesus. They acted as though He was their best friend - not in some cheesy literature but in a real and meaningful way. I always knew God - head knowledge. I loved diving into Scripture taking apart the Greek and Hebrew in my Strong's concordance, journaling my theories to which translation of the word was best. The Scriptures felt alive, I'd pray and a verse would fall into my hands and it spoke to me or those I loved beautifully. I read through the Bible several times, it wasn't a struggle, I enjoyed it. But at night the dark scared me, and sometimes I'd just have to say Jesus over and over to fight the lurking darkness I felt creep around the corners of my room. Thankfully I always had my trusty Labrador Bliss - she was my nighttime companion. Even as her black fur would ruin most of my furniture and carpet, having her near made the dark not quite as terrifying.

I think in the transition from singlehood to married life I made my spouse my everything. Phil unwittingly became my parents, my sisters, my puppy, my friend, my husband and my 'god' - a role no one could fill but I subliminally expected him too. When our sins manifested months into our marriage - unresolved anger issues, hurt and injury from family members, lack of self-control, self-worth issues - well that mirage of 'he would be my everything' slowly faded and bitterness took its place. I never planned on getting married, so I certainly didn't prepare for it, a couple sessions premarital counseling with my father-in-law helped see the vast differences but did little more. I don't think it could have. I was stubborn - we knew we wanted to get married and our parents did the best thing they could: offer as much support as possible, challenging us, helping us and blessing us (I know they must have been praying too).

Not everyone has a crisis of faith because of marriage - I certainly did. My husband wasn't the embodiment that I knew he could be. The vision of the future-Phil was not lived in the present and I resented him for it. But really it was me - I didn't know how to work God into my life anymore. If I didn't desperately need Him, well then how did He fit? If I was finally okay, but not happy where does that leave God and I?

I am a good person. As people go I try hard to care, work hard, serve, give and be the light. Internally I have struggled to share my heart. I was such a demonstrative person, and with it I was injured. In turn I took my spiritual side and hide it in a closet in the basement of my heart. No one could know my struggles - even God wasn't always privy. I often felt like the prodigal son, I wanted to make myself clean, good and presentable before going to God. But we all know this world has us stained, and only the washing of the blood and the constant foot washing will cleanse us from the dirt - both of which require coming to the Son first not after.

I say all that to say this - remember who you are. God formed you, molded you and knew you long before the world did. I think of some of my sisters who has lived two decades hearing their identity told to them rather than given to them by the King. I remember my husband whose sense of spirituality often felt misunderstood, his strong empathetic and discerning nature often judged by those who didn't understand. I don't know what you've molded yourself to now - if you are like me after so many chameleon changes it's hard to remember what we were before. But I know this, don't give up. It's hard, it's uncomfortable and the timing is not what we'd want - but the you that God made is there somewhere inside. We have to run to the Father in order to know ourselves. Sometimes it's sitting in silence, others it’s breaking the wall through songs and shouts, it is writing, it is reading, it is communing and getting to know God. There is no formula; rather it is an experiment and a constant change that allows us to know the parts of this magnificent God who calls us daughters and sons. He isn't a mystery to avoid relationship - He enters into relationship to let us partake in the mystery. When this mundane world comes tightly in and you feel your spirit suffocating - let go of the molds you have made, let God reveal who you are through who He is. Like a wonderful pastor and author recently wrote - find that moment where you were you before the cares and fears of this world trampled on you.* For him it was riding a bicycle as child where his imaginative could run free and his spirits held no burden, for many others it’s in a relationship, an outside adventure, a single moment or a continues occasion. Regardless of when or how - let God form you into who you really are. Be demonstrative with God - express yourself unreservedly and He will meet you.

You have been and You will be

You have seen and You will see

You know when I rise and when I fall

When I come or go You see it all

You hung the stars and you move the sea, and still You know me

Whoa oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh oh You know me (repeat)

Nothing is hidden from Your sight Wherever I go, You find me

You know every detail of my life You are God and You

don't miss a thing

You memorize me

*(Protoype by Jonathan Martin printed by Tyndale Publishers available in book and e-book everywhere)

The Body - Ecumenical Conversations in Movements

Jesus -
What are you doing?
And why are you doing it?
Why does the hand not even see the foot?
Or the ear not acknowledge the knee?
How do we operate with such blind assurance?
Confident and true, but incomplete;
it seems the Body is never one.

