The Cry of Desperation

This is an illustration that I wrote several years ago after reading Luke 18:35-43. I pictured the scene vividly, looking something like this.

The scent of my own sweat was heavy that day as I sat on the edge of the road near Jericho. I listened to the cicadas buzzing, keeping my ears tuned for the sound of footsteps. There hadn't been many travelers on the road that day. I ran my fingers inside my empty alms bowl, wondering if I would be able to find a meal that evening - my only meal for the day. My stomach growled at the thought of food, and I sighed.

In the distance I heard voices, coming towards me slowly. Before long, multitudes of people were passing me by on every side, pressing me to stand and pushing me further off the road. Confused, I asked where all these people were coming from and someone told me, "The Great Rabbi, Jesus of Nazareth, is passing by Jericho!" The Rabbi? Jesus? Could this be the great teacher I'd heard so much about? My cousin told me of how He'd recently healed ten lepers in a village of Galilee. There was rumor that He was the Messiah, the one we'd waited for, our Redeemer. I heard that He healed the blind before. Surely He could heal me. But how would He even see me? There were many people here. I heard voices all around me. How could I get His attention? How do I even know where He is?

Before I could stop myself I lifted my voice and began to cry out, "Jesus! Son of David! Have mercy on me!" I knew I looked like a madman. "Jesus! Have mercy on me!" I felt heat rush up my face in embarrassment as I struggled to make myself heard over the crowd of voices. The people closest to me grew quiet and I could feel the judgmental stares. I pushed aside my shame and continued to cry, "Have mercy on me, Jesus! Jesus!" Someone shoved against me roughly and said, "Be quiet man! Don't disturb the master with your yelling!" Even still, as the crowd continued to move past me I lifted my voice louder, straining to make myself heard. My mouth and throat were coated with dust stirred by the crowd. I couldn't stop now! I had hope. Hope that I would see the Son of God. Desperation grew in me and I cried out with urgency, "Son of David, have mercy on me! Jesus! Have mercy on me!"

I soon realized that the constant shove toward the city ceased. I paused to listen, trying to understand why they stopped. In the distance a voice gave a command that I couldn't quite hear. People around me started murmuring and whispering. I heard a woman ask, "What is the Master going to say to him?" Him? Who did she mean? Someone nearby muttered in frustration, "The whole crowd is stopping because that blind fool couldn't keep his mouth shut!" I don't think he cared that I heard him. I felt the stillness grow before I heard it. Suddenly, a man took hold of my arm and spoke, "The Master would like to see you. I will lead you to Him." One of His followers began to lead to me through the crowd to the place where Jesus stood. I stumbled behind him, sure that my beating heart could be heard by all those standing in silence around me.

You did not need to tell me the moment I stood before the Son of David. His very presence was one of authority - yet not authority that induced fear. Rather, my heart became still in perfect peace. The multitude collectively held their breath, awaiting His words. Would He rebuke me? Touch me? Send me away? He simply asked me a question, "What do you want me to do for you?" Relief flooded my mind, I felt as though I were a child being offered a wish for my greatest desire. But this was no wish - the man before me was the very Son of God who could bring the impossible to pass. Overcome with emotion, my request came through a sob, "Lord, that I may receive my sight!" Oh! I will never forget His words to me! "Receive your sight; your faith has made you well." Immediately my eyes were opened and I saw! Oh, the light! The Light! The Light of the World flooded my darkness. And from that moment forward I knew I would follow Him.

I plan on following this with a post about the desperate cries of our hearts. But in the meantime...


Have you ever cried out in desperation? What was the response?

Bound to Please

I am a people-pleaser. I always have been. I want to make sure that everyone is happy, but more importantly I want to be sure they are happy with me. Nothing makes me more uneasy than the thought that someone might, possibly be upset with me. This has caused an endless amount of anxiety in my life, because like all of us, I am full of faults. I put my foot in my mouth. Often. I have been known to step on more than a few toes. But this is so desperately not who I want to be. As a result, I learned from a very young age to apologize well, and apologize often. I've since been told that I have an "I'm sorry" problem. I apologize senselessly for the most ridiculous things that are completely out of my control. All because I desperately want those around me to be pleased. Most importantly, I want the Lord to be pleased, but all too often I forget this in my search for human approval.

