Once Shy

Where Fear Can Be Remade

Tue, 28 Apr 2026 04:07:50 GMT

The people who drew near to Jesus were the despised, the sinners, the children.

Maybe those who have little to lose in the way of reputation have the clearest view.

“Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him. And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, ‘This man receives sinners and eats with them.’

“So he told them this parable: ‘What man of you, having a hundred sheep, if he has lost one of them, does not leave the ninety-nine in the open country, and go after the one that is lost, until he finds it? And when he has found it, he lays it on his shoulders, rejoicing’” (Luke 15:1-5).

In this same scene in Luke 15, Jesus also shared the story of the prodigal son and the father who loved him with reckless generosity. Before an audience who continually looked down on the sinner, Jesus proclaimed the unquestionable value of the runaway in our heavenly Father’s eyes.

Dane Ortlund writes, “Though the crowds call [Jesus] the friend of sinners as an indictment, the label is one of unspeakable comfort for those who know themselves to be sinners. That Jesus is friend to sinners is only contemptible to those who feel themselves not to be in that category” ( Gentle and Lowly , p. 114).

The most lowly of society saw Jesus as more than approachable. Children bounded up to him. The outcasts came close. The nature of Jesus’ presence gave them confidence to lean in. Here is someone who sees me and doesn’t look away. Here is someone who speaks of God as if God wants…me…not loyalty to a system I could never pretend to conform to.

When they saw God through Jesus, they didn’t feel daunted. When He said, “Come to me, all who are weary” (Matt. 11:28), they recognized the God in whose image they’d always been made.

The Good Shepherd freed them to shed heavy-laden expectations and enter worship with rest, right there at His table.

How did children know they didn’t have to keep a respectable distance? How did the sinners learn they were free to join the feast where Jesus dined?

They experienced His presence.

After years spent hearing of a God who doesn’t come too close, worn and weary people experienced something new. Any fear they’d felt of a distant, condescending God, met a Person who reshaped that narrative.

How many of us have ever felt afraid that God saw us as disappointments? Too dirty for Him to touch. Too fickle for Him to sit with.

When have we been apprehensive to listen to the steady Voice who waits for us to hear with our hearts? “Take my yoke upon you, and learn from me, for I am gentle and lowly in heart, and you will find rest for your souls” (Matt. 11:29).

Jesus’ presence keeps speaking. The Word cannot be silenced.

Sometimes a small glimmer of Him shines through the fractured vessels of people.

Always, He’s close to all who seek His presence.

Learn from me, He says.

We’re free to pull up a chair, to bound into His heart with our careworn self. Here every fear is shared without shame, and every nervous soul is met with the perfect relief of a Shepherd who delights to feast with His own.

Some may say to ignore fear. Trudge on. Bear the heavy load. But when we can be guests at a table of grace where fear can be remade, what more could a heart want than to come in earnest to the Shepherd’s gentle love?

“Take my yoke upon you…for my yoke is easy and my burden is light” (Matt. 11:29-30).

What Helps a Slow Heart Remember

Tue, 14 Apr 2026 17:45:43 GMT

When goodness is in reach, I don’t always recognize it.

This is true for mothers, and for little boys too.

A few nights before Easter, I pulled into the Family Dollar after dark and found the plastic eggs and candy for my son. So many of the Easter baskets came in pinks and yellows with flowers and bows, but I did find a green plastic bucket with a cute dinosaur face—bright, round eyes, pointy ears and a jolly smile. I wondered if it was too “young” for my eight year old, but hoped for the best.

When I arrived home to show my findings to Gideon, he gasped in delight and dutifully took his place at the table to fill twelve eggs with candy for the class egg hunt at school.

Success!

Or so I thought.

The next morning my daughters woke earlier than normal, determined to make pancakes before school. Comforting wafts of buttery goodness drew the whole family to the kitchen. Gideon called for me with outstretched arms and showed me where he had written his name on his bucket. The morning felt unusually cheery for its early hour and the whole tone of the house felt magical.

But soon, a shift came in the eyes of my boy. Plates began to go onto the table. Next to the green bucket. Gideon stared.

Nano noticed something amiss and caught my eye.

With little shoulders slumped, our boy wandered off to the bedroom. His daddy saw his welling eyes and urged me to follow.

Sitting next to Gideon on the bed, I said he must be sad about something and wondered aloud what it was.

“The bucket,” he said. “I don’t want to take the bucket to school.”

This made sense to me. The time for school drew closer and he must’ve decided the bucket was too young for him after all. “You don’t have to take that bucket,” I told him. “I’ll bet we can find something else…okay?”

He nodded. “And Mommy?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give that bucket back to the store?”

I urged him not to worry about that, but he pressed me further. He wanted the bucket gone.

In the kitchen, my daughter told me where she had seen Gideon’s Spider-Man bucket from Halloween and we decided that might work.

With some help from Nano, we found the bucket in the old smokehouse before Gideon joined the girls for breakfast. While I cut my boy's pancakes, he confirmed that Spider-Man buckets are better than dinosaur buckets.

Later when the kids were at school, I debated whether to keep or toss the one-dollar bucket, before I wrapped it in a grocery bag and dropped it in the trash bin.

At the school pick-up that afternoon, Gideon announced a change. “Mommy, I do want my dinosaur bucket.” He planned to use it for another egg hunt over the weekend.

The second he stepped out of the car at home, he asked me where to look. I assured Gideon I would get his bucket and sent him inside before doing a quick dumpster dive in the front yard. The windows revealed my secret though, and he stood laughing at me when I walked in the door.

Then the bucket, though shunned that morning, became a joy to him again.

When I asked him what changed his mind, he just said he realized he could still use it.

He saw a purpose for it.

I can relate to him. I often take time to accept a situation. I want to know there’s good purpose for the stretching seasons I go through. When I struggle to see the purpose, I wrestle with accepting the season.

Sometimes the best gifts begin to arrive in ways that look more like loss than gift.

Then, when dashed hopes are being redeemed into something new, my heart is slow to recognize that beauty.

What helps a worn-down heart to see a path as worth accepting?

God answers prayers, even through pain. I can stare an answered prayer in the face and not see the faithful hand of my Father. I can hear the beauty of the resurrection and not tune in to the softest ripple of its melody amidst the days I live.

On the road to Emmaus, Cleopas and his friend had heard news of the empty tomb, yet their hearts locked in on memories of disappointed hopes. When the resurrected Jesus began to walk with them on their journey, they knew him only as a fellow traveler—one who was quite uninformed.

When Jesus asked them what they were talking about, “they stood still, looking sad” (Luke 24:17). They shared with their new companion about Jesus, the mighty prophet. They lamented how they had hoped he would be the one to redeem Israel, until he was killed. The women who claimed that Jesus was now alive seemed to concern them. The empty tomb stirred their worry.

Jesus gently rebuked their slowness of heart—reluctant to believe what they’d already heard. He recalled the prophecies they knew, yet they heard it differently this time. His unfolding of the Scriptures enlightened their understanding. That evening they begged him to have dinner with them. In the moment he broke bread, they knew him as Jesus. Immediately, he vanished, and they said, “Did not our hearts burn within us while he talked to us on the road, while he opened to us the Scriptures?” (Luke 24:32)

Jesus stayed in bodily form beside them until their hearts could see that the death he died, and even their disappointed hopes, were all for good.

Their Master walked with them to help them see God’s good purpose and a fire kindled inside them. His presence ignited their acceptance of the story. The breaking of bread, the moment that brought memories, the burning in their hearts, all helped them see the goodness right there.

Adam McHugh says, “When the two disciples who walked to Emmaus reflected on their night with that oddly familiar stranger, they marveled that their hearts burned within their chests as he spoke. A central part of the Christian spiritual life…comes in paying attention to the moments when our hearts are burning. In those times, we may just find that we are not alone” ( The Listening Life , p. 184).

For the seasons of life we don’t want to accept, maybe we’re not alone. When I hear that the ugliest losses bear the most precious purpose to my Father, something burns in my heart and I don’t want to brush past this.

The memories of disappointed hopes cannot truly outweigh the memories of the One who always knows how to rekindle my joy.

For all it contains, this season of my life will bear good purpose.

I do want this bucket.

How Tiny Dreams Grow Hope

Tue, 24 Mar 2026 16:48:15 GMT

There is something about the tiny ways we experience a dream coming true that changes our outlook. Whether it’s an idea brought to fruition, a task finished, a plan fulfilled, these moments train us to believe more is possible.

There are seasons when my soul needs to witness these tiny wants coming true while I guard my heart, find new energy and pray for grace to refuel my hope. In those times, if I try to rush myself, push ahead, I don’t leave room for the autumn and winter seasons of my soul. Just as all of life needs times of letting go, and the silence of snow, so there are places in my soul that need what is steady, what is slow.

When old seasons of life have died, it’s time to hunt for beauty in the little shoots of life.

Here are a few ways this looks for me right now. While these practices are small, they are exercises that help me look forward.

Right now, I’m wanting to meet new people at church, and needing to keep it simple. This week I met Sally and Renae. I had brief conversations with each of them. I wrote down their names to help myself remember.
For years, I’ve been wanting to read historical fiction again. I finally started. A few days ago, I finished a book set in the early nineteen hundreds. Then, I began another, set a few centuries earlier.
I’ve wanted to adjust my morning routine in a way that gets me moving and helps me feel grounded. For the last month I’ve rolled out my yoga mat most weekday mornings and used it for ten minutes. As short a time as it is, it helps me feel alive knowing I’m keeping a promise to myself.

When I see my small hopes play out as I come to the last page of a book, tell my husband about new people, and spend regular mornings on the yoga mat, the small things stack up. Something inside me begins to notice that I have choices in life. I wished for a reality and it came to happen.

These small practices help me embrace life-giving rhythms, even while honoring the season I’m in and the pace of my soul.

It’s freeing to acknowledge where I am. When I admit that I’m not in a season of summer plenty, and admit my capacity for life has limits, this helps me live more fully in the gift of today.

While life is communal, we experience it individually too. Parker Palmer writes, “We must come together in ways that respect the solitude of the soul…”

The solitude of the soul is our garden to tend. It’s different from our neighbors’. Every garden needs water and light to grow, and sufficient protection to help it thrive. Yet, each garden must be tended according to its specific needs, with consideration for the season it’s in.

When our gardens are tended according to their needs, there are times of harvest that bring nourishment to others. The solitary tending brings communal blessing.

Each season always had purpose.

The Lord who knows the necessities of every garden doesn’t rush us forward. He knows the slow work of growth and invites us to stay in pace with Him as He makes the way for tomorrow. When the season calls us to hunt for small shoots, and care for tiny dreams, He honors the solitude within us. The secret place within is always where He waits.

A promise: “He who supplies seed to the sower and bread for food will supply and multiply your seed for sowing and increase the harvest of your righteousness” (2 Cor. 9:10).

When Good Gifts are More than a List

Tue, 10 Mar 2026 16:24:49 GMT

At times, words about goodness have felt vanilla to me, like preschool basics.

God is good.

The sky is blue.

I’ve longed for a goodness that means more than empty positivity.

More than rote fact.

More than a decade ago, when I was newly married and just entering my twenties, Nano and I sat with a group of church friends who were planning a Thanksgiving gathering. One woman suggested inviting the guests to share four things they were thankful for. Everyone seemed to like her idea.

Internally, I sighed. I didn’t understand this and thought we may as well recite our grocery lists to each other.

I wondered what might fit what they were looking for, while also feeling more meaningful. I shared the first thought that came to mind.

“What if we share one thing we’re thankful for and then four reasons why we’re thankful for that?”

They blinked at me and offered polite words acknowledging my idea.

The day of the gathering came and I listened as people shared their four-point lists of things they were thankful for. I can’t remember if I recited a list myself. I just remember looking around the room at this group—most of whom had seen many more years of life than I had. I couldn’t understand why this didn’t feel so mundane to everyone else.

Thirteen years later, the memory stays with me.

I put myself back in that room at the age I am now, and I’ve still seen less years than most of them. Maybe though, I’m a little closer to understanding what they knew.

When dreams you’ve hoped for blow away in the wind, when paths you walk turn to somber roads, when the sky around you grows dark, the clouds teach you what you never could’ve learned in the light.

Along the journey of life’s disappointments, the soul learns how to see that no matter what blows away, no matter how grave the story, there is always a bird who still sings.

The rote facts you learned in preschool become lifelines that save you.

God is good.

The sky is blue.

When a voice inside asks me what I have left, there is still the voice of a child in my distant memory. She sings her alphabet, letter by letter, and somehow every syllable of ordinary life becomes the sweetest song I’ve ever heard.

Built into the fabric of this life, into the sound of every letter we work with each day, is a Voice that echoes quietly beneath every harsh blow.

God saw all that he had made, and it was very good.

He looked with delight and said, “You are very good.”

From the beginning, goodness was there. Today, His goodness remains.

Last week, my family munched popcorn and watched Tom Hanks in Castaway. After he loses everything, then years later loses everything again, he tells a friend what he knows.

“I know what I have to do now. I’ve got to keep breathing. Because tomorrow the sun will rise. Who knows what the tide will bring?”

The sun still rises, and the goodness God made in the beginning is still alive.

I remembered myself at age twenty. I sat in a room where I couldn’t hear more than a grocery list. I wanted to hear the reasons why . Little did I know that when we recognize what is good, we are naming the reasons why —the reasons why we breathe.

These are the signs there is goodness.

This is the meaning that keeps us open to meet another day.

Unfinished Puzzles

Tue, 24 Feb 2026 19:37:16 GMT

The heart’s ability to stretch across the widest chasms can feel conflicting—though it’s also connecting. A heart can care deeply for two very different people, can be attached to two places so very far apart, and can find ways to extend itself beyond what it ever thought it could. In one sense this can seem contradictory, but this is what we’re made for. Love doesn't go in one single direction, but forms a connection of paths and bridges that reach far and wide.

A couple weeks ago, I stopped by the dollar store after church. However, I didn’t realize until I got back to my car that I had locked my keys inside. After confirming Nano wasn’t too far away with the extra key, I set my groceries on the hood of the car, and found a seat in the lawn chair beside the store's front entrance.

Customers passed in and out. Flower pots, garden flags and bags of charcoal surrounded me. Then I noticed a grey scooter near my chair that seemed a little worn, not for sale.

After a few minutes, a lady stepped out of the building and began the task of securing her cartful of groceries to the scooter. She was quite friendly. I explained my situation to her, and she shared with me that she lived close to the store and enjoyed the scooter rides and the fresh air.

I noticed her accent and learned she was from South Africa. “That’s where my heart is,” she said. South Africa is where she wanted to be.

She’d been in Texas for three years. “I met my husband online. He was from here, but agreed to come live with me in South Africa. It worked out for ten years,” she said, “but the whole time he really missed his home.”

She spoke of the strain of living a joint life with hearts in two different places. Yet, she spoke of it with a tender sense of joy—an openness to see what lay ahead, and hopeful that one day she would be home again.

The conversation stuck in my mind.

Her heart is in South Africa. Her heart is with her husband. His heart is in Texas.

The math of how a heart works doesn’t add up.

I think of the tensions my own heart carries, the quiet ways to be *with* someone when my feet can’t find the way across the same bridge. Does it ever add up?

I don’t think so. Somehow though, the unsolved equations in my heart are the places God speaks to me most—when I give up trying to solve them.

Some mysteries aren’t meant to be solved.

Some mysteries come into our lives to tug on our hearts—maybe even to tear us, and somehow…to heal us.

To the mysteries we can’t make sense of, to the math that never works, to the unsolved puzzles in an unfinished life, we welcome you. We’ll let you be.

This past weekend, I stretched out on the living room floor, chin in my hands, dice rolling, my children cheering.

The puzzle in my heart can stay unfinished for now, if it means I can embrace the wonder of the gifts right here before me.

Ask Your Heavy Questions

Tue, 10 Feb 2026 18:53:32 GMT

Sometimes when we come to connect with God in prayer, questions are the only words we can find. The Bible is full of heavy questions God’s children have asked Him in prayer. We may feel shame rise over the queries we have for God. Sometimes I’ve wondered if God is disappointed in me for wondering where He is. At times, I am tempted to pull away from God when I think of my doubts and fears. However, God’s Word encourages His people to do something astounding—and beautiful.

“Trust in [God] at all times, O people; pour out your heart before him; God is a refuge for us.” Psalm 62:8.

When I read this verse, I notice something that makes me feel so light and free. Psalm 62 does not say: Trust in God at all times, O people; quit asking Him questions!

Rather than shutting down our inquiries, God encourages His children to pour out our hearts. Scripture takes this act of sharing our raw selves in prayer, and actually connects it with living out our trust in God. It refreshes me to see this in my Bible.

Psalm 13 is one prayer that begins with raw questions.

“How long, O Lord? Will you forget me forever? How long will you hide your face from me? How long must I take counsel in my soul and have sorrow in my heart all the day? How long shall my enemy be exalted over me?” Psalm 13:1-2

God never desires that we would withdraw from him because of the mess we feel inside. If distressing questions are the first words to come when we seek God’s presence, we are still loved by a God who longs to hear our hearts. There are times when trusting God with our messy uncertainties is the best way we can move toward Him.

