"The Word became flesh and blood, and moved into the neighborhood."
- John 1:14 (MSG)
And today I'm thankful that he stepped down.
I'm thankful that He chose to be born homeless and celebrate with those lowly shepherds.
Today I want to thank Him for choosing to come.
For coming in the humblest of ways.
For being born on the margins.
For coming helpless into this world as a babe.
For being immersed in the struggle.
I thank Him for taking the hardest path in staying.
With all of the tensions, beauties, struggles, and relationships.
For being in it for the long haul.
For not giving up.
I thank Him for His example.
I thank Him for causing an unexpected scandal.
For going against the grain.
I thank Him for being Immanuel.
For walking side by side.
I thank Him for being here.
The Most Powerful above all, not only coming to the least of these, but becoming the least of these.
This is hope.
and I am thankful.
Wednesday, December 25, 2013
Thursday, December 12, 2013
SEPTA Community
There's a beautiful thing that happens when you ride public transit. You become a part of a unique community. I've gotten to watch it for a while now and it's a beautiful thing.
I watch young, tough guys help ladies bring grocery carts on and off the bus.
I've been the one with the grocery cart.
I watch a lady hold a child that she doesn't even know, so that the child's mother can carry all of her stuff and not stumble with the child in her hands.
I watch a kid get everyone around her smiling and mothers laughing with the ones around her.
I've had kids make my whole day on the bus, and talked with mothers as we laughed together.
I hear strangers help each other out with directions or questions.
I've had my questions answered.
I watch people sharing a hearty laugh with people they don't even know.
I watch guys with loud voices help others shout, "back door" when they need to get off so they don't miss their stop.
I've been the one they've helped.
I hear strangers wish each other a Merry Christmas as they leave.
You rub shoulders with strangers, people you may never interact with apart from that bus ride, but there's something that's okay about it.
SEPTA inspires me.
There's something binding about riding public transit.
A community is created.
And I think I might have something to learn...
I watch young, tough guys help ladies bring grocery carts on and off the bus.
I've been the one with the grocery cart.
I watch a lady hold a child that she doesn't even know, so that the child's mother can carry all of her stuff and not stumble with the child in her hands.
I watch a kid get everyone around her smiling and mothers laughing with the ones around her.
I've had kids make my whole day on the bus, and talked with mothers as we laughed together.
I hear strangers help each other out with directions or questions.
I've had my questions answered.
I watch people sharing a hearty laugh with people they don't even know.
I watch guys with loud voices help others shout, "back door" when they need to get off so they don't miss their stop.
I've been the one they've helped.
I hear strangers wish each other a Merry Christmas as they leave.
You rub shoulders with strangers, people you may never interact with apart from that bus ride, but there's something that's okay about it.
SEPTA inspires me.
There's something binding about riding public transit.
A community is created.
And I think I might have something to learn...
Friday, November 29, 2013
Committed.
When I was in Houston, Texas for a week long Mission Year training, Leroy Barber, while speaking on diversity, explained the difference between "value" and "commitment."
The idea has resonated deeply with me recently.
To value something is to believe that it's important, to see it's usefulness, and to hold it in high opinion.
To commit to something is to make a decision that you won't continue without it, to be dedicated to it's cause, and to be actively working towards it.
There's a big difference in what the two look like.
I've been thinking a lot about what this looks like in my own life...
For all of my life I have valued God and living a Godly lifestyle. I grew up knowing it was important. In my mind it was always one of the most important things in life. But I was never consistent.
I swerved in and out of living in right communion with God. I would pursue it for a time, but would quickly revert back to my old nature when things got hard. My lifestyle and what I was pursuing didn't always line up with what I valued.
I would hold God highly, and when I felt like it, would walk in step with Him, but I wouldn't give Him all, because if I fully committed, I knew I couldn't jump right back into my sinful nature whenever I wanted to.
My heart was divided...
I struggle with commitment. I always have.
But something changed in me within this last year that I've continued to let stir inside of me.
I made a choice.
A choice to commit.
"But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely."
- Galatians 5:22-23 (The Message)
In the last couple weeks, I've found where the hard work of commitment comes in.
And I realized how little I truly committed to God throughout a lot of my life.
I've always valued God, but commitment is work...
A lot of hard work.
These passed couple weeks I've sat in the tension of learning what the messy parts of commitment look like.
The place where simply valuing isn't enough anymore.
I'm still trying to get a hang of this commitment thing.
I'm learning how to stick with it through the tension and the mess.
I'm not good at commitment. I may never be. But thankfully, I serve a God that holds more grace than I can ever truly comprehend and could ever come close to deserving.