For example: I didn't graduate from high school in the conventional way. I didn't complete four years and walk across the stage. The way I saw it I "dropped out" and got my GED. Which is true. But I decided to drop out having obtained all necessary credits apart from 1 in English. I went on to earn nearly perfect scores in the English portions of the GED test, and I began working an entire year earlier than most of my peers. But I couldn't get excited about that. I was sure when I received that "General Equivalency Diploma" it might as well  have stamped "loser" across my forehead (despite the fact that many of my home-schooled friends had the same document). I was so ashamed by what I imagined people to be thinking of me, since I certainly didn't think much of myself. So when my parents threw me a surprise graduation party, I was mortified. They revealed that dozens of people were gathered to honor my accomplishments and I secretly wanted to crawl into a hole and cry. I was surprised to find that these people were genuinely proud of me, even if I wasn't proud of myself. It was then I began to see that perhaps my perceptions of how people saw me were not as true as I believed.

Worrying about what others may think of me and the decisions that I make has caused no small amount of anxiety for me, especially in the last year. This fear has unfortunately made me hesitate in the directions God has clearly given to me. So it came as no surprise that the words He spoke to me for this year began with, "Please me."  Please Him. Not "Please your family." or "Please your friends." or "Please your church." or even "Please yourself." His word is to please Him. I spent the last year learning to hear his voice. Now I must learn to obey Him, no matter the cost. His is the only opinion that matters in the end. He alone is the one I will give account to. I would say that I have lost sight of this goal, but the truth is I'm not sure I've ever had sight of it.

If I'm being completely honest the thought of publishing this blog scares me silly. My mind is racing over all the ways that it could be misunderstood or taken out of context. I worry, "Will they think that I'm trying to dismiss godly counsel in favor of my own opinion?" When this couldn't be further from the truth.

The Lord spoke to me saying, "Seek first the kingdom of God and His righteousness and all these things will be added unto you." If I make it my singular goal to seek His kingdom rather than the approval of man, He promises to sustain me. I must let go of the obsession I have with pleasing everyone all the time and turn my attention to pleasing Him alone. This fight to change the way I think has only just begun, but I have no doubt that He will transform what is broken. Instead of being bound to please men, I am bound to please my Heavenly Father. There is no greater delight. He will set me free.

Do you ever struggle with pleasing man vs. pleasing God? How do you overcome this?

Memories of Generosity

This is my letter of Thanksgiving to my Father for the legacy of generosity he is building. 

To My One and Only Poppie, 

I don't know if I've told you how much I've come to admire your generous spirit. As we were growing up I took for granted the way you selflessly gave to those who were down and out. It wasn't until recent years I realized not everyone does that. Hurting souls have always found a haven in the Christ in you. Immigrants, homeless, recovering addicts, the elderly, the unfriendly.. Otherwise known as "the least of these".

I remember being about six years old the first time you picked up a homeless couple. It was a cold winter evening on Airline Highway. The man was pushing the woman in a wheelchair and you offered them a ride. We went by The Salvation Army to find it closed for the night. Instead, you drove them to the place they directed - a wooded area on the edge of a parking lot in a bad part of town. Jordan and I thought their tent was neat. But you knew differently; it was cold. Without hesitation you gave them the old comforters we'd used to keep warm in the van and we said goodbye to our smelly new friends. You went back the next day to take them to a shelter. 

That was the first time I understood what it meant to be homeless. We asked a lot of questions about what we'd seen. It made a lasting impression on me. I forever saw the homeless through different eyes. Eyes of compassion and understanding instead of cynicism and entitlement. (Poppie had no recollection of this whatsoever, but it has been etched in mine and Jordan's cherished memories.)

I can recall many other stories of lives that you touched. You couldn't afford babysitters so Jordan and I always tagged along with you to visit nursing homes, halfway houses, rehab centers and repair work days. Maybe we didn't spend our weekends like our other friends did, but I'm so very grateful that you taught us how to live like Jesus as a way of life - not a Sunday school lesson. This wasn't done out of obligation or preached "because the bible says to do it" and made into a cliche'. It wasn't religious. This was simply how you taught us to live. To see the need and meet it, even when "silver and gold have I none." 

How many times were you burned? Countless. Yet I've never heard you recount those instances. As a child I thought this ordinary - to give to those who eventually stole from or betrayed us. I never questioned why you did it again. It was our "normal". Now I recognize this for what it is - extraordinary. You display an extraordinary spirit of ceaseless generosity, undeterred by wounds the world has inflicted. You have been forgiven so much that you love much. Never have I known you to hesitate. Your right hand never let the left hand know what it was doing. Thank you for consistently modeling compassion and generosity to us.

I hear of families visiting soup kitchens to show their children how to serve. This is their good work. Poppie, you showed us much more than "good works". You showed us what it means to lay down your life; investing your time, money, hard labor, and most importantly you heart into people. 