Psalm 13 begins with questions and carries forward still. For two more verses the psalmist petitions God to look upon his troubles, to consider his situation and respond. Then the psalmist remembers the guiding arrow of his internal faith compass that has served him well before—an arrow he knows can be trusted. “But I have trusted in your steadfast love; my heart shall rejoice in your salvation. I will sing to the Lord, because he has dealt bountifully with me.” Psalm 13:5-6

A heart that pours itself out to God is not despised by Him. To come to God with our questions is often an act of trust.

Our doubts are messy, but they are a doorway—and curiously, the doorway can lead toward God.

Although, doubt can also lead away from Him.

Some time after God split the Red Sea and delivered the Israelites out of bondage in Egypt, they grumbled about God. Their questions sounded like this: “Why is the Lord bringing us into this land, to fall by the sword? Our wives and our little ones will become a prey. Would it not be better for us to go back to Egypt?” Numbers 14:3

Moses, Aaron, Joshua and Caleb immediately reminded the people of God’s goodness. The people responded by picking up stones to kill them.

God felt their actions deeply, asking, “How long will this people despise me? And how long will they not believe in me, in spite of all the signs that I have done among them?” Numbers 14:11

God asks questions too.

When doubt rises, He longs for us to run toward Him. He waits for us to remember who He is and who He always has been.

Mystery sometimes surrounds heavy questions in the Bible. I just know that if our queries can serve as a doorway to move us toward God and His faithfulness, it is good to ask God our questions.

Here are a few more questions the psalmists ask of God in prayer:

“My God, my God, why have you forsaken me? Why are you so far from saving me, from the words of my groaning?” Psalm 22:1

“God why do you cast us off forever? Why does your anger smoke against the sheep of your pasture?” Psalm 74:1

“How long, O God, is the foe to scoff? Is the enemy to revile your name forever? Why do you hold back your hand, your right hand?” Psalm 74:10-11

“Will the Lord spurn forever, and never again be favorable? Has his steadfast love forever ceased? Are his promises at an end for all time? Has God forgotten to be gracious? Has he in anger shut up his compassion?” Psalm 77:7-9

“How long O Lord? Will you be angry forever? Will your jealousy burn like fire?” Psalm 79:5

“How long O Lord? Will you hide yourself forever? How long will your wrath burn like fire?” Psalm 89:46

“Lord, where is your steadfast love of old, which by your faithfulness you swore to David?” Psalm 89:49

There is one question in the New Testament that, to me, companions all of our human questions with the greatest love.

It’s the question asked by Jesus from the cross. “My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?” Matthew 27:46

Jesus intimately knows about our questions. He knows, too, about all of our pain and our trials. “For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted.” Hebrews 2:18

In light of the cross, the questions and doubts we experience along the journey of faith are among the deepest of gifts we can know. Who knows what good gifts these uncertainties may invite us too? It’s quite possible that our soul-deep questions seek to point us toward the faithfulness of God’s guiding hand like nothing else can.

What We Do with Longing

Tue, 27 Jan 2026 19:36:02 GMT

What we do with longing will shape the course of our lives.

It’s essential to consider what we long for—to dig beneath the surface of a wish, and seek to uncover what we truly want.

In the words of C.S. Lewis…

“We remain conscious of a desire which no natural happiness will satisfy. But is there any reason to suppose that reality offers any satisfaction to it? ‘Nor does the being hungry prove that we have bread.’ But I think it may be urged that this misses the point. A man’s physical hunger does not prove that man will get any bread; he may die of starvation on a raft in the Atlantic. But surely a man’s hunger does prove that he comes of a race which repairs its body by eating and inhabits a world where eatable substances exist. In the same way, though I do not believe (I wish I did) that my desire for Paradise proves that I shall enjoy it, I think it a pretty good indication that such a thing exists and that some men will. A man may love a woman and not win her; but it would be very odd if the phenomenon called “falling in love” occurred in a sexless world.

Here, then, is the desire, still wandering and uncertain of its object and still largely unable to see that object in the direction where it really lies.”

-C.S. Lewis, The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses , 33.

I long for a world where misunderstandings don’t fog our vision.

Or, at least a world where that confusion can be cleared up quickly.

Yet, life reminds me of a different reality.

Bad memories rise. We ponder pain. We worry. Worry stirs fear. Fear clouds judgment.

John’s need for quiet is seen as a threat to Jane.

Jane’s need for comfort is seen as a threat to John.

All the while, they want whatever lies beyond the disconnect.

But what does one do with the “want” in the meantime?

What do you do with longing in a life where mistaken meanings can carry on for weeks, or a lifetime?

Desire is a fire in the dead of a freezing storm. Without it, the cold will thicken your blood and work to stifle the beat of your heart. But, tend to desire with care, or the fire itself may sweep over you with its flames.

To tend to desire is the summons of life, and it is a solemn and glorious call.

There is longing which keeps the heart beating, keeps a life warm—and helps to warm the lives of others.

We keep a fire going, knowing that what we do with longing becomes the kindling of hope. When we remember what we wait for, the slow, steady tending is worth every weary moment.

We hope for the day when the cold will be gone, and fires will never consume what is good. “The sufferings of this present time are not worth comparing with the glory that is to be revealed to us” (Rom. 8:18).

We live for the hope of redemption to come.

Bad memories rise. But fear cannot defeat Love, and Love is here to hold and share. Jesus draws close to touch the leper. Love leans close to touch the scars. Pain can turn to imagine a future where each wounded place we meet is an opportunity to Love. More than all we can imagine, our good God can move us with hope.

With an eternal dream before us, we can learn a long patience.

We savor the moments when warmth is shared.

We make beauty with our hands while the fire burns on.

We’ll consider what we long for.

For goodness is in reach.

When a New Year Doesn't Feel New

Tue, 13 Jan 2026 19:04:35 GMT

Sometimes I want January to feel completely new. But she doesn’t show up to replace the troubles of yesterday. She doesn’t come with smooth, new roads, and old damage erased. Instead, she shows up with a new years’ worth of morning light—to shine on the same rugged lines of a perfectly bumpy life.

January arrives with familiar potholes and construction zones.

Life’s potholes can drive me mad, but the madness comes with memories. And the memories are bittersweet.

A life with potholes is a life where I get to experience things that are broken, and the quaint mystery of moments when we bear with imperfections.

On Friday morning, I opened the door to leave for my walk, and the tranquility of the day’s rhythms gave way to a familiar, repulsive stench. A few times a year, chicken manure from the nearby egg farm is spread across the fields. The smell is vile and I wanted to retreat, but my dog noticed my step outside. He wriggled and bounced, his tongue out with anticipation. He’s not contained by a fence or leash, but “people walks” are his favorite. Somehow, his playful eyes swayed me to believe a walk in these conditions couldn’t be too bad.

Many mornings, Saucer and I walk the road to the creek bridge and back. That day, I beat Saucer to the creek bridge, and the fields held my attention. They kept me walking farther. I’ve loved this place since I was a child, when the best parts of the year were the days at Grandpa’s farm. I spent years dreaming about these fields.

Now I’ve lived here for almost ten years of my adult life—about as long as the egg farm has been here, chicken manure and all.

For nearly ten years, the smell keeps coming around. Yet, for ten years, this stench has never made me feel done with living here. What do I know deep inside?

A place is always more than its imperfections. The goodness of this place stays with me even when the stench is here.

People are like places. I want to believe that.

People are always more than the stench of bad moments.

How do I look for the “more?”

At Grandpa’s farm, when life is imperfect, my old longings rise up and help me see more.

The deep roots of an old dream make the troubles seem smaller.

I’m sure this is a small glimpse of a larger truth. Beneath the temporary frustrations and quick-fix wishes of today, the soul is pregnant with good, old longings. Our Maker has set eternity into our hearts (Eccles. 3:11).

Deep down inside us, we long for what is good. We long to connect with each other in fruitful ways, and to conduct ourselves in ways that do not make that difficult. Deep down, we long to live in a world where our ears tune in to the good in each other, and our lips speak like our Father, who calls good things into being with His words.

Somewhere beneath the billows inside me, this is what I long for.

When life is imperfect, old longings can help me see more.

While the roots of my dreams are shallow still, I’m loved by a God who knows. He meets me with His own longing heart and tethers my soul to Him.

So here is a January with familiar troubles.

And longings as old as eternity.

January can come as she is.

When You Need a Gift from a Child

Tue, 16 Dec 2025 18:22:13 GMT

Seven years ago at the beginning of December, we put a big red bow on the top of our Christmas tree. A few days later, my kindergartener came home from school and looked up at that bow for a while. Then she found some paper and markers and set to work at the table. With her little hands, she earnestly squiggled out her best representation of a star, and colored it yellow before she found the scissors to cut around it. She poked a hole in the top point and strung her star onto a blue pipe cleaner. When finished, Amayah held it out to me and said, “Mommy, you can use it for the tree. We need a star.”

So, I removed the red bow from our tree and used the pipe cleaner to tie the star in place. The top of the tree curved in a point, and there hung our paper star.

Amayah knew what she needed to see on top of the Christmas tree, and she couldn’t ignore it. The memory of her paper handiwork is a great reminder to me that good gifts are not elusive.

I’m directionally challenged. The week after Amayah made her star, I set out for Mount Vernon. Somehow I got turned around and ended up all the way in Sulphur Springs before I realized my mistake. Minutes after I rerouted, my van ran out of gas. At my own fault, I'd become stuck on the road nearly an hour from home.

As someone who’s lost my way often, the star of Christmas is beautiful to me. To show the way to Jesus, God put a star in the sky—like an arrow pointing the way. The simple need was to follow.

God’s way of giving directions is comforting when you’re not only directionally challenged on the road, but in your heart too.

Amayah’s paper offering reminded me that even as we’re given the gift of God in human skin, we’re also loved by a God who never stops lighting the way to find His good Gift.

A God who is faithful to light the way is just the kind of care my heart needs.

A voice in my head fights to confuse my sense of direction. When I want to give and receive love, memories play scenes of shame. I become a little girl presenting a bunch of dandelions picked from the grass…while my gift is dismissed and tossed away.

When shame speaks through my memory, it drives me away from love. Even still, there is ever-present longing tucked away in the echoes of the past. Those tender yearnings point toward a journey—to find the place where I feel safe to let my inner child exhale.

Like Amayah offered her star, we all have a child inside with intuitive gifts to share.

When a child gives a gift, they stretch out the fragile shoots of their growing love, unhindered by decades of disappointments. A child’s gift can touch your heart and draw you to the days when life felt so young and new—a blank canvas that couldn’t wait to see the beauty it became.

Love is the star that is always a learning, growing, testing dare to let the heart be a child one more time. Remember the child you need.

And there is One who made Himself into a child-gift in the most complete way. He comes as a baby and offers Himself as a gift to the child in me.

He came as a gift wrapped inside a womb, and Joseph’s first thought was to quietly disown the mother who encased him. Through the bloody entry of a woman’s birthing body, Jesus gave the tender gift of Himself. His offering given with wide-open love was met by King Herod’s order of mass slaughter, a hope to put the new child to death.

The Child of Christmas gave the most vulnerable gift, becoming a child for the lost child heart.

He offered love His whole life long, until He was crushed.

He steps into a world of wounded hearts…and he becomes wounded beyond recognition in a world where we know this language.

Who doesn’t know the wounding of love? Who never longs to feel whole again?

He welcomes the wounds. He stays for the crushing. To the death, He never falters, never ceases to come as a child holding out His gift still.

There is nothing like a gift from a child. A gift from a child can warm the coldest part of my heart. And only the touch from a baby’s hand can reach for me with enough tenderness to draw me from my fearful sense of direction toward the light of Love.

I need a gift only a child could give. And with Christmas, as always, it’s what I’m given.

The sovereign Author of Christmas remembers the child in me. When I’m too discouraged to hold out dandelions or make paper stars, He stoops down to speak a language my heart can hear. Here is a King who becomes a tiny gift. He is determined to light up my soul with childlike purpose. There are good gifts to bring. Jesus delights in gifts of frankincense and myrrh and also the gift of a manger and the lullaby’s of animals.

Why does He receive the gifts of those who can give only what He’s provided? Because He is a King who treasures the beauty of a gift from a child.

For broken hearts, there are tiny fingers who can touch fallow ground and make room for the tender shoots of love to grow again.

Where there is room for the child, the child makes room for love.

When we are lost and turned around, He lights the way.

Do you long for a gift from a Child? Like a star, this longing too, is His gift.

Follow the star.

The Lord has come.

“When they saw the star, they rejoiced exceedingly with great joy. And going into the house, they saw the child with Mary his mother, and they fell down and worshiped him. Then, opening their treasures, they offered him gifts...” (Matt. 2:10-11).

When Anger Feels Scary

Thu, 20 Nov 2025 20:58:30 GMT

Do many people have a specific emotion they feel the most awkward with?

Mine is anger.

In some ways, I’d rather meet any other feeling.

When my worst memories play across my mind, anger appears as the villain, the direct enemy of love. Whether the anger is from others, or from me, the narrative says that anger destroys. It equates with shame and loss. The rise of this emotion can begin to feel like a threat. Don’t let your anger out, or else.

There’s validity to my concerns. Out-of-control anger can hurt people deeply. It can damage and destroy and tear down connections we don’t actually want to tear down.

The idea of anger makes me angry. Anger can cause typhoons of damage and sometimes I want to scream about it to the world.

Sometimes when I start to feel angry, shame creeps in for the fact that I feel angry at all. On the other hand, part of me knows anger has important roles to play somewhere. It can let us know when something isn’t right. There are times to listen. So, at times, I’ll start to share my anger with someone. Often, I feel clumsy—caught in a world that’s too shaky and uncertain.

Anger is a territory full of memories where abandonment happens, people are shamed and nothing is steady.

So when I showed up for counseling a couple weeks ago and Chris, my counselor, asked me to consider good things about anger, I didn’t love the topic.

But I know her question is valid.

In the first several years of marriage, I tried hard to be as low-need as possible. I wanted to be a selfless wife, but I often thought that meant not having needs. The more I contained my needs, the more I felt disconnected from Nano. Anger would find ways to come out of me—it just didn’t look like anger and it always came out sideways.

Now, Nano has seen more of my anger than anyone else combined. The more I search for healthier ways to listen to my anger and express my need—and the more we work through those moments—the more I feel connected to him. Marriage is the biggest place where I’ve seen good things come from learning to work with my anger.

I’ve also seen hard things come when anger is ignored.

How many of us know what it feels like to have a friend avoid us? Then, a long while later sometimes the truth comes out and we find out why. At times, I’ve longed to see a friends’ anger, because I wanted to know that our friendship mattered.

In those situations, I’ve felt heartbroken by the silence. The unspoken needs.

My own struggles with anger help me understand this better.

Often, when I feel anger, something about that feeling is helping me know about a need that I may be struggling to recognize.

That’s when fear strikes. I remember the times when I’ve tried to assert myself and lost control. I remember too, the times when my assertion was not received well, connections were damaged, and it felt difficult to know if it was worth it or not.

The fear that I feel from those memories is real. Yet, when fear scares me away from navigating my anger, I get stuck in a place where I’m not moving forward.

Sometimes we’ve had little experience with seeing positive things come when we assert ourselves. Understandably, this can make us feel cautious about being assertive at all.

At times, taking a risk to be assertive in the healthiest way I can find takes all of the emotional energy I can muster. Don’t we all have a point at which the need for assertiveness in a situation drains too much energy and goes beyond what we can manage? Maybe we all have a different level of capacity for that.

I have a greater capacity for assertiveness than I used to, though I have lots farther to grow. Often, the person on the other end of the situation is trying to grow their capacity for connection in their own way as well.

In some ways, my greatest need may be in learning to be assertive with myself—telling myself what I can do to care for the hurt I feel.

There is beauty in the desire to imagine what might be possible when the most unpracticed parts of me find ways to come alive.

Somewhere inside, anger wants something good. Peace. Dignity. Better ways to connect.

Anger longs to be seen for the goodness she’s after.

I want to hear the good things anger has to say—the anger in me, the anger in others.

In the movie, Because of Winn Dixie , there’s a nighttime scene where ten-year-old Opal and her father are searching for her missing dog, her best friend. When her dad says it’s time to return home, Opal lashes out at him, accusing him of giving up. In that moment, her deep-seated hurt overflows and she accuses him of giving up on her mother too—being the one at fault for the fact that her mother abandoned her.

Rather than lash back at her, her father hears the pain inside her anger. He recognizes her need for safety and connection and he responds in love.

That scene always draws my longing and stirs my questions.

It leaves me searching to know what I feel invited toward. Don’t we all want to know that we can be seen in our wild anger and still be held in love?

But mostly, when we rashly spill anger on people, it leads to less connection, not more. It hurts others, and it hurts us too. So I don’t think it’s correct to name this as what I want to do.

It’s been more than two years since the last time I watched that movie with my kids. I still remember how I couldn’t place my finger on what that scene made me yearn for.

While Chris spoke with me the other day, she didn’t say anything about that movie, but she brought me to that same place. The same set of questions. She gave the invitation.

Feel your anger in the safety of the One whose love is strong enough for all of it.

Let yourself be seen by your heavenly Father in your rage. He never fails to see the good longings within your anger and to wrap you in His love.

I know what the scene in Winn-Dixie made me want—a place where my anger can co-exist with love.

When anger and love find ways to join hands, miracles happen and love is multiplied.

May imagination open wide to the good things that can come when we feel our deep anger in the presence of Love.

When I remember I am safe to navigate anger, the security of love can guide me in what’s needed.