I think, I can confidently say now...
That to God, I am committed.
I will live my life, to the best I can, to work towards His Kingdom and beauty in the world.
I will be wholly dedicated.
I will not settle for living without inviting Him to be present in every moment.
I will not give up. No matter the work. No matter the mess.
I am here. And I am committed.
...
Do you simply value God or are you committed?
There's a big difference in what the two look like.
I've been thinking a lot about what this looks like in my own life...
For all of my life I have valued God and living a Godly lifestyle. I grew up knowing it was important. In my mind it was always one of the most important things in life. But I was never consistent.
I swerved in and out of living in right communion with God. I would pursue it for a time, but would quickly revert back to my old nature when things got hard. My lifestyle and what I was pursuing didn't always line up with what I valued.
I would hold God highly, and when I felt like it, would walk in step with Him, but I wouldn't give Him all, because if I fully committed, I knew I couldn't jump right back into my sinful nature whenever I wanted to.
My heart was divided...
I struggle with commitment. I always have.
But something changed in me within this last year that I've continued to let stir inside of me.
I made a choice.
A choice to commit.
"But what happens when we live God’s way? He brings gifts into our lives, much the same way that fruit appears in an orchard—things like affection for others, exuberance about life, serenity. We develop a willingness to stick with things, a sense of compassion in the heart, and a conviction that a basic holiness permeates things and people. We find ourselves involved in loyal commitments, not needing to force our way in life, able to marshal and direct our energies wisely."
- Galatians 5:22-23 (The Message)
In the last couple weeks, I've found where the hard work of commitment comes in.
And I realized how little I truly committed to God throughout a lot of my life.
I've always valued God, but commitment is work...
A lot of hard work.
These passed couple weeks I've sat in the tension of learning what the messy parts of commitment look like.
The place where simply valuing isn't enough anymore.
I'm still trying to get a hang of this commitment thing.
I'm learning how to stick with it through the tension and the mess.
I'm not good at commitment. I may never be. But thankfully, I serve a God that holds more grace than I can ever truly comprehend and could ever come close to deserving.
I think, I can confidently say now...
That to God, I am committed.
I will live my life, to the best I can, to work towards His Kingdom and beauty in the world.
I will be wholly dedicated.
I will not settle for living without inviting Him to be present in every moment.
I will not give up. No matter the work. No matter the mess.
I am here. And I am committed.
...
Do you simply value God or are you committed?
Monday, November 25, 2013
His Name Is Love
“I think that’s what our world is desperately in need of – lovers, people who are building deep, genuine relationships with fellow strugglers along the way, and who actually know the faces of the people behind the issues they are concerned about.”
― Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution
We are called to be lovers.
Simple as that.
Lovers learning more and more about Love, Himself, so that we can become as He is and be able to love more fully. If we are pursuing a lifestyle of God, we are pursuing a lifestyle of love. If I am asking God to be present, love must be present.
How do they so often get separated in the mix of things?
How do we so easily forget?
Sometimes we get too caught up in the routines of life, sometimes we get too caught up in the rules, sometimes we get too caught up in morals and right and wrong and what we should do.
But what we should do, above all, is love.
Love is close.
Love means to know.
Yet we so often stay distant.
We throw money into cans of college students raising money for some distant cause, yet we won't look down into the faces of the people right in front of us.
When you think of the causes you support, do you see their faces?
Do you know their faces? Do you know their names?
Love is hard.
It requires you to step down. It requires you to humble yourself.
It requires A LOT of work. To keep loving no matter what.
As hard as it is, it is what we are called to.
I often think that if our goal, in everything that we did, was simply to love, the world would change.
When we truly start to love enough to know their faces, everything will change.
You will change.
They will change.
And the world will change one relationship at a time.
I truly believe that.
Love.
That is our mission.
Love.
That is our call.
Love.
That is His name.
And if that's who He is, it's who I want to be as well.
My God?
His name is Love.
Do you know His face?
― Shane Claiborne, The Irresistible Revolution
We are called to be lovers.
Simple as that.
Lovers learning more and more about Love, Himself, so that we can become as He is and be able to love more fully. If we are pursuing a lifestyle of God, we are pursuing a lifestyle of love. If I am asking God to be present, love must be present.
How do they so often get separated in the mix of things?
How do we so easily forget?
Sometimes we get too caught up in the routines of life, sometimes we get too caught up in the rules, sometimes we get too caught up in morals and right and wrong and what we should do.
But what we should do, above all, is love.
Love is close.
Love means to know.
Yet we so often stay distant.
We throw money into cans of college students raising money for some distant cause, yet we won't look down into the faces of the people right in front of us.
