We Must Not Forget

"Now the birth of Jesus Christ took place in this way. When his mother Mary had been betrothed to Joseph, before they came together she was found to be with child from the Holy Spirit." (Matthew 1:18)

A young girl, pregnant before marriage, shamed by her family and community, was my Savior's mother.

"And she gave birth to her firstborn son and wrapped him in swaddling cloths and laid him in a manger, because there was no place for them in the inn." (Luke 2:7)

My Savior was born a refugee. My Savior was born with no home. My Savior slept, for the first time, in a manger meant for animal feed.

"When the angels went away from them into heaven, the shepherds said to one another, 'Let us go over to Bethlehem and see this thing that has happened, which the Lord has made known to us.' And they went with haste and found Mary and Joseph, and the baby lying in a manger." (Luke 2:15-16)

One of the lowest viewed people, both economically and in cleanliness, who lived on the margins of society, were my Savior's first guests.

"Now when they had departed, behold, an angel of the Lord appeared to Joseph in a dream and said, 'Rise, take the child and his mother, and flee to Egypt, and remain there until I tell you, for Herod is about to search for the child, to destroy him." (Matthew 2:13)

My Savior was forced to flee for his life. My Savior was vulnerable and very much in need of saving.

"Then Herod, when he saw that he had been tricked by the wise men, became furious, and he sent and killed all the male children in Bethlehem and in all that region who were two years old or under, according to the time that he had ascertained from the wise men.Then was fulfilled what was spoken by the prophet Jeremiah:'A voice was heard in Ramah, weeping and loud lamentation, Rachel weeping for her children; she refused to be comforted, because they are no more." (Matthew 2:16-18)

My Savior, as a babe, threatened the power structure. My Savior caused a scandal.

This is how my Savior's story starts.

This is the Jesus I serve.

We must not forget the person Jesus came here as. We must not forget the people who he celebrated with. We need not miss the darkness of our "Christmas story." We need not miss the pain. 

We make our Christmas season all about the Light, but what is the point if we don't first dive deep into the darkness of the world around us and in us? How do you recognize the Light when you're closing your eyes in the dark?

This passed month I have felt the presence of my Savior the strongest and seen the Light in a whole new way by experiencing the ache that comes from looking the darkness of this world straight in the face. I've found Jesus in the midst of peaceful protesters and meetings full of hurting people longing for justice. I have felt him in the pavement beneath my feet and the chill of the wind on my face. In listening to mothers and fathers cry for their children that are no more. I have found him in very dark and very painful places.

And it has hurt and sometimes, it makes you tired. There are tears and there is anger, and it weighs heavy on your heart, but there is no doubt in my mind that, that is where we, as people of faith, need to be, right in the middle of this deeply broken world.

It's where Jesus stood from the moment he was born.

I am asking you to wake up this Advent season. Open your eyes. See the deep darkness of this world. Open your ears. Hear the weeping of all of the Rachels whose children are no more. Let yourself feel it deeply. It's not time to sit back and watch. It is time to stand up.

The Christmas story leaves us with this question of allegiance. Where will you stand? With the powerful or the One born on the margins?

Remember, as we fill our world with Christmas lights and reflect on the birth of Jesus this season, that "we do the Light a disservice when we underestimate the darkness." (Christena Cleveland)

I pray that you step into this world's heavy darkness so that you feel the deep, desperate hope that Jesus came here to be.

Where Struggles and Dreams Collide

I found my God where my
                         struggles and dreams
                                   collide...
in this connection between my doubts and my hopes
    when I'm confronted with the tension and
                                           the relationship
                             between the two.
My hurt and my weakness surface
              as I strive towards where I want to be
       and my God meets me there.
He meets me in the tension.
He meets me in the mess.
He meets me as who I am and shows me who I can be.
He finds me in my struggle
      and reminds me of my dreams
My God is a God that draws me close
                              and beckons me on
   who sees my doubt
   and invites me to something more.
He holds my hurt
           and asks me to welcome healing.
It's in my brokenness and all of my doubt
     that I feel His reassuring heartbeat
           beckoning me to come...

You hover.

hope.

a distant shore.

unimagined.

unknown.

a chase.

i chase it.

every fiber in my being reaches.

longs.

i push on. (push back?)

the distant seems to stretch on forever.

water with no end.

yet You hover.

in between my standing and my distant hope,

You hover.

and yet i'm looking passed.

i'm looking passed.

what am i reaching for,

if it reaches passed You?

who am i looking for?

what am i looking for?

the shore or the storm?

and in which do You reside?

You hover.

This is for you.

