Musings.

"The best equipping is living

in My presence,

My hand that never lets go of yours. 

Discuss everything with Me... Remember that 

I am on your side, and that I have overcome the world."

Often I live as if I'm on the losing side of the battle. I find myself focusing on my insecurities and I allow the little nagging thoughts of doubt take root and idly observe as they begin to bloom. 

I've been reading through John; a chronicled account of Jesus' coming and going, of His passionate and radical and beautifully messy lifestyle. I find hope in that, because I can identify with the messy. I identify with the characters that encounter Him; with the woman at the well in chapter 4 who is caught up in something that she tries to hide and He calls her out in love, drawing her in to drink of His wellspring, calling her into true life. 

I identify with the blind man in chapter 9 who, without question, did exactly as Jesus instructed and was able to see for the first time, tasting the freedom of His gift fully.

And while I find a common ground with many of these ancient characters, I take heart in the fact that my God is indeed the Father of all, that He is Mighty, Strong, a Wonderful Counselor and a God of unabashed Love. And I find that, rather than taking up the mindset of the defeated, He has given me the Spirit, and  "He who believes in Me [Jesus], as the Scripture has said, out of his heart will flow rivers of living water". (John 7:38) 

We constantly live in a place of war within ourselves; trying to decide whether to follow our hearts or follow that which we know to be true. We borrow advice from the deep places in our hearts and believe them to be absolute truth without testing them first, however, Jeremiah 17:9 challenges that very concept;

The heart is deceitful above all things,

and desperately sick,

who can understand it?

You know what strikes me? Not even the fact that my heart is deceitful above ALL things, but that it is desperately sick. My heart. My heart, which has been seeking and craving and running after God for years. My heart, which I want with every part of me to believe is good and whole and pure. But even in saying that, I know that my assumptions are incorrect. 

I am flawed; I am desperately sick; and I am grateful for this.

Because that gives me a chance to be like the blind man; to be in a place of humility and raw desperation where my Jesus can place His hands over me and instruct me towards healing. Because He promises that in my belief of Him, He will equip me with the Holy Spirit, which will flow from me like a river of water, quenching the dark and spreading light within. Because my flaws are the very things He is going to heal when I enter into His kingdom for the rest of eternity. Because when I am passing through His gates into His glorious, unleashed presence, I will experience Him like never before.

I know that in Him I am on the winning side. That I don't have to strive to fight the battle in my own strength, but that He is next to me grinning, effortlessly holding up His defense against the enemy and urging me to do the same, drawing from His unending strength. 

He is my Champion. He has overcome.

Church with a View.

Voices raised as knees touched the ground, heads lifted and arms stretched; life and joy and peace flooding the hearts of the people within the room. I stepped through the doorway and immediately a wave of raw love washed over me, pulling me further in. I was greeted by many, the love of their Jesus radiating from their faces as they welcomed me and my friend into the presence of the Almighty God with hugs and handshakes. We were invited to join in praising the Father as the music changed and Kim Walker's voice started to sing out glorious words over the sound system.

The Holy Spirit was alive here.

Fountains of glory rolled off the tongues of God's beautiful children as we opened our mouths and allowed His Spirit to speak in foreign languages through us. I closed my eyes and was overcome with the beauty and the passion that my Father has for me. Grasping the chair in front of me, I thanked Him and praised Him for His glorious love and presence within my life and the healing that He has brought to my heart. Joy cascaded over me and I laughed; a rich and deep flowing laughter that can only come from Him and His Spirit.

I felt alive here.

I spent three weeks in Orange County, California this month, and I learned so much more about the Father than I thought I was going to. The experience above was one of the most beautiful moments, one of the richest and most fulfilling nights of my time spent with the churches, but it only captures one facet of my Jesus.

He is diverse.

I was privileged to witness His love poured out on many different congregations; from the well-dressed beautiful souls at Saddleback Church to the tattered homeless at a local ministry church held in a back parking lot at a motel. A smaller, more familial-feeling church in Laguna hung in the balance between these two, evening it out with a more earthy, raw passion vibrating through its congregation. Throughout the entire process of meeting and worshiping with and loving on the wonderfully diverse and equally stunning people at each location, I was struck with an almost heart-wrenching, yet incredibly simple thought:

Jesus has so many faces.

Simply put, yet saddening because I often find myself, when thinking of Jesus and His children, stereotyping the people that should be in this "Christian" category. I place labels on people, I categorize and place them into mental boxes... and I absolutely hate that. I never want to judge by the exterior of the beautiful, fearfully and marvelously crafted men and women that stand before me at any given moment.

