Lift your drooping hands, love.

It's not about us.

We forget.

If you think we don't, I would ask you to ask yourself: do we feel as though we get to choose who we love?

Because Jesus didn't do that. 

Jesus didn't walk around, secure in his Father's love, love a select few, and dismiss the rest.

He died for the ones who were dead in love with themselves. And he breathed life into our empty chests and taught us how to love by experiencing the way he loves us. He called us his own and promised to always be loving us, every moment from the moment we first breathed until forever. 

And why I'm sitting here writing about this instead of out there living it, I don't know.

Yes I do: it's called fear. 

I don't trust Him to come through, and my love has grown so cold. I don't know when it happened or how it happened, but here I am, somehow thinking I get to choose who I love and who I don't. 
Like I earned this or something. 

But you can't earn grace. It's poured out freely, a gift given. He didn't spare any expense in His quest to have us; He didn't try an easier way or give less to begin with. He sacrificed what was most precious to Him. Because that's what love does. We know that, deep down, don't we? Love gives whatever is required for the good of the beloved. It's the theme of our favorite love stories, the real life heroes that break our hearts; when a man dies for the woman he loves, we hold it up as a beautiful ideal. It is the nature of true love to pour itself out.

Jesus did that. Literally and sacrificially and willingly.
Before we knew his name.

Who dies for someone who doesn't love them back?

He did.

And what if when he says follow me, he's asking us to do the same? Because he is. 

And I think for me that's why following Jesus is the hardest thing ever. 

Because I'm selfish. And fearful. And I somehow forget that I had no part in this whole being rescued thing.
I mean, I was dead and he brought me to life. It's not like I could control that.
But I wouldn't have stopped him. I wouldn't ever want to give up this life I've found, even when I forget that I wasn't the one who found it- it was given to me. 

Don't you want that to change the way you live? I do. And can't you see just the tiniest bit of how beautiful it could be if we did live that way?

What if I believed him, that all he says is true, and lived like it?

Even though I'm terrified, I know deep down I want love that gives everything away. I have tasted what this world has to offer, and it leaves me worn out, bitter, and empty, cold as stone. 
But You, Lord, give life. You have loved me my whole life, even when I fight you. And you promise that loving like you is what's best for me; otherwise You wouldn't call me to do it. 

So Jesus, teach me how to have love like that. Love that is thoughtless as to its own needs, trusting You to provide. Love that doesn't discriminate or play favorites. Love that is radical and real and doesn't care who is or isn't watching. And love that will give everything away because it understands that everything it has is grace, and grace is meant to be poured out. Because real love is not afraid to bleed.

I can't fix my own heart. I cannot "get over" my own selfishness. I'm forever broken without You. I am not there yet, but you are faithful and you will be faithful to teach me.

And.....help me to remember that you teach not with words, but with life. Give me grace to choose to love, to embrace every chance that comes, and let those actions form that love in me. Forgive me for all the times I've held back, all the times I've chosen my ways over Yours.

Jesus, you are worth it all.

Therefore lift your drooping hands and strengthen your weak knees,and make straight paths for your feet, so that what is lame may not be put out of joint but rather be healed. (Hebrews 12:12-13, ESV) (really, the whole chapter is incredible) 

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Walking through the desert

I had texted her in a moment of weariness, walking to class. I’m still not exactly sure why I did except I had decided to be real. Sunday night I realized I wasn’t ok after all. These weeks have been hard. I was feeling the weight during this long day of this long week, and she had said to text her anytime, so I did.

“What I need more than anything else (with sleep at 2^nd place and people to actually do life with, people who are pouring into me at 3^rd) is Him. I’m so dry and I don’t even desire Him right now. Like, I want Him maybe, but I want so much else more. That’s me being honest. And I’m so weary that I don’t have the energy to fight through to get to him. And I know in my head He can find me where I’m at. That He’s here. But I am not reaching. I’m just worn. And thin. Thin is a perfect word. “

When I got out of class, I had to rush across campus to my next class. This is always a brisk walk to make it in time, but today I had a project due. Oh yeah, and it started pouring about 10 minutes before my class had ended. Rushing across campus in the downpour? I suppose so. I didn’t have time to wait. Another girl from class and I ended up walking next to each other, keeping each other company as we hurried across campus, getting soaked to the skin. We were laughing because it was just such an awkward situation for everyone. I can’t explain it. We were walking through water up to our ankles (cause even the ground wasn’t ready for that rain), and laughing, because it was so ridiculous. What else was there to do?