I'm writing today to those who struggle,

to those who are worn and tired,

for those who want to give up,

for those who are depressed,

for those who have fought for too long,

for those who are still stuck,

for those who know shame too well,

and are friends with the pain inside of them,
for those who are lonely,

for those who are looking for the strength to keep going,

for those who have lost their motivation,

for those who are tired of having to fight,

for you,

for me.

I need you to know that you are beautiful.
I need you to know that you are worth more than you believe.
I need you to know that you have so much to offer.
Something only you can.
Beauty and life.
I need you to know that you are more than your depression.
More than your anxiety.
More than the messes you make.
That you are more.
I need you to know that you are not too much.
I need you to know that you can laugh.
I need you to know that there's nothing holding you back from living life to it's fullest.
I need you to know it's possible.
I need you to know that there is a Light.
That there is Hope.
I need you to know that it's okay that you're down again.
I need you to know that you are strong.
Strong enough to stand back up.
I need you to know that the fight is worth it.
That you are worth it.
I know you're tired,
but I need you to keep fighting.

Covered Subway Walls.

The subway speeds passed

walls that are covered.

Letters.

Words.

Are you trying to be heard?

And I wonder who made the first mark?

Who was the first one to venture down into the dark?

And what was it that you wanted to say?

Did you need someone to listen?

And those dark walls were the only ones that seemed to care?

Did you need to be seen?
To be known?

Your white paint standing against the black painted walls.

Trying to express your pain?

I watch as I pass by.

I take in all of your marks.

I wonder who you are.

And what it was that made you cover the subway walls.

For heavy hearts.

Recently, I've been heavy with the weight of the hurt and pain I see around me. In the people I know and share life with. In the neighborhood and city I've come to love. In my church family. In the little faces that have pieces of my heart.

I find myself heavy over pains that aren't mine. Crying over injustices I have not been the victim of. Feeling all of these hurts that weren't meant for me. Pleading on behalf of circumstances I seem to have nothing to do with. And I've been asking God "Why?" a whole lot recently. Why do people get cancer and brain tumors? Why are kids abused? Why do people commit suicide and people are left with empty hearts? Why are there so many unloved orphans? Why do people have to be homeless and turned aside because of it? Why do girls get sold into sex slavery everyday? Why do ladies walk our streets at night? Why?.. And where, God, are You in all of that?

I was praying with a heavy heart the other day and crying out to God saying, "I feel all of this weight and hurt and pain, but God, I don't feel You." And in that, I heard his response. "That is me. When you feel all of those hurts and pains; when you cry over the brokenness of this world. There?.. That's where I am. It's just a different piece of me. I am with you. I cry alongside you. Your heart is starting to line up with mine and in that you will feel these pains deeper than you ever have. But I am there."

I don't have any answers. But I believe this weight I feel is actually good. I think I'm making a transition from being broken for the people around me to being broken with them. That's what the incarnation is all about, isn't it? Sharing in each others pains and burdens. Breaking alongside each other. It's what he came here to do for us. I don't know why terrible things happen. I don't think I ever will. But as I pray, "Break my heart for what breaks Yours." I should expect to be broken. With others, with my own brokenness, and with my God. But the beauty is that he is there in the brokenness, longing to fill every crack, this broken world has caused, with his glory.

May we be people who have hope through the pain and disappointments of life, for he is right alongside us.
I don't know why, but maybe that's the wrong question to be asking.

"That which tears open our souls, those holes that splatter our sight, may actually become the thin, open places to see through the mess of this place to the heart-aching beauty beyond. To Him. To the God whom we endlessly crave."

- Ann Voscamp

May we be people who see the heart-aching beauty beyond.

Coffee with

friends

is really just

a long way to say

"Therapy."

Closer.

When my depression and darkness are close

Lord, I want you to be closer.

When they're leaning over my back,

I want You to be wrapped around my shoulders.

When they're weighing on my mind,

I want You to be weighing on my heart.

When they're overwhelming my heart,

Lord, overwhelm my soul.

When they're pressing in on all sides,

I want to be pressed against Your chest.

When they whisper lies,

Lord, whisper truth.

When they're grasp seems tight,

hold me tighter still.

Lord, pull me one step closer

until all I see is You.

Do You See Them?

Do you see them?

The man in the orange jumpsuit. Marked for the rest of his life. In a relentless prison system that loves to get people stuck.

Do you see them?

The one with the cardboard sign and blankets sitting on a curb. With an empty stomach and no place to rest their weary body. No place of belonging.

Do you see them?

The girl on the corner, in the short skirt, walking down a street, waiting for a stranger, with only one thing on his mind. Waiting to please and hopefully make some cash. Threatened. Controlled. Trapped.

Do you see them?

The black boy walking to the corner store, as aware of his color as he is of the cops watching him, and the sad, but obvious correlation between the two.

Do you see them?

