Awakening - And coming out of hiding

"Something inside is awakening. Like a dream I once had and forgot. And it's something I'm scared of and something I don't want to stop."
~Sara Groves, Awakening

I am coming to realize that prior to this winter I'd spent the better part of a year numb in my emotions. Perhaps more than that. Somewhere along the way I picked up this idea that my anger is unacceptable in every circumstance - even though it was caused by injustice. There was nothing I could do about that injustice so I had no choice but to ignore the anger and hope it would dissipate over time. I believe that my sadness equated unforgiveness and told myself that I must "get over it" in a hurry before anyone noticed or had much time to comment on it.

I don't think I was really afraid of anyone noticing my change in mood - I know I wear my emotions on my sleeve so some observance couldn't be avoided. It was the demand for an explanation that I feared. Because every reason for my change in countenance sounded like a lame excuse -- after all, He bore all of our iniquities and by His stripes you are healed, so why all this drama? I'm incapable of effectively hiding almost any emotion - so I developed a new tactic: Get over it. Which amounted to this formula of shedding a few tears, praying a few desperate prayers, then "medicating" with busyness or entertainment. This is how I lived - for years. In fear of the consequences of my emotions. It shows if you look over my journals the past few years. You don't have to look far. Two years is encompassed on about twenty pages.

It shouldn't surprise me that I was told I'm too emotional. When I did have an emotional outburst it was an eruption because I'd spent so much energy trying to contain it all. Those outbursts were quickly deemed inappropriate and quelled back into submission. Now my emotions are beginning to thaw -- slowly, unlike the tornadoes I've previously experienced. I'm afraid it's going to be the global-warming of my life that will change climates, erode boundaries and leave me permanently altered. I'm terrified, and I don't know how to prepare for it. I'm giving myself permission to feel, but it quickly gets out of my control. I fight, and sometimes lose against the temptation to revert back to my state of non-feeling.

"If we lose our ability to feel physical pain, we'd be in a very, very bad way. Pain is an important part of surviving and thriving in this world. It's from God. Emotions are the same way. They aren't untrustworthy products of the fall anymore than any other part of our bodies. They are gifts, guard rails, barometers, etc., that help us survive and thrive in a world that is both full of wonderful things and many terrors too... I love Jeremiah, Elijah, Nehemiah and maybe especially Habakkuk for how they feel so much, so honestly and how God doesn't go do the "churchy" thing of telling them what not to feel, but meets them each, in different ways."
I wish I had a link or even a full name for this quote but it's by someone who goes by DanaKX - she commented on this post by Elizabeth Esther. 

I know this is true. I need to remember it. I have a friend who is a microbiologist in the leprosy (Hansen's disease) field. Through her I know well the effects of nerve damage on a body. Yet, I have a hard time relating this truth to my emotions. It seems indulgent and self-centered to care for your emotions in the same way you would a physical wound. But I know that if I don't deal with these things now it will stunt my growth from here forward. Without healing, I will stay in this endless cycle of emotional dysfunction that will effect every relationship. And that is not what I want. I want to thrive in every area and one day be able to minister from this place. The desire to honor God with my life has not gone away.

In order to heal I must acknowledge that there is pain. It's taking me a while but I'm finally learning to do that. I'm trying not to look so much like a deer in the headlights when someone asks me, "What's wrong?" But that question induces momentary panic. I feel like I've been caught someplace I shouldn't be - my countenance does not speak of victory in Christ Jesus. I have yet to be able to produce anything other than an awkward, evasive response that leaves the inquirer more unsatisfied than before. But even that is progress for me - I'm no longer denying, lying, and covering with a smile.

So here's to recovery through uncovering. He's always been faithful to me.

Finding the Fault Line

fault, Fault, Fault, FAULT
The pulse of my pondering
Make the world spin, pumping
Where does the fault lie?
Where is the fault line?
Can the uneven ground
Be repaired or found
Before it makes my world shake, tilt
Break, spill

Clenched fists can't stop a wave
Dig my heels in, learn to stay
Baptized by tsunami
Wash over my body
You are my earthquake
Witness of my heartache
Cast me on your will
Remake, refill

I can count on one hand the number of poems I've written that weren't forced out of me in high school English classes. Rhyme seems awkward to me. But awkward is fitting in this case. 

