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.

Climb.

I admit, I've been procrastinating. I've been locking myself away and reading, and watching movies, and not writing. I've been preoccupied with moving through the days until the next school starts, rationalizing that once those days hit, I'll be doing something worthwhile. Guess what?

Today is worthwhile.

Today is worth living.

And I forgot that.

I forgot that I am here for a purpose; and every single day that I don't chase after that purpose, I'm wasting time. My purpose here is to know Jesus and to proclaim Him and His love and His majesty and wonder over everything I come in contact with. So, today I decided to do things differently. I spent the entire morning with Jesus. Not making up for lost time, because I can't get that time back, but making a conscious effort to restore my relationship with Him. I've been on a bit of a roller coaster since being in Belize; during the last school I was actively pursuing God, wandering in His wake. It was amazing, until I let my guard down. And then I started to become apathetic about it, and I didn't wake up for Him in the morning. I woke up for me...I woke up so I could walk through another day. I let things like homesickness and doubt distract me from His ever-waving arms. I let Him become something that was comfortable and worn, something that I put on when I want to feel warm and cozy, much like my old sweatpants.

I was reading this morning, and the book I was reading was talking about the God of Ezekiel. Have you ever read the book of Ezekiel? It's all about a jealous God. A God who doesn't stand up and let people get away with wickedness. It is about a fierce, warrior God who loves His people so much, He won't watch them go to ruin. He will let them take the consequences for their actions, though.

Want to know what crossed my mind this morning? God's not a pair of old, worn out sweatpants. God is a God of love, terrible and passionate love that will stop at no bounds. He is a God of fire and water, a God of justice and of mercy. A gentle God. An intense God. A lover God. A wild, and powerful, and relentless God. A holy God.

And I completely lost sight of that. Needless to say, I was humbled by this revelation, and I sat with Him talking and reading more about His incredible nature, listening to Him as He poured His devotion over me.

It's been hard for me recently. I'm a part of a school that disciples young people to go into life and become leaders in faith, leaders in ministry, leaders in integrity. We are now moving into a time where we will have 4 schools per year, and I have the wonderful privilege of staffing here. That means that I am a girls small group leader--I mentor and counsel and pray over and live for my girls as they are here. Last school, there were 9 girls in my group, and I was absolutely in rapture with the love that God gave me for them. I got to sit with them and hear their stories; stories of pain, of humiliation, of self-hurt and of abuse. I got to counsel them, to walk with them through memories and feelings and their own tortured thoughts, speaking God's light and life into them as we went.

I had the chance to chase after them as they bolted to the end of the dock and fell onto their knees, sobbing in the sheer pain of their circumstances. I had the freedom to pull them into my arms and hold them, tears slipping down my own face as I prayed for words, and if none came, I sat with them in silence, letting them cry it out as I held them, as Jesus held both of us in His presence.

And when those young women sat before me at the end of the school and I spoke to them about how they had impacted me, about how I had seen the change in them as they grew closer to God, I was so proud, so privileged to see them grin, their eyes glowing as they walked away with their heads held high in trust of the Father, in trust of His plan for them, in a new mindset of self-esteem and love.

I played a piece in a wild, incredible transformation. My girls left this space with a new breath in their lungs. They are changed for the better, and not by my doing. I was just a tool in this, and it's not over. They will continue to grow and flourish as they go on in life. 

This is what I do here, this is why I am here. To serve this awe-inspiring, trustworthy, fierce, loyal, loving, passionate, wonderful, crazy God. And He is constantly calling out His plea for us to join Him... today, I will.  And tomorrow, I will. And the next day, I will choose this.

Because He is worthy of this.

Thrive

I honestly don't know how to start this. I would absolutely love to describe the past three months in a way that grasps everything that has happened, but even the aspiration of such a task seems insurmountable.

I could try to paint a picture of the countless lives that were transformed; lay out stories of individuals whose hearts were wrecked by God in a way that one could only understand if their heart had been through a similar process.

I could draw out pages and pages of details on the healings and freedoms and perspectives gained. I could speak of the demons shattered and the heart-wrenching memories broken; of the strongholds of the enemy that were infiltrated and captured for the King.

I could describe the moments where I sat and held students shaking, sobbing, crying out in pain or fear. I could explain the way that my heart wrenched with anguish on the nights that I wandered around the deserted base, praying and crying, letting my frustration at the enemy vent as I prayed against his very existence on our base.