The one on the corner, waiting to sell the drugs in his pocket, his mind occupied by the hungry little one back home. Only trying to provide a meal.

Do you see them?

The one addicted to drugs. Raped as a child, she found a way to leave it all. Tired eyes. Dependent on a substance that cares no mind to its faithful user, yet it catches her fall. It's there for her more than anyone ever was.

Do you see them? 

They are there. All around you. Don't be fooled by the stereotypes. They are human. They have faces and names and stories. Hardened eyes that cry to be seen, to be heard, to be loved.

What will it take for us to see them?

Redefine me.

There are gifts within you.
There are talents and there are struggles.
There is beauty and there is ugliness.

I know, because they're in me too.

These contradictions that make up my whole being.

All of these pieces that somehow fit together to make me the person that I am.

I used to have this idea, in my head, that when I decided to truly give my life to Jesus, He would change me. I would be a totally different person. Someone I didn't know. Someone I wasn't. I would look more like all of the other Christians I saw. Maybe I would no longer be full of these contradictions. Maybe my passions would change. Everything would be different. I would be different. That's just how it goes.

But this idea that I had frustrated me. Haunted me. I was not a different person. I still struggled with the same things. I didn't fit into any cookie cutter image. And all of a sudden I felt like I didn't know who I was.

But I've begun to change my prayer...

God isn't sitting around trying to make everybody look the same. I believe, He's actually doing quite the opposite. God's not trying to make me anyone other than who I am. But I do believe, and I've begun to pray, that he will redefine me.


Redefine...
         To define something differently.

God is in the business of redefining.

He takes what's there and redefines it, using it for His glory.

I will always be Amber. I will always have these passions. I will always have these struggles. But I am asking God to redefine them. Show me how to use all of these things for His glory.

Redefine my passions.
Redefine my talents.
Redefine even my weaknesses.

Because so often my greatest weakness, by God's grace, can turn into my greatest strength.

...if only I let Him redefine it...

If it were up to me, apart from God, I would probably be investing myself, passions, and gifts into very different things, and I would be unhealthily feeding my struggles and weaknesses.

When I allow God to step in, that doesn't all go away, but what it looks like is very different.

I was painting the other day and thinking through this idea of redefining...
And I realized my paints tell the whole story...

I have a color.
Red.

I use it for a certain purpose. For certain details. For a certain feel.

But then another color comes along.
Blue.

They mix.


And all of a sudden a new color is formed.
Purple.

But I never got rid of the red. Really, the red is still there. It just looks different.


And now purple, I use for something totally different then the red alone. But the red is there. Still a base for the purple itself. It's just being used in a different way.

Red could never be purple by itself.




I imagine what it looks like for my passions, talents, and struggles to mix with God and His heart.
What colors would it create?
Where would it be used?


Redefine me.

I look down at my pallet.
Colors. All sorts.
You can see the process of the mixing.
The process of new colors being made.
Colors being redefined.

There's darks and lights and everything in between.
It's messy.
And yet the product is beautiful.

It's a process of transformation. A process of taking what's there, using it as a base, and making something new. A process of redefining.

Trust in the messy process of redefining. Let God use you, in your entirety, with all that you have for His purposes and His glory. Don't give into the lie that you have to be someone else. You simply have to be redefined. Let this be your prayer.

Redefine me.

A Reminder to Stop.

Christmas break was a time of relaxation and reflection. Spending time with family, catching up with good friends, sharing all that's happened my last four months, having challenging conversations, simply enjoying the presence of the ones I love, it was a much needed time of rest.

Rest.

It's funny to me that the busyness of the city has taught me so much about rest. Perhaps because it's important, and, at times, more needed to take a step back from the over stimulating environment of the city. Maybe my on going schedule forces me to seek out the small moments of rest. Maybe I've just come to cherish those quiet, alone moments that feed me, because they've become more and more rare. Whatever the case, rest has become a yearning in my heart. To constantly be resting in the arms of my God and finding the moments where that can be my focus.

It's hard for me to rest. To stop. Pause a busy schedule and be at peace. My mind always seems to be running restlessly. On top of that struggle already in place, it's hard to find the time for it. Life and busy schedules push us to keep going, as if rest was wrong. So too often, we miss it.

We can't forget the moments that we stop. The moments that we breathe and breathe in the presence of our ever present God.
"Let my soul be at rest again, for the Lord has been good to me."
- Psalm 116:7

I think we all need more moments where we stop. Stop the busyness of our schedule. Stop the busyness of our thoughts. Stop, remember the goodness of our God, and rest. I hope that this month you'll find beautiful moments of rest and that you'll make it a priority. I'll be working towards the same.

Thankful that He Moved into My Neighborhood

"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.

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...

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?

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?

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.

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

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.

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.

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.