How can we belittle an act of God?
Don't we know the wise things of this world will be made foolish?
Can't we see that great work our brother is doing?
Even it is unfamiliar and foreign,
will I say they are against You
as the cast out demons in Your name?
When did we get here?
Assured in our place.

I stand as though atop a wall,
seeing to the left and to the right.
Both true,
both beautiful,
both right,
yet neither are complete.
Oh God, in Your majesty,
How can we can we confine You?
In the midst of Your splendor,
how can understand You?

Stretch me,
pull me,
let these questions mull around in my heart.
But Jesus,
Don't answer.
Let me stand on this wall
Between the divisions,
attempting unity.
Trying love.
Seeking peace.
One Body.
Jesus,
I can't stand alone -
one can fall and die.
With two, they can stand up.
Oh Lord but with three,
that cord shall not easily break.

Let me dance along the bridges,
singing songs of unity between us.
Painting the tapestry of diversity;
breathing in the majesty of color.
Gold dust, to footwashing;
Languages known and unknown.
Breaking bread with the wise & the fool,
drinking the juice of the vine with the misunderstood.
Let me stand along these walls,
in the in between -
I see You more clearly here.
Your world is so much bigger than my eyes can see -
Let me fly into the largeness of You,
growing more amazed, more diverse, as love overflowing
in the midst of this diverse community.
For this is Your Body,
this is Your Cup -
bridging the gaps so we can stand together,
Dancing this dance of unity and love
Until we are one as You are One.

________________________________________________________

This is not a judgement, but a song out of my heart to my Father. I have never been a committed member of a movement, denomination, or church. I know I need growth, as I lack maturity in commitment, in persistence. As a family we moved around, seeking community wherever it would be found. In the midst of discussions on the Body and community especially through Wesleyan Pentecostal Holiness lens, it seemed as though we are standing apart. I have an incomplete vision of Christ, of the Body, of the Trinity, of God - and I know this. I don't want to let pride prevent me from knowing God. I've been a mere step above a tumbleweed blowing in the wind. Yet I can't help but see a Body so diverse, while we are so blind to the beauty of Spirit's work. Where bonds of unity could grow and give strength - we stay to the streams of ecumenical work that 'make sense' through denominations and traditions that have lasted hundreds of years. But what about the new movements, the groups that have yet to grow a understandable structure and yet are changing their neighborhoods, their cities, parts of the world without us even knowing it? There is so much more to the conversation than what we know right now, and perhaps are even comfortable with. But isn't that the beauty of Creation? All the good, all the right, all the true, all the aspects of the imago Dei formed into one Body that reaches across every human boundary? That is a love the world can't replicate, can't understand and so desperately want - they don't need more walls dividing us, but a love that reaches beyond commonalities to a spiritual tie that withstands all storms. They need the Body of Christ, in all her forms, broken and true as she become more and more the unified Bride.

Community green

I've been listening to Dr. Chris Green and his sermon about community. It's always a bit wonderful, joyous, frustrating and affirming when someone preaches a sermon, or teaches a teaching that is what you know but couldn't articulate nearly as beautiful. Their speech is for many something new and radical, and yet for you it is something that you've struggled to live out, yet never could scriptural base as well.
Community is hard when you look different, act odd, and don't like social gatherings. Especially when the people who are supposed to make up that community judge what you look like, disdain your hobbies, and don't make an initiative to say anything to you. I never had that problem. I am and have been a chameleon, and I also love the center stage. I didn't follow the 'wrong' things but the 'superficial' things of life like hobbies, and activities changed based on the social group. The problem I often found with this was that without people I am nothing, if I didn't love to read I would have been an empty shell of a person.
But I am married to someone whose entire life has been judged by the outward appearance which equated self-loathing and condemnation. As he has grown out of the self-focus, he has grown acutaly aware that he is a created being that God formed with purpose. Why should we hide or change or lie about who we are, when it supresses the gifts and callings our Creator gave us?
Community is not homogenous, all dressed the same, acting the same - that is gathering of clones, not a diverse expression of the Creator.
We need the broken, the narrow, the dense, or as Green said we need the walls and the donkeys to save us from our own foolishness. To show us how wrong we were, to break our stubborn selves.
But honestly what do you do, when there seems to be no one?
What if no one sees you? Reaches out to you? If no one corrects you or affirms you how can you change or stay the same?
Like a friend of mine mentioned recently, community in the New Testament was always an extension to the stranger. It wasn't a homogenous meeting of like-minded friends - it was a gathering of a family who had been given a new citizenship and this could welcome any into their community.
If only we would be willing to be as open, as vulnerable, as accessible then perhaps we'd find community to be that diverse body that reaches out to the fragmented, the outcast, the estranged, and the strange.