Twelve Books that Inspired my Book on Belonging

Thu, 16 Oct 2025 18:44:39 GMT

“Art can be seen as not hostile to faith, but as practice for it. Building the muscle of imagination makes us better fit to believe. And love, the central command of faith, requires enormous imagination, to understand the life, feelings, or needs of someone else”

-Carey Wallace

It’s because I’ve been deeply affected by good books that I enjoy making art on pages too. When we write, we engage imagination. When we read, we open to the experience of letting another soul’s imagination stir our own.

Books are the most patient teachers. They never demand to be read. If you’ve had your fill for the day, they are content to rest in the corner for however long you need—whether a day, or a month. In a book, I step inside another’s mind, made available for me to enjoy or consider. But I can leave anytime I need to.

I’m grateful for many people who chose to put their thoughts on paper, knowing they leave their readers with this gift.

During the release of Stepping Home, I want to share some books I’ve been taught by—teachers I drew from while I wrote my book about belonging.

I’ll share them in the order they appear in the endnotes of Stepping Home.

The Weight of Glory and Other Addresses by C. S. Lewis
To be honest, I’ve only read one of the other addresses, but “The Weight of Glory” is a must-read for any seeking soul. While originally shared as a sermon, it would never do for this to not be available in writing. I received this book as a birthday gift several years ago and savored every word of this sermon. Lewis puts language to desire in a way that soothes my fears, awakens my yearnings, clarifies my wants, and leaves me feeling free to let my heart come alive.

Placemaker by Christie Purifoy

I learned about Christie from an author I follow. Christie writes about trees and homes almost like they’re full of dreams—as if they are always open for us to help them bear a reflection of our perfect, eternal home. She leads her reader to see the physical places we share as tender invitations into the art of partnering with our Creator. Her love for magnolias and maples, and her soul-deep ache to tend well to the places that shelter her people, made me see life in our farmhouse home with new eyes.

The Soul of Desire by Curt Thompson, MD
I heard Curt Thompson interviewed on a podcast and needed to read his book. I read The Soul of Desire right after one of my biggest personal failures. It stirred my imagination for a hopeful future. Thompson explores the science behind our yearning humanity and our need for connection, and he considers it from a perspective of faith as well. His book gave me both scientific and biblical reasons to see my ever-searching heart, not as defective, but as beautifully made and capable of coming to trust and believe in the goodness God has in store.

The Meaning of Marriage by Timothy Keller with Kathy Keller
Nano and I did this study with a church small group. It’s a grounding, relatable guide that validates the human longing for companionship and takes great care in addressing the obstacles of attachment and commitment. What gave it the most value to me is how it stayed in tune with the desires of the reader and acknowledged our humanity with frankness. Marital conflict and sexual struggles were handled with candor and grace. It prompted good self-reflection. And it did a beautiful job of connecting the needs of marriage, in all aspects, with the work of Christ—both in laying Himself down for His bride, the church, and in submitting Himself to the Father.

The Listening Life by Adam S. McHugh
This is also a book I learned about from an author I follow. I’ve never read a better book about listening. Every time I read it, I remember how healing it feels to be listened to, and how powerful a gift we share when we choose to listen intentionally. McHugh walks his reader through the art of living life with a posture that holds space—to hear what lies beneath the surface of our lives and those around us. Whenever I return to McHugh’s words, I feel exposed in my need to listen, and also gently led to a richer place. Ideally, I’d like to read this book at least once a year to help myself remember.

Sacred Rhythms by Ruth Haley Barton
I read this as part of a course I took on contemplative spirituality. In a noisy world, Barton invites her reader to slow down on the inside and embrace rhythms of solitude and stillness. She helped me learn beautiful ways to savor and experience Scripture when I need a break from diagrams and intellectualism. She connects deeply with desire, encouraging her reader to know that the longing for more is valid and worth our deep attention.

The Path of Loneliness by Elisabeth Elliot
The summer after I turned eighteen, I ran across this book for sale at an event. The title drew me in because I felt deeply alone. I’ve read a few of Elisabeth Elliot’s books and this is my very favorite. While not every page resonates with me, this book as a whole reaches me at my core every time I read it. It comforts me, convicts me and leads me to embrace the gifts that lie along the path of lonely places. While a good bit of what she writes comes from her two experiences of being widowed, Elliot’s words are deeply applicable to any kind of lonely season.

Dear White Peacemakers by Osheta Moore
Osheta wrote this after George Floyd’s death, and lovingly addressed it to her white brothers and sisters in Christ. In a way, she speaks to Christians who want to help bring us away from racism as a culture, but would like to know more about what it feels like to be in someone else’s shoes. I ran across her book online and wanted to learn from her perspective. She dives deep into the art of balancing grit and grace in the desire for peace. I find so much in her words that helps me consider more deeply, from a biblical perspective, what it means to listen, to repent, to take accountability and to embrace ways that make for peace.

Spiritual Direction by Henri Nouwen
This was originally a discourse Nouwen shared that was turned into a book after his lifetime—by one of his students, and by his editor. I came across it at a bookstore. I found it to be deeply refreshing in helping me hold space to listen to the voice of the Spirit of God. Nouwen addresses how we can create better space for this in our hearts, in Scripture, and in church community. While reading, I felt encouraged in my identity in Christ, and challenged to plainly see things I chase after for the wrong reasons. Not every teaching in the book was for me—and as for anything, I’d encourage testing this book through the lens of Scripture.

Praying God’s Word by Beth Moore

In Stepping Home , I share the story of how I stumbled upon an old stained copy of this book on the day I turned 29. The next morning Beth’s words had me in tears. In a kind way, she helped me to be pricked by Scripture, which prepared my heart to be faced a few days later with a difficult truth from a sermon that I needed to hear. This book is a helpful guide to using Scripture to pray through various struggles in life—from rejection, to idolatry, to despair. For each specific difficulty, Beth speaks into your heart, then provides words to help you in prayer—prayers she’s written based on specific Scripture.

Gentle and Lowly by Dane Ortlund
I learned about this book while sitting in church. I found myself so hungry to hear what Scripture shares about the gentle heart of Jesus that when I finished the book, I turned back to the beginning and read the whole book through again. Ortlund shares the profound truth that when Jesus describes his own heart, the two words He chooses are “gentle and lowly.” This book is full of Scriptural assurance for the sinner, the doubter, the one who lives with fear and guilt. It does a thorough job of reaching into the reader’s heart, and carefully showing from Scripture how deeply God’s heart longs to meet His children where they are.

The Holy Longing by Ronald Rolheiser
While I wouldn’t agree with Rolheiser on many things, I find so much rich truth in his perspective, so much to gain and learn from. Most every time I hear him quoted, his words strike me to my core, and books about longing will always catch my attention. He speaks to our felt sense that our passion and our spirituality are at odds with each other. He invites his reader to consider how our longing, even our sexuality, is interconnected with our spirituality. Rolheiser invites his reader to come to the table of spirituality as a whole person, where our passionate parts can learn to thrive in healthy ways. I haven’t finished reading his book, and again, encourage discernment.

Each of these books have met me in deep places. To share about them all stirs my memories and my gratitude for the means God uses to meet us. Perhaps one or two of these are books God has used, or will use, to meet you too.

These twelve books all play a role in my own written journey.

If you’d like to read a book that combines these ideas, that’s what you’ll find when you read Stepping Home. How do we engage in faith without pretending away the desiring, aching, yearning parts of us? It’s a healthy question to sit with, one that invites authenticity.

I don’t promise black and white answers, but I share my favorite ways God has met me in this question. I’m so happy to share about the gift that is open for all—the gift of always having the option to take another step toward Home.

"Stepping Home by Maggie Janaye" is available now through Amazon and other retailers.

When God Speaks Through Strangers

Tue, 07 Oct 2025 19:17:21 GMT

On a chilly November day in 2018, I woke up feeling heavy with the weight of disappointment and unanswered questions. I had taken so many risks over the last several months—emotional risks that left me feeling exposed and empty. Could life go anywhere good from here?

I reached for my Bible and ended up in Psalm 121.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills.

From where does my help come?

My help comes from the Lord,

Who made heaven and earth.

He will not let your foot be moved;

He who keeps you will not slumber.”

I locked onto verse three. “He will not let your foot be moved.” This is what I longed for—to trust that God had me…and that life could be more than a downhill tumble from here.

Tears came, because I wanted to believe the words I read, but I wasn’t sure where to find the faith. I journaled a prayer, and told Nano about my wish to believe with more sureness that this could be true for my life. He listened while he finished shaving, then gave me hope to borrow.

Over the next hour, I bundled my children in their hoodies and delivered them to their teachers—then made my weekly trip to Jo’s for coffee and a day of writing.

Like every Wednesday morning, I greeted the familiar coffee shop faces, and ordered the signature latte. I found my favorite table by the window—bright with warm sunshine. I opened my journal to where I left off that morning.

My wish continued to stir. I felt scared my heart was defective, and I longed for more light to guide me to hope.

Around mid-morning, a low voice spoke to me—the man who just walked in the front door. I looked up to see twinkling eyes and an unfamiliar, fuzzy face. Ears tucked into his beanie, he approached me with a teddy-bear-like presence. With a careful slowness while he read my face, he placed his hand on the table in front of me. He said he hoped it didn’t come across the wrong way, but when he walked in the door and saw me, something urged him to come share a message.

“I think you’re supposed to know that God says your heart is beautiful. And He is putting all of its broken pieces back together.”

I felt a bit unsure, but curious, so I listened on. He continued for some time and I don’t remember everything, but I do remember these words, “You can trust that your help comes from the Lord who made heaven and earth. He will not let your foot be moved.”

While he spoke, my eyes misted over.

God sees me.

When I heard him speak the words of Psalm 121, say them aloud, I knew God said yes to my prayer. He didn’t hesitate to help my unbelief.

I learned the man’s name to be Chris, and I shared about my morning while drying my eyes. He smiled with the jolliest smile and said he just knew he was supposed to say something. I asked for a picture with him to help myself remember the moment.

In the last seven years, I’ve seen him maybe five times. Jo’s is the only place I’ve ever seen him and he always has timely words of courage to share.

He is one of the many reasons I love local coffee shops. In the light of Jo’s front window, I’ve put dreams onto paper, poured prayers into journals, and have met the image of God in dozens of caring people.

At least a couple times a month, I still return to Jo’s to see if I can find a seat at my favorite writing table. When I settle into that old, familiar place and look around, my heart fills with memories of the faithfulness of God.

It fills me to return to that moment and the place it happened.

There are no supernatural qualities to that table or that building, but the act of returning there is an intentional practice that grounds me. It’s a tangible way to bring my heart back to a place where it’s easy to remember: I am loved and seen by a God who knows me.

On the Other Side of Shame

Tue, 23 Sep 2025 02:04:23 GMT

It was the beginning of May, and my husband’s words over the phone left me feeling defensive.

While I listened, I looked in the mirror and didn’t like the person looking back at me.

Nano asked me to consider something that, in reality, could shape my person. He asked me to think about what my actions may have felt like on the receiving end.

My heart raced. My jaw tightened.

Restless, I paced around the living room while he spoke. My steps got heavier, more like a march. Trying to listen through the noise of my children, I stepped over toys and stubbed my toe. My chest started feeling tense. My breath came faster.

I wanted to spill my anger, and my frustrated words came out. I spoke to defend myself. My anger was real, but Nano didn’t need my anger.

My tears came. I didn’t like my response. Why does this make me so angry? Continuing the conversation right then didn’t seem wise. So I said so. We agreed to talk later and said goodbye.

Two of my kids rushed up to ask for help with their project. I started to work with them while my thoughts readied to boil over. Then I remembered times when I’ve tried to engage with my children while I felt this way and how it never ended well.

I told Liesel and Gideon how I needed a few minutes to calm myself down after the phone conversation. They understood and made their way to the bedroom.

I plopped down in the big leather chair, closed my eyes, and breathed deep. I listened to the birds singing outside the window behind me. I heard the breeze blow as my kids played in the next room. I remembered I still belong to a good God.

My prior thoughts fell quiet.

I remembered some therapy conversations from the year before. Sometimes, fear distorts my reality. I tried to imagine what my therapist would ask.

What are the simple facts of what was stated? Did I attribute a meaning to those words that was influenced by fear?

Nano simply asked me to consider that my repeated invitations to a friend who clearly didn't have the time for a visit may not be as friendly as I hoped.

It’s all he asked me to reflect on, and he was correct.

But what I translated those words into…was not at all congruent with what was actually being said.

Even while Nano spoke, I heard the story differently in my head.

With the phone to my ear, fear spoke to me too. He’s saying you weren’t even trying to be a good friend. He’s accusing you of trying to be hurtful—saying you’re a terrible friend.

My fear also began saying this one big, scary thing: When you try to help people the best way you know how...you only hurt people.

I had never identified my fear like this. The more I reflected, the more I realized what is true. My fear was telling a story I’ve often believed. It’s a story that feeds my self-pity and shame.

In that moment, I realized the person to be angry at was not Nano. His words could help me be a better friend if I could hear beyond the shame and learn. Because it’s true…I honestly wanted to be a good friend. But, my insistent invitation was not so beneficial. One truth doesn’t have to nullify the other. Both can be true.

The one to be angry at is the enemy of my soul who loves it when I listen to fear. My soul knew it was time to be angry, and rightly so. But my mind did not know what to do with my anger until I acknowledged what my heart feared.

My soul’s enemy wants to rush me forward in anger, or paralyze me with shame. He loves to numb me with shame—where I won’t have ears to hear information about my actions that can help me love better. He wants to show me my husband as an enemy, rather than someone who wants to see me grow. He wants me stuck in fear where I won’t step toward love.

This situation was not what the voices in my head played it up to be. On the other side of shame, I felt free, and this story seemed easier to navigate. When I loosened my grip on the scary narratives, I found my footing in the facts. While I tried to be helpful, I did something unhelpful. While I cannot change that, I can hear feedback with an open heart. I can accept the situation, own it, and do my best to carry what I learned into the next step.

I’ll do many imperfect things. The more willing I am to accept this reality, the more effectively I can move forward. When I listen to the good news of Jesus’ work for me, the unhelpful and hurtful things I’ve done do not define me. In the security of Christ, I have an identity that is never changed by mistakes I’ve made. I am covered in His life.

Love can knit damaged things back together. Not through hands that are experts at knitting, but through hands open to the work Love is forming.

We need ears to listen, and hearts open to truths that we don’t like to hear. God, give us grace to recognize the fears that cloud our view. Provide us with ways to clearly see the story beyond the fog of shame.

The conversation continued later that day, and our relationship grew…hard, holy, and healing. It’s one of the most sacred gifts for two people to know and be formed by each other.

Our God is good. His arms are more than able to carry us through, while He refines us for the Home we’re made for.

_________________

This story was originally shared on May 11th, 2021, and has been edited for clarity. This post connects well with chapter four in my book, Stepping Home. Available October 14th!

Watch Out for Poles

Mon, 08 Sep 2025 23:32:54 GMT

One morning last school year, I pulled my van of kids into the school drop-off and noticed someone I hadn’t seen in a while. As I attempted to wave, I missed the fact that my foot had not fully engaged the brake. I crashed into a pole that helps support the awning in front of the school.

I scanned the area and let out a breath.

Minimal damage. Everyone’s okay.

From the passenger seat, my daughter gave a flat stare. Then she broke into a smile and informed me she’d be giving Daddy a full report. After I waved off Amayah’s remark, backed up and double-checked that the van was in park, I stepped out to apologize to the school principal who witnessed my mishap. He assured me everything was fine. He just wanted to know if I was okay. Thankfully, everybody was safe and the pole was not bent out of shape. I couldn’t say the same for the bumper on my van. In the words of Amayah, it has a black eye now.

Compared to other incidents in my van, I knew this didn’t amount to more than a blip. Leaving the school that day, I did my best to drive with more care. I also wasn’t surprised it happened.

While I drove, I imagined what the conversation might be like at dinner and half-smiled.

Doesn’t it sound like something I would do?

I recalled other driving mistakes I’ve made. My worst blunders happened on days when everything else was going wrong already. Shame piled on shame.

I try not to repeat those days.

For weeks after my incident in the school drop-off, I got plenty of reminders from Amayah. “Watch out for poles, Mom!” Friends and teachers have asked her about that day, so she has more than one reason to keep an eye on my driving.

Several months and a summer break have passed since then. School is back in swing.

The second day of the school year, I turned into the school drop-off and managed to keep things peaceful between me and the pole. I pulled up beside it and stopped in line. Within seconds, the van in front of me started backing up in my direction. While I racked my brain for how to respond, he crashed into me.

Amayah tapped my arm and spoke with amazement. “I’ll tell Daddy…this one is not your fault!”

The man parked and stepped out of the car with drooped shoulders. He looked defeated. With a mess of hair partly hidden by his ballcap, his outfit looked as thrown together as mine. He was deeply apologetic. He wanted to make sure I knew he wasn’t going anywhere, and intended to take care of the damages. His voice wavered and cracked. His eyes looked heavy—like the eyes of someone who could barely hold it together with the one-more-thing to go wrong.

While he spoke, I felt deeply conscious of the pole just a few feet away. I told him how I’d already damaged my van. He expressed more concern and eventually gratitude.

Coming away from the interaction, I felt less alone in my flawed humanity.

I thought of times when I’ve beat myself up over mistakes, feeling like the only one in the world who could be so dumb. When I feel burdened by the weight of my inadequacies, people like the dad at the school drop-off may feel the same heavy load.