I could recount many nights of laughter, sitting at the drink palapa with guitars and coke, playing cards and losing game after game after game to one of the students. I could sketch moments of pure ecstasy, where I'm sitting with my small group girls on the end of the dock, washing their feet and blessing them one-by-one as the rest of them swim around the dock or stand on the bench dancing and shouting with laughter.

I could try to describe so many moments...but I don't think I can capture them in a way that they are meant to be captured. I could use all the adjectives in the world and still not convey the right meaning for certain moments.

These three months have been full of 34 students whose lives have been insanely transformed; both audaciously and subtly. Watching them flourish and rise from ashes of past hurts, misgivings, destructive behaviors, and hostile mindsets has been such an extraordinary happening to be a part of.

The September 2012 Lecture Phase is coming to a close for these students, and as they take off to head to their different countries for outreach, I couldn't be more proud. I have been here to witness and encourage them through three months of their lives, and I am ecstatic to hear about their adventures on outreach. I can't describe my love for them, and the best part is; I get to do this all over again in January, with a new set of students.

I realized a few days ago that I am a part of something so incredibly large, so incredibly important; something  that makes a large impression on the lives of many people. And I have the immense privilege of watching men and women of God filter through this school and learn about His awesome, magnificent, marvelous love. I get to be a part of guiding them, of encouraging and listening to them, of praying with them through the night and rejoicing with them through the brilliant dawn.

I am a part of a movement that is so large and encompassing; so important and beautiful; and I am so humbled by that. The fact that I get to live in Belize and watch freedom and healing happen before my very eyes--to facilitate freedom and healing... this is incredible. This is a huge responsibility. It's excruciatingly intricate sometimes. It's extremely taxing. It's abundantly rewarding. And I love every moment of it.

I feel like I'm in my element; learning and teaching, growing and molding, being and doing, following and leading. It's an endless cycle of hope and tears, of joy and sadness. It's beautiful.

And it takes more than just me. I am so privileged to have such a vast prayer team at home; friends and family that are willing to keep me on their hearts in prayer. They are the reason I am here right now; the reason this is so effective. The reason I can be with my small group girls and speak life over them as they sit before me voicing doubts, or dance with them as they gain healing and hope. I LOVE THIS. And I LOVE the team behind me that is supporting me.

So I continue to be thankful, to realize that this endeavor is more than I could ever imagine. To become more vulnerable and more stable in our Jesus, in the Holy Spirit, in my Daddy. I am taking hold of the joy He has given me as a gift, and embracing these students as they head off this week into a new adventure, into a new lifestyle. I've found my place for this season; my sweet spot.

And so I will continue to soak in Jesus, to write, and share my thoughts, and be present, and thrive.

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.

And then I Became Undone

There's something about a bonfire that draws me in. The flame is so mesmerizing, dancing and twirling around the wood, creating and re-creating an endless recital of passion.

Last night I was gathered around a bonfire with five of my closest friends, and as we sat and talked and laughed together, something in the atmosphere was unleashed. A passion that had been kindled in each of our hearts was slowly loosed as we began to venture deeper into topics close to our hearts.

I have been struggling in the weeks past. I have been hearing from God and blatantly ignoring His call and His direction. He has been pouring into me a desire and a passion that I have been pushing aside and refusing to take a closer look at. Last night I expressed my distress and frustration over this, and a friend asked me, "Emily. What are you afraid of?"

Though I knew the answer, this question knocked me off of my feet. How blind I have been! I have seen what God asks of me, I have seen visions and heard songs that speak of what will come, should I choose to follow His calling. I have had dreams full of His heart for others and His desire to heal and provide for the hurting, for the desperate, for the lost and the angry. I know what I am supposed to do. And until now, I haven't wanted to acknowledge it. Last night, however... something broke. My heart has been harboring fear of the unknown, and as my friend provoked me to think about this, something in my spirit came undone.

I am afraid of people. I am afraid that when I step out into what my Father is calling me to do, I will look like a fool. I'm afraid that I will be looked down upon, and I will be despised, rejected, and cast away from people. I know that what I am called to do is big, and I know that I will lose face. I have been afraid of stepping away from my pride for fear I will lose it, and I have been afraid that my reputation will be shot once I move into this boldness that is drawing me nearer.