I can't describe how brilliantly wonderful it's been to see the many faces of God within this past month. And to think that He will continue to reveal Himself to me through the church; again and again... that is awe-inspiring.

His church has no denomination. It encompasses all who believe and trust in Him; the rich, the filthy, the Pentecostal and the Baptist, the alcoholic and the adulteress. There is no discrimination. His church is full of love; of life and of healing and of hope. It stands on His truth and His unwavering merciful and just nature; wrapping His children in His arms and showering them with His guidance and grace.

His church is beautiful.

Sing to God a brand new song;

sing His praises all over the world!

Let the sea and its fish give a round of applause

    with all the far-flung islands joining in.

Let the desert and its camps raise a tune

   Calling the Kedar nomads to join in.

Let the villagers in Sela round up a choir

    and perform from the tops of the mountains.

Make God’s glory resound;

    echo his praises from coast to coast."

-Isaiah 42:10-12

Consider a Jealous God

My heart cries out for more today. It screams for something deeper; something more vivid and alive. Something that I can grasp onto and hold, take it in as if it's my very own breath that I'm embracing. Something--no, Someone--that will hold me and keep me and birth in me a wild and abundant and lovely passion and burning for life.

I have been home in Washington for five weeks now. I left YWAM Destination Paradise in Belize five weeks ago with a heavy and faltering heart. I left with an angry and despairing and hurting spirit. I left with a sense of bitterness and frustration; towards others, but mostly focused towards myself.

I was reading in Hebrews 12 a few days ago and verse 3 kept playing over and over in my mind.

"For consider Him who endured such hostility from sinners against Himself, 

lest you become weary and discouraged in your souls."

When I left DP, I was weary, discouraged. I hadn't been considering God and His passions and heart for me, and I fell into a state of thinking that was so inwardly focused that I couldn't see what He was speaking over me. Since being home, I have found that peace again. I have found the rest in Him that I have so desperately been craving, discovered once more the excitement and intimacy with my Father. He has been speaking into me life and color, breathing into my weary soul and reviving the joy within that is so natural for me. My heart is still in a process of healing, of finding a place where I can communicate healthily with those whom I have hurt and who have hurt me, but within this process I am learning to focus on God's peace and humble myself before Him daily, hourly, in every moment, because according to Deuteronomy 4:24;

"...the Lord your God is a consuming fire, a jealous God."

and

"Therefore, since we are receiving a kingdom that cannot be shaken,
let us be thankful, and so worship God with reverence and awe,
for our God is a consuming fire." (Hebrews 12:28-29)

My God is a jealous God. He is a God thirsty for my love, hungering to get to know me better and craving my company. Who am I to deny Him His glory? It was foolish of me to step into sin and convince myself that He wasn't watching, that I could repent later. It would be foolish for me to run from that. Instead, I'm walking into His presence with a sense of utter peace and joy, because His grace and His love is bigger and more passionate than I could ever imagine. He is reining me in and teaching and growing and stretching me, and as this happens His restoration and His will for me encompasses me and burns in my heart; calling me and prodding me ever towards His feet, towards the throne, towards His beauty.

Eruption.

I forget that this life is temporary. I settle into patterns and thought-processes and embed in myself a desire and a drive that line up with the idea that this moment in time is all that there is...that my actions and thoughts and words won't affect people. That I can do or say or think anything I want and it won't go further than me and my mind and my immediate surroundings.

How wrong I am to assume. I've been living out this pattern of supposition for the past six months, and am barely on the brink of realizing what it means to push outside of myself in certain areas. This month has been wild. It's been full of frustration, of confusion, of freedoms and of revelations. One of the joys (and curses) of living in community is that most of your life is on display for all to see. And when you mess up--when you make a wrong decision or aren't careful about guarding your heart and mind--everyone knows. It's equivalent to standing center-stage at a concert and knowing that every eye is on you, knowing that if you miss a single note while singing or hit the wrong chord, someone will always know. There are no secrets when you're standing center stage.

I recently made some poor decisions within the relationships that I've built, and I haven't realized until this past week just how badly those decisions affected the entire community. My actions and decisions hurt those around me, especially the girls within my small group and the women within the staff. I broke the trust that had been built between us and I refused to acknowledge it. I lied to myself, convinced myself that I wasn't hurting anyone, justified my actions by telling myself that I was following my heart. None of those lies held, however. The mitigation of my actions within my own mind deteriorated as I looked into the eyes of those that I've hurt, heard their words as they expressed their frustration and anger, felt their pain radiating from them as they asked the tortured questions; "Why was I not good enough for you?" 