It struck me how, as imperfect as it may be, we serve each other best when we show up to life.

When I feel like a failure, I tend to want to hide away from life. The purpose of sharing myself with others becomes something hard to imagine. I become convinced I’ll be a bother.

But on this specific day, I felt encouraged in meeting a man who crashed his car into mine. I saw his humanity and it widened my hope… I am not the only one who is human.

This confounds every reason I give for retreating from life when doubts flood me.

On my drive away from school, I knew I wanted to go forward with trust in God's all-knowing plan. I’ll keep doing my best to watch out for poles. However, even if I accidentally crash along the way, there is more to the story. God’s love is bigger than any human mistake and is able to use each flaw to share the goodness of His grace.

*******

This post coincides with point number two in the guide available below.

It also connects with the theme of chapter two in my new book, Stepping Home. Available October 14th!

On the Light and the Shadows of Imagination

Thu, 29 Feb 2024 18:41:54 GMT

It was the glare of the sun off the icy surface of the pond that held my fancy.

My eldest girl and little boy were pushing their toes against the edge to test the strength of the ice. Melting as it was, none of us had ever seen the pond out back of the house sit so frozen. It was new and delightful.

Their giggles and awe were the soundtrack, with the glare of the sun freezing the moment too, like a dream. A hand reaching for mine. A question that remembers me, as if the Author of the story stepped in to tap a shoulder, show a smile, invite a heart like a dare - do you trust me?

When so much in life feels bleak, that’s when my imagination can feel most eager to come alive , to catch the light and dream of what it’s saying.

Lately, it’s a wondering question that keeps bringing itself back to my attention. Is this design on purpose? Maybe the imagination knows that it is a gift that was God-intended to help us hold onto hope for whatever it is that God is doing with the story? And when we’re most discouraged, is that where the imagination knows it has a role to play in helping us to imagine why we could still be hopeful?

Perhaps imagination is most deeply intended as a beautiful gift meant to help a heart find hope. Maybe it’s a place longing to point to a God who is able to do more than all we could ask or think. For how would we think to ask for anything, if we could not first imagine the idea that God hears our asking and longs to meet us?

And yet I know how much deceit likes to befriend my imagination, as if God’s own enemy wants to possess and distort his good creation.

For my heart knows the path to be excruciating, when the story of life is imagined in a way that keeps one deceived about reality, not seeing what is really true inside of actual life. Imagining away the truth of what is real, has kept this heart stuck for seasons too long, exhausting itself for false kinds of hopes.

And too, this heart has imagined away such good and real gifts, when its attention was most drawn to the gifts it didn’t have. It was a kind soul who first helped me see how I had imagined away the reality of so many different kinds of love in my life.

How much beauty in the world can be imagined away for the sake of what we’re afraid to lose. Arresting is the lure to imagine the worst inside another if it can keep us in the comfort of the self-protections we know.

In all the ways deceit longs to befriend our creative minds, perhaps all along what it’s most wanting is to interfere with the way we meet God. At its worst, my imagination would love for me to leave this present moment - the very place where God is waiting to meet me.

And at its deepest root, deceit loves to tempt me to imagine God to be someone other than who He truly is… even if it’s in the most subtle of ways.

For if I trust that God is as good a Shepherd as He promises to be, why would I need false hopes, false narratives, or preoccupation with what is missing?

If I can trust God to be the God who provides, why would I need to imagine away the places in my heart that need care and support and healing for broken things?

If I can trust that God is the same Love He says He is, who desires good for me, and is a safe place for all of me to come just as I am, why would I need to pretend away the worst in me, or imagine the worst inside my neighbor?

Perhaps we are human with imaginations that are broken. Perhaps we all know this plight.

We forget, and again we forget, how to imagine hope and beauty in light of our true God.

And perhaps a shared humanity is the best gift we have to help imagine a tender world inside each other beyond what we can see. Maybe Love Himself knows each of us in the place where we are all children in need of the most tender Love.

Perhaps a shared humanity is where He longs to meet us, a Love in flesh who lovingly wore this skin, grew into it, and cared for it as He cares for us.

Imagine Him. See the truth of how He came for sinners (Luke 5:32), feel the truth of how He loved in flesh, and imagine how He looks at us.

Maybe a broken imagination renews with healing hope every time it imagines the truth of Who He is.

Maybe in the light of a loving Father who restores what things were made for, a broken imagination could rest so deep that it longs to hold rhythms of renewing in all of who He is. I’d dare believe it’s true, that imagination is a beautiful gift meant to help a heart find hope.

So glare of Light, catch us up. A hand reaching out. A question that remembers us like a compassionate Author.

Do you trust me?

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church and in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” Eph. 3:20-21.

A prayer : Father, give us the grace to turn our imaginations into all of the Light of Who you are. Surprise us with the beauty of the glory of Christ and with it's imperfect, yet lovely reflection in Your beloved church.

Practice : Read the stories of the Gospels and let yourself imagine that you are one who Jesus befriends and heals. Imagine how He looks at you, speaks to you, cares for you. Practice using your imagination to connect with your Savior.

Consider ways deceit may be wanting to distort what is good and beautiful in your imagination recently. How does the truth of who your Jesus is, change the narrative?

When in Search of an Evergreen Peace

Sat, 02 Dec 2023 20:46:56 GMT

The page of the calendar had freshly turned to November when I zipped up my boots on a cloudy light morning to wander through the evergreens behind the house so I could feel it as real. For it’s one thing to trace across words about your Evergreen God and it is another to step under the limbs of the cypress trees and touch them and take in their scent and remember the One who courts your soul faithfully holding out His branches through every season, like an Evergreen who relentlessly holds out His arms for a heart who forgets how deep she needs them alone. (Hos. 14:8, ESV)

And there before the evergreen, a heart could still quiet, a heart that longs for evergreen peace.

It was thirst for the quiet that brought me to sit, rest by the water, where the wind had already come to play gentle with the leaves. Almost still, yet moving. It brought them slow, one by one, from the trees to touch down on the water and follow its soft turning. All was still, yet stirring on, as if every last thing was held. As if a heart could trust that while it is resting still, all of the pieces are held, carried along, by a God who has already purposed to work every last thing for good, for those who love Him.

The stillness of the water can bring springs up from the soul, to fall down a face and bring relief for everything that the heart has been holding. It can soothe a soul quiet in a world that is all so tenderly held in the mystery of a Love that is beyond our understanding. And when a mind lets go of its smarts enough to simply rest down into what is, a world and a life that is so terrible, so beautiful that it is far beyond the limits of your understanding or control is the most astounding gift to get to be part of after all.

It was after the sun set that day that the words found me.

“As [Jesus] approached Jerusalem and saw the city, he wept over it and said, ‘If you, even you, had only known on this day what would bring you peace—but now it is hidden from your eyes.”

Luke 19:41-42, NIV

If you had only known what would bring you peace…

Sometimes it can feel as if peace keeps flying away, and maybe if you just fight hard enough, say enough words, hold your ground enough, it will bring peace back to you somehow.

Sometimes it can feel as if life keeps asking you to step through a doorway that feels like the absolute opposite direction of peace or anything right and everything inside you wants to slam the door.

And when Jesus looked over Jerusalem and spoke those words, He knew what was coming (Lk. 19:43-44), how Jerusalem was getting ready to slam a door as if it would bring them peace. Yet Jesus knew, with a heart that churned in ache for them, that this would be their destruction.

For they were more concerned over what looked wrong out there, than they were concerned with considering their hearts.

Jerusalem wanted peace. And Jesus longed for them to know peace too. The deepest core of what they desired - peace - was the very same thing that Jesus desired for them. Yet, as readily as it was available, Jerusalem wouldn’t have eyes to see the Way that would truly bring them peace.

And the image of Jesus’ broken weeping remains in Scripture with longing invitation to all who want peace. Here is a friend, a brother, who is not at war with our desiring hearts, but rather is broken with anguish when our trust in Him fails and we allow our desires to become distorted and twisted by fear into something that could never bring us what we most deeply want.

It was Jesus’ Love, broken in longing for our own confused hearts, that carried Him to step through a doorway that felt like the opposite direction of peace or anything right and involved painful separation from His own Father.

For the joy set before Him, Jesus chose the way of peace and stretched out His arms in the pain. Those arms stretched out are branches always green with the promise of life and a place where you will never once be without a friend, closer than a brother, who perfectly understands you without fail.

While there are many ways we could go in this life and everyone of them will come with pain, here is the gift of an evergreen pain that comes with a promise always alive.

And these evergreen trees that we can still live and breathe in the presence of promise us that the gift is here today. Until life passes, it asks us, always, which hard path we’ll choose, and heaven waits for us, longs for us, to look up, reach for the fruit that feeds a heart, and whisper it from a heart unshrinking…

Be my Evergreen God.

Where Curiosity and Longing Nurture Wholeness

Thu, 28 Sep 2023 15:25:45 GMT

You can wander under the branches of trees and feel how they simply invite your heart to come just as it is in a place where you are safe to wonder about anything under the trees that are so quietly patient with the space a heart needs.

I wander along the path beside the creek and I spot a turtle. I stop under the shade of the trees and step into the grass for a closer look. I spy what seems to be a much younger, smaller turtle sitting close by her. I consider them for a while, the way their heads tilt, the way they warm themselves in the sun. I slowly step a bit closer, but I am noticed and it’s the older turtle that splashes down, ducks under the water first. Within a few seconds the baby slowly follows, as if maybe he’s not sure why, but it’s what she’s doing. He’s not as cautious as her, but he follows along, and I imagine him bidding me goodbye. He’s a little more new and open to the beauty of the world while she is older and seemingly, a good bit more careful, guarded.

Later at home my girl asks me if I’ve noticed the little white flowers in our yard, how they close up tight in the heat of the day, but how in the cool of these September mornings they open wide their petals to take it all in. I had walked by those flowers day after day and I had not once noticed that. I begin to turn my gaze that way a little more each day, waiting to see each time they open up again.

How do they know?

How do they know when to open and when to close?

How does anyone know when to open and when to close?

And what is it inside us all that would keep us hungry for places to open our hearts again after the times when we’ve opened and it all went terribly wrong?

How in the world is it that something inside us keeps wanting to believe that there is goodness in our desire to open? What inside us is continually hungry for that?

I feel the questions while old turtles go on splashing back into the water, while flowers go on closing in the heat of day. And I feel them while the new life of young turtles linger in the sun just a little longer, while little white petals go on opening to the freshness of the morning.

While those flowers in the yard tell me that it is not always a time to open, what they speak most to my heart is there to be found in the cool of the day. Each day those white flowers in the yard testify with assurance to my heart in what it can feel must be true: that there is utter beauty in the desire to open.

And even while the old turtle has seen more life than the baby and has much that she knows, it’s the baby turtle that gets to feel the beauty of lingering in the sun just a little longer. And it’s my own children that pointed out to me the white flowers that I kept simply passing by without noticing the beauty of the sermon that they were offering with their silence.

The act of opening wide to goodness was made to be beautiful, a thing to be desired.

It’s a desire that was embedded into life from the beginning of the world. We enter this world with heart’s made in the image of our Maker’s heart. And whether we continue in this life to open to seeking out the goodness of our heart’s deepest desire or not, these hearts, deep down inside, long to open wide and keep seeking after all of the goodness of Love as it was most truly made to be.

And how does one open well? And how does a heart begin to know what the Love truly looks like that it longs to open to?

For we are also embedded in this broken world with hearts broken by sin, easily deceived into things that hold a kind of form of Love without being at all what we’re truly looking for.

How are we to live toward Love?

And he answered, “You shall love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your strength and with all your mind, and your neighbor as yourself.” Lk. 10:27.

That’s how Jesus says it in Luke. He begins with the heart here.

In Matthew, he says to love the Lord “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind” and “your neighbor as yourself.” Mt. 22:37.

In Mark, he says to love the Lord “with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind and with all your strength,” and “your neighbor as yourself.” Mk. 12:30.

While the order of things isn’t the same in each instance, one thing that is the same is that Jesus leads with the heart when He gives the greatest command. And he calls for a Love where the parts of us join together to live into it as a whole.

Why, when it comes to the greatest command of Love, does Jesus begin with the heart?

It’s an important question to sit with.

One thing we know about these hearts inside us is that they won’t be intellectualized into submission; they simply are not persuaded that way. And the heart within us is the very wellspring of life (Prov. 4:23) that God has placed inside us. Everything we do flows from it.

The heart is the life of our being.

While Jesus calls us to Love God with all of our mind, He also calls us to a life that does not concede to dutifully obeying Love with the mind alone, or even with the mind first, but to a Love that gives way to seeking and searching out how to Love with all of the heart.

The heart must seek out and find the deepest reason why it longs from the depths of its being to submit to something, and the heart will not settle for anything less.

Perhaps these hearts inside us know something that really is quite true: that to Love out of duty, while the heart is not in it, is not the kind of Love that we were created for at all. What we do know is that it’s not the kind of Love that Jesus calls for in us.

Astoundingly, Jesus calls us to a Love where the parts of us form a whole that we can live with heart.

As people called to such a glorious wholeness, what do we do with the aching tensions, longings and questions that these hearts inside us can feel?

We can keep our hearts with all vigilance and refuse to treat them as useless things to be afraid of and set aside.

Fear of our own hearts leaves us making fragmented decisions, afraid that the very thing we were made to love and seek God with is only trying to drag us to the ground. He made these hearts inside us for beauty and we can safely hold that.

We can fully validate and honor what our heart is feeling, without agreeing with fearful or untrue thoughts that we have in that place or acting on the deceitful impulses we feel.

As an example, feeling sad about mistakes we’ve made is a valid feeling inside us that we can fully honor and grieve, even while disagreeing with fearful thoughts that we are a failure. This is not how God sees us, for He delights in us, ready to greet us with His beaming smile whenever we come to Him just as we are, needy for the goodness of His redeeming Love. Lk 15:20-24.

In the same way, and through the comfort of that same Love, feelings of anger about a situation can be fully validated even while letting go of a desire to control a situation as if we are God.

There is no feeling of the heart that ever needs to be invalidated, and we can navigate our feelings best when we know and acknowledge their true existence while letting go of fears.

We can determine to gather the true information that our feelings help us find about the needs of our hearts.

When I am feeling afraid or unloved, my heart is telling me true information that I have a need for something that will help me more deeply know or remember that I am safe and Loved.

To deeply honor and regard that need is an essential way to live into Love with the heart.

We can take the true information our feelings have given us and feel our way closer to the God who satisfies our souls and loves to provide for our needs.

Sometimes we can do this through prayer and the Word and healthy rhythms of life, and sometimes we have a very real need to feel our way closer to God by taking other steps with the needs of our hearts. Sometimes it may be a need to let people we trust know how we’re really doing, the questions we’re really feeling, and asking for people to sit with us there so that we can seek out the places where God can speak Love to us through His people when we’re having trouble hearing the truth of His Love by ourselves. Sometimes we may carry a question in prayer and companioned love until we see one next little step through our heart’s questions to step toward the wholeness of Love.

As we continue to seek truest Love with our hearts, even when we don’t know just what we’re doing, we’ll keep learning and we’ll have more wholehearted Love to give, because we have received God’s care and compassion for us. We Love because He first Loved us. 1 Jn. 4:19.

Our deep curiosity and longing can be used in wonderful ways to follow after Love with our hearts and live into the wholeness of Love as God made it to be.

And just like those little white flowers in my yard, what we’ll find when we follow Love with the heart is that the desire to open to goodness always was, at its core, a truly beautiful desire after all. It’s a desire meant to lead us to the goodness of the One who is truest Love Himself, the very thing that the depths of our hearts have always been hungry to open to after all.

Where a Heart Could Settle in Trust

Thu, 14 Sep 2023 16:56:59 GMT

It’s a Monday morning and I wake slow, eventually roll forward as if to start to get up, then pause long in the weight of what I can feel inside.

When life feels messy, when the voice of fear keeps wanting to taunt at your heels with old news of your failures, where do you find the courage to keep trusting in God’s work in your heart? It’s a trust the heart needs: a kind of trust that keeps you believing that He is able to do good work, even in you. It’s a faith that can keep the heart opening, turning again, to the movement of His Spirit in your life.

Perhaps each of God’s children knows days, times, seasons, when we find ourselves in this place of need, struggling to keep trusting and believing that God can still do good work in us.

I eventually get out of bed and kiss my Nano goodbye as he heads out the door for work. I brush my girl’s hair and dress my boy before we snuggle on the couch to read the next tale in our storybook, about the people who see what’s on the outside and about the God who sees what’s in the heart. We pile into the van to take them to school, humming to our favorite songs on the way, and on the drive back home after dropping them off, I think about these hearts inside us. How they matter. How they matter to God. I pull into the driveway and sit awhile in the parked car. I think about my own heart’s needs and begin to ruminate over the fears that begin rolling around like a threat to those needs and my heart is beating faster until it feels bursting-ready to dump on somebody.

But the voice of Love speaks softly too and it is remembering me to a day a few years back when Love came to find me with invitation.