Wary or Weary

I'm fasting from social media for the next couple of days. I know many people are fine checking Facebook and Twitter regularly but I have found I substitute for everything else in life - prayer, conversation, reading, cleaning, school, name it I will be on twitter rather than engaging in it.

I feel a weight in my chest. Actually I feel it more in my gut, as there is an ache in my heart that prevents its engagement. This weight is heavy - full of uncertainty, fear, lethargy, and desire. The desire burns deep but the waters of uncertainty begin to overtake, and with the rains of fear pouring down the sublime creature of lethargy takes desires place. There can be no heartbreak if there is no heart to break.

I want to move on. So very desperately I want to seize what lays before me - a truth, a life, a dream that is almost and not yet. Yet I feel a deep and subtle hesitation. It pulls me back, like a paddleball I feel free for a sheer moment before being pulled back to into place.
However even deeper than my desire to move on is the commitment to not have regrets by leaving too early. Having gone through a few situations where I had to come back later and 'relive' it in order to move on - I certainly don't want to do that here.

I feel a pull, an internal conflict, and either party may win. Deep inside I don't want to return. For many it's just a job, for me it's been my life - what I pray about, think about, dream about, stress about, regret, love, where I've found admiration and approval daily. In some crass way to leave is similar to getting a divorce - the change is final and there is no going back, the relationship is cutoff and you have to move on. I think about it - really knowing all the problems, stresses, and sheer amount of energy that goes into a semester and my body goes into slight panic. I'm too tired, too worn, I'm weary of the continuing.

Yet I'm wary of moving forward. I know the grass isn't greener - maybe a different hue but it's the same grass. We can try to fool ourselves and believe that switching jobs, majors and churches will magically make everything better - but in reality it doesn't. The exception of course being the Voice of God. If God tells you to go and you don't - things simply get worse and you miss a 'greener grass'. If you follows God's voice the grass is greener simply for the obedience and confidence gained from obeying His voice. It still has it's trials, but you have the Everlasting Arms to lean on, to keep you going as you pursue His will.

But what do you do when it feels like He is silent? Do you stay or do you go?

Perseverance is not my forte. Is it really anybodies? I am a persistent sort, but I am also used to working hard for a prize I tangibly receive. I talk to my sister about this regularly - we work hard and find favor in our work, it's not that we sit around it's a hard earned favor, but still it's beyond even our abilities often times. I've seen many changes occur in my job, and when it seemed I reach the culmination of the hard work - the reason for the hours, the tears, the joys, everything - it was pulled away as quickly as it came. If status and power wasn't going to be my pinnacle, what would be?

As Christian we are often told to shy away from such words as status and power; it's a pride of this world, a self-absorption that gives only you honor rather than the Creator. But what do you do as Christian, when you are working in a system where without those badges you are unable to speak, to move, to be much of anything. That at the end of the day without power to bring change you are simply another pawn in the scheme of the machine?

I know at this point there should be a story. A revelation of the martyrs, the saints of past and present that worked in governments and systems that hindered their faith and yet they brought revolution, transformation and love. My cynical response yells that they didn't fight systems that pretended to be something it isn't. That it's different when you serve three masters, all of which have differing standards and all you want to do at the end of the day is ask why is it this way? Again I say, for many it's just a job, for me it's everything I given my life for the last three years, and I can't simply clock in/clock out unless the Lord Almighty gives me strength to do so.

I know it's silly, but as I wrote I had three words pressed into my head - Ezekiel, China, Missionary. So I did what any good Pentecostal person should do, I Googled those three words together. The first result was this: The Cat's-Paw. It's a 1934 comedy film that used sound in a thriving silent film era.