When you think of the causes you support, do you see their faces?
Do you know their faces? Do you know their names?
Love is hard.
It requires you to step down. It requires you to humble yourself.
It requires A LOT of work. To keep loving no matter what.
As hard as it is, it is what we are called to.
I often think that if our goal, in everything that we did, was simply to love, the world would change.
When we truly start to love enough to know their faces, everything will change.
You will change.
They will change.
And the world will change one relationship at a time.
I truly believe that.
Love.
That is our mission.
Love.
That is our call.
Love.
That is His name.
And if that's who He is, it's who I want to be as well.
My God?
His name is Love.
Do you know His face?
Friday, November 15, 2013
Where I Stand.
Philadelphia is beautiful in so many ways, and as I live life in the middle of it all it starts to change my perspective on so many things...
"Where you stand determines what you see." – Kathy Kelly
A lot of times, the only thing that people know of my neighborhood is what the news and media present. My team has heard the warnings and gotten the surprised faces, but I stand in a different place. I live in Hunting Park. When I think of Hunting Park, I think of Catalina and George and Rosa. I think of the young girls that sit on our porch and laugh and draw and paint fingernails together. I think of the kids using our chalk on the sidewalks. I think of all the generosity we've received and the meals we've shared. Hunting Park is home.
When we talk about passive and active racism and other race issues, being on the privileged side of things, as a White person, it can sometimes be easy to ignore the race issues all around. But not from where I stand. From where I stand, it affects my neighbors, it affects my neighborhood, it affects my city... I am now a part of something bigger, and so it affects me too. So I work towards a better understanding, and I work towards reconciliation and justice.
Silence is sometimes scary and uncomfortable; sometimes we don't know what to do with it, but going on a solitude retreat and staying silent stood me in a different place. Silence gives everything a little more meaning. The stars shine a little bit brighter. The leaves and colors dance a little bit lighter. And God meets you there if you seek Him out, and you learn to embrace the silence. Embrace the solitude.
People walk above the homeless as if they are no longer human. It often seems like there's no common ground. But not from where I stand. How often do you come with nothing but yourself? When you sit down and offer up an ear. When you look someone in the eye. When you laugh. I see God's face in the laugh lines around her brightened eyes. I see God's face in Bibi. And we are all human breathing the same air.
I'm learning what it looks like when "them" becomes "us," and we're not so different that we have to keep ourselves separate.
"Where you stand determines what you see."
And I am standing in Philadelphia. Standing in Hunting Park. Standing on the poverty line. Standing with my neighbors. Standing with the homeless. Standing with the oppressed. Standing in the silence. And the thing I see above all is the face of God.
I thank God for starting to change and shape my perspective and pray that he continues to stand me right where he wants me, amidst all of the tension and all of the beauty, in order to see his beautiful face.
So you can tell me what you've heard; you can tell me what you know, but until you allow yourself to stand in the middle of it all you will never see the beauty that's there.
Don't be afraid to stand in a different place. Perspective is everything.
"Where you stand determines what you see." – Kathy Kelly
A lot of times, the only thing that people know of my neighborhood is what the news and media present. My team has heard the warnings and gotten the surprised faces, but I stand in a different place. I live in Hunting Park. When I think of Hunting Park, I think of Catalina and George and Rosa. I think of the young girls that sit on our porch and laugh and draw and paint fingernails together. I think of the kids using our chalk on the sidewalks. I think of all the generosity we've received and the meals we've shared. Hunting Park is home.
When we talk about passive and active racism and other race issues, being on the privileged side of things, as a White person, it can sometimes be easy to ignore the race issues all around. But not from where I stand. From where I stand, it affects my neighbors, it affects my neighborhood, it affects my city... I am now a part of something bigger, and so it affects me too. So I work towards a better understanding, and I work towards reconciliation and justice.
Silence is sometimes scary and uncomfortable; sometimes we don't know what to do with it, but going on a solitude retreat and staying silent stood me in a different place. Silence gives everything a little more meaning. The stars shine a little bit brighter. The leaves and colors dance a little bit lighter. And God meets you there if you seek Him out, and you learn to embrace the silence. Embrace the solitude.
People walk above the homeless as if they are no longer human. It often seems like there's no common ground. But not from where I stand. How often do you come with nothing but yourself? When you sit down and offer up an ear. When you look someone in the eye. When you laugh. I see God's face in the laugh lines around her brightened eyes. I see God's face in Bibi. And we are all human breathing the same air.
I'm learning what it looks like when "them" becomes "us," and we're not so different that we have to keep ourselves separate.
"Where you stand determines what you see."