Hide and Seek Him

If you grew up in a two parent home you are likely familiar with the following scenario: A child is wailing loudly in protest to whichever parent happens to be administering discipline.

"I want my daaaaaaddyyyyyyyy!"

You would often find me so, curled into the back of my closet, sitting on piles of stuffed animals and discarded prom dresses. I would cry for whichever parent had not crossed me - hoping they would hear from the living room on the other side of the wall.

Then there was a day that I opened my mouth to cry for my mother or father and found that I could not call for either. I knew that neither would offer the comfort I sought. My tears became suddenly silent and I whispered,

 "I want my Jesus." 

I sought comfort from the only constant in my life. I didn't need to make a sound in order to be heard.

Today I can recapture my tiny closet sanctuary with perfect clarity. The pattern of my best Sunday dresses, walling me in, are burned into memory. The uneven plaster carelessly applied to walls never meant to be examined so closely. And the words, written in green crayon, "I want my Jesus."

That closet became my refuge. It was there my heart broke for the first time over friendships broken and lost. In that place I felt fully the first effects of loneliness and rejection. Pressed against three walls, I cried, confident each tear was captured by a Savior who loves me. I never cried for anyone else after that first prayer was whispered. My soul found its' resting place.

The place I used to hide taught me to hide myself in Him.

I have been hiding ever since. Not in a closet. These days my soul finds more refuge in the open air, admiring the handiwork of my Heavenly Father. I have sought Him from dried-up drainage canals, and in pine-carpeted woods, in clearings of wildflower fields, graveyards, and winding country roads.

I'm tempted to wrap this up with a nice little bow. I could do a concordance search on the word "hide" and find the deeper meaning, paired with a few quotes from the Psalms to solidify my position. But that wouldn't be real.  The fact is that right now my soul is seeking sanctuary again. I wish so much to return to my closet. I have very little that is familiar to me right now. I am vulnerable. I am broken. I am being humbled. And all I know to do is cry, "I want my Jesus."

In the Hands of the Potter

I've recently encountered circumstances that have made me come face to face with things that I don't like in myself. Perhaps it's being in a new house church surrounded by new friends that has made me strikingly aware of the impressions I am making. I've seen these things in myself before. And I always assumed that if I am displeased with myself, how much more is my Heavenly Father displeased?

I think I would probably prefer that the Lord just make me into a little clone of Jesus. It's hard to imagine the Creator of the universe formed and fashioned me - uniquely - to worship Him. I find myself wanting to love Him like others do. I have the privilege of walking with some amazing women of God and I often think to myself, "If only I could be like her. I want the sweet, encouraging spirit of Hollie. I want the hospitality of Deb. I want the steadfastness of Lauren." There are so many beautiful traits in the women around me that I wish I had. I'm constantly comparing myself to others and seeing ways that I just don't measure up.

I was recently praying about this part of who I am that I don't particularly like. It's a part of my personality where it seems most of my problems, struggles and temptations stem from. Once again, I found myself pleading with the Lord, "Please, take this away! I don't want to be this way anymore. I don't want to be this person! I don't like who I am." In that moment, God spoke to my heart saying,

"Who are you to say to me, 'Why have you made me like this?' I made you this way for a reason. I am not going to take it away. I am going to redeem you." 

For years my friends and family have reminded me that this part of who I am is both a weakness and a strength. However, it is only a strength when submitted to the Lord. Those reminders have consistently gone in  one ear and out the other. That's not what I wanted to hear. I wanted someone to help me pray it away. Because all I could see were the glaring weaknesses this brought to my life. All I saw was imperfection and I just wanted Him to cut it out. That's the easy way, right? Just start over? For years now I have wrestled with God over this; never understanding why it wouldn't just go away and wondering how I was failing in my pleading prayers. I was unyielding in my desire to see it gone.