Ezekiel Cobb, a naive young man raised by missionaries in China, is sent to the United States to seek a wife. He is promptly enlisted by the corrupt political machine of the city led by the corrupt boss to run for mayor as phony "reform" politician. He is expected to be the "cat's paw" of the political machine. Cobb unexpectedly takes his job seriously. He embarks on a campaign to clean his town of its corrupt political machine. Fighting back, the corrupt politicians frame Cobb. He turns the table on them, however, by enlisting the help of his friends in the local Chinese community. They end up using tricks of illusion to gain the support of the political machine again. Then town is swept of its corruption.

Stories remind us of truths that our hardheaded hearts would not otherwise hear. 

I don't know, and I need to know. It's hard for me to say, "Thy will be done", I don't want to stay. But I don't want to leave either, and therein lies the juxtaposition. While God can speak through a donkey, He can't answer our heart's knocking if we keep running back and forth between doors.

I just imagine a cartoon version of myself knocking at a large door then changing my mind so I begin running down a long hall to another door to knock. As soon as I walk away from the first door, God open's it for me to look inside but I've already changed my mind so He hears the knock at the other door, closing the first to answer the second. But as soon as I knock on the second I change my mind just as quickly and run back to the first; though God just opened the door to the second after I ran away. I see this play out dozens if not hundreds of times - all the while my little cartoon version of myself grows more weary with each run, and God longingly wanting to offer His Shalom to my aching body. I want to change the town, fight the political corruption, turn the manipulation on it's head and save everyone in it's overturn. But I feel I am merely a puppet, unable to make much movement, restrained by the strings of the system.

Or perhaps the strings are merely show? That really they are not tied to anything at all, and instead the restriction is self-made, self-induced into believing God isn't big enough to change this place? Perhaps the problem isn't in the system, but in the belief that the system is the evil rather than the enemy of our souls causing chaos and darkness in order to shroud the light? Maybe God is able to make the weak strong, the fearful brave, and the wretched new - even in the midst of corruption?

I hope to change
The tired and 
Same state I'm in
I hope to face
What lies in front of me
I won't turn back

Tonight we fight 
The battle at our sides
Don't close your eyes
Tonight we fight 
The darkness in the skies

I'm going in
Try and stop me (x2)

I hope to break
Through this barricade
Of skin and bone
And I'm not afraid
To face the foreign arms
I'll fire back

Tonight we fight 
The battle at our sides
Don't close your eyes
Tonight we fight 
The darkness in the skies

I'm going in

Try and stop me (x4)
(I'm Going In by Autumn Film)

I don't know the answer, this is just the beginning of the questions. But at least I know the enemy I fight, rather than the puppets he uses - I fight not against flesh and blood by principalities and powers of the dark. I serve the King of Light and the darkness will not prevail in the midst of His glory. 

I don't feel

"He preserves the souls of His saints;

He delivers them out of the hand of the wicked.

Light is sown for the righteous,

and gladness for the upright in heart.

Rejoice in the Lord, you righteous

and give thanks at the remembrance of His name. "

Psalms 97:10-12

I don't feel preserved

Delivered,

Lighted

Glad

I don't remember

Let everything change.

If it doesn't, I'm not sure I'll make it.

I won't give up, but my heart may stop beating,

And the breaths may slow.

Don't tarry

I may die if You do.

I can hold on,

I can believe.

But You see the one,

the lost,

the broken,

the rejected,

the one misunderstood by so many....

Jesus! SPEAK!

Isn't Your child worth a voice?

A whisper would help them stand,

but silence is all that is heard.

I can believe,

because I can remember.

But blessed Savior be faithful,

to the ones who have yet heard.

Who have yet to see, Jesus be true.

Let Your Spirit come, Jesus please....

Why tarry anymore?

Why withhold? 

It hurts too much to breath. 

But a mere glimpse of You can heal.

A shadow would make them arise and run to glory.

Don't withhold,

but preserve us fragile souls.

The spirit that can't be delivered by man,

uplift Jesus...turn Your face and sow Your light.

That gladness would overflow and rejoicing occur.

Rejoice, help me to rejoice even in the darkness.

Everything must change

More than likely we have all heard someone at some point say, "everything must change". 

Brian McClaren wrote his book "Everything Must Change" to show what would happen when Jesus' Good News collides with a world in need.
Grahame Davies wrote the novel by the same name that contemplates social conscience and radical activism in the modern world in regards to different female philosophers.
Quincy Jones 1974 hit "Everything Must Change" has been covered by a half-a-dozen different artists since then and is often associated to the loss of a loved one.