We parted ways and I walked up to the building right as it stops raining (don’t worry, I made it on time). After class, I pull out my phone. And that’s when I read it, hours after it was sent:

“….it is okay to be in that place. God knows that you’re tired and that you care. Give yourself some space to rest and just be. Being dry is not pleasant, but it can be a blessing when we discover how God’s love comes through for us in that desert place. I am praying for you and will be asking for His buckets of living water to be poured out on you.”

Did you hear it? It took me a minute, and then that phrase sunk in: “His buckets of living water to be poured out on you.” And I’m standing there soaking wet. You can call it coincidence. But I don’t believe in those anymore.
What I realized in that moment is for a few minutes today, I [dry, bone-weary, stretched thin, sick, sleep-deprived and overwhelmed] laughed as I rushed headlong through a storm I couldn’t escape.

“We discover how God’s love comes through for us in that desert place.”

Historically, God has done great, beautiful works in deserts. It seems so odd to me. And I’m not just talking about manna and quail and water from rocks [provision]. I’m talking about the cloud and pillar of fire, where He came to be with His people [His presence and guidance]. He speaks of winning Israel back by saying He will “lead her into the desert and speak tenderly to her there (Hosea 2:14).” His desert is a place where Israel raged against Him over and over, grumbling against Him, worshipping idols, letting their hearts wander far from the good God who had loved them and rescued them.

Yet His desert is a place where He shows up and kindles a new fire in His people for Him and only Him. Everything else that would satisfy them is stripped away from them, and they come to know that all they think will satisfy them is nothing, worthless if they don’t have Him. And they never needed it anyway. Because what they crave, what they cry out for deeper than anything else, is all of Him. All the goodness they think they’ll find in love or prosperity or a good name or even the food to get them through the day…nothing lasts. And when it fails, it’s like bread that turns to ash in your mouth. It leaves you bitter.

I’ve been that way. Caught up in this life, chasing after what won’t fill me up and only leaves me wanting more. Story of my life. The story of this season is a little different. I’ve been trying to live out of my strength, not His. I’ve been trying to do it all, rise to every occasion, not seeking His heart or His face, letting Him get crowded out. I’ve created my own desert.

But He is still the God who is faithful in deserts, even when His people are faithless. Hallelujah. And hallelujah, we don’t have to fight our way back or find our way home. The point of the Cross is that we couldn’t get home on our own. And so He came to us in our deserts and showed us the way: give up control. Trust Him, follow the One who makes ways and rivers in the desert (Isaiah 43:19), that He’s always, always leading us home. And even if it takes us 40 years to get there, He doesn’t ever ever let us go; even when we’re not reaching for Him, He’s holding us.

He gives goodness here, in the weariness, the wondering, the waiting, the stress, the pain, the tension of this life.

It’s Himself. He’s the treasure in the desert.

Oh Lord, help me seek—and find You. Help me remember nothing else matters.

Why? (Compassion)

07. 07. 12: Somewhere in the moment when I realize that all I can do for you isn't enough,

That I can't fix your problem, can't change the life you can't change either.

That you're stuck and there's so little I can do.

When I look at you and there's nothing I can say; I can't even comfort you,

Because I don't speak your language. But I wonder, if I did, if the words would mean anything,

Or if they would be more for your sake, or mine.

Somewhere between the moment where I turn and walk away, cause you need too much,

More than I can give, and the moment where I turn around and look you in the eye. 

When I see you as a human, a heart, someone's child,

and not a problem, a nuisance, or a discomfort to me;

somewhere in that moment where I teeter on the edge of a precipice,

terrified, yet ready to fall, ready to move, ready to bend and break and cry and actually

use this thing called a heart; when I'm brought to a point of laying 

down my comfort for and trading any superiority for your survival…

somewhere in there is where I find that elusive character called compassion. That creature we talk about so much but rarely see. When was the last time it made an appearance? 

When did it last darken our doors? Darken? Yes, darken. We have not seen it in so many years 

that we've forgotten what it looks like. We've changed it in our minds to this bright and airy thing,

full of light and joy. That is no compassion-only a lie we've created 

because we're too scared to see the real thing. 

For compassion, this thing we've watered down, is raw and real and wild and deep. It 

sacrifices, it goes to great lengths, denies itself, defying self-centeredness; 

it kicks comfort in the face. 