I can't undo what's happened. I can't take back the ache that I've caused in the lives of those around me. I can't take away from the fact that I did mess up. I won't minimize the pain of the circumstances; my own heart has been broken throughout this process. We had a meeting involving the entire staff and student body last week, and I had the opportunity to own my shit in front of everyone. I splayed myself out and took the fall that I knew had been coming, and as I looked around the room, I felt a shattering inside of me. Out of 30+ people, I could count on one hand those who would look me in the eye. I felt the anger and betrayal emanating within the room and the walls within my own heart crumbled. I will not deny my actions, but I can and will be proactive with where I presently am. I will walk forward and continue to move, continue to be open and vulnerable, making a conscious effort every day to be one hundred percent authentic in my words and actions as I converse with others. I will choose to walk in light when I've been walking in darkness. I will choose to be filled with integrity and an honesty that transcends that which I have been walking in.

Relationships are building again, trust is being reconstructed, and I find myself being able to truly smile within the past few days. Joy is something that I have to embrace daily, but the beauty of this entire situation is that it's a story of redemption. It's a story of the fascinating and wonderful and breathtakingly passionate love that my Father has for me and for those wrapped up in this.

I'm still processing and will continue to process and write, because this is just the beginning of the journey, and He is just furthering His work to perfect me. I will take heart in the fact that He has overcome the world (John 16:33) and that He will continue to refine me in the process. In everything, I will not forget that He has been broken so that I may be shaped into some creature of beauty and wholeness. I choose to embrace Him and to walk forward in the freedom that He continues to so gracefully provide; head held high and proceeding humbly before Him.

My Salvation Lies in Your Love

I get scared.

Especially when I realize that my talents and character and all the things that I pride myself on are nothing more than dust. 

My talents fail me. My character fails me. My thoughts--my very flesh--it will always, always fail me. I can not rely on myself. 

I can rely on my God. I can rely on the fact that day after day, no matter where I am, what I'm doing, He will be there, right next to me. He will always be the one taking my hand and helping me up, leading me over mountains and through the deep recesses of the earth. 

And even better, when I am feeling weak and terrified and am worrying that what I am about to do will fail me, He gives me His voice. He gives me His strength. He gives me His hands, and His feet, and His heart. 

And when I feel like I'm being attacked, like life is getting too hard, he steps in carries me. He rides the heavens to help me. And He promises to do it again, and again, and again...

Because He loves me.

Jesus, YOU are worthy. Take my life and let it be used for Your glory. Take all of me, everything, my faults and my failures and my joys and my strengths. And Jesus... run with it. Shape me. Create, and re-create, and  chisel away, and bring forth your sweet fragrance in my heart, in my life. 

Because I love you. 

And I desire more.

This is What it Looks Like to be Real Sometimes.

I'm so incredibly small.

Sometimes, I get frustrated because I can't eat what I want to eat. Sometimes I get frustrated that I live in a state that has rain 90% of the year. (Made that statistic up... but it's probably true.) Sometimes I get frustrated because I don't like my clothing. Today was one of those days.

I found myself in my room, standing helplessly in the middle of a pile of clothing, upset because I didn't want to wear any of it. I felt like my clothing was outdated, out of style, old. I felt like it didn't fit just how I wanted it to, or it didn't look as good as last time I wore it. 

And then I realized what I was doing. Honestly, how utterly sick is it that I stand in the middle of a warm, carpeted room with three windows, a bed, closets, mirrors, shoes, a couch, on the top floor of a rambling farm house, and I am upset about my clothing choice? I know people--I know children--whose clothing is ripped, and baggy, and fading, and literally falling off of their back. I know people whose only house is a couple of random pieces of wood set up together and placed against a concrete wall. I know people who have no place to sleep at night, except for the cold, hard ground under the trash on the side of the street. Yet here I am, standing in my room whining because I don't want to wear my striped shirt today, and I can't find clean socks. 

It saddens me to remember that before I fell in love with God I was a selfish and haughty, proud human being. What saddens me even more than that though, is that I have found myself slowly slipping back into that same cycle. 

The fact that "fitting in" or being "in style" concerns me even a little is almost a warning flag to me. It's not a bad thing to be stylish, or to be able to relate to people. However, I find myself questioning my motives when that is consuming me, and I know that I have gone too far when I step back and see that I am in a situation like the one I found myself in today... standing in the middle of a heap of blessings, and complaining because I don't have more, or better, or bigger, or prettier. 