When Jesus came to earth, His presence was perhaps the most decisive statement that really, truly from that day forward everything would change. Since Jesus birth, life, death & resurrection, each time we encounter this Jesus it causes a decorative statement in our spirits "Everything Must Change". We can not encounter Jesus - the Son of God, the Truth, the Word without every part of ourselves being changed. Whether we stay changed depends on our follow through to the call of discipleship, the willingness to lay our life down daily to take up Christ's glorious cross.

Many of us face other times in our life where events occur that cause a similar declaration that "everything must change". Whether it be the loss of loved one, a tragic accident, the birth of a child, marriage, relocation, new calling etc. there are many life events that call us to change, not just schedule but every priority, every activity is seen differently through that new lens of change. 

I've half-joked lately that everything will change and soon. If I take a job offer everything will change in my life. With the exception of my love, most haven't understood the gravity of this statement. You probably don't know, but life comes pretty easy to me most of the time. School is easy (with the exception of math), work is natural, friendships I know how to fight for them. It's not that I don't work hard, or fight for what I have - it just that I've never felt incapable. 

Another half-joke I've told most of my cognisant life is that "I don't lack confidence in me, I lack confidence in God. I know I can do it, I'm not sure about Him." While this is half a joke, it is also half a truth. With rare occasion I've not felt inadequate, truly challenged, restricted by the world. This world is my oyster and I am going to enjoy it to its fullest. I don't remember anyone ever telling me I can't do something. Of course my parents gave me restrictions, like don't stay out late, don't steal, be respectful etc. But I can never remember a time where I was told I couldn't do something because of my age, race, gender, or personality. If there were criteria - well you'd be sure I would meet them. Peer pressure was ridiculous, my friends wouldn't curse around me, and they'd drop me off at the coffee shop on their way to the club. I didn't feel insecure at these choices, nor did I feel ostracized. However often I felt misunderstood, and the deepest parts of my heart I felt alone.

See being fully confident in a broken vessel will only lead to a fractured lens that the world is seen through. When I met my husband everything changed, there was one who knew me; he really truly saw who I really was. Even with my anti-men rants, immature leadership, reversed sexism, in the midst of all my persona's - he knew me and stayed by even in my sin. Almost six years after saying "I Do" I know there is no one in this world who knows me and gets me better. I feel completely understood (most of the time anyway), I am completely accepted (though he certainly won't let me get away with anything and challenges the sin in my life daily). He is so ingrained into my identity, my personhood that I can't remember a time without him. His presence in my life has been so impactful he is in my memories even before he was really in my life. The only drawback to this dynamic is that I forgot God, not for a day, or a month, but for a few years. God wasn't necessary anymore - I was known, I was accepted by another more tangible being than the Almighty. God became a necessary part for others lives. God was only as necessary as the need or lack that the other had that I needed to speak into. But in a personal and tangible relationship - God got lost after I became a self-sufficient mother, wife, student and Christian. 

That changed at the beginning of this year, when for the first time in a very long time I was made aware of the innate lack in myself. I saw community and the desires of whole life came bubbling over like a flood. Entering in a new church is always hard, awkward and just a bit frustrating. At least that is the case for a PK and their 'church mouse' spouse. We have always felt a bit on the outside, and because of the love and acceptance between the two of us - we didn't need anyone else. We were/are blessed to have large families that incorporate us into their lives. We have some of the best parents, siblings and grandparents I can imagine - and we get to build relationships with them as friends as well. But when the stability of family started to move as everyone started to grow up and move on - the lack (at least for me) grew unavoidably large. 

Then God showed up. In the midst of the Lenten season, the God of the universe - whom I had forgotten His name - met me in the early mornings. Everything changed. My sister said she saw a difference on my face, she knew something changed. My husband and I fought less, my heart was softer, I was more open, loving and kind. I was ministering intentionally to those around me, friends from years past called for help - in a liturgical season of lack I was being filled. But to follow the liturgical calendar, after Pentecost Sunday the fire I had left. Life happens, we all have schedule changes and as much as I'd like to blame my lost fire to the job changes or school changes that would be a bit of a crock - I was working less than ever, school wasn't anymore time consuming. I had more time and yet found God less accessible. 