We are unprepared for it, and truly, we don't want it. 

It is hard, harder than we ever dreamed it'd be. So we traded the truth for a lie that we could stomach.

It costs little to give out of our abundance, our excess. 

In fact, to give in that way keeps us from having to give anything at all; 

it keeps us from having to give of our hearts. To hurt with, to cry with, to sit in the dirt with. 

It is a cop out, a lie masquerading as truth. 

It is me still being self centered-  giving as little as I can to make you go away, so you leave me to my comfort; patting myself on the back for throwing some change your way,

when I've held back my heart and my arms from you. When I've kept humanity at bay by turning you into something to be kept at bay too. 

Why? Why do I refuse to love you? Why do I close my heart when you walk up? Why to I cross my arms, begging inwardly for you to go away, just as you beg for me to look at you, to love you, to meet you where you are, face to face; to satisfy your pressing needs? Why do you make me so dang uncomfortable? Why do you bring out the worst in me?

Because the truth is I care more about my comfort and my way of life than I do about your survival. I care more about my happiness than your health. I care more about my entertainment than I do about your hunger. I care more about my clothes than I do about your children. I care more about myself than I care about you.

You scare me. And you make me uncomfortable. Your needs are too great, and my love too small. Your existence challenges my lifestyle. If I took you into account, I would have to rethink every decision I make. It's too much. The cost seems too great. The cost? For what? 

My comfort, for your life. 

My pride, to love you as I would love myself. 

My haughty eyes for your full belly. 

My clean hands for your heart to know you're not alone.  

My fear & my discomfort, for your need. 

You challenge me. You remind me that I don't live for myself. That I can't live for myself. You reach deep down to the core of my soul, and you touch something there, something my depraved heart forgets. Something that my selfish soul wants to forget so I can live as I please.

Once upon a time, I was you. Worse, actually. In my pride and self sufficiency, I was blind to who I actually was. A beggar, longing to be filled. Seeking anything and everything from any who passed by. With grasping hands, my hungry heart sought sustenance. I was the one passed by, left in the cold, by those who considered themselves better. Eyes averted from my wretched state, hearts locked away.

One saw me. One stopped. One reached out his hands. He gave me food, water, love, life. He came often, as I sat and begged. He sat with me. One day he asked if I wanted more than this. Of course you know my answer. He said it would mean leaving all I knew. I would have to give up my dreams of being seen, of being wanted, of being loved by those passerby. He would ask me to give up my seeking, but I would be satisfied. I would gain more than I ever dreamed. He could give it. And he would. He had one requirement, one thing to ask: "Follow me."

I have been, these 10 years since. Sometimes I would find myself unsatisfied. Not because it wasn't offered, but because it didn't look like what I desired. So I would go back on the streets, begging again, thinking something had changed. He always knew where to find me, always came back for me, never let me go or gave up on me. He still doesn't, even though some days I still fight the urge. He fights with me. He tells me how much he loves me. How he treasures me. How he sees all I am, even if the world doesn't. How I'm his favorite, his beloved. He holds me tightly, gently, and when I seek from him, beg of him-I am satisfied. His goodness overwhelms me. I don't deserve it. Not the slightest bit. I don't know what he sees. But still he stays. He fulfills all his promises. He forgives my faithlessness. He is faithful.

I was you. But for grace, I would be there right next to you. HOW can I not love you? How can I not be to you as he has been to me? Have I learned nothing from him?

O God, teach me Your ways, that I may bring Your name & Your heart glory. That they would see the love You have through what You've done for me, what You've made of me, what Your love has grown in me. Let me not forget where I was, who I was, when you called my name. Or even who I was yesterday. Your love knows no requirements, no boundaries, no limits, no conditions, no end. Pour it out through me. Let me only embrace as You embrace. Would You please give me eyes to see as You see? Let me give as You gave-that terrifies me, for You gave everything. But who am I to hold back? Who am I that I have any right to choose? Who am I that I deserve Your attention, Your affection? No one, nobody. Your Love is all that gives me worth. Your faithfulness makes me all I am. I have nothing to give, not to You, not to them. I am Yours, I am Yours, I am Yours. Move, love, seek, serve; live through me. I am wholly Yours. 

(For the homeless of my city and the Roma of Europe.)

Isaiah 58. Micah 6:8. Isaiah 61. Isaiah 29.