And the memory plays in my mind when the three of my kids were all tiny and I got away from the house with them, having forgotten to bring my phone or the little bag that held all of my money and cards. And when the van was nearly dry on gas and I realized my lack of resources, I panicked. When I couldn’t reach Nano with a borrowed phone, I broke into tears in a gas station store, desperate. And it was a lady there who paid - fifteen dollars worth of gas for my van was what she decided to give me. We made it home that day, pulled into the driveway and I was still sitting in the driver’s seat when I reached my hand into the corner to look for something else, but what I felt in my hand was something papery, folded. I pulled it out to find that it was fifteen dollars. I had no recollection of how it had gotten there, but there it was. Somehow, there was exactly fifteen dollars in my van the whole time.

And what Love spoke to my heart with that moment came with the sound of an unconditional Love. Whether I fell weak under the flooding fears or whether I could find heart to receive the hope to keep turning my eyes onto Him through the flood, looking assuredly for Him to provide for me there… God was already waiting to provide me with fifteen dollars of gas, either way. What I felt Him inviting me to that day was an invitation that He has found other ways to Love me with again when I’ve forgotten. He invites me to keep coming again after falling, to keep aiming to test how sweet it will be when the fears find their quiet in trust and I see Him meeting me there.

I hold that memory in my heart and step out of the driver’s seat to call for my dog and we go on a long walk down the road. And while Saucer and I walk in the morning sun, it comes to my heart, meeting me with the still-rising sun… the Love that “always believes” (1 Cor. 13:7 ESV) the Love that “always trusts” (NIV). Can I Love? Can my heart trust? How can my heart trust? And Love whispers, “because He first Loved us.” (1 John 4:19)

And with a rush I remember Him there on that cross, “Father, forgive them; for they do not know what they are doing.” (Lk. 23:34)

While an unbelieving world was rejecting Him, Jesus Loved with a Love that believed the best in us... believed in who God made us to be.

When we had done absolutely nothing to deserve it, when we were fully guilty of rejecting and misusing His Love, Love looked on us and Love believed the best for us. While we were still sinners, He died for us with a Love that always believes. And a Love like that could make you feel free.

I got home from my walk with a heart that felt lighter coming back through that front door. And as I pulled up my chair at the kitchen table, I checked my phone and found it there - the provision I had felt in need of that morning - what my God always had for me.

It was a text from my Nano.

“I’ve been thinking about your sweet face… I believe and trust that God is working on you and your walk just as much as he is working on mine.”

And rain fell through my lashes, down my face as the cat came bounding up into my lap to curl into a heap and I felt the Love of God through my husband's words. The goodness of God had always been coming for me that morning and I felt Loved with a Love that always believes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For the seasons when your heart needs ways to help settle itself in remembering that God is still working in you, here’s a daily breath prayer to hold through the little pauses in your day. (Based on God’s promise below.)

You are more than able

To do good work in me.

You are more than able

To do good work with me.

You are more than able

To give me enough for this place.

You are more than longing

To spill over me with that grace.

Hold the promise. “And God is able to make all grace abound to you, so that having all sufficiency in all things at all times, you may abound in every good work.” 2 Cor. 9:8.

Believe that He is able. Pray for people to trust and believe it with you, for you. (Or seek with God and pray for whatever it is that your heart truly needs.) Trust Him for the miracle of providing just what you need in that each day, hope for it without fear, look for it without confined agendas, and open your heart wide to every little bit of trust and goodness you see and hear and remember that helps you feel His own believing Love that helps your unbelief.

Then go open your heart wide to the world, for how will they feel it sure in their hearts that Jesus believes in them, without the members of His body who will go and open to the cry of His heart longing to pour through us with a Love that always believes.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

For another resource on the verse "Love always believes," see the link below for further study on it presented by the Gospel Coalition...

https://www.thegospelcoalition.org/blogs/erik-raymond/love-believes-all-things/#:~:text=love%20believes%20all%20things%E2%80%A6%E2%80%9D%20These,translated%20simply%20as%20%E2%80%9Cfaith%E2%80%9D.

A Drifter's Song

Tue, 09 May 2023 16:59:15 GMT

Once in the rush of a mighty river’s roar, my heart which I had long tried to push and shove away in compliancy into the very bottom of my soul felt a tug that it simply believed must hold the key to freedom from the place where it had stayed contained for years, held captive by the ever-dogged cautions of my mind that grew interlaced with fear. In a place of desperation, my heart which yearned for room to breathe and pulse and live, leaped out above all the rest and followed the rush of that mighty river, leaving my mind and soul be tugged along behind.

In fits and bursts, my heart felt strangely, wonderfully, terribly messy moments of being alive and free from its prison of compliance. There had been one thing that my heart had begun to grip deeply and indeed, despite all that could never realistically be fully received as true, this part was true and needed. The heart is not made to live shoved into the bottom of the soul.

It is not.

My heart continues to find this a truth which she will not deny, nor will any other part of me. And oh, how she loves and has needed this truth. How she must sing it as part of a melody that she was made to know and share and love with any other hearts who also long to live.

Yet the truth that hurts her to see in long years of those fits and starts is that a heart that jumps out up ahead on its own is a heart that exhausts itself and loses, in seasons, of what it was consecrated for if it is a heart in Him: a life where the yoke is easy and light.

I’ve given away many seasons where I didn’t embrace what I was invited to: the easy yoke, where the heart may ache just as great while it waits, but the cares of life are lighter for the troubles the heart doesn’t stir.

The heart is built to widen with longing and widen it can and so heartily may.

Dear heart, widen with trust. Gently, lightly, your part will come.

Do not put your God to the test (Luke 4:12. Hebrews 3). Despite what the deceiver would have you believe, God is not hiding any needed knowledge from you that cannot be found by seeking Him in sincerity and truth.

Do not try Him for a chance to watch Him catch you. And when you feel any doubt that He longs with all of His heart to catch you up in His arms, then go and trace each and every last bit of the ways that His heart already has. Read every last bit of the Love that He has personally written to you in your story there, and praise Him for the remembrance of every little piece of it that you get to carry with you always.

And in the sweet light of it all, test this.

Come and rest, dear heart, rest away, repeated, from the sin which wants to drain and claim the life and passion in you and rest all of you into the Great Heart of He who is gentle and humble for you. Come and dwell and be known and expand among the hearts of His own where He resides. Let the longings and griefs and questions of the heart be heard and named and cared for in places where they can know life, even while desire comes along in gentle, steady stride that rests secure in delight of a Father who loves to bless you. Live with all of your heart out of all of that rest and just see how your part is already here. See, dear heart, come and see if He does not open for you the windows of heaven and pour out for you a blessing until it overflows (Mal. 3:10).

It is still the day where you are welcome to come as you are, from just the place where you are. Come alive, heart. Come gently alive. It is fully safe for you here in the life of His living Word that lives and breathes to set you free.

“Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.” Matthew 11:28-30.

What Next?

Mon, 13 Mar 2023 17:19:57 GMT

On living into song again after the story didn't go how you hoped

Winter blows her last goodbye winds as she leaves in her wake the dregs of anything and everything that she helped to expose. For perhaps winter is always working to expose the things beneath the surface that are needing and groaning for the newness of life.

She leaves things like the tree felled by the weight of ice and the fence splintered through under its weight.

And she leaves too the good things felled by the weight of icy fear inside the heart, and hopes and plans fractured through with the weight of questions.

What is it to have things exposed again and again? What is it to walk into newness over and over? What is it to spin the same kinds of circles, season after dizzy season? What is it to fall down hard just as you begin to feel so free?

What is it?

Is this what it is to be dust? Is this the best place to remember that He made us from dust on purpose, for a purpose, and that He, Himself is faithful to remember that we are dust?

Gen. 2:7. Ps. 103:13-18. Ps. 143:1-2.

For He has always been the God who remembers when we don’t, the God who delights in hearing His own lovely song be sung from the place of dust, the God who loves for ashes to be the thing that He takes in His hands from which to make beauty.

Certainly only a God who can tell the light to shine out of darkness, could speak the word that would let light shine into this dust and into these hearts (2 Cor. 4:6). Surely only He could let our hearts hear and feel the Song that rests us and returns us repeated in the knowing that these exposed places inside of us, do not diminish even slightly His own ability to shine light out of darkness. Nor could any weak place inside of any of His own children who have even a mustard seed of a prayer for faith, ever hinder the cause of our own personal supporter and Friend Jesus, who constantly recommends to the Father on the basis of His own blood the beauty of the cause that He forever sees in these hearts that He has bought and eternally redeemed secure (1 John 2:1-2).

And when the winter exposed so much inside us that had no strength and leaves us in a heap of so many ashes that it doesn’t make any kind of earthly sense to go on singing, when it doesn’t seem that you have any positive right to sing at all, or do anything more than to lay down and rot in the ashes (Ps. 143:3-4), when this is where winter begins to bid us farewell, just as she has done before… even here, there is a song that is not our own, and in the quiet of the soul even in a heap of ashes, the faint hum of the Spirit of God within can still be heard (Jn. 7:38-39), an echo faint and sure. It is ringing with the longing of what light He desires to sing in us. And it is a song that cannot be silenced by anything exposed in the winter.

So even while the winter has not fully ended yet, and even while it is still dark, one could listen to the longing hum of the Spirit of God, the desiring melody of the Spirit that still dwells deep within all who are in Christ, in the face of the desires of the flesh (Gal. 5:17). And in the security of that sure hum that still resides underneath everything else, one could go on and sing a song right there in the place that you are.

So sing.

Sing out a prayer. Sing with a heart that still knows how to smile and knows too that tears matter and one can go on learning how to reach out for support. Sing with hands joining hands and feet that find places of love to go still, the shared humanity of joined brokenness and grace all around, all of us in need of this same love. Sing with a soul that knows that it is only by the blood of Jesus that it has every heavenly right to go on singing about the song of perfect love that it has been so deeply loved by.

Rest. Do what is needed to let your heart rest and see the choices that are yours to make about the fragile places inside you that need extra quiet and care to help them rest into the Spirit and be quieted by the Father’s own Love. Ps. 46:10, Zeph. 3:17, Ps. 143:8, Mt. 11:28-29.

And carry on with the grace of the Spirit’s song as one who is…

armed to resist your opponent, (Eph. 6:11, 1 Pet. 5:8-9)

cleansed through confession by His blood, (1 Jn. 1:9)

confident before the throne of grace, (Heb. 4:16)

sprinkled clean from an evil conscience, (Heb. 10:21-23)

pursuing righteousness, faith, love and peace with all who call on him purehearted, (2 Tim. 2:22)

laying aside every weight of sin and running with endurance the race that is set before you.

(Heb. 12:1-2)

And do not lose heart, but rather, with every last bit of any mustard seed prayer you have, keep your heart with the wild vastness of its groaning and yearning and longing and believe . For the promise is sure: “I am sure of this, that he who began a good work in you will bring it to completion at the day of Jesus Christ.” Phil 1:6.

May your heart never cease wild hoping in the newness of spring and the life of the resurrection.

Rom. 8:11.

And may the circles of seasons spun before be transformed from a weary remembering, to a blessed remembering of His own faithful works to continually carry you through, a faithfulness that never will fail you nor let you go. Ps. 143:5-6. Isa. 41:10. Ps. 94:12-15

Amen.

Psalm 143.

…

“...Answer me quickly, O Lord! My spirit fails! Hide not your face from me, lest I be like those who go down to the pit. Let me hear in the morning of your steadfast love, for in you I trust. Make me know the way I should go, for to you I lift up my soul. Deliver me from my enemies, O Lord! I have fled to you for refuge. Teach me to do your will, for you are my God! Let your good Spirit lead me on level ground! For your name’s sake, O Lord, preserve my life! In your righteousness bring my soul out of trouble! And in your steadfast love you will cut off my enemies, and you will destroy all the adversaries of my soul, for I am your servant.”

When Your Heart Longs to Sing

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Wed, 25 Jan 2023 20:53:26 GMT

and you also feel your flaws...

I took a moment looking over the open tables in the shop and then chose my spot. I took my seat at the smallest little table and laid out my things with fingers longing to pour out feelings onto paper, and I stared at the antique piano sitting silent about a yard or so beyond my little table. Its front was scattered with piano music of all kinds. Its top held a vintage lamp, a stack of musty old books and a pot with perky green leaves climbing up out of it and down the piano’s side.

That old piano sat there like it had so much it wanted to say, yet no hands to play, to give their try at what it had the potential to do. I stared at its keys and felt so many things inside, like a silent piano could remind you of the workings of the heart that can feel so many things and yet struggle to discern when to tell what there is to tell, when to hold what there is to hold and how to even step with them both. One of the local librarians walked by with a wave. I waved back, and then I began to pen a tiny letter, a little release to things inside.

Dear hearts that bear this life,

You have so much to say, and sometimes so little to tell.

You have so much to bear with care, and sometimes so much to let loose like a tumble of hair falling down.

And right there as I finished writing the last word of that line, he simply walked in the back door of the place, gave a nod in my direction and then he took up his seat right there at the piano in front of me. My eyes widened at the timing and his heart tumbled out of his fingers. Occasionally, the fingers stumbled, but you could just tell how those fingers were more concerned with letting that piano and his heart join to share a melody than they were with whether it all came out just right.

His playing breathed a most certain kind of life into the place and my own fingers found their pace on the letters of the keyboard. And hearts that find their little ways to tumble out a song, they bring other hearts awake, even when they don’t see it.

He played about twenty minutes and then he got up to head for the door just as quickly as he had come in. And I wanted to say thank you, to give an awkward little clap, from my own stumbling heart, and before I found a response, he was gone. But he left the place with his heart in music form still silently echoing ‘round.

And I could feel it, how just the same way that a smile can be so contagious, a heart that is finding its way to sing out the utter beauty inside of the aching and groaning and longing of life, can be a wondrously contagious thing to other hearts.

Since I didn’t get to thank the pianist, I wanted to pen this down, how it feels. And I thought of you, the musicians, the artists, the poets, the weavers, the designers, the bakers, the makers, and the ones who share their hearts in so many little ways. In the silence there after his music, right there I could feel it in truth. No matter how imperfect the song may feel at times, each time you let it ring with hope, you give timeless gift to the hearts inside us all.

And when you let that song ring out, when you play with faith in the beauty of song itself… a hope for eternity shared with heart… no matter how your fingers stumble, no matter how many only notice the flaws, you are offering the gift of something that each of us forget so many times. We need each other to remember that the song of eternity is what belongs inside of these hearts. And no matter how weak and flawed our humanity is, the song of eternity is a song that each of our hearts are created and able to share by faith as a workmanship of our Father. By grace, it is sure for each and every heart that plays for the simple beauty of song. There will be hearts in need of hearing the song who will be able to hear the sound of that melody beyond the flaws we could put into the music. It doesn’t negate the care we give to song, but it is alive with purpose beyond the inevitable flaws.

When you play for the beauty of the song itself and let it all ring out, you give us the gift of the Good Song that transcends you.

The fragility and scars of hearts grow light in the sound, for we remember we are free to join in the Song so good and beautiful that it never could be ruined by anything in us. Only made full with the sound of all that is being redeemed, faithful grace made perfect through all that is weak.

“But he said to me, ‘My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.’ Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me.” 2 Corinthians 12:9.

When Breaking Down Could Heal

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 29 Sep 2022 17:20:24 GMT

The frogs all splashed away when we walked up to the pond with the kids a few days ago and Daddy saw a chance to see their eyes widen. His melon-sized chunk of dirt ker-plunked down close to where the frogs had jumped, making the biggest splash of all. With exclamations of what a large frog to run into, he got one widened pair of eyes that weren’t quite sure and another pair that were pretty doubtful, while the oldest girl, in step with the dog, already had interests further around the pond.

They’re getting older with an unsuspecting rawness that’s beginning to break down a bit as they grow more familiar with the reality of life. And I suppose, more familiar with the type of playfulness their Daddy shows.

The cat showed up in tow behind us as the sunlight dawned more dim and more splashes were made by sticks and rocks thrown from their little hands… growing hands.

And even as we dearly miss the child-eyes full of wonder that used to have no speck of doubt in sight, I am full with another kind of wonder, too. For if that unsuspecting part of the children in us did not go through the process of breaking down, surely none of us would ever grow up into people who can see and interact with reality as it truly is. Perhaps there are many times when it's that kind of breaking down that can most help us grow, yet I can imagine that there are other kinds of breaking down that are healing and needed at other times too.

When it comes to seeing a situation as a gigantic frog splash or a chunk of dirt thrown by your Daddy, some children could easily find motivation for seeing past the frog story if they have a desire to believe that they’re growing up and getting too smart to be impressed so easily. Whereas some children, especially smaller children, could easily become quite defensive of the giant frog story if they are very attached to the unique experience of getting to witness such a large frog splash.

Yet, on the other hand, if there ever truly is a giant frog splash, the first child would be likely to not believe it at all.

I know I was eight years old and my brother, I think, was six when we heard the news from my dad that our family would soon be welcoming a new baby and we were far above falling for a joke like that. Our dad would have no pleasure of tricking us into any excitement over something so preposterous. We were too grown up to fall for stories.

But of course, it wasn’t a story and mom really was a few months away from having a baby. I don’t remember exactly what it was that finally convinced us. Of course, we deeply wanted it to be true, so I know that helped. I just remember how determined we were to not fall for any stories because maybe we also deeply wanted to avoid the hurt of getting too attached to something that might not be true.

Sometimes in order to see what is true, the part of us that needs to break down is the part of us that is afraid of getting too attached to a story that always does have the possibility of getting into our hearts in a way that could hurt. There are times when seeing the truth requires feeling like a little child again.