Today, I am here to say that I am willing. I am willing to look the part of a fool. I am willing to be cast aside. I am willing to lose my reputation, to lose my friendships, to lose my family and my church and my house and every single comfort that I have. I am willing, because I know that no matter what, no matter how far I go, no matter where I am called, the Protector and the Redeemer is standing right next to me. Ultimately, that is what matters. I am willing to lose my life of comfort and of standards and of expectations to pick up the life of a servant, a life of servitude and blessing others, a life of joy and of pain and of laughter and tears, of stepping into the places no one else is willing to go, of going there with people and being one hundred percent vulnerable and open. I am willing to lose it all, because through losing this life, I am gaining a much better one.

So this is me, expressing my fears and my faults and my failures and thanking God that HE is sovereign and that HE is my identity and my drivng force. Without Him, I will come undone. Within Him, I am unstoppable. I claim His power and His freedom and His strength, boldness, and courage, and I say that this life I am living, it's His.

Here I am, I stand with arms wide open, to the One, the Son, the everlasting God.

Reflection

midnight. uncertainty.

silent crystalline drops experiencing gravity

working against flesh 

and kissing the ground beneath.

heart competing in a sprint

racing itself to the finish.

legs pumping, feet embracing asphalt 

pushing faster, farther 

from confusion, apathy.

trying to catch up to

passion.

grasping, pulling, aching.

breathing labored,

soot, ash, frustration.

heart-cry wrenching

from repentant lips;

calling, calling, calling.

dawn. safety.

fragile light consumes deep blackness

eating away pain

and loosing freedom over chains.

captivity no longer an option

sweetness cascades into the brokenness

drenching the empty, heartless, emotional.

weakness morphing, becoming

joyful melody, courage.

fire breaks free

feeding those bound to love,

passion.

weaving, creating, instilling. 

drive intensified,

raging, ferocious, lovely

battle-cry tearing

throughout warrior's body,

freeing, freeing, freeing.

dusk. peace.

Kings and Queens and Lovely Things.

One thing I've learned in the past year is that there is no easy way to tell a painful story. However... the more you tell it, the easier it flows from your tongue, and though the pain still lingers at parts, the audience recieves a taste of the emotions that my heart has gone through, the most amazing of which is freedom.

I attend a women's Bible study on wednesday nights (well...my attendance is a bit spotty, but I go when I can) and are going through the book of Esther, using curriculum and a video by Beth Moore. This past wednesday, we talked about the reversal of destiny. Beth describes the reversal of destiny as, "...where what appeared to be the future is suddenly changed by an intervention that can only be divine." We talked about the pivoting points at which someone's life is changed completely, and how that happens. For Esther, it happens when she is thrust into Persian royalty and had to take matters of her country into her own hands. Her destiny was drastically altered when she was plucked off the streets and sent to the palace... then again, when she learned of the treachery Haman was plotting against her people. Esther didn't know what was going to happen, she didn't know that she would be in a place of great power with the king, where she was the only one who could appeal to him for the lives of the Jews. She didn't know what was going to happen once she stepped up and approached the king to save her people.

What blows me away is that, even though Esther didn't know what was going to happen--she didn't know if she would be alive by the end of the day--she went for it anyways. Esther was called to obediance, and she followed through with her calling. She didn't have to know how it was all going down, but when she obeyed, her future was once again drastically altered.

I've never paid much attention to the book of Esther before, but now I can relate a bit. I haven't been crowned queen or anything, but my future has been drastically altered through obediance. You may not know my full story, and I may share it someday on this blog, but all you need to know at the moment is that my past has been incredibly trying. I've been through things that young women, little girls, should never have to go through. I was lost in anger and frustration and fear for a long time. Within the past year (more specifically, the past 7 months) I have given my entire life up to God in a new and fresh way.

Through this process, I have experienced a complete reversal of everything in my life... a complete reversal of destiny, that could only be orchestrated by Him! My thoughts have turned from myself to others, my attitude has changed from self-seeking to serving others, and my future... that scares the crap out of me. I feel God calling me to an area of ministry that I know will be incredibly challenging, but also incredibly rewarding and beautiful. My future before encountering God's presence consisted of going to a community college and working my tail off at a dead-end job. My life seems to have done a complete 180, and I can only attribute that to GOD'S UNFAILING GOODNESS!

I can't completely capture my appreciation and love for Him and the work that He has done in my life in this blog post, it all sounds like rambling sentences, but I can say that I am captivated. And the fact that He loves me (he loves YOU) enough to completely turn me around... that speaks amazing volumes. I am in awe.

Love. Passion. Explosion. Voice.