The pressure of the Potters hand

As soon as the Lord spoke to my heart I saw myself as the stubborn lump of clay {of Isaiah 29:16}, refusing to yield to the hand of the Potter and insisting, "I don't like how you have made me." Regardless of my objection this is a part of who I am; a part of who He wants me to be. God reminded me of this passage in Psalm 130:5-7

 "I wait for the Lord, my soul waits and in His word I do hope. My soul waits for the Lord more than those who watch for the morning. O Israel, hope in the Lord, for with the Lord there is mercy and with Him is abundant redemption." 

What does He see?

He says that there is abundant redemption - even for the areas of my life that I would've thought were un-redeemable. But the ugliness I see cannot be transformed until I yield to His will and accept this part of who I am. I have to stop fighting Him before transformation can take place. I have wasted so much time just wishing I could be someone else or have some other personality when all I need to do is simply yield myself to Him.

This concept is particularly powerful to me because my earthly father is a Potter. I've grown up alongside the potters wheel and I know that the transformation from a hard, stubborn lump of clay to a beautiful and useful vessel is not an easy one. Stubborn clay is beaten, thrown, drenched in water, sliced and sometimes re-worked several times before it becomes something useful. I know this transformation process won't be easy. But I know I can trust the Potter. Ultimately He will get more glory when I allow Him to redeem beauty from these ashes.

So I choose to hope in the Lord. With Him is abundant redemption.

Are there things you don't like about yourself? Do you believe they can be redeemed?

Pottery photographs are of my Poppie and were taken by me March 2011.

Changed Mind. Changed Body.

I've debated over whether I should say anything more about my weight loss journey here. But after I gutted myself last time I suppose I have nothing left to be ashamed of. I am now over 25 pounds lighter than when I began. I don't want this to be about me though. Accolades make me uncomfortable. I'm not looking for a pat on the back from anyone. Rather, I want to use this small milestone to acknowledge the people in my life who have supported me and loved me through this process. I haven't made it easy.

It comes as no surprise to those who know me when I say that I am by nature very headstrong. You will not easily convince me to do something I don't want to do. But through the admonishment of my friends and the grace of God, that is changing.

I have a couple of very special friends who are in this endeavor with me; my sister Jordan and friend Amber. In the beginning - truthfully the first 3 months - they all but dragged me along as we learned to eat healthier and work out. While they swapped stories of success or failure, I sat silently sulking and just praying for the conversation to be over. I said before that I wanted diet in secret. So the last thing I wanted to do was talk about it. What I failed to realize is that my silence turned me into a leech. While they were talking things out they were provoking each other to love and good works. They were encouraging me... and I was sucking life from them while giving nothing back. These girls fleshed this out with me - with persistence.

"Faithful are the wounds of a friend." (Proverbs 27:6) I know this saying to be true. I found myself standing in my bedroom talking with Amber and Jordan one Sunday a few months ago. We didn't have a typical house church meeting - the Holy Spirit had ideas of His own that morning. These faithful women gently and cautiously confronted me in my stubbornness and sulking attitude. It was not easy to hear. I looked in the mirror that day. Not literally - I was all too familiar and unsatisfied with my physical reflection. I saw my reflection in an altogether different way - through their eyes. And it wasn't pretty.

I'd grudgingly made the outward changes necessary. I followed our meal plans. I exercised (when I felt like it). I thought that was enough. But my attitude stank. Through the faithfulness of these young women I saw Jesus Christ, "While we were yet sinners, Christ died for us." While I was being stubborn and selfish, they encouraged me, hoping Christ in me. They extended mercy when I'd done nothing to earn it, and showed me the grace to change. The faithful wounds inflicted that day prompted the first fruits of repentance growing in me. I would not be where I am today if not for their continual support and encouragement. They have forgiven much.