I’d dare believe that these ways of relating with reality are common to humanity and that sometimes, even as adults, our desire to be intellectual, to take great care to not be deceived by our hearts, can interfere greatly with our ability to use our hearts in hearing and listening to the stories all around us, maybe sometimes especially, the stories of the hurting. Sometimes giving our ears and our hearts to the stories of the marginalized, the poor, the disadvantaged, the underprivileged and the hurting may cost us grief and discomfort. It can be painful to hear a problem that you have no fix for, and it can hurt to give your heart to something, when there will be no such thing as quick results where systems of trauma and systems of inequality run so deep. It can hurt to ponder the idea that what you were able to give did not turn a situation around in the way and the time that you hoped. And maybe what can hurt more is the realization when you remember what you forgot, that you, yourself, are not so much helped when someone simply wants to help you, but when someone is willing to listen and believe your pain and be changed by you along the way, ready to learn and be moved simply from seeing the beauty of the story and journey that God is writing into your life. I read the quote a few months ago in Osheta Moore’s book and it resounded as what I can often feel too when I am in need of the people around me: “If you have come here to help me you are wasting your time, but if you have come because your liberation is bound up with mine, then let us work together.” (Quote often attributed to Lilla Watson.)

I feel this deeply too in the realizations of love. For you can fall in love with someone from a segment of humanity that you have never known so well before, and your heart can widen in a thousand ways, tying your heart to the equality and dignity of this very part of humanity in a way you’ve never felt before. And you can wonder why you had never yet seen the significance of this. How simply, sometimes quietly attaching your heart in a way that could hurt, to people from so many kinds of walks of life can widen your heart in a thousand ways with the deepest truth that could never be put into any kind of spreadsheet or fact check or research report. The truth that the equality and dignity of every segment of humanity is deeply tied to my own, for if we as a people hold to any excuse for not assigning the most intrinsic depth of value to any part or person of humanity, we all lose out disastrously.

Sometimes perhaps we must feel all of the tension of this and feel it long while we grieve the depths of what cannot be fixed within our timelines and tidy ideas and learn what we will do with all of the brokenness of this. Maybe hope lives in trust that Love is an army that fights the shame of trauma with every little voice of belief we give and every little prayer we voice that found its way out in Love through the hearts of souls we may never know in this life. Maybe hope knows that the beauty of Love is so strong that Love itself, never was distorted when I got it wrong. Still, Love invites me into all of her own beauty.

Be the voice of belief because we all need believing. And come too, and jump headfirst into the celebration of the prodigal, the prodigal who did the unthinkable, yet takes shaky steps turned home, who has not one thing in his life together. Jump into the party all in because we are all the prodigals who’ve made a mess of it and need deep down inside to see the Father running. To know He saw us from a long way off and scrambled on toward us with the run that let loose all of his manners of dignity for the joy of welcoming us home with full kiss and embrace for His dearly beloved little child with robes and a fattened calf and all the stops to celebrate us. (Luke 15:11-32.)

You belong. This is where you belong. And even when we feel more like we’ve been the older brother, standing on the side, despising the celebration of prodigals, the Father’s compassion is not short. The Father came to the son who stood outside, invited him with love into the celebration. And even when the brother still could not see the value of the prodigal, the Father’s Love ran on in his words to the older son… “And he said to him, ‘Son, you are always with me, and all that is mine is yours. It was fitting to celebrate and be glad, for this your brother was dead, and is alive; he was lost, and is found.’” (Luke 15:31-32.)

The home of the Father is ours to come to and this is where we all are so welcome to belong. And no matter who cannot yet see the value of any one, the Father will never be disheartened or any less enamored in the celebration of utter belonging for even one of His most misunderstood children.

No matter who it could be who doesn’t understand, we can be firmly established with let-your-hair-down rejoicing in a Father whose heart is so tenderly tied to the most lost and hurting among us that He won’t stop looking. He will not ever be the slightest bit disheartened in the all-out celebration for even one who saw that he simply could not get it right, and started stepping home.

Walking Clockwise

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 07 Jul 2022 16:42:30 GMT

On embracing both the sameness and the diversity of humanity

A month or two ago, I got to the park to walk a few laps around the rough circle of a walkway that goes over and along the creek and back over again. But soon after I began my walk, I discovered that while I was walking clockwise around the circle, the other four or five people on the path were walking counterclockwise. I began to smile and wave every time I passed them and initially they all responded to this, but by the second or third time I passed each of them, they grew tired of responding and I began to feel slightly awkward that I was the only one walking clockwise around the circle and waving at all the people I kept passing. But I kept on for a few laps still that day.

This morning when I got there, I did what I tend to do now when I get to that park, even though it feels a slightly silly thing to confess. I sat in my car for a minute or two to see which direction everyone else was walking around the circle. They are always walking counterclockwise. Pretty much always. All of them. I’m not sure where this trend started, but I feel like it’s a pretty official thing and now it’s what I do too when I walk at that park.

I have wondered how many people have had this experience and have sometimes wondered whether it would be beneficial to mark a sign explaining this to everyone out of courtesy, but that can seem rather silly too. Perhaps there may be some people who would not be bothered at all by walking clockwise around the walk while everyone else is walking counterclockwise, though I have not seen those people yet.

I have also wondered how long it takes each person to figure out that this is what we do here. Do some people just understand this without giving it that much thought? I have no idea.

And as silly as it feels to talk about it in this many words, I feel like this is pretty normal and harmless: to make this little decision to walk counterclockwise around the circle because that’s what everyone else is doing. And the more I’ve thought about it, the more I’ve decided I really enjoy this little practice. I'll tell you why.

Human the Same Way

There is something sweet to me about it for a very specific reason. For no matter who you are in this world, if you want to do the best you know to be someone who holds true to your values and to who God made you to be, there are plenty enough ways you have to be different from the people around you. And in the understanding of that, there is a sweet grace to be felt in the shared humanity of the things about us that are similar and the things we can do the same way.

When I walk around that circle the same way that everyone else is walking I find comfort in knowing that each of us walking this circle may have very different beliefs and viewpoints, we may express faith differently or vote differently, but here in this little stretch of time we are all walking the same direction around the same circle all being human together right here in the same way. And there is something about that that feels simply and utterly beautiful to the soul.

Here, while we’re walking this circle, it doesn’t matter what is different about us. We all live in bodies that are made from dust and will return to dust and all of these bodies we live in share a common need to move with this body, to move with this life. And when there is a little space of time, a little way, where we are all moving in the same kind of direction, I think maybe it can feel a little bit glorious.

And in the places where we must decide to walk differently from those around us, there is often much beauty there for sure, yet I think it’s true that there is a very real ache in there too that can feel a kind of grounding in the places where we are actually alike.

When Love Calls a Different Way

I wonder what this calls to mind for you. Because, perhaps for all of us, there are places where you can mostly expect that you will be different from the people around you, and then there are places where you don’t expect the differences until you see them and something about that can simply be the hardest to try to process sometimes.

When I think of it, I remember a moment when I felt the sudden ache of difference that I wasn’t sure how to process or how to step on from. I’ve wanted to write more about that moment for years and I still am not sure how to share about it in the best way, but I can try.

It was one of the biggest moments that stopped me with a kind of ache inside, when I realized that many of the people around me in the place that felt like my safe place, were walking one way and I had a need to decide to walk a different way.

It happened at a time when I had fallen in love with my now-husband, Luiz, and I am not good at remembering the timing of things. But it was either soon before or soon after our wedding and the birth of our oldest girl who was born during our first year of marriage.

I was standing in a hallway surrounded by people I had known and been encouraged by for years, when a woman who my family had known a long while said to me that immigrants were the ones who caused all the problems in this country. And when she said it, I froze.

I froze with a gut that wanted to burst with the ache, anger and grievance of a thousand things because I realized that the people she was talking about were no different than my husband who I was in love with and whose children I would bear and mother. Part of me wanted to fight her and part of me wanted to run away, and part of me had no idea what to do and I simply froze while my blood felt like it wanted to boil over. In that moment I felt sick to my stomach and I realized with pain that I had heard these kinds of ideas from people much of my life and had always with complicity gone along and even shared in it, while these ideas continued to flow.

I remembered years worth of comments like I was waking up for the first time to what was actually said, comments about not wanting them in our country, about how we don’t want their ideas here, and I remembered the comments about how racism was a problem of the past that we don’t struggle with here anymore. And what I felt with a rushing wave that day, was that I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand it for my husband. I couldn’t stand it for my children. None of this would do. And my insides boiled with anger and helplessness for all of these moments when I could’ve seen the direction we were going and I could’ve done something different, something... but those moments were behind me now and I felt sick, ashamed and frozen in the moment of trying to process and understand the implications of all of it.

In the wake of her words, heard in that place of my life, I couldn’t bring myself to speak a word and as soon as I could manage, I made my way to the ladies room to stand bent over, feeling sick and to cry. I had a need to walk a different way and I didn’t know what that looked like. All I knew to do was to stumble through one step at a time. That one step at a time has, over the years, led to a myriad of ways in which I’ve decided to do something different than what may have been expected by some of the people around me. And I don’t know what I’m doing, and sometimes it feels really messy.

I imagine that even if your story is completely different, that you have ways in which you relate to this, and to the moments in which you realized that you must walk a different way from people around you.

Maybe, whatever the situation is and whatever it is about, maybe we all have moments when we see that we have a need to decide to walk a different way than many of the people around us even if they’re people that we love and who may not understand what we’re doing. Maybe all of us are kinda stumbling through.

Walking Different

Maybe none of us actually know what we’re doing when we desperately know that we hate a thing and do not want to live complicit with it at all, but also know that we Love (and want to continue to Love) people who may not see it the same way. Maybe yet, in situations like that, there are places where we can all agree that it looks like the fullness of all that Love is, as Love was most made to be.

If that kind of Love is what we must do, then perhaps we can say that we don’t know what we’re doing. Or how to perfectly hate a behavior while also perfectly Loving the person.

Maybe though, we know who it looks like and can put a face to it in a way...

And even when we can’t fully understand why an innocent man would look at the people unjustly killing him, and plead with his Father to “forgive them, for they do not know what they are doing,” (Luke 23:34) even when we hear those words spoken from the cross and part of something inside us wants to immediately balance them out with talk about justice, what is true is that in that moment on the cross, Jesus spoke those words of forgiveness and He let them sit just as they were, while He received the outworking of God’s justice Himself.

And there are places inside where we will always struggle to remember that and to understand how a statement like the forgiveness that Jesus spoke from the cross even belongs in a world where we don’t want to idly make allowance for all that is wrong. Yet, there are also places inside us that can remember the pieces of our own life and feel the weight of how much we long for and need to hear that kind of compassion spoken over us, individually.

What we know is that Jesus’ heart of compassion for the people who were involved in the crucifixion that day, is no different than His heart for us in our offenses.

As much as we need accountability, we all long, somewhere inside, for the compassion of someone who remembers that we are merely dust, not God, and if there is any hope for us at all, we deeply need super doses of compassion for the ways we show the dust that we are. (Psalm 103:13-14)

Because what’s true is that not a single one of us really does know what we’re doing with this life. We are like sheep who need a Shepherd. It’s a thing we all have in common, our shared humanity. The compassion in Jesus’ statement of forgiveness spoken from the cross is pure and just, not skipping over accountability at all, because the sweetness of it is only something we can hear and openly feel and receive when we are remembering how much all of it is true: that we truly don’t know what we’re doing with this life and we desperately need to fall on all of His compassion to get us through.

As soon as we start thinking we know exactly what we’re doing thank you very much, we lose something precious. We lose our ability to hear and feel all of the sweet beauty of Jesus’ compassion spoken in those words from the cross.

We need His compassion. And as much as we don’t know what we’re doing, with His compassion, we have what we need to do what we can. And we can look at Jesus and live into Love the best ways we know how… even when we do it differently from each other. It all looks like stumbles. All of it. And when we are trusting in Jesus’ forgiveness… surely we’ll act like stumbling people who know that we are stumbling people. Surely, we’ll act like people who do the best we know to own and face our stumbles, to learn from them, knowing that we’re not alone. Surely, if we are trusting in a forgiveness that we all need like this, forgiveness that is available to anyone who knows that they need it, surely we’ll live in continuing repentance that stumbles toward Jesus and toward graciousness with each other, knowing that all of us have this same need.

And in the places where we start acting like a stumbling person who is forgetting that we are a stumbling person, surely we are forgetting one of the most important things that makes us alike. We all share the same exact humanity that comes with the very same basic and desperate need.

Without this, we miss the whole Gospel Good News of His perfect Love and the beauty of what it means for our daily lives.

The Sweetness of What We Share Still

Maybe there is a reason that something about walking around the circle the same way as my neighbors can feel spiritually grounding. Like how singing worship in side by side respect, with people who vote differently than me, can feel like a spiritually grounding place that I need and love to get to be part of.

And when I think about it, it’s a beauty I can also feel when I sit in a lawn chair on the grass watching fireworks with thousands of people who are different from me, but we’re all doing it together. And I can feel it when I’m sitting in the school pickup line with dozens of other parents waiting to hear the stories about what happened at school today, but we’re all doing this same part of life, waiting together in line in these commonday familiar moments. And I can feel it now while I sit in the coffee shop with dozens of other people while I finish this blog post, all of us with our common draw to a place that provides air conditioning, community and something fun to drink on a hot summer day.
And now, when I walk the same direction as my neighbors at the park, what I aim to celebrate with my steps is our common humanity, our shared likeness, and our common need. The One who made us, who is faithful to remember that we are dust, all of us like sheep, and we need a God who knows and feels with us the tension and the strain of what it is like… to be human.

(References and for further study: Lk 23:34, Gen. 3:17-19, Ps. 103:6-18, Mt 9:36-38, Isaiah 53:6, Psalm 23, Hebrews 2:17-3:6)

The Love of the Lion's Roar

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Sat, 30 Apr 2022 23:26:10 GMT

It was the hump of the week when I had a sliver of time to myself and a flurry of things in my heart that felt a bit like anger. I just didn’t like it and wasn’t sure I knew how to explain it in words if I tried.

I ventured my way between lines of orange and white cones and bumpety roads for the park with her clusters of trees. Trees that know without doubt where their place is to stand. I wandered a couple laps around the walk before sliding down onto the grass at the edge of the creek where the water was leaping in rhythm over the rocks. Where you can close your eyes and hear the song that helps you imagine that there is a place where no discord among persons could ever dampen the unified wonder at dancing waters in perfect roar. Its harmony is this song of the birds that lives free-belonging to the open skies that envelop each note with welcome abandon.

And yet, with eyes wide open to see what is broken and feel the tugs inside, you can lean into the roar of those waters and hear another kind of roar. The roar of words you’ve heard that want to reverberate around and around your head, like a roar at your soul that wants to send your loaves and your fishes away.

And staring at those waters it can feel as if you could simply plunge the diving weight of your hand down into the actual roar and feel it going right through, passing between your fingers while you feel the push and the movement, and are not swept away. A small act, a standing, that helps you find something to do with all that is swirling inside. To feel it on purpose and yet see how you are not destroyed.

And the trees alongside the creek, they know. The wind may blow at your branches, and parts of you may bend and break, but the trees know where they stand. And what keeps them standing is a whole life that they have beneath the parts of them that we can see up here above the ground.

And these underneath parts of us need places to dig into and be covered, given fertile home in our most mattering parts that secure us and keep us standing, firmly attached. Because up above the ground in our growing places, our prayer is to stretch our branches out in fruitful love, yet, when we look at the Jesus who is Love at His own very core, we see a Love that transcends our safe rulebooks and guidelines about any cut-out black and white view of what Love is supposed to look like. It can look impossible to grow into this.

Jesus’ gave Love that showed itself just as it was needed in each situation beyond the bounds of our ideas of what Love must always look like. He always gave what Love most needed and He always knew what that was in its time… whether it needed table-flipping in defense of the sinners who just wanted to come to God in their need without being abused in the process, or whether it needed unhurried, gentle presence that silenced the accusations for a woman caught in adultery.

Love stretched Himself out in ways that nobody saw coming, even giving His body at the proper time, to be mistreated and killed before He would finally rise. And Love cannot be dwindled down to something less than all of what His life showed, with the perfect timing of each part.

My eyes follow the way down the creek to the tree trunks that grow sideways out of the bank of the creek as if they simply forgot which way is up. And then the trees that twist and bend in ways that you simply wouldn’t advise them to grow if they had asked your opinion. How do you let go of wanting your life to grow just so… according to your own idea of what growth in love is always supposed to be?

And my eyes follow the trunk of the tree to her tangled web of roots that partial-protrude from the bank of the creek before they sink down into the earth there by the edge of the water’s roar. Yet still, I can hear the roar of those waters and even within, feel it as those words that want to shame the soul, accuse, condemn and shun, maybe like what they most truly are isn’t flesh or blood at all, but a prowling, seeking someone to devour. For I remember it, and find what the Word says, that the accuser of our souls can be “like a roaring lion.” (1 Peter 5:8) But that’s not what he is, for it’s not his place. There is this rising sense that wants to clench my fist at those waters, though I know that my own fist cannot stop their flow. And there is a part of me that wonders where… Where does my own clenched fist have a place in Love?

I want to hold it to my chest and feel the stories, the ache, the things that I know had to go this way and it can hurt.

Still you could close your eyes to the broken world and still in all that’s becoming new, feel the Healing Roar that is true. Because the stillness bids to know that there is an actual Roar that overpowers the broken roar of shame and it is alive. There is a true Lion-Destroyer of darkness, the Light of the world. He alone gives the genuine Roar.