And I am standing in Philadelphia. Standing in Hunting Park. Standing on the poverty line. Standing with my neighbors. Standing with the homeless. Standing with the oppressed. Standing in the silence. And the thing I see above all is the face of God.
I thank God for starting to change and shape my perspective and pray that he continues to stand me right where he wants me, amidst all of the tension and all of the beauty, in order to see his beautiful face.
So you can tell me what you've heard; you can tell me what you know, but until you allow yourself to stand in the middle of it all you will never see the beauty that's there.
Don't be afraid to stand in a different place. Perspective is everything.
Monday, November 4, 2013
Inspiration
"People are often unreasonable, irrational, and self-centered.
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
-Mother Teresa
Forgive them anyway.
If you are kind, people may accuse you of selfish, ulterior motives.
Be kind anyway.
If you are successful, you will win some unfaithful friends and some genuine enemies.
Succeed anyway.
If you are honest and sincere people may deceive you.
Be honest and sincere anyway.
What you spend years creating, others could destroy overnight.
Create anyway.
If you find serenity and happiness, some may be jealous.
Be happy anyway.
The good you do today, will often be forgotten.
Do good anyway.
Give the best you have, and it will never be enough.
Give your best anyway.
In the final analysis, it is between you and God.
It was never between you and them anyway."
-Mother Teresa
Friday, October 4, 2013
Singing Hope
Chapel happens every Thursday outside in the school yard.
The seventy nine kids gather in our small outside area. They sing songs and listen to a teaching about God's character and love. They speak truths they've memorized and sing their Bible verse for the week in a catchy tune.
This week I watched as these kids sang out with all that they had. And I listened to the words that they were singing...
"I have a future. God has a plan for me."
I look at each kid. From Kindergarten to 8th, all singing the same words. And I start to tear up...
I hope that as life goes on they hold onto the truth in those words. I hope they still believe it. I hope that when things get hard those truths will stand stronger than ever before.
And I can hear their voices lifting and filling the neighborhood. With every person that passes. Overflowing into the streets and open windows. They get louder. They sing above the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
This is hope.
And I think about the power that comes in believing those words. And how powerful they can be in restoring and choosing something different than what we see all around us. I hear the truth in those words that bring about dignity and worth and a purpose that goes beyond this Earth.
This is the stuff that will change things. Seventy nine kids that believe in the truth of those words. I pray that they continue to choose to let it empower them.
And God is here working for justice and something more than we've seen. And there are people working faithfully to further the kingdom. Working to bring truth and healing to lies that engulf people and communities and cities...
God is present in Philadelphia. Revealing Himself in kids singing truth through the noise. Singing about a future and lifting their voices above the chaos. Above the expectations. Above the brokenness.
And maybe this is a taste of redemption...
From a God who loves to use the little things and the little ones.
The seventy nine kids gather in our small outside area. They sing songs and listen to a teaching about God's character and love. They speak truths they've memorized and sing their Bible verse for the week in a catchy tune.
This week I watched as these kids sang out with all that they had. And I listened to the words that they were singing...
"I have a future. God has a plan for me."
I look at each kid. From Kindergarten to 8th, all singing the same words. And I start to tear up...
I hope that as life goes on they hold onto the truth in those words. I hope they still believe it. I hope that when things get hard those truths will stand stronger than ever before.
And I can hear their voices lifting and filling the neighborhood. With every person that passes. Overflowing into the streets and open windows. They get louder. They sing above the hustle and bustle of everyday life.
This is hope.
And I think about the power that comes in believing those words. And how powerful they can be in restoring and choosing something different than what we see all around us. I hear the truth in those words that bring about dignity and worth and a purpose that goes beyond this Earth.
This is the stuff that will change things. Seventy nine kids that believe in the truth of those words. I pray that they continue to choose to let it empower them.
And God is here working for justice and something more than we've seen. And there are people working faithfully to further the kingdom. Working to bring truth and healing to lies that engulf people and communities and cities...
God is present in Philadelphia. Revealing Himself in kids singing truth through the noise. Singing about a future and lifting their voices above the chaos. Above the expectations. Above the brokenness.
And maybe this is a taste of redemption...
From a God who loves to use the little things and the little ones.
Friday, September 20, 2013
A God Who Beckons
I moved to Philadelphia about a week ago. And I love it. I really do.
But let me just tell you... It has been hard.
But not for reasons you would think. It hasn't been the "brokenness of the city," as most people would assume. I love my neighborhood and am so excited about becoming a part of it. I am so excited to learn from my neighbors and hear their stories. I truly couldn't be more happy with living in Hunting Park. Honestly. I love it. I love my team. I can't wait to continue to work towards true community with them. I know that soon, as I start my job, I am going to fall in love with all of the kids I get to work with.