I am overwhelmed when I think of the number of lives that you have touched and I pray fervently that I will be like the Jesus that I have seen in you over the years. To give without thought of gain or reward. You gave when you had nothing. But I can only imagine the heavenly crowns you have earned in these sixty years, and how many more you will earn, all to lovingly lay those crowns at the feet of Jesus and how blessed that day will be. 

Happy 60th Birthday,  

Your Bekah

Snapshots

Why is it that when someone takes an unannounced blog hiatus, they feel the need to provide excuses or somehow explain the absence? It's an unspoken pressure - and I know I'm not the only blogger who feels it.

So yes, I took an unannounced hiatus. All I know to tell you is that my inspiration fled for a time. But it has returned. My hands are itching to write once again. I can feel the fountain of words bubbling beneath the surface, and I am relieved.

But until the time that those words find their way these digital pages I thought I might share a few pictures with you - my blog followers - of what I've been up to for the last two months. You can actually see where my renewed inspiration comes from.

Jordan and I visited Houston with some dear friends of ours. We took a day trip to Austin, TX where the photo below was taken in this great crafty antique shop on Congress. Austin is a great city!

Me, Jordan {sister}, and Arielle

We had some grand adventures and tried new things (as always) like Coconut water that we got from a Malaysian Restaurant! Jaclyn (our friend in Houston) knows all these great places for great food! We wandered around Chinatown seeing odd sites and avoiding Durian Fruit every time we turned around. Jaclyn and her husband Orlando are as fabulous as my big sisters. And if you know me, you know my big sisters are pretty spectacular.

Jordan, Me, Jaclyn and Arielle

If you have been on Pinterest for any length of time it's likely that you seen this idea to give 60 memories for a fathers 60th birthday. This was inspiration defined! Our beloved Poppie turned 60 years old at the end of October and we managed to gather notes and letters from friends old and new, co-workers, church members, neighbors, and family.

Jordan stamped all 60 envelopes

I was absolutely overwhelmed to see the ways my father has effected so many lives. I plan on publishing what I wrote to him here on the blog sometime soon. This project produced many tears and much laughter, and our Poppie was so very blessed by it.

Tears as they were read aloud.

At the beginning of November Jordan and I decided to take a spontaneous trip back up The Natchez Trace where these adventures happened. This time were were going camping and hiking!

Me at the Parkway Entrance 

We had a great time hiking all 13 miles of trails in Tishomingo State Park. Even though most of the leaves had fallen, it was still beautiful!

Our shadows on Swinging Bridge over Bear Creek

We did a lot of smiling

We also listened to this song a lot on this trip. I love this group. You can download it for free here.

And finally, over this past Thanksgiving weekend, I turned 23.  I had an amazing time with my family and got some great gifts (Thank you Jordan for Bonhoeffer on Radio Theatre). As an excuse to get out of the house Jordan and I took my niece, Leah, and got manicures (in pale neutral shades).

Of course we did. 

I've got to tell you guys that my niece is one of the most amazing teenagers I've ever met. It shouldn't surprise me, because she has some great parents. I enjoyed every moment with her, as you can see from the pictures below.

A very happy birthday indeed

We got our "no evils" a little out of order

And y'all. This chick is gor-ge-ous. If my future children are even half as beautiful as my nieces, this family is going to have to take stock in the weapons industry.

Photo from my shoot with her this weekend.

I can't tell you the last time I've enjoyed my family so much. And still am. We made some lovely memories.

So the loveliness continues. I love the holidays. I love cuddling under a blanket (new new fluffy, fleecy one!) with some tea to watch old Christmas movies. I'm looking forward to an entire month of these kind of indulgences. It's the simple things...

milktea with honey #favorite

I was ashamed, You called me Beautiful.

"When we stop believing that good men exist, we lose the desire to be good women... To believe that you were created to be the masterpiece of God's creation, the height of beauty, an imitation of your Maker's heart; that you hold value by simply being a woman: To begin believing that in the same way you would die to be an incredible woman, there are men that would die to be incredible for you." 

- Lauren Nicole Dubinsky

When I first read this quote five months ago I was afraid to believe it. Afraid that it was mildly sacrilegious. But I wrote it down on a sticky-note and kept it beside my bed, painfully unaware of how desperately I needed to believe that this is truth. At the time I had no idea how deep insecurity was rooted in me. I have been surprised to discover in the last 3 months that I am much more insecure as a 22 year old young woman than I ever was as a teenager. For years, without even realizing it, when someone has paid me a compliment I have graciously accepted it, but inwardly identified a reason that person feels obligated to say such a thing and dismissed their words. Without a second thought. Without realizing that I was essentially making my well-meaning friends and family liars in my eyes.