He is angry for the sake of hurting sinners.

That morning, I had read the words… “His anger, unlike yours, has zero taint of sin in it… His anger can be trusted. For it is an anger that springs from his compassion.”*

His anger judges justly for the sake of the nations and every people and tongue. It judges justly in defense of needy sinners and every lost and searching soul.

When anger finds my heart, maybe Love invites me into this, this resting and rooting my heart down into the Roar of the Lion who has conquered (Rev. 5:5).

“Be angry and do not sin.” Eph 4:26.

One could take a clenched fist and fall on knees… and still. The Roar of the Lion of Judah is not dead. He is angry for the sake of sinners and His anger is there to cover us.

Be angry for the sake of sinners who just want to come in their need, yet they find themselves shamed and abused. Be angry for the places where brokenness and death wants to claim that it’s winning the war. Be angry for the sake of sinners who feel stuck under the weight of their sin and the accuser of their souls. Be angry for all who are met with condemnation in their search for healing... for the Love of the Lion is the true healing balm, who perfectly knows how to Roar for He hates both the *sin and the *shaming of hurting sinners. These both that want to war for their claim on our souls.

Be angry and pray where there is a war for the workings of your heart.

For a clenched fist can always find a place in Love through prayer that trusts in the Roar of the Lion. No fist finds a better place to land than when it falls under covering with the Roar of the One who perfectly hates sin, shame and death.

Until the time, rest in His Roar and use your heart for the ones He roars for.

For you can still hear the echo of the undying kingdom of God that souls are yet rooting down into. Belonging for souls is here:

rest our cause in the Lion.

The water still flowed, leaping in rhythm over the rocks, where you can close your eyes and hear the song that helps you imagine, believe by faith. There is a place where no darkness could ever dampen our wonder together at dancing waters in perfect Roar.

Let the Lion Roar.

*Quote from Dane Ortlund, Gentle and Lowly: The Heart of Christ for Sinners and Sufferers, p. 112.

The Charge of the Deer

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 03 Mar 2022 18:25:14 GMT

It is one thing to put a kind of hope into words, and another thing for that hope to be a hope lived out. The realization of it makes me feel more cautious to write, for words are only words. Words do not walk out a hope.
Still, I know that when I put the beauty of a hope into words I can share, it helps the hope to find a spark in my heart. A spark is not a flame, yet when a spark finds the right materials in the presence of oxygen, a spark is able to grow into a sustaining flame. Words cannot make the right materials for the flame, but words can make a spark.

So I will speak of hope because sparks have a purpose, and I will pray to step and live like I trust that God provides for the flame. Here are the words I have to share at the beginning of lent...

I faintly remember the day that held the closest I ever stood to a deer.

When I think of deer, in a blink I am a teenage girl waking up at grandpa’s farm where I am a guest. I wake to catch the rise of the sun and watch it glow. I wander in it’s light. Running in fields, standing in sun, hearing the morning song of the world that I first fell in love with at grandpa’s farm, breathing in the open skies that feel so far away when I am in Dallas. In the open skies, everything feels free. I make my way to the creek that makes the shape of an L across all of the back of grandpa’s property. I step into a little clearing close to where the creek runs.

I don’t remember the exact order of things, perhaps I stood in the stillness for a bit before I saw her. Or maybe she didn’t notice me coming. But the closest I remember being to a deer was in that little clearing there that morning by the creek. She didn’t see me at first and I remember how I caught my breath at the sight. My brother appeared behind me and he saw her too. We watched her until she leapt away. He stepped forward and grinned and we had gotten to share the sight of it. I think that’s how I remember it.

Today I am a wife and mother and we are occupants for now, on the same land I would visit then. In the time that we’ve lived here, while we often see the deer from a distance, I don’t think I’ve ever gotten as close to one as I was that day. But what I’ve taken more time to notice about the deer since then is that while they too, love to wander and roam, they don’t do so freely. They come into the open with a heavy dose of caution.

I would imagine that stepping out of their wooded homes into the open fields and open skies is just as much a longed-for treasure to them, as it was to teenage me getting to step away from the city at times to breathe in the open skies. And just occasionally in the daytime, you’ll see deer that have quietly snuck out of the wooded places to enjoy the open air. But when they know that they’ve been seen, they won’t usually stay in the open for long. They leave the beauty of the openness for the safety of the woods. And it’s no wonder that they would. For the deer around these parts know the sound of the gunshot, and the dangers of trusting the people.

A large part of the beauty in the sight of the deer is that deer are not animals that readily show themselves.

And the human soul is not unlike the deer. How many of us and the souls who we rub shoulders with have never known what it is like to trust and then feel your heart shot through in the process?

Like the deer, the human soul knows the risks that can lie in the openness it longs for. Yet, how deeply every human soul needs people we can trust, just like we need air to breathe.

And the hope is that when we think of the human soul that we remember the nature of the deer. I have found through experience why it’s painful when we don’t.

For I can tell you about another day, when I wanted to see a deer so badly, a deer that I had seen before.

(Because the soul needs people, just like we need air to breathe. Sometimes it can make you feel desperate. And in following with this metaphor… I was failing at waiting and I wanted to see a deer.)

The first few sights had been delightful. But I’m not sure how much I knew about the nature of the deer, because for any bit I knew, I was acting as one who did not. I forgot how we’re all like the deer somewhere inside, longing for the open, yet having seen and felt the dangers. We’re all needing freedom to feel the open in time, and find the places slowly where we know that it is safe.

I was afraid of not seeing the deer again. Overcome with fear so that I couldn’t see or think. Or hear the Voice… do not be afraid . I wasn’t listening. And I walked up to the edge of the woods and I called for the deer to come out, to come out now. I talked of how the open was better and how it was dumb to stay in the woods. I brought my pots and pans to make all the racket I could. And then, to my grave disappointment… I didn’t get at all what I wanted. And I fell to the ground and wept.

And when I lifted my head to look around at where I really was, I found… that I was in my own woods and there was more pain that wanted to be my neighbor.

How many of us do not know what it is like to be as the deer who longs to not be tricked or teased or guilted, threatened, or wounded, who longs to be given freedom to find safety in time, in the time it takes the soul to feel it’s way through to the beauty of the open.

How long does it take to learn how to give each other freedom in the space between our souls? How long does it take to remember? To remember that “people are complex, layered, multifaceted, beautiful, wounded, contradictory, beloved image-bearers of the Creator. They are minds, hearts, souls and bodies, spilling over with dreams, passions, hurts, regrets and fears.” * And when we think of, speak of, or treat any human soul as if they are anything less than the whole of that, we are sinning against that soul’s own Creator.

He created us for the open and there is not one of us who does not long for the open somewhere inside.

It is gut-wrenching and heartbreaking when another makes the open space between us and them feel deeply unsafe. And even then, it is excruciating to see yourself as one who has done the very same and marred the beauty of the open. Difficult to witness just how it is true that while apology has necessary purpose, it cannot erase damage.

Yet it is only in the naked face of that whole pain that we can come to the face of Christ waiting inside.

And when we see His face there inside of our own ugly pain, He is always and only looking at us as One who is human too, feeling the pain of it with us and as one of us, though He Himself has never caused a scratch of damage to the open, but only laid Himself down so we can keep finding safety in the open again by way of His own broken body.

How He deeply knows every layer of us, and has always treated us with the freedom that the deer needs. Always waiting for us inside of the pain.

And in this broken world it’s always true here… the place where we look pain in the face is the place where beauty lives.

It’s only in feeling the pain, that we can feel more of the beauty. It’s the only way to keep coming to know more of the depths of His Love.

It’s because He first looked pain in the face, more than we will ever know… that we are now free to look pain in the face and always find His own dear face of compassion sitting with us inside it.

Until the day that we are home, we will keep learning to look pain in the face and embrace her every time she greets us. For we know the face of Love that waits for us inside.

It’s His Love that will keep growing us up, keep moving us to see each other more like the deer. To be safer places for each other until that day when all of the darkness is gone and banished forever. Amen.

“Bless the Lord, O my soul, and all that is within me, bless his holy name! Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagle’s.

The Lord works righteousness and justice for all who are oppressed. He made known his ways to Moses, his acts to the people of Israel. The Lord is merciful and gracious, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love. He will not always chide, nor will he keep his anger forever. He does not deal with us according to our sins, nor repay us according to our iniquities. For as high as the heavens are above the earth, so great is his steadfast love toward those who fear him; as far as the east is from the west, so far does he remove our transgressions from us. As a father shows compassion to his children so the Lord shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust.

As for man, his days are like grass; he flourishes like a flower of the field; for the wind passes over it, and it is gone, and its place knows it no more. But the steadfast love of the Lord is from everlasting to everlasting on those who fear him, and his righteousness to children’s children, to those who keep his covenant and remember to do his commandments. The Lord has established his throne in the heavens, and his kingdom rules over all.

Bless the Lord, O you his angels, you mighty ones who do his word, obeying the voice of his word! Bless the Lord, all his hosts, his ministers, who do his will! Bless the Lord, all his works, in all places of his dominion. Bless the Lord, O my soul!”

Psalm 103.

*The two sentence quote within the post is from Adam McHugh, The Listening Life, p. 138.

The Speech of Seasons

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Wed, 26 Jan 2022 20:28:22 GMT

Photo credit: Luiz Sifuentes

It’s the last week of January and our Christmas tree still stands. She loses an ornament here and there on her skirt that’s scattered with the needly greens. And I don’t plug her in first thing in the morning like I did in December. Just every so often in the afternoon, I’ll let her light, play some music, light a candle.

And that last Tuesday before school started this month we sat by her with our chips and salsa to enjoy her light while we played Old Maid, listened to chipmunk songs and silent night and bid farewell to Christmas break.

And whenever it’s time to say goodbye to something for a while, whether it’s the Christmas tree or something else, I most often tend to linger in the transition. Stepping on from yesterday is not something I’m quick to, in so many ways. I don’t think I ever will be quick in that. Yet it always becomes apparent at some point that I can’t live in two seasons.

One year I left the tree up until April and a friend couldn’t help but point out to me that it was spring . And I really do just love the spring. I especially love that my birthday lands right at the time when everything here in Texas starts turning green and new. But somehow, I hadn’t gotten around to making room for spring in my house yet.

This year, I’m about at the place where I’m so ready to have the cleared space back that I won’t be too sad to take the tree down. Because I’m starting to daydream of cleared space and the feels of February with fresh flowers set in pinks and reds to cheer us on to March.

Isn’t it easier to part with something for a while, when you’re also saying a new kind of hello? Even a sweet and simple one that might have room to grow.

Somehow I can feel like I’ve lived most of my life without paying much attention to the journey through the four seasons. Maybe more of what I mean is that until more recently, I hadn’t found any of my own little ways to acknowledge each of the seasons as they came along. The last couple years, it has started feeling like a lifeline though, for it can feel so grounding to pay attention to how the earth is slowly changing and find tiny ways to gradually participate with the change.

As if somehow, participating with the journey of the four seasons, can give us yearly walkthroughs of what it could mean to journey through the different kinds of changing life seasons that we are always finding our way through.

What is spoken in the turning from fall to winter, or in the turning from winter to spring, is not something that we can speak to each other with words. Yet it is something that has been established by the Word of God that moves the world.

The Word of God moves and every season has its time.

Christmas will come again even while we wait to see how she’ll be different from the last time we saw her. And the coming spring will be her same familiar self, even while her coming invites us to see the truth. There are places inside us that have changed since we felt the spring before. The invitation to newness will breathe on us in new places.

The four seasons turn slowly, continual. They honor the pace of our souls that need time and space to adjust.

We'll continue to slip along into spring, to summer and on. What it most helps me feel is the gifts to our hearts that help us gently and slowly come to terms with the truth of change.

Always the seasons are inviting us to feel what it means to gradually find and grieve the truths of what it specifically is that is leaving us for the time, even as we use that same truth to gently make space for what is coming.

To make space for what is coming. And what is coming?

It will always look different, but maybe at it's basis...

Around the corner is coming a new season to participate with, to find joy in, to do good in and to take pleasure in our labors.

And around the distance these seasons are moving us along to our truest home, the fulfillment of the seasons that our hearts are ever hoping for.

“He has made everything beautiful in its time. He has also set eternity in the hearts of men, yet they cannot fathom the work that God has done from beginning to end. I perceived that there is nothing better for them than to be joyful and to do good as long as they live; also that everyone should eat and drink and take pleasure in all his toil - this is God’s gift to man.” Ecclesiastes 3:11-13.

“These all died in faith, not having received the things promised, but having seen them and greeted them from afar, and having acknowledged that they were strangers and exiles on the earth. For people who speak thus make it clear that they are seeking a homeland. If they had been thinking of that land from which they had gone out, they would have had opportunity to return. But as it is they desire a better country, that is, a heavenly one. Therefore God is not ashamed to be called their God, for he has prepared for them a city.”

Hebrews 11:13-16.

A prayer:

As You are Lord of the seasons, be Lord of my heart.

Where my heart longs for a home it cannot find, grant my homesick heart the faith to greet it from afar.

Wordless Word

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Wed, 29 Dec 2021 05:40:41 GMT

“And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us, and we have seen his glory, glory as of the only Son from the Father, full of grace and truth.” John 1:14.

The Word came and this is Christmas. This is noel.

The One Word we needed came.

A world torn by words, full of hearts stabbed through with words and a world of souls who can feel desperate to offer words that will fix it.

Sometimes it can feel that when you have nothing else to give, at least you have words.

And it can feel that surely, though the broken words keep coming, surely the words we need are somewhere.

And the healing Word came.

The Word Himself entered the broke world, yet when the long-awaited Word came… He came as wordless as any newborn baby we’ve ever witnessed.

The long wait for the words that would heal and this… this is the gift. The Word to heal us.

This is the Word we have been starved for.

Adam McHugh offers this insight. “John’s famous picture of Jesus as the Word of God means that Jesus’ entire incarnated life, not only his parables and sermons, is the expression of God’s mind. His life is God’s speech to us.” **

Thinking this over at Christmastime breeds to wonder...

If Jesus is the Word, if His life is God’s great speech to us… it began as a wordless child who would yet learn to utter words the way that each of us once did.

The Word came as a wordless being. It’s how the speech began.

Where are we in the arrival of a Word like this? How does it feel in light of our own ideas of what kind of word this world needs?

What did we feel at the sound of a Christmas that came like this? A baby's breath as he sleeps. His cry. His feeding, and the sound of his sleeping breath again. Where a mother treasures it all in her heart as the little lambs bleat and the oxen feed and the noises of a full city surround in the world around while the child sleeps on.

How unsuspecting a miracle is it that the world wrecked with words gets to receive the wordless, needy presence of the healing Word Himself?

How much more does it say than anything we could have expected or braced ourselves for?

The Word Himself does not utter a word Himself, until He fully feels where we have come from, where we are, and learns how to utter words the same way we have learned ourselves.

And this: the Word that gave us life. If anyone had the words we needed, He did.

Yet, the first thirty years of God’s speech to us, is full of listening and learning (Lk 2:46), feeling our own weakness with us (Heb. 4:15), any spoken words hardly noted. *

How much does a speech like this say?

Eventually, the Word gave us words to hear and hold, but only after He spoke to us with thirty years of quiet living that words could never say.

Full of grace and truth. This is how He came. How would any of us in this stubborn old world, ever have had a chance of being open to truth in the slightest, if we didn’t get the grace of a speech that came to us as gentle as this?

Give us grace to hear the Word, not only in the words, but in the stillness of wordless with-ness.

Give us grace to know the Word, to know we are Loved by a God who lovingly comes to listen long, to learn long and to fully feel our weakness with us so He can come to us with truth, not as someone who stays up above us... but as someone who comes to be with us to feel the hardest places of it too.