But what the beginning of Mission Year has confronted me with is the brokenness within myself.
I've struggled with all of these things holding me back...
My insecurities. My hurts. My brokenness. My comfort zone. My expectations. Where I don't measure up.
...and on and on and on...
Mission Year is a great program. This has been even more validated in my mind through the last two weeks of orientation, learning more about what they stand for and what they're doing, and it just gets me all excited inside. Philly is a great city. It already is stealing my heart. I'm learning to call it home. I'm set up for a potentially great year.
But me?
I don't feel adequate.
And me?
I'm scared. And I'm broken. And I'm weak.
But my God is a God who beckons.
He's a God who stands me back up, looks me in the eyes, and reassures me. He reminds me of who I am and what I'm fighting for. He reminds me of my hopes and my dreams. Bringing peace to my doubts and my fears.
And Him?
He is strong.
And Him?
He is in the business of making broken things new.
He looks at me and knows alllll of my brokenness, yet calls me on.
I hear the invitation in His reassuring heartbeat beckoning me to come.
I want to surrender all to that beautiful call.
I. want. to. respond.
Here I am.
Send me.
But let me just tell you... It has been hard.
But not for reasons you would think. It hasn't been the "brokenness of the city," as most people would assume. I love my neighborhood and am so excited about becoming a part of it. I am so excited to learn from my neighbors and hear their stories. I truly couldn't be more happy with living in Hunting Park. Honestly. I love it. I love my team. I can't wait to continue to work towards true community with them. I know that soon, as I start my job, I am going to fall in love with all of the kids I get to work with.
But what the beginning of Mission Year has confronted me with is the brokenness within myself.
I've struggled with all of these things holding me back...
My insecurities. My hurts. My brokenness. My comfort zone. My expectations. Where I don't measure up.
...and on and on and on...
Mission Year is a great program. This has been even more validated in my mind through the last two weeks of orientation, learning more about what they stand for and what they're doing, and it just gets me all excited inside. Philly is a great city. It already is stealing my heart. I'm learning to call it home. I'm set up for a potentially great year.
But me?
I don't feel adequate.
And me?
I'm scared. And I'm broken. And I'm weak.
But my God is a God who beckons.
He's a God who stands me back up, looks me in the eyes, and reassures me. He reminds me of who I am and what I'm fighting for. He reminds me of my hopes and my dreams. Bringing peace to my doubts and my fears.
And Him?
He is strong.
And Him?
He is in the business of making broken things new.
He looks at me and knows alllll of my brokenness, yet calls me on.
I hear the invitation in His reassuring heartbeat beckoning me to come.
I want to surrender all to that beautiful call.
I. want. to. respond.
Here I am.
Send me.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Depression vs. Truth
If there was any question about it, I'll say it now...
I. am. depressed.
I have been since awkward pre-teen years, and it only escalated as I came into my high school years. I've been "tested." I've been diagnosed.
It is just a fact.
At this point in my life I have fought hard for years, after too many years of just letting it have me, to learn how to get my depression under control.
But let me just tell you, some days with depression are hard. Really hard.
And some days?
Some days just suck.
Some days I want to hide in a corner and wrap the familiar blanket of depression tight around my shoulders, and not. do. anything... at all. Just sit there and escape the world into my dark abyss of depression and fuel it with thoughts that seem to keep circling my head. Telling me I'm worthless and unlovable, telling me I'm a failure and can't accomplish anything... Telling me it's not worth pushing forward anymore. It's too hard. Telling me to give up.
Thoughts that shout lies at me. Lies that tear my worth apart.
Some days it feels impossible to get my perspective in the right place.
And it's all about perspective, isn't it?
One of the only things that gets me through these kind of days is Truth. Truth that I can hold onto. Truth that's constant. Truth that gives me hope.
Truth that whispers into my ear, as the lies shout in my head.
Sometimes it's hard to hear, isn't it? Sometimes I wish that the Truth that I know, would speak up above the lies, but I think that's the beauty of it. You have to search for it. You have to want it. And once you hear the gentle whisper of Truth, you'll know. There's no mistaking it. It's soothing and soft. It's healing.
It's that voice that tells you that...
You are beautiful. You are valuable. You are worth fighting for. That there's another side and a beautiful light piercing through the darkness.
It's the voice that quietly whispers into your ear...
I am here. I am true. I know you're struggle. I am fighting for you. I love you. I will not leave. I don't care what you've done. I don't care where you've been. Come. Rest. Find peace. Trust me.