Each of us have charm necklaces that are telling the story of our journey. A pearl marks the beginning, and an initial pendant marks the loss of the first 10 pounds. The third pendant is a post with the word "metanoia" inscribed into it. It's the Greek word for "repentance", meaning change the way you think. This marks the loss of 20 pounds. And it's been a significant reminder to me that my mind is changing in the way that I approach food and exercise. This is not a "lose-weight-quick" scheme. This is a lifestyle change. There are permanent changes happening in my heart, mind, and body through this process. I no longer crave foods that aren't good for me. My body is being conditioned to crave movement and action. This may sound crazy but I've grown to love feeling sore after I've really pushed myself working out. I crave that feeling! My mind has changed for good. Repentance has taken place by the grace of God and I am amazed.

1 Timothy 4:8 says this, "For bodily exercise profits a little, but godliness is profitable for all things, having promise of the life that is now and of that which is to come."


This rings to true to me. It's my experience that God had to change the way I think, transforming my mind, before my body - my flesh - followed suit. And that is what is important. Because my body will one day give out. There will come a day when I'm no longer able to do the things I'm capable of now. But the lessons I have learned in this - the relationships that I have gained - are of far more profit than my physical body changing. I've entered a whole new level of friendship with Jordan and Amber. Jordan is my sister, and I've known Amber for 8 years, but despite that our hearts have been knit together in ways we couldn't have imagined when we took the first step in this journey. This has proven to me that godliness is profitable for all things - especially my relationships. I am so grateful for their faithfulness to me, their patience, and the love that is continually being poured out. "By this all  will know that you are my disciples, if you have love for one another."


So, thank you, Amber and Jordan. I know you are His. 

Formulas and Faith

I don't enjoy math. In high school I memorized formulas long enough to pass the test and promptly forgot them. But I've found myself looking for formulas in my walk with God.When I approach a problem or have a question I want God to give me steps A + B + C that will equal a calculated result.

For example: as a teenager I craved an abiding, constant relationship with the Lord. And in my mind, the way to get that was this:

read bible + pray more - sin = ABIDE

But the reality of an abiding relationship with the Father is so much simpler than that. Please don't misunderstand me. I'm not saying that we shouldn't read God's word, pray and resist temptation to sin. But those works alone do not achieve the end I desired. For years I tried to turn my faith into works and it got me nowhere. I thought, "If I only do these things more I will be the kind of Christian I want to be." I do... I will... I want... My motivation was myself. My trust, and ultimate disappointment, was in my own ability.

There is no formula for abiding in Christ. The relationship I have with Him now is not the result of anything I have done. I can't point to a certain time when a switch flipped and I "got it". All I know is that I grew desperate for Him. I stopped trying to figure out with my head how to walk with Him, and I just started seeking - unscripted. I cried out from the depths of me, humbling myself and coming to Him broken. And somewhere in that He met me. I can't point to one thing I said or did. I didn't "pray enough", "read enough", or "stop sinning" before He met me. It was all Him. I can't take any credit.. and now.. my desire to read the word, pray and resist temptation flows out of my relationship with Him.

If you've been a Christian for any length of time you know the agony of trying to "figure out Gods will" through formulas and plans. We want to make the decisions that please Him, so we pray, we fast, we wait, we lay out the fleece for His clear direction. There have been times in my life this process has paralyzed me with fear of stepping out of His will. We want the "audible voice" or the "handwriting on the wall". And sometimes He is gracious. He gives it. Sometimes "the formula" works (think of Gideon). But sometimes I think the Lord lets us have what we want and redeems it, for the glory of His name.

I've been reading in 1 Samuel lately where the nation of Israel asked the prophet Samuel for a king. They were tired of being ruled by judges and through prophets. This grieved the heart of Samuel but the Lord told him to give the people what they wanted. And we all know the end of the story. The people got Saul (who was good when he obeyed God), then they got David - the man after Gods heart. And eventually Solomon - the wisest king the earth has ever known. Gods name was made famous through the reign of these kings, and many after them. As long as a king submitted himself to the Lord, God got the glory due Him.