In Praise To The Giver (04. 19. 12)

I usually write prose these days- and LOVE it. But sometimes poetry still just overflows. It used to be a thing, haha. Just decided to post this on a whim because I'm feeling it again tonight. He is faithful! May mercy overwhelm us as it pours from His heart.

4/19/12 2:15 AM

Your grace has done me in.

How can I live for myself any longer,

when Your faithfulness flies in the face of all I've been?

How can You love me even as I pursue all that You've rescued me from, 

even as I'm still in love with my sin?

But seeing all You've done, 

I only want You more.

Where condemnation stood, mercy's breaking down my door.

Oh,You never let me go! 

Your grace, it falls like rain, 

Slowly, but surely I am changed

In the downpour of Your love.

Though I am faithless, You are faithful

Your heart is ever true.

Though I constantly forsake You, 

Still You shower mercies new.

Though I can't ever repay You, 

Though I take my life in my hands,

Still You keep all Your promises and You're faithful to Your plans!

Oh,You never let me go! 

Your grace, it falls like rain, 

Slowly, but surely I am changed

In the downpour of Your love.

As Your mercy reaches my heart 

You're making ever new, 

I'm overwhelmed by all You've done,

All You've brought me through.

You've paid the whole price needed

So I stand blameless in Your name,

Jesus, Your ways are infallible,

Your glory never fades!

The House He's Building (04. 13. 12)

(A year and a bit later, I'm thinking this is one of those lessons I'll be learning my whole life long.)

Things are changing. Or maybe it's just me. No, I mean really maybe it's just me. Things are different. I've been hearing that I've changed since my life took a different turn in January-leaving my university, taking an unexpected semester off, living apart from my family, trying to be gone for most of the summer, and trying to figure out what next semester will look like. Or maybe it was even before then. All I know is tonight was different.

Ok, so...where do I even begin? I've been learning so much, yes. More, in a lot of ways, than I learned in my college career thus far. Within the classroom at least. But so much of what I have been learning comes down to these 3 things, which are all tied together in the end: 

1. Seeing more (and maybe for the first time ever) how fully I am fallen. I basically suck. I suck at knowing how to handle life, suck at following through at what I know is right, and suck at…well everything. Finally truly realizing  that I can never ever be good enough to win God's attention or affection. 
2. Jesus. Do I have a relationship with Jesus or rules that 'prove' a relationship, as one man recently brought it into such clear perspective? Forget religion. Forget doing the right things because you "know you should." Because you're trying to impress the whole world, and you never ever will. But Jesus stands there saying to us, "Be with Me. Spend time with Me, and watch and see, I will change you. Trust Me. You become like what you behold. And everybody's worshipping something. Will you let it be Me? I don't want to make you into the best version of yourself you can be. I want to make you like Me." They're completely different orders, completely different standards to attain. I can be a better version of me, maybe. But like God? Like the LORD who loves endlessly, is totally just, completely pure, never falling or ever once failing? Impossible.
3. Grace. There is grace. There is grace enough for my failures. That I knew. There's grace to cover it,  Jesus paid the debt. I am justified before God because of that. He doesn't see my sin. Yes, yes, yes. Like checking off a list, I got it. But I missed the whole point. It's like seeing it's raining but not seeing the purpose behind the rain-to bring growth, to make flowers bloom, to give water, to give life. 

There is grace enough not only to cover me, but to change me. I don't have to fix myself. I don't need to. Here is the intersection: I am more screwed up than I ever would have dreamed before. There is Someone who loves me anyway. With Him, I am free to be myself-with all my failures, all my screwups, all my questions, raw emotions, and fears. He is not running and He is not leaving. He loves me. He is staying, for good. He died for me, once, long ago. And now He lives again. If He's done all of that for me, why would He ever abandon me now?

But the story isn't over! He is not only staying with me, but He is redeeming me. He is taking the broken parts, and there are many, and healing them. The twisted parts? He's like a blacksmith, heating them up, smoothing them out so they are right again-and useful. He even uses them! The dirty parts...He's not cleaning, but replacing. I didn't get it for so long. He's not patching me up--He is making me over.

C.S. Lewis says it like this:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.” 