My depression has taught me the importance of listening to that Truth. I have been broken and pathetic. I have been humbled. And my God is the only one who has gotten me through. I know my need, although often forget it. Sometimes I think that my depression is really a blessing in disguise, for it has kept me dependent on the One who sets my perspective straight. The One who loves me. The One who picks me up, brushes me off, and whispers, "We're going to get through this."
So hold onto Him, and stand up by His strength. Don't give up. Don't let the darkness have you. Let Him close enough to whisper His truth into your ear. Push forward. Keep going. Search for the beauty around you. Make goals. Work towards them. Set your focus on Him, and learn to see as He does. Don't settle for comfortable. Don't stop pushing passed your limits.
I need to hear it as much as you.
The Truth is bigger. The Truth is stronger. If you hold onto Truth, He will claim the victory.
I. am. depressed.
I have been since awkward pre-teen years, and it only escalated as I came into my high school years. I've been "tested." I've been diagnosed.
It is just a fact.
At this point in my life I have fought hard for years, after too many years of just letting it have me, to learn how to get my depression under control.
But let me just tell you, some days with depression are hard. Really hard.
And some days?
Some days just suck.
Some days I want to hide in a corner and wrap the familiar blanket of depression tight around my shoulders, and not. do. anything... at all. Just sit there and escape the world into my dark abyss of depression and fuel it with thoughts that seem to keep circling my head. Telling me I'm worthless and unlovable, telling me I'm a failure and can't accomplish anything... Telling me it's not worth pushing forward anymore. It's too hard. Telling me to give up.
Thoughts that shout lies at me. Lies that tear my worth apart.
Some days it feels impossible to get my perspective in the right place.
And it's all about perspective, isn't it?
One of the only things that gets me through these kind of days is Truth. Truth that I can hold onto. Truth that's constant. Truth that gives me hope.
Truth that whispers into my ear, as the lies shout in my head.
Sometimes it's hard to hear, isn't it? Sometimes I wish that the Truth that I know, would speak up above the lies, but I think that's the beauty of it. You have to search for it. You have to want it. And once you hear the gentle whisper of Truth, you'll know. There's no mistaking it. It's soothing and soft. It's healing.
It's that voice that tells you that...
You are beautiful. You are valuable. You are worth fighting for. That there's another side and a beautiful light piercing through the darkness.
It's the voice that quietly whispers into your ear...
I am here. I am true. I know you're struggle. I am fighting for you. I love you. I will not leave. I don't care what you've done. I don't care where you've been. Come. Rest. Find peace. Trust me.
My depression has taught me the importance of listening to that Truth. I have been broken and pathetic. I have been humbled. And my God is the only one who has gotten me through. I know my need, although often forget it. Sometimes I think that my depression is really a blessing in disguise, for it has kept me dependent on the One who sets my perspective straight. The One who loves me. The One who picks me up, brushes me off, and whispers, "We're going to get through this."
So hold onto Him, and stand up by His strength. Don't give up. Don't let the darkness have you. Let Him close enough to whisper His truth into your ear. Push forward. Keep going. Search for the beauty around you. Make goals. Work towards them. Set your focus on Him, and learn to see as He does. Don't settle for comfortable. Don't stop pushing passed your limits.
I need to hear it as much as you.
The Truth is bigger. The Truth is stronger. If you hold onto Truth, He will claim the victory.
Saturday, July 13, 2013
Beautiful Quote ♥
"What I find amazing in my walk with Jesus is that when He does His work in us, it undoes the damage that came before. It redeems it all and makes it part of our redemptive story so that even our worst wounds and disappointments become things we look back on with a measure of fondness because we see that they played their part in the making of who we are today and our deliverance is sweeter because of them."
- Jason Gray
- Jason Gray
Friday, July 12, 2013
Only Through Him
I've had several people, who know a little bit about my story the last couple years, and where I've come from in my journey, say stuff like, "Now you know how strong you are." "Now you know that you can do it." And it got me thinking... From an outside perspective this might seem to make sense. But it never sat well with me. It's true, I've overcome a lot... Yet still, I think that just the opposite is true.
Through my struggles I realized just how weak I was (or probably more like am).
Just how desperate.
More than anything, throughout these years, I've learned that I. can't. do. it. I just get myself into trouble. If it were all dependent on my strength I would just keep myself stuck, and surely self-destruct eventually.
I realized, in and of myself, I am not good. I am not strong. I don't know where to go. I can't make healthy decision. My perspective's skewed. And I am broken.
I have come to know all my flaws intimately. And they. are. ugly.
This journey has taught me that clearly.