Sometimes it seems like there's not much reason to sing. It's raining outside, and it's cold, and my heart is feeling more uncertain by the minute... God doesn't seem to be answering, or He doesn't even seem to be there. Nothing is working out the way I expected. I lost my job. It's hard to play guitar when my fingers are no longer used to the strings. I have no drive to do anything, I have no motivation... why sing?

And then I remember.

I remember that I just ate rice with chicken curry over it. I remember that my stomach is satisfied, and my lips are sipping from a warm cup of tea. I remember that I am in a house, full of things that I am free to use: a shower, a toilet, a sink, a dishwasher, a refrigerator, a bed, a mirror, a computer, shoes. I have access to everything I need. I remember that I don't need to stand out in that cold rain and become drenched by its chill as I beg for food or steal money from the pockets of passers-by, in hopes to get a little nourishment before night falls once again. I remember that my home is full of people who love me. I don't need to go searching for acceptance, because I'm secure. I remember that I have a God who has promised to fight for me, always. I remember that I am not alone.

Some days it's difficult to remember. Some days, it's hard to remember that I know who I am, and I know that I have a purpose. 

And then days like today come around. Days where I wake up, look out the window at the rain, and can't help but burst into laughter. Who would have ever thought that water would be able to fall from the sky? It's intriguing, really. Today I remember why I have a reason to sing. I remember what God's presence feels like, and I know that if I seek Him, I will find Him. I know that He will never leave me alone. 

Today reminds me why I can sing. Today reminds me that I am free. I was talking with a friend on Monday  about fear. Confession: I used to be deathly afraid of the dark. I slept with a light on in my room, because if something was going to kill me (and I was positive that something was going to), I wanted to be able to see it first. Then at least I had a fighting chance. But while we were talking about fear, I realized that my fears have been set to rest. My fears have fled, because I have grasped onto something bigger, something stronger than fear. I have grasped onto JOY. I have held onto the promise that God gave me in Deuteronomy 33:26-28. I have grabbed onto His hand and trusted Him with my life, with my future, no matter what the cost.

I can sing today, I can sing forever, because He has taken me from fear, He has taken me from uncertainty and insecurity into a freedom that will last forever. FOREVER. His presence and life is something that I cannot be robbed of, and I don't have to run away from fear anymore. Now I can face it, now I can sing directly into it's wailing winds and remember that as long as I cling to my Father, as long as I cling to His promise, to His light... there will always be a reason to sing.

So tell me why I should run for cover

At the sound of the coming thunder

All I hear is the cry of my Lover

Yeah take your shot

I won't turn back.

(lyrics from Won't Turn Back, by Need To Breathe)

A Reason to Sing

"I have so much pain inside of me. I need you to heal me, because sometimes I can’t even feel the pain, but I know its there. I’ve become numb to it. And that almost scares me more than anything. I don’t want to be numb to it. I want to feel it, because then I know I can feel. Then I know that I have a hope of curing it. I have a hope of knowing it’ll be gone someday..." (Journal entry. May 25, 2011)


When I wrote these words almost a year ago, my heart was so confused and in such a place of hurt that I couldn't even begin to explain what I was feeling. I was not capable of the full range of human emotions--I had blocked them out in attempt to shut out the pain. And it didn't work.


As I sit here writing this right now, and reading back over this excerpt, I cannot believe that I am the same girl who wrote this tortured journal entry almost a year ago. Over the past six months my life has been completely changed. I went on a YWAM DTS in Belize, and my heart finally met my Maker.


Standing before God on the end of a dock in paradise, looking out over the blue water of the Caribbean, is one of the most terrifying, beautiful experiences I have had. His raw power was so reflected in the tides, in the way the wind moved the palms on the beach, in the swirling of the ocean, that all I could do was stand and stare. I remember staying up until 3am one night, confusion swirling inside of me as I sat on the beach under the stars and talked to God. My heart was in a place of frustration, and that night He met me in an intimate and beautiful way. My healing process has not been an easy one, but that night I felt His love and His acceptance so clearly that my breathing quickened, my hands shook. 


God is so good. Cliche, I know, but it is so incredibly true. I give every moment of every day to Him, because I know that He is the only one who is able to handle all of me. He is the only one who is capable of taking all that I am, and molding me into something perfect, rather than my poorly shaped self. 


The beauty of God's love for me--for you--is truly magnificent. I can't explain His healing power, except to say that all that I have been in the past, all that I was and all the pain I carried, it is no longer there. He has shaped me into something entirely different, and His love has captured me so completely that sometimes I think I can taste it.


Thank you Jesus for healing. Thank you for freedom. Thank you for LIFE.