Change is hard. When we say 'everything must change' it typically is in response to something that has forced us to change. Whether it be a good or bad event - something has pushed us to the point of change, rarely do we stand up and declare "everything must change" without it being in reaction to something

My sisters are moving on with their lives, diving deep into the callings God has put before them. Our families still love us and want us, but the need of us has waned. As the world around us seems to grow distant, I have grown acutely aware of the three of us standing in the midst of the ocean having to decide which direction we will go. Yet at the same time, we are here, our physical presence remains in the same spot on the globe at least for another year or two. But you have to understand, everything has to change or it never will. 

When life thrusts us into change we still have the choice to decide how and to what degree it will change us. Life events like death, birth and marriage give us the unique opportunity to have quite literally, everything change. Our bodies, our location, our goals, our purposes, our hobbies, our jobs, our friends - everything is allowed to change with these large life decisions. It's a lot harder to declare such expansive change when it's simply accepting a new job, or changing majors - but it's often in these small changes God knocks on our heart's door. He whispers a call, a beckoning, an opportunity for something more.....

I am pursuing a new job, at my same employer. It's commitment is large in its time, energy, and efforts. For the first time in a while I feel horribly inadequate and unprepared. Since I switched to online schooling three and half years ago I have essentially turned off certain problem solving skills. Life has been easy, and I've been riding that wave with ease. But in this new position I'd be the boss, the one who directs everyone. I am not taking someone else's vision or rule and implementing it - I am giving the vision, the direction. I would be the name they'd use to motivate poor employees. It's a heavy responsibility. But not only would work change, but time would - time with family, friends, with Addie, with Phil, with Church... Everything I did would have to be intentional, I couldn't just expect things to happen. Same with my relationship with God. In order for me to be the light I have been called to be I would have to dive deep in the waters of the Spirit, discovering the Truth daily, and relying of God to be my everything. While hesitant, the deepest parts of my heart long for such a change. Because if it doesn't happen now, when will it?

I want to lay everything down for the sake of God's glory. I most intimately want to be ministry partners with my husband and daughter. Going out to worlds untouched by the Light, bringing the power of prayer, the power of love in tow. Following God's direction, traversing through this world to bring other's to the joy of salvation, the power of abundant life - to THE TRUTH. 

Everything must change, or I may wake up at the twilight of life realizing I have the world but have lost my soul. But I will not act in fear of the future, but in sweet patience, leaning on the Everlasting Arms I will move forward into His purposes so that everything can change continually till we become wholly His. 

Pause - a song

I don't know if you realized what you had done.
Uncertain if it was all my fault;
Laying here desperate, seeking a plan.
Not knowing where to run.

If this is the end,
Let it come quickly.
If this is rebirth,
please let it pass.
If this is transition,
God give us mercy
I'm not certain if we will last.

Are you a product of the restrictions long ago.
Have you been formed into what you don't know.
Has the world forgotten, or did they ever see.
The beautiful one I have in front of me.

If this is the end,
Let it come quickly.
If this is rebirth,
please let is pass.
If this is transition,
God give us mercy
I'm not certain if we will last.

Please stop the noise,
Quit pretending you know.
Look there is broken body on the floor.
And as we all walk simply on by,
making comments of appearance,
they'll slowly die.

Precious Jesus,
Don't make this the end,
Let love come quickly instead.
In this new birth,
please make us whole.
Dear Lord, During transition
Please give us Your mercy
As without it I know we won't last.

Waiting with you

My husband would describe me as a loner. Now for anyone who knows me they'd see this and laugh - probably aloud. I am a people person, an extrovert among extroverts. However Phil would probably be right in this definition of me - I do things alone, the world is on my shoulders and mine alone. When I can't bear its weight anymore I come running to the ones closest to me - but I still have to run to them, they are not within my grasp. I see this lived out in the lack of weight words carry. You can send shooting arrows of fiery insults and unless you are chosen one or two, or use specifically curtailed words - you won't pierce my armor. Mind you this 'superpower' is not only for insults - it started as such, but eventually after years of building up one's armor even the tenderest of love poems will merely bounce of its steely structure.

Not being affected by words also makes it hard to discern the weight of your own words. If I am not hurt by such and such then well neither will you be. If compliments give little weight, then why would I waste my words applauding your good works.

If you think about it - an armor against words leaves one incredibly susceptible to being alone; entirely, explicitly alone. Yet the knight in the armor of titanium has a heart, even if it is hidden from others and at times himself.