God brought this thought process to a screeching halt one afternoon while I stood at my bathroom sink. When I looked up into the mirror I heard Him speak to my heart so clearly, "You are beautiful because I have made you that way. And you cannot dismiss that." My mind froze. I could not find a reason to dismiss His words. I knew that He spoke truth. He cannot lie. The weight of His words were so precious and sobering that I fell to my knees right where I was, crying. Grateful tears. Thankful that truth was finally penetrating my heart.

This work in my heart continued as I read Captivating (by John and Stasi Eldredge). I began to see how women are uniquely created to reflect God's beauty in this earth. My beauty is not something I should be ashamed of or try to hide. I have struggled with this for years. After all, "Charm is deceitful and beauty is vain", right? I didn't want to believe that there is anything of beauty in me. The lie that says I am not enough was easier to believe. Growing up in the church, I have heard "You are created in God's image!" until I thought I might puke if someone repeated that tired phrase to me again. That is, until I heard it from my Heavenly Fathers own mouth;

"My Dear Child, you admire the beauty of the sunsets that I paint. Yet do you ever stop to realize that you are more beautiful than these? Because I created you in My image. Am I not more beautiful than a sunset? Who are you to say that my beauty is not in you?" 

My Father knows my heart better than anyone else. He knows that sunsets take my breath away, mountains make me stand in awe, oceans strike me speechless with their thundering. God showed me that in the same way that I marvel at His creation in the earth, He marvels at me because I am a reflection of Him. He is pleased with what He sees. For the first time in my life I understand how He sees me. And I am learning to finally see myself through His eyes. I am learning to embrace and even celebrate the beauty that He's bestowed on me. Not for my own sake, or my own pride. But because I know that I represent the beauty of my Heavenly Father in the earth.

I was ashamed. He called me Beautiful.

I Wonder

I had another post in the works, but this song started playing from a new album I just downloaded by Tara-Leigh Cobble. I decided to share this instead.

Sometimes I wonder how much He knew

Of all the things His love would put Him through

Did He ever pass a tree along His way

and know it was the very tree He'd die upon some day?

And if He did, did His heart break?

Every time He passed it on the street

I wonder if He ever thought

that tree I made will be

The death of me

Oh the irony of His carpentry

Did it serve as a reminder of His legacy?

Did He bear it constantly?

Building with the nails that tore His body?

And if He did, did His heart break?

Every time the metal broke the beam?

Well I wonder if He ever thought

A nail like this will be

The death of me

Well I may never know what crossed His mind

But there's one more question hanging on inside

And did He ever think of me?

2,000 years somewhere across the sea

And if He did, did His heart break?

Even though He died so willingly

Well I wonder if He ever thought

My love for her will be

The death of me

Contentment

I was just sitting here (in my apartment) trying to come up with a sufficient facebook status to sum up my weekend. To sum up how I feel right now. But I don't want to be one of "those people" who uses social media to list every little thing they did that day, knowing you may not care what I did this weekend. You may not care about the little things that make me happy. I am known for {perhaps} being {overly} sentimental. But I can't just let this pass me by without memorializing it somehow. I feel contentment. Better yet, I feel blessed. So allow me to count the blessings that have touched my heart this weekend.

My right eye almost closes when I really smile.

• Balloons, helium, and the various forms of giggling they produce
• Bright blue birthday cake (Yes, the cake itself was dyed blue!)
• Roller skating
• Captivating - this book is challenging me in so many ways
• Hugs and love from my 8 year old niece
• Having the title "my Bekah-wekah" bestowed on me in lieu of "Aunt Bekah"
• Holding the hand of "my 'Mara-Beara" in the grocery store (she really is the sweetest thing EVER)
• Long talks with friends and sisters
• Slow, rainy car rides that give me plenty of time to think, pray and worship
• Technology, allowing me to talk to my best friend every day, despite her being several countries away
• Naps
• Rainy long weekends
• Remembering that this weekend marks 8 years of fellowship with the church body I am a part of

I love the little things. I love that God made me to love the little things. I love seeing Him in them. My heart sighs with contentment on nights like this. I feel His peace washing over me, and I just want to pour gratitude back to Him for all these things so freely given, so grossly undeserved.

"O GOD, My heart is steadfast. 

I will sing and give praise..." 

~Psalm 108:1