But I think that the beauty in all of this is that those ugly, messy truths don't bring me down anymore... If anything, recognizing brings me to a better place. Recognizing this is the reason I made it through.
My realization of just how weak I am, brought me to a greater realization of just how strong He is.
When I recognize that there's no way I could ever make it, is when I start to move forward with His strength.
The ugliness of my mistakes show me the pure beauty of His forgiveness.
When I come to realize that in and of myself I have nothing, is when I desperately cling to my God, and I find this whole new appreciation of who He is and what's He's done for me.
It leads me to live a life dependent on and forever grateful for the only one who could ever save me.
The beauty is He never left me to do it alone. When I finally take His hand and let Him guide me, when I finally seek His strength, when I finally realize just how much I need a Savior, when I realize that within myself I can't do it, it is only then, that I can.
I can boast in my mistakes, I can boast in the beautiful, messy story that is being written, not because of who I am, and what I've done, but because of who He is, and what He's done, for it is only through Him that I am here and moving forward.
It wasn't ever my strength that I recognized, but His. And THAT makes all the difference.
Through my struggles I realized just how weak I was (or probably more like am).
Just how desperate.
More than anything, throughout these years, I've learned that I. can't. do. it. I just get myself into trouble. If it were all dependent on my strength I would just keep myself stuck, and surely self-destruct eventually.
I realized, in and of myself, I am not good. I am not strong. I don't know where to go. I can't make healthy decision. My perspective's skewed. And I am broken.
I have come to know all my flaws intimately. And they. are. ugly.
This journey has taught me that clearly.
But I think that the beauty in all of this is that those ugly, messy truths don't bring me down anymore... If anything, recognizing brings me to a better place. Recognizing this is the reason I made it through.
My realization of just how weak I am, brought me to a greater realization of just how strong He is.
When I recognize that there's no way I could ever make it, is when I start to move forward with His strength.
The ugliness of my mistakes show me the pure beauty of His forgiveness.
When I come to realize that in and of myself I have nothing, is when I desperately cling to my God, and I find this whole new appreciation of who He is and what's He's done for me.
It leads me to live a life dependent on and forever grateful for the only one who could ever save me.
The beauty is He never left me to do it alone. When I finally take His hand and let Him guide me, when I finally seek His strength, when I finally realize just how much I need a Savior, when I realize that within myself I can't do it, it is only then, that I can.
I can boast in my mistakes, I can boast in the beautiful, messy story that is being written, not because of who I am, and what I've done, but because of who He is, and what He's done, for it is only through Him that I am here and moving forward.
It wasn't ever my strength that I recognized, but His. And THAT makes all the difference.
Wednesday, June 26, 2013
here i am. send me.
I've recently, within myself, been met with this challenge...
I've been reading through the book of Isaiah, and came to "Isaiah's Cleansing and Call," as the subtitles say. The Lord says at one point,
"Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?"
Isaiah replies,
"Here I am. Send me."
Here I am. Send me.
What if that was always our response to God's calling?
What if THAT was our life motto, what we lived by?
Two sentences. Five words.
Simple. Right?
Yet it's SO much more. This. is. a. heart. issue.
Surprise, surprise.
It's a submission to our God. A willingness to let Him do with our lives what He wants, NOT what we want. A desire to work towards the fulfillment of His will. It puts us in a humble state to be used as His tool. This means that we sacrifice our plans for the sake of His.
If you didn't already get it,
This is alllll about Him.
I want to live with that type of submission always ready on my lips.
Always in my heart.
I want my life to be constantly saying, "Here I am. Send me."
And I want to trust that if my heart sincerely says that, and my life sincerely shows that, that wherever this journey takes me, my God will be right there with me every step of the way, and I can rest in that assurance.
So when I get apprehensive about the future...
"Here I am. Send me."
When I'm scared to confront that person that has been placed in my path...
"Here I am. Send me."
When I don't feel brave enough to pray with that person that has been laid heavy on my heart...
"Here I am. Send me."
When what I want and what God wants seems very different...
"Here I am. Send me."
And if done right, this response should rightfully be followed by action.
I want my life to constantly echo the words of Isaiah, and hope, maybe you'll take the challenge with me. To become more and more submissive and trusting of our Heavenly Father.
I think that learning to echo Isaiah's response might be a good place to start.
"Here I am. Send me."
I've been reading through the book of Isaiah, and came to "Isaiah's Cleansing and Call," as the subtitles say. The Lord says at one point,
"Whom should I send as a messenger to this people? Who will go for us?"
Isaiah replies,
"Here I am. Send me."
Here I am. Send me.
What if that was always our response to God's calling?
What if THAT was our life motto, what we lived by?