How did I become this? The realization of where I had let my attitude drift to started a whole new round of frustration, and with it determination. So today, I wage war. I don't know how to be any different than the selfish woman that I am on my own, and so I make a choice. I will cling to my Jesus harder and fiercer than before, because without Him, this life of mine is worthless. I don't want to be proud, or haughty, or selfish, or flaunt myself in any way, and so I cast those cares aside and I claim freedom from those. I want to live a life of servanthood.

I remember the sweetness of His presence and the sound of His voice in my spirit, the rush of His wind against my skin and the colors He painted around me. I remember visions He has given me and His promise of more to come. I remember Him being so much that I literally cannot describe Him. I am so thirsty to return to that place where I could sit in His presence and feel His peace and His heartbeat and stay there for hours without becoming restless. So once again, I sit before Him, a pitiful human, and I offer myself up.

I mentioned in my last post that I am ready for whatever He has for me, and I truly am. I am a broken, tired little girl, but honestly... that doesn't even matter. Because where I end, He begins. Where my spirit is full of frustration, His is full of grace. When I don't know what to sing, He places a melody in my heart. And that, my friends... that is extraordinary.

Oregon. Laughter. Waterfall.

I'm sitting at my computer in sweats and a t-shirt, drinking steaming homemade Chai tea, face scrubbed clean of makeup. It's raining outside. I'm exhausted. I'm listening to chill music. I went camping this past weekend, so being clean, in clean sweats and having clean hair feels incredible.

This past weekend was a challenge for me. I was invited by a friend to go camping near Roseburg, Oregon, with her former college group from Suburban Christian Church. I headed to Oregon on Monday the 21st, and spent a few days with my friend before we drove down to Corvallis to meet up at Suburban on Friday with the group of campers who were heading in earlier than others. 

First of all: I love camping. And I absolutely love meeting new people. But this weekend, God had a lesson for me.

When we arrived at our campsite and had finished setting up, and the rest of the campers arrived, we ate dinner and played a few games that helped us familiarize ourselves with each other. Normally, I'm pretty good at meeting people and starting up conversations, but for some reason this weekend, I was scared. Terrified of messing up and of letting people down. I hadn't realized I had slipped back into the fear of man until Saturday afternoon. I was invited multiple times to go hiking with a few different groups of people during free time Saturday, but I declined. I suppose that I was nervous that I wouldn't be able to keep up (I have exercise-induced asthma... LAME excuse not to go hiking!) or that I'd not know how to strike up conversation. Essentially, I was being a complete bore and absolutely ridiculous. 

Instead of hiking, I went down to the river and sat against one of the concrete pillars holding up one side of the bridge. I brought my Bible and notebook down with me and set them both down under a plant growing on the side of the concrete and rocks I was sitting on. I took a sip of my tea from my mug... and just listened.

Have you ever sat beside a river and just let the noise of the water wash over you? It's healing. It's cleansing. It's exhilarating. As I was sitting, a thought popped into my head.

"Em... what are you afraid of?" 

Confused, I answered. "Sickness. Pain...being caged...?" I wasn't entirely sure where this was going.

"No." The thought echoed, persistent, "What are you afraid of? Why are you afraid to speak to people? Why are you afraid to interact?" 

I was blown away. Here I was, sitting alone by a river, feeling sorry for myself, when I had clearly been asked and sought after by multiple people. I had been given opportunity to engage in numerous activities and tasks, and had backed out on each one. Seriously, how silly can I be? 

I spent some time in prayer and talking to God about my fears of people, and He so graciously reminded me that His strength is sufficient, and that my joy can be found in Him, not in the approval or thoughts of man. GOODNESS how freeing that can be! 

I'd love to say that I didn't give it another thought that weekend, but that would be lying. However, I did make an effort to be interactive with the rest of the group, and as I let myself out of my shell more, I received an incredible amount of acceptance, understanding, and love from those around me. I was talking with a friend about this, and she brought up an interesting question:

How often do we miss the love and grace that's offered or poured out to us, just because we are so intent on ourselves and our "protection"? I tend to completely, if unintentionally, ignore what's being set right in front of me out of concern for myself. I had realized this half a year ago, but I didn't realize how incredibly easy it was to slip back into this. Once I opened up, though... dang. God used my time so well. I was privileged to be able to share my complete story with two of my new friends, and stay up late talking with a friend about life, passions, dreams, and all the in-between things. 

Moral of this post: Trust. Don't let the little things get in the way. Deep down, there will always be a bit of insecurity. It's sad, but true, and being human and sinners, I don't think that it will ever go away. Thankfully, we serve a God, a Daddy, who is bigger, and stronger, and so much more on fire with passion for us that we can ever imagine. He will always carry us through, and when it's too much for us, that's where He begins to work most powerfully, because that is where we need to surrender. It was hard to learn surrender this weekend, but it ended up being a beautiful exchange, and in turn I was able to experience incredible grace and joy.