Gods "ideal plan" was to rule Israel himself through judges and prophets. But He gave the nation their king. And He redeemed them. During that time He made the nation of Israel a banner of His faithfulness. His Son came from the lineage of kings that were established then. I don't think anyone could say that this plan was "bad". If there was a "formula" in this situation for "the perfect will of God" the nation of Israel didn't follow it. But still God was glorified as long as the nation and its king submitted to Him. Does He ask any more of us?

I think I can say the same thing about my life. There have been times that I moved ahead and made decisions that may not have been "Gods perfect will" but they were not "bad" inherently. I cannot say I regret these things because He has so beautifully redeemed me. So I'm going to stop looking for formulas. I need to remember that His ways are not my ways. Despite my disdain for math, "my way" is to find the formula, to lay out the plan, to make lists and stay organized. But His ways are higher. I'm learning to trust Him. Sometimes that will mean He lays out His plan clearly. And sometimes it means I step out blindly, with only His light to illuminate each step of faith as I take it. I know the voice of my Shepherd and I can trust Him to guide me, even when I have no idea where I'm going. I don't have to know every step before I take it. And I've come to find that's okay.

I know I'm not the only one. Do you look for formulas?

Beauty from Ashes

When I decided to publish my glass heart story I thought it would be easy because I am so far removed from the events that inspired it. And I've told it to countless young women in ministry situations. But the truth is that I hesitated this time. Because while this story illustrates one of the most awe-inspiring works God has done in me to date, it is still deeply personal.

The Glass Heart parallels the story of my first broken heart. I gave my heart away to the first frog that crossed my path. Gratefully, I didn't have to kiss him to find out that he would never be the prince of my dreams. I walked away from that experience broken and fearful. It took me quite a while to trust the Lord with my heart, and even longer to trust any person.

Even once I learned to trust Him again, I believed that I'd destroyed my innocence forever. I accepted that I would have to live with the scars on my heart - for which I was ultimately responsible. I wasn't resentful about it. In my mind, I was damaged and there was nothing to be done. This was the consequence of my sin. I never expected to know innocence again. I'd made my bed and had to sleep in it.

All of that changed one morning in my high school chemistry class. Sunlight streamed in the window behind me, I sat down, and sighed. When I exhaled a lock of hair that was hanging in my face blew back into place. In that moment a childhood dream was fulfilled. As a little girl who adored "The Little Mermaid" I'd spent hours in front of the mirror attempting to imitate this sigh-hairflip-combo that was Ariel's trademark. I never got it right and resigned myself to never being a princess as a result. I'd completely forgotten about it until my hair serendipitously floated out of my eyes that morning. My excitement was unconstrained! Because that moment represented so much more. My childhood innocence was returned to me, symbolized by that "dream come true". A little wind whispered a truth that echoes in my soul, "The author of all true fairy-tales is writing yours... It can happen."


Let me speak for a moment to the girl, the woman, or even the man who has been broken. Your body, heart, and mind has been shattered. You may believe that you are beyond redemption. You may have resigned yourself to never being whole again. You think you are unworthy of healing and may even think it unnecessary. After all, you've adapted. Learned to live with the scars. But I am here to tell you that Jesus Christ is capable of restoring all things.

I know personally that nothing is so big or small that He cannot heal. I thought my broken heart was such a small matter that He couldn't bother with it. But now I know that if He cares to restore something as "small" as my innocence, He can restore anything. He can heal and bring full restoration, no matter what you think you've ruined. There is no detail He does not care intimately about.

His patience is never ending. He does not force Himself on us. The Lord never pushed me to give him my heart. He waited until I'd surrendered every piece to Him, holding nothing back, before He began His restoring work. Before He can begin healing you must trust Him with every part. His hand transforms. My life - my heart - is tangible evidence of His faithfulness. He has made beauty from the ashes.

A few years ago I purchased a glass heart pendant (pictured above) as a tangible reminder of the redemption of God in my life. It's one of my favorite pieces of jewelry, and I get compliments each time I wear it. I usually accept them with thanks, touch it, and remember how I have been made whole. I can never forget.

Have you ever been broken? Has He made you whole? Tell me your story.