Two sentences. Five words.
Simple. Right?
Yet it's SO much more. This. is. a. heart. issue.
Surprise, surprise.
It's a submission to our God. A willingness to let Him do with our lives what He wants, NOT what we want. A desire to work towards the fulfillment of His will. It puts us in a humble state to be used as His tool. This means that we sacrifice our plans for the sake of His.
If you didn't already get it,
This is alllll about Him.
I want to live with that type of submission always ready on my lips.
Always in my heart.
I want my life to be constantly saying, "Here I am. Send me."
And I want to trust that if my heart sincerely says that, and my life sincerely shows that, that wherever this journey takes me, my God will be right there with me every step of the way, and I can rest in that assurance.
So when I get apprehensive about the future...
"Here I am. Send me."
When I'm scared to confront that person that has been placed in my path...
"Here I am. Send me."
When I don't feel brave enough to pray with that person that has been laid heavy on my heart...
"Here I am. Send me."
When what I want and what God wants seems very different...
"Here I am. Send me."
And if done right, this response should rightfully be followed by action.
I want my life to constantly echo the words of Isaiah, and hope, maybe you'll take the challenge with me. To become more and more submissive and trusting of our Heavenly Father.
I think that learning to echo Isaiah's response might be a good place to start.
"Here I am. Send me."
Thursday, June 20, 2013
write.
When I write I release something within me.
When I write I free something inside.
I get drawn in by the words.
Wrapped up in the flow.
It's enchanting.
I can't seem to stop.
When I write I give a piece of myself to that paper
or that napkin
or that bulletin
When I write I become honest in every sense of the word.
I can all of a sudden express myself.
Somehow I find words for my feelings.
I give that paper
a memory
or a feeling
or a glimpse of my heart.
When I write I lose myself.
When I write I find myself.
Time escapes me.
My attention is focused.
Mind caressed by a steady stream of words and phrases.
Heart seduced by the beautiful rhythmic flow I somehow create.
When I write I communicate.
Though oftentimes no one's on the other end.
It's how I do it best.
I can tell you what I think.
I can point out right from wrong
and left from right.
Things come together like puzzle pieces finding their mate.
It makes sense.
When I write everything else fades away.
When I write nothing else matters.
It's just the paper and I
And sometimes I think it's listening.
Taking in my every cry.
Taking in every detail of my thoughts.
Maybe it cries with me.
Maybe it bleeds with me.
Maybe it relives every memory with me.
Maybe it longs to comfort me.
But the paper just listens.
It always listens.
Even when no one else will.
When I write I have a voice.
When I write I am heard.
No one stops me
or corrects me
or tries to fix me
or tells me what's wrong
or what I need to do
There are no interruptions.
It's a pure release.
When I write I can sing.
When I write I can dance.
When I write I can paint.
My words paint a picture.
My font dances on the paper.
I play with it.
Change it.
When I write I can own it.
This is mine.
These words are my own.
This is my story.
No one can take this from me.
When I write I can see.
When I write I am free.
When I write I free something inside.
I get drawn in by the words.
Wrapped up in the flow.
It's enchanting.
I can't seem to stop.
When I write I give a piece of myself to that paper
or that napkin
or that bulletin
When I write I become honest in every sense of the word.
I can all of a sudden express myself.
Somehow I find words for my feelings.
I give that paper
a memory
or a feeling
or a glimpse of my heart.
When I write I lose myself.
When I write I find myself.
Time escapes me.
My attention is focused.
Mind caressed by a steady stream of words and phrases.
Heart seduced by the beautiful rhythmic flow I somehow create.
When I write I communicate.
Though oftentimes no one's on the other end.
It's how I do it best.
I can tell you what I think.
I can point out right from wrong
and left from right.
Things come together like puzzle pieces finding their mate.
It makes sense.
When I write everything else fades away.
When I write nothing else matters.
It's just the paper and I
And sometimes I think it's listening.
Taking in my every cry.
Taking in every detail of my thoughts.
Maybe it cries with me.
Maybe it bleeds with me.
Maybe it relives every memory with me.
Maybe it longs to comfort me.
But the paper just listens.
It always listens.
Even when no one else will.
When I write I have a voice.
When I write I am heard.
No one stops me
or corrects me
or tries to fix me
or tells me what's wrong
or what I need to do
There are no interruptions.
It's a pure release.
When I write I can sing.
When I write I can dance.
When I write I can paint.
My words paint a picture.
My font dances on the paper.
I play with it.
Change it.
When I write I can own it.
This is mine.
These words are my own.
This is my story.
No one can take this from me.
When I write I can see.
When I write I am free.
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