So, sitting here, in my sweats and finishing up my Chai... I'm entirely thankful to claim the love of my Daddy who fought for me, and will continue to fight for me. Thanks Jesus, for Your gentle and passionate ways of reminding me of my fragility and Your unending strength.

And so the Fear Stops.

I have officially become undone.

Last night I was Skyping with a friend, and after our conversation had progressed a bit, she asked me how I was doing. Not the normal, "How are you?" but the deep, probing, "How ARE you? Really? What's going on in your heart?". 

When people ask me that question, I usually want to skip right by it, ignore the fact that I am hurting, that my relationship with people and with Jesus isn't where it should be. I don't want to lay myself out for them to see, I don't want to admit that I'm messing up a little--or a lot. But as I began to open up and let my dear friend know how I was doing--really-- I found that I had thoughts and realizations and feelings pent up that I didn't know about. Fancy that.

We began to discuss our relationships with Jesus at present, and as our hearts poured out to each other, I began to cry. My relationship with my Father in heaven hasn't been what it should be, I've been tossing up prayers and barely acknowledging Him as I go throughout my day, hoping He'll cater to my wishes. How jacked up is that? My perspective has been jaunted at a seriously dangerous angle. As my friend (Charis) and I continued our conversation, we encouraged each other and discussed the differences between mistakes and sin, and how we often write sin off as a mistake, rather than taking responsibility and admitting we have done wrong. Guess what? I do that all the time! I have been doing it with my relationship with God, and last night I had some serious convictions about it. 

Charis and I have a beautiful sister relationship, and as we expressed our desires for a deeper and more meaningful relationship with Christ, something amazing emerged. My heart has been wrapped up in apathy and self-centeredness, and I have been unwilling to acknowledge that. I have been unwilling to admit that I am "slipping back" or falling into the sins that I used to practice daily. But as we were talking, I stepped up to admit that I have been failing at actively pursuing God, which, ironically, is the only thing I truly desire. 

In Romans 7:14-20, Paul has it nailed. I want to glorify God with everything that I do, but instead, I do what I hate and go in the complete opposite direction. And then I try to justify it by blaming it on the atmosphere around or how busy I am. Goodness, this whole sin thing sucks. But the beauty of it all is that there is Grace. I had an amazing epiphany last night.

Charis and I were talking about grace, and she mentioned that in Greek, her name means 'Grace', and my middle name is Grace, and our friend Hannah's name means Grace of God. While we were discussing how cool it is that we all have similar names, my mind got hit by a freight train, and was blown away. 

Okay, so my middle name is Grace. I have always joked about it, because I am anything but graceful. I'm clumsy. I mess up a lot. I trip and fall over all the time. So my name is a joke, right? No. Not anymore.

I am not named Grace because it describes my abilities or the way I walk or talk or my character. I am named Grace because I was given grace by the only One who is worthy to give it. My flesh fails Him day in and day out, and no matter what I do in my own strength, I will always fail, because I am weak. BUT. 

HE GAVE ME GRACE. He gives me grace. He will continue to shower me with grace.

Ho-ly crap. I thought about this and my mouth seriously dropped open and I sat staring into space sputtering like a little kid who hasn't gotten his candy on Halloween. Really, my mind was blown. I don't need to describe the word Grace. I am not Grace. HE is Grace. And He loves me enough to give me His grace, every day. And just to remind me, just to assure me that He will never fail me, He tells my parents to name me after Him. Sometimes I want to knock on His door and be like, "Um, excuse me? You named me wrong. I'm not very full of Grace. I get impatient. I want to hurt people sometimes. It's not fitting for me... change it?" and I imagine Him smiling and taking me into His arms and saying something like, "Baby Girl... It's not your grace I wanted to give you. It's mine. So take it, it's free, it's yours, it is always there. Draw strength from Me, and you won't have to worry about failing, because I've got your back. Always. I've got you, darlin'." And again: HOLY crap. Mind blown. He wants to give me Grace--He has given me Grace-- and He wants me to draw my power from Him always.

So. My perspective has once again shifted, this time towards Him, and I wanted to share this with you because He completely reconstructed my way of thinking last night. I am stepping into this Grace with everything that I have, because it was made for me and it was tailored to fit me perfectly. I am honored to take this Name that He has given me and ride out on His power.

This is who I am now. This is what I was made for. I worship You, Jesus.