"A man can keep his sanity and stay alive as long as at least one person is waiting for him." (Henri Nouwen)

God knew this about me, and brought me a spouse - a gentle warrior to fight that knight within in me and not give up. However unlike Sleeping Beauty he can not save me while I lay in a passive posture awaiting rescue.  Instead the rescue is much like the scene from the Voyage of the Dawn Treader when Aslan pulls the scales off of Eustace. It is only after he has given up his selfishness doing all he can to help the others without any guarantee of restoration. The knight in titanium armor can only be saved when willing to let go of its armor, willing to be put the other first, willing to let another help - which demands the knight to know and state their lack.

And I know you're here
Cause I need you here
Sometimes it's hard to say
That you're more than enough

And I've made mistakes
Took things I should not take
Said things I should not say
While you gave more than
Enough for me

My heart's been ripped wide open
By all the things I do not need
And your heart's been
Ripped wide open
As I keep chasing other things

My love don't run I want you
Wait here I'll come for you
My love don't hide I'll find you
Wait here I'll come for you

Sometimes it's hard to say
That you're more than enough

Moments before...

Jeremiah 6

"For from the least to the greatest of them,

    everyone is greedy for unjust gain;

and from prophet to priest,

    everyone deals falsely.

They have treated the wound of my people carelessly,

    saying, “Peace, peace,”

    when there is no peace.

They acted shamefully, they committed abomination;

    yet they were not ashamed,

    they did not know how to blush....

Thus says the Lord:

stand at the crossroads, and look,

    and ask for the ancient paths,

where the good way lies; and walk in it,

    and find rest for your souls.

But they said, “We will not walk in it.”

The prophets in the Bible are full of beautiful and painful reminders of the just God we serve. For those that have been wronged - our hearts leap at the beauty of justice. For those of us that have acted unjustly, causing harm or acting wrong - at the sound of justice our heart leaps as well, but for fear of consequence. Jeremiah - the weeping prophet, saw these reactions unfold before him as he looked out to Israel. Being the son of a priest, he would have had intimate knowledge of the ways of Israel and he would soon know by way of relationship the consequence of Israel's injustice. Yet God saw a man who would hear, whose eyes were open and used him as a vessel of His word. 

Be honest.

Be true.

Treat each other with intense care - like a mother to her child.

Don't paint a peace that is not there.

Let us blush at our sins.

When God speaks, listen.

The roads of obedience may be unfamiliar, and ancient.

Yet in obedience we find rest.

Today I was struggling with the future. Wondering if God would speak. I have a calm assurance in the deepest hidden parts of my heart. I know He will guide me, though it will not be flashy and the path will be rough, I know He will lead. This text in Jeremiah is powerful reminder that as we stand at the crossroads, we should ask not just look at its diverge. He will show us where the good way lies, and if we walk in it we will find rest for our souls. Oh the beauty of resting in our Creator.... It is a peace beyond understanding, a rejuvenation that cannot be understood by human standards. Lord help us to be willing to walk the ancient paths that bring us to You.

Commune unity

I love the word community. The simple idea of communing with unity is just enticing. Even in its messes and broken pieces community lies deep within my desires. It's hard though, building community. Familial community can often be the easiest to relate to and for the fortunate few it can offer real intimate relationships that are accepting, healthy and loving. Many community's require enrollment in certain groups, clubs, ideologies, or the like to gain acceptance. Religions also typically offer this, but often with a holistic commitment of the persons entirety not just a part. (Family can ask the same.) The hard thing I've encountered with community outside the familial circles is the time, commitment and trust that must be built in order to achieve intimate community.

I am on who attempts instant intimacy. Let's dive deep, throwing ourselves into the waters of relationship. If we don't know how to swim, well we may drown but at least we didn't live superficially in the wading pool. Honestly its worked fairly well. I can give a few examples of relationships I have built where in  a few short months I integrated myself into their life in such a way that one couldn't figure out how I got to be so close to them. Yet those same relationships didn't always end in the most loving of ways. Very often they ended with words being said that showed that the other truly didn't know who I was. Perhaps it was the morphing to be in their life that left it where my identity and who I was was forgotten even by me. That at the point where my values, hopes and dreams surfaced the community I had morphed into couldn't relate or understand. 

I have fought this obsessive battle many times since my adolescence. I joke that I stalk people - but honestly with the creation of social media keeping tabs on certain individuals has never become easier. While the desire for community is healthy and right the means into which one participates in community can decide whether it is a right thing. 