He is making me a palace for Himself. That's why it's ok to be where I am-a sinful human being, who is so very much still trying to understand this way of life; who fails (sometimes in a very embarrassingly noticeable way) SO often, but is undeservedly adored anyway; a heart who looks to be fulfilled everywhere else except for that One who adores, though she has tasted and seen that nothing else satisfies. Because that is who I am. That is who I am today, tonight. That is who I will be tomorrow. But each day, each moment that I spend with Him...is the tiniest bit closer to being that castle, that masterpiece  fashioned with such care that it essentially shouts of the love poured into it. It unintentionally yet plainly shows the time and effort it took to build. Because when you look at it, you don't just say it's beautiful. You exclaim over the workmanship, admiring the intricate carvings, the time it must have taken to carve them out and get each one just right. You ponder the cost of this castle home. You wonder who would build such a glorious place. You want to meet this builder, to ask him about these treasures it holds. For in seeing where he lives, this home he built with his own two hands, you're seeing a reflection of him. He did not only pour his time, effort, and resources into this place-in doing so he poured his heart and soul into it too.

His name is Jesus. I am the castle still being built. Right now I look a heck of a lot more like a bungalow than a palace. But He has the vision of what is to come. I'm His investment. He gave His whole life for me. And He has already paid the entirety of what it will cost to make me a palace for His possession. And so if my faucet starts to leak again, is He going to throw His hands up in despair, say He already fixed that once, get disgusted and leave? Of course not! 

Perhaps this is where the castle-house metaphor ends. 

All I know is today, after looking at how good Jesus is, and being challenged to follow Him and being reminded that nothing else satisfies, I found myself in a spot where I had two options: pursue Him at all costs, or do what I wanted which I KNEW wasn't beneficial, knew wasn't good for anything, but was just "what I wanted"-and for no plausible reason. The temptation wasn't that strong, but the more I looked at it, the better looking it got. But why did I begin to stare at it, to consider it? Why didn't I see it and run; why didn't I set the eyes of my heart back on Him?

I decided that He was not enough. He would not satisfy like x, y, or z. Those things were better than Jesus right now. They would bring more satisfaction. And so I chose to break what He had made over in me before. I decided I liked my dirty shack more than the palace He was building. It's sad, but it's true. The wonder is that when I finished throwing my fit and tearing apart the work He had done and found that getting what I had desired did not satisfy...He just whispered to my heart, "Darling, why did you think it would satisfy like Me?" Anything else is a substitute for the real deal. And a crappy one at that, to say the least. WHY would we want that? WHY would we want that when we could have HIM? 

We may have lost the vision. And we certainly will along the way. The good news is He doesn't walk away. He is changing us, making us over, redeeming even the most termite-infested, mold-ridden parts of who we are. And He will not rest until He has finished the work He has already begun in those of us who have opened our hearts to Him. We are His treasure. 

So open your doors. Throw open every window (and throw off every sin that so easily entangles). Seek Him, His heart. SEE what He has done. Love Him for loving us. Be willing to be changed. And trust that HE will do the work.

Oh yes. Things sure are changing around here.

04.13.12

Hi. I know, I know. It's been a really long time since I actually wrote something.
Well, that's only partially true. You see, I've been writing. I'm pretty sure that's something I can't actually stop doing anymore. But to be frank? I've been scared.

Pouring my heart out is still hard to do when I can't control who's going to see all the pieces, who's going to look inside. But I'm doing it. Because He's done so much, and while some of you have seen it, lived it with me, others of you have not. But it's worth telling. The things He's done are worth telling. 

And that's what He's made pretty clear: The things He teaches me? They're not just for me, just about me. They're for you who despair, you who are tired of working and striving and trying to be good enough. They're for you, yes, you there, whose heart needs a lift. They're for you who think you've run out of grace, cause you've gone too far and been away from home too long. They're for those of us who like to think that we have it pretty together. For those of us who think we've got this follow Jesus thing preeeetty figured out. And maybe you do. Maybe you've already learned these lessons. Who am I to know? All I know is this: they're for each of us who need to be reminded that He is good. He's not done. He hasn't stopped or left us alone to fend for ourselves. And He will finish what He's started in us. He will. He is bringing us home. And making us like Him in the process. 

All this is to give you an intro: over the next few weeks I will be starting to post things that have been written over the last year or so. Things I'm ready to share. And hopefully, as I continue on this journey, I can share things with you when they're a bit, um, fresher. :)

 Come, friends, let's move further up and further in-- together.

"Come further up, come further in!" 
― C.S. Lewis, The Last Battle

Don't forget there's more than this...

Gungor before they were Gungor.

Their most underrated song. It's amazing. And real. And raw. And so very true.

His Bride is still alive.

{Hallelujah}