I lay my pride at the altar

crying out all it's pains

But when the music over

I pick it up all over again

My desires, obsessions,

Every thought in my head

runs over and over

with thoughts of me instead

No consideration,

No thought of you,

In my desperation

I might seek the truth

But in my limelight

I pretend to be someone else

Could You take all I am?

Forming me in Your lovely hands.

My desires and longings,

You know their deepest parts.

The whispers and shouting,

attempting to speak what I don't know.

Intimacy

community

All I see is Your hand in mine

Trinity

Unity

All I want is to be a part.

Strip away my facade,

give me strength to leave my pride

at the altar, at the altar....

And I will be 

made new

And I will be

a part of You

I rest, I rest, I rest in You

I will rest, I will rest, I will rest in Your truth

I will rest in the knowledge of Your Word

I will rest in the promise of Your Body

Community

I want to be intimate with you

Not for my own gain

But for the glory of His name

Hallelujah,

He is faithful, He is faithful, He is the faithful to the end

He is faithful, He is faithful, He is the faithful my Friend

Hallelujah I will never walk alone.

Hallelujah, Hallelujah I will never walk alone.

Amen. 

Neither Wrong nor Right

I have long struggled with gender identity. Really for that matter I've always struggled with others defining my identity. Since gender is often the most typical and often the first 'box' our identity fits into, it has been the area I have fought with the longest. Yet God has been bringing this issue up consistently for the last couple of months. I have lashed out in response to His moving, as I don't appreciate being told what to do (even by God, and yes I know I still have rebellion and trust issues). I don't believe I am wrong, but if my heart hurts this bad on this issue I am certainly not right either.

Last night in one of many discussion with my husband, he told me "Traci, you are not wrong or right - you are wounded." My wounds make it hard to see or hear right and wrong discussions in the area of gender.

I am a music person - songs play through my end like an endless radio. Often though certain snippets of songs play on a very long repeat. There are two songs that have played in my head lately:

You lead me and keep me from falling
You carry me close to Your heart
And surely Your goodness
And mercy will follow me, will follow me

(Chris Tomlin "All the Way My Savior Leads Me")

So roll over me
I'll just sink down, I'll just sink down
To the bottom of the sea
I'll just be here, I'll just be here

The cannons have fired
They call my name
I know that I'll lose
And I'll go just the same

And I'll take all the blows
(The cannons have fired)
Cause they hit one by one
(They call me name)
Even if I'm afraid
(I know that I'll lose)
I'm not gonna run
(And I'll go just the same)

(Autumn Film "Roll Over Me")

While the latter song deals with loss, they both tend to relate to the inner struggles and even the relationship I have with God.

I don't want to be wounded,
blood gushing on the floor.
I don't want to be broken,
Unable to get out the door.
I don't want to be told,
of who I am by anyone but You.

So speak life, and I'll live.
Speak joy, and I'll dance.
Speak love, and I will lay down my life and my pride.
Speak purpose, and I'll lay down mine.

Your wounds had not conquered You.
They showed the places,
You had come from.
The cross, the grave, even Sheol,
Could not hold You.
You were broken but made whole.
You knew who You were,
no one could say otherwise.

You spoke life, and the dead arose.
You spoke wholly, and the lame could walk.
You spoke love, and You laid down Your life.
Its Your purpose that I long for.

No power of death,
No scheme of man,
No lies for Sheol,
Will change who I am.
You made me,
You formed me,
You know me,
and You love me.
So I will trust,
that You know the way.
I will trust You know why I've been made who I am.

But I will lay down,
my expectations.
My restrictions I take to the cross.
My rules, my will, my mold I give,
to the One who is, the I AM. 

I don't believe we are to live confined in a box of gender, of race, of locality, of anything. We have been set free as sons and daughters of Christ. But on the flipside we can not take our freedom and simply create a new box of our identity - being formed into our own image and defining our own reality. We are citizens of a new Kingdom, daughters and sons of a new order, we live in the tension of already-not yet. Thus we should reflect beautifully the identity that God our Father has given us - discovering His love and purposes for us. The moment we put ourselves into a 'free for all' type identity we have as quickly voided the purposes God has created us to be, as when we live blindly by the stereotypes the world has given us to live by. We are all beautiful and wonderfully made - let us discover what that means through the dance of relationship with the Holy Trinity.