Give us grace to bear the Word as people who keep finding the undeserved mercy of what we’ve been given. Build us together, those who’ve been broken apart by our own broken words. Join us and grow us up as Your people… “those who are gathered and formed by [Your] voice and held together by [Your] word.” **

~~~

Notes:

*All the words of Jesus noted during his first thirty years: two questions to his mother in Luke 2:49.
**The two quotes are from The Listening Life by Adam S McHugh, page 10 and page 18.

The Conflict of Thanks

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Fri, 19 Nov 2021 16:47:23 GMT

The topic of thankfulness can bring up such conflicting feelings inside me. How do you simply name off things that you’re thankful for from an authentic place that is not trying to pretend away or hide the places in your heart that are also hurting? My heart can struggle to find the place where these two things fit together - authenticity and thanks. Sometimes it can feel as if trying to hold both of them is like trying to push the positive sides of two magnets together and they can seem at times to not go together at all. How can these two sit side by side?

How do I live in honest thankfulness, without ignoring and pretending away the more tender and hurting parts of my soul? And steps toward thanksgiving can raise up this conflict in me that I have to sit with again and again. I long for a thankfulness that I can give with all of my mind and all of my heart too.

I deeply feel this question that wants to send me searching: isn’t thankfulness something tender that is most beautiful when it is handled with care? For I think we all inherently know that if someone is telling us of their pain, and we in turn simply tell them to be more thankful, that even if we were well-intentioned, there is the realization after spoken words, that what we have just given them is more hardness to add to their already-pain. And by nature, we learn to take care in the way we use the word thankful.

Because when we ourselves take a risk and share our pain with someone else, what I think we all long for is for someone to be Jesus with us. To be like the man of sorrows, who comes low to feel the pain too. Who makes Himself small enough to fit into skin like this, so he can feel just what we feel. The weakness of a baby who grows into a man to see his friends grieving for the loss of their brother and he simply weeps too. The man who approaches the day of his own death and separation from His Father with agonizing bloody sweat. And none of His smallness or weakness, none of His weeping or agony, made Him ungrateful in the slightest sense.

And despite the times when we fall far short of being Jesus to someone else in their pain, something inside us all longs to feel a human representation of the man of sorrows to sit with us in our own pain.

It is a tender road to embrace a thankfulness that keeps coming to rest in all of Jesus.

And even when we may instinctively and mostly know to use thankfulness with care in our conversation, it may be even harder still to use it with care inside our hearts. We can hear the words drop into our minds… you should be more thankful... feel condemned in our own ungratefulness. And we can think of the ten lepers and wonder if those words come from Jesus.

Yet, what did Jesus say if we look close at his own words just as they are?

The ten lepers who begged for Jesus’ mercy obeyed his instructions and they were healed. They had just received an astounding gift of grace from Jesus. Then as they realized that they were well, the story goes like this…

“Then one of them, when he saw that he was healed, turned back, praising God with a loud voice; and he fell on his face at Jesus’ feet, giving him thanks. Now he was a Samaritan. Then Jesus answered, ‘Were not ten cleansed? Where are the nine? Was no one found to return and give praise to God except this foreigner?’ And he said to him, ‘Rise and go your way; your faith has made you well.’” Luke 17:15-19.

I think one thing to note is that Jesus’ words were spoken concerning people who had just received a great blessing. Another thing that I think is important to note is that Jesus only asks questions concerning their ungratefulness. He didn’t speak the word should, or make a defining statement about who they were. He asked questions.

Perhaps in the moments where we are being ungrateful, Jesus’ voice toward us would sound like this…

Were you not cleansed? Where are you? Are you not found to return and give praise to God?

These are the very questions he asked about the nine ungrateful lepers, rephrased as direct questions. This sounds alot like the way that we see Jesus talk to people in Scripture, and it sounds like the voice of Jesus to me. These questions feel convicting, lovingly piercing, curious and inviting, but they do not feel condemning or shaming to me.

However, the words, * you should be more grateful,* or, *you shouldn’t feel so ungrateful* do feel condemning to me and I don’t think they sound like the voice of Jesus. Words like that don’t feel like they’re inviting me to turn around into honesty and the open gift of thanks. They make me feel stuck in shame.

But those words of Jesus, they invite me to honestly answer these questions. Wasn’t I cleansed? Where am I? Where is my heart? What is happening inside me that is keeping me from longing to come in thanks? And the Jesus-brand of curiosity invites us to come with honest answers.

Jesus invites honesty and looks for thanks. And in the sound of His questions the two of these, honesty and thanks, feel right at home together.

Haven’t you been cleansed?

Yes. Oh yes! I’ve been cleansed by Your grace from the stains of my sin.

Where are you?

I am getting stuck in... shame, or cynicism.. doubt, or.. lack of wonder... for I am in need of remembering Who You are and what Your voice truly does sound like. Your presence. Your grace. Your compassion. Your faithfulness.

Are you not found to return and give praise to God?

Be merciful to me, a sinner. Lord, here I am; I praise You.

The voice of Jesus makes it right when nothing is right.

When the mind can’t understand, His voice makes clear paths through the clutter in our hearts.

For the biggest conflict of thanks, after all, is that our hearts are prone to forget the voice of the One who looks for it.

In the sound of His voice, we are welcomed to remember our honest grounds for thankfulness that rest on who He is.

And when we look at our Jesus, what did He say He was thankful for?

In Matthew, 11, He thanked God for revealing truth to children, and hiding it from the wise and prudent (verse 25).

In Matthew 26, He gave thanks in drinking the cup that would be His suffering (verse 27-28).

In John 11, He gave thanks that His Father heard Him and answered His prayer (verse 41).

As we approach this season where we revisit our own thanks, Jesus, give us ears like children for Your beautiful words. Give us hearts that see You drink Your cup, and lips to drink in the memory of your mercy. Give us stillness that rests in the sound of Your voice and knows we are heard by our Father.

Move our hearts to remember the voice of the gentle One who looks for our thanks.

The Places We Keep our Memories (and why it truly matters)

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 05 Oct 2021 19:34:38 GMT

On the blessing of tending memory in security

Preface: If you are someone, like me, who can deeply struggle to find firm footing in the present when you don't have answers to the things that didn't work out in the past, then I hope you'll enjoy this blogpost on cultivating our memory in a way that does give us firm places to stand on, even without the answers.

This post is written in a different style than normal, without a formal introduction. I wrote it somewhat like a series of journal entries over the course of a couple of weeks. This post brought me so much joy to write through, and I hope it is a blessing to you too. If focuses on the question of how to find beauty in your story despite the places you don't yet have closure in. It goes through Psalm sixteen and closes with the consideration of a practice for how to use our memories to cultivate peace in our today. Enjoy!

Today I sit in a coffee shop at a tiny table by the staircase, here with the purpose of writing. I have been here for about five hours now. If I were on schedule I would be finishing this post by now, but I am just getting started. I spent the last few hours at this table making purchases and completing projects that were on my list for earlier this week, as well as giving my heart and mind space in my journal to catch up to where I am today, because this is where my week is. And it helps my spirit rest into the day to say where it is.

I’m carrying a mix of beauty and sadness and unsettled places over several things: events of the week, tragic loss in the community, and also transitions that we’ve been moving through in the quiet over the last year. Perhaps it is just as well that I got a late start today, for while I have a feeling of where these words are going to go, I think I need more space to sit with it. How do you settle in on the inside, when the story that you’re living can often feel so unsettled through and through?

I’d say more, but I have to pick up my kids now, so I’ll be back soon.

Here I am again a week later, and I am at the same little table by the staircase in the corner of my favorite coffee shop. I have sipped my coffee while I sat for a bit with a good book, and I have journaled out bits of my thoughts and feelings of the morning.

Today when I pulled into the parking lot, I sat for a bit with gentle tears, like dear friends that bid my heart home.

Because tears might come when we all witness how life is so short and how we need each other so. And tears may be appropriate when the gifts of each of our personalities that are designed as means from which to be there for our neighbor, are also the very means we can tend to misuse in ways that don’t foster connection and with-ness at all. Tears are a right response when we desperately need the One who holds the story, the One who sees unspoken sorrows, the One who will make straight the crooked paths. Tears rise from a soul like a poem, an echo of the heart.

Tears bid us to know where they come from. They like to send us searching the heart, a place that is not simple, nor free of flaws, but how wild and beautiful it is.

This morning my little boy had tears that wanted to come. Because it’s been near a month since he began a new season of having sudden moments of fear when his body language quickly changes and he tells me that he is afraid. In the last week, we keep being drawn back to Psalm 16 where David begins with the words, “Preserve me, O God.” And we’ve found a four word prayer and a little song for Gideon that helps to calm him in those moments. And even while he’s still unsure, that prayer and song help the fears to not be so overwhelming, helping to carry him to the next thing. Just before he walked away from me for the morning today, he spoke his four word prayer, “God, keep me safe.” I love to hear the needy way he says it.

Tears and fears both, can drive us to remember God.

David’s psalm begins with the plea, “Preserve me, O God, for in you I take refuge.”

I can relate to my son’s sudden moments of fear that can sometimes feel as big to me as if I was a child myself. It is those moments that draw me to the words of this Psalm. I imagine that David could relate to those moments too. The way that David begins his psalm makes me think that perhaps this whole psalm is written as a response to fear in his heart. He sees his fear and he responds with prayer.

I desperately need to know where his prayer took him.

David goes on from there to name who God is in his life (verses 1-5). He names God as his refuge, his Lord and the One who He has no good apart from. He speaks of delight in all who belong to God, the Lord, and the sorrow of those who follow other gods. He identifies God further as His chosen portion and his cup who holds his story. David knows God as his satisfaction and the full security for his life.

Then, in the light of all that David remembers, all that He does know God to be in his heart of hearts, David redefines where he is. He defines where he is, not through the lens of his fears, but through the lens of who his God is.

In verse six, David names the story different from whatever his fears may have been saying before. “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.” Upon remembering who his God is, David remembers that the story is beautifully good, especially because of the inheritance that waits for him.

This is when David comes to verse seven. “I bless the Lord who gives me counsel; in the night also my heart instructs me.” When David talks about the Lord giving him counsel, it states something that the psalm has been showing us all along. In the light of who God is, the story always becomes more clear. David praises the beautiful counsel of God who illuminates our paths simply by who He is.

Coming from the flow of where the psalm has carried us, I would think that in talking about his heart instructing him, David may have been rejoicing in the feelings that drove him to remember God. Or possibly, he was grateful for the light of who God is that was shining into his heart through prayer and helping him remember what he most deeply knew and believed inside of his heart of hearts.

David does go on in light of setting his gaze on who God is and how that changes the story, to remember with surety where his life truly stands and what he does believe and know securely in the depths of his heart. In verses 8-10, David meditates on the security and belonging that he knows he has in God. “I have set the Lord always before me; because he is at my right hand, I shall not be shaken.” In the firm knowledge that his life cannot be shaken, we see in verse nine, that David has gladness of heart, rejoicing in his being and fullness of security. “For you will not abandon my soul to Sheol, or let your holy one see corruption” (verse 10). In the depths of his heart with his sights set on God, David knew that God would not abandon his soul or let him go to corruption. God would not abandon his soul and this is what David needed to rest in.

David closes his psalm in honor of the God who reveals his path. “You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore.”

The God who reveals David’s path, was showing him a path of life, joy and pleasure , to the fullest and forever. It brings us back to the part of David’s psalm where he redefined his story through the lens of who his God is. “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places; indeed, I have a beautiful inheritance.”

How does one go from a needy plea of “Preserve me, O God.” to a satisfied realization, “The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places”? Both of these prayers are good and needed. Both of them are mature places to go with the heart inside of us. But the heart inside me cannot always find that second, satisfied prayer from an authentic place unless it goes through the first prayer. I can readily find an authentic need to give that plea: “Preserve me, O God.” Yet, each time I have need for that first prayer, I want it to lead me to the other, just like it did for David.

David’s psalm shows our hearts the way and we could learn from it for a lifetime.

Five days after writing through this psalm, as I finish cleaning up dinner, and getting my girls ready for another day of school, as I kiss my babies goodnight amidst the stories and songs, move the wet clothes to the dryer, and settle the dogs for the night, it feels grounding as I go, to tell myself where I am, for all of the day had been feeling scattered with places that I’m learning how to move through.

I’m moving through the learning to let go of where we were.

I’m moving through more of stepping into the now of where we are.

I’ve been laying down what is past and picking it up and laying it down.

And it is hard to learn where everything belongs.

The next morning, when I get home from taking the girls to school, I can’t stop looking longingly at my dining room window. It’s my favorite spot in the house and I’ve long thought it would be lovely to have a cozy spot next to it to sit in the rocking chair with my coffee and a book for just a bit. But there is no rocking chair there and I’ve always told myself it wasn’t very practical, that a rocking chair wouldn’t fit well in that corner and I’d have to scoot some chairs. But this morning I realized, there are no rules about this, and putting a rocking chair by the window for the morning doesn’t mean it has to stay there all the time. So I gave myself what I wanted all along. I grab the rocking chair from the next room and make my little morning dream come true. And it felt wonderful and restful. And I suddenly wonder what other magical possibilities could lie all around me.

Like the possibilities of what we can do with memories. Where do I keep my memories? I long to find where some of them are living and move them to where they’ll bring life.

Truthfully, I don’t know how to let things go, to lay things down. And most days I have no idea how to step into the day without one eye on the unsolved things of days past. Places I’ve come from and seasons that aren’t the same as what they once were, or what I hoped they’d be.

And the feelings carried can be a great mix of grateful, glad assurance about where we’re going toward and also sad, unsettled places about where we’re coming from. It gets even more mixed than that too, for both beautiful and hard memories can come from the same places you’ve been in before. Then also, finding new places, people and ways to live into, is itself both beautiful and hard at the same time too.

And perhaps when we set our sights on who God is, we can acknowledge the hard things for the plain truth of what they are, even while we also learn to see the plain truth of all that was and is truly beautiful too.

And when we feel the fog of hard memories and hard truths about what did happen, it’s the beautiful memories reflected in the light of our beautiful God that give us some firm footing. We don’t have to wonder what to do with those memories. Even the hardest memories that we cannot understand at all, usually have beautiful memories that we can find living right alongside them. And it’s those beautiful memories that carry us forward, that help us see the beautiful moments in our present and lead us to trust in the beautiful moments of the future. The story has taught us that beauty will always be there to meet us, even amidst the hardest times. For every past, present and future, beauty gives us firm places to stand when nothing else makes sense. So even when we find that we must learn to lay down our hopes of how the story would go, we never have to leave every single thing behind.

So we will walk down the halls of our memories that hold hard things and even while we grieve the hardest parts, we will let the light of our beautiful God show us the beautiful things. For those things are ours to keep forever and bring into our present. We will pick them up and dust them off and see them for all of the beauty that they are. These are the beautiful things that we will keep with us, coloring the framework of how we see today.

We never need let go of any of the Love we’ve ever known. That is what will always be there to help us step on in Love for today.

The lines have fallen for me in pleasant places. For in every last hall that this memory of mine can go, there are pleasant places all along the way. And those are mine to keep for always.

We get to decide where our memories live inside of the home of our minds. The beautiful ones don’t have to stay back in the halls we’re learning to let go of. For in the loss of what we don’t have anymore, it’s grateful memories that carry us onward and help us keep on to find the life.

No beauty we’ve ever known is trapped in the halls behind us. And every single beauty we’ve ever known behind us is but a hint of the beauty that is yet before us.

So while we keep on releasing our grasp of the halls we’ve already passed, we will bring all of the Love and the beauty with us to keep us stepping on into what is yet to come.

And we praise the One who reveals to us the path of life. In His own presence there is fullness of joy. At His right hand are the pleasures that last forevermore.

On Living Life in a Body of Dust

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 26 Aug 2021 15:56:50 GMT

I had a dream in the night, early Wednesday morning, that felt reflective of feelings in my heart over the nature of this life and the invisible barriers that can lie between us as people.

I dreamed I was with my family and we lived in a garden. I was watching my kids giggling and exploring the pathways surrounded by vines and trellises. And the garden had been formed around small little one-room structures that were apparently our bedrooms, our kitchen, and a sitting room.

It was a happy dream and almost carefree. Almost.

For, while my children were playing in one structure, I needed to tend to something in another and I had a concern for their safety. In the dream I was taking measures to do what I could to ensure that they would be safe from any danger outside the garden . And while the dream was full of a sense of enjoyment in being their mother and in getting to perform the role of tending the garden, the dream also held a sense of the dangers that lived inside of me.

My dream felt like a reflective reality. For while the garden of this life can be so full of beauty and enjoyment, there are dangers all around and even inside my own heart that need be considered and attended to with care.

This week, while my coffee cup sat with me at our round kitchen table and my youngest pulled his cars and trucks over the sticky kitchen floor, I read about how we on this earth bear in our bodies the image of the man of dust, the image of Adam. (1 Corinthians 15.) And it resonated with the feelings of my heart.

It is a sorrow to feel and sense the image of dust there inside of your own mortal body. It is a sorrow to feel and sense that image of dust inside of all of the people you love. And it is sorrow that is felt especially when things become broken in the spaces between us. When we are ever needing wisdom in how to care for the spaces between ourselves and all whom we love.

As long as we all live inside these bodies of dust, we will always have to take care with the dangers both outside and inside of the gardens of our lives even while we enjoy the beauty and the love.

Yet, the heart can hold hollow places of hope for the beauty of what is not yet.

And at my kitchen table, the same passage that spoke of these perishable bodies of dust, gave a promise of hope for what is coming.

1 Corinthians 15:49 shares this hope of promise. “Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.”

When this verse speaks of “the image of the man of heaven” that God’s children will one day bear, it is speaking of something even more than the image of God that every human soul has been imprinted with since creation, which makes each living person an intrinsically valuable soul, imago dei.

The phrase “the image of the man of heaven” speaks of the spiritual body that Jesus has won for us through the death of His own human life, and the resurrection when He became the firstborn of the imperishable bodies that all of God’s children will put on in victory through faith in what He has won for us.

And for all who call on Jesus, though we have walked around in this image of Adam’s body of dust, we will one day bear not only the image of God, our Creator in our souls, but we will then also bear the image of our Savior, the man of heaven in our new bodies. These souls that have long borne the image of God will no longer have to walk around in bodies of dust. We will be new.

So while we walk around now in these images of dust, this sorrow only has to be ours for a little while. By faith, through His grace, we will be swallowed up in victory.

And the morning after reading about it, I woke up from the dream I had, longing for the day when we can enjoy the beauty of togetherness with God and each other without concern for all that can go wrong between these bodies of dust.

May we live knowing that this longing has a future and a hope.

When the longing leaves us feeling lonely for more untethered union and communion than what this life may afford us, may we give thanks for the promise we have. And because of the promise, may we be steadfast in tending to the garden of life that is ours in the Lord.

While we have dangers to care for within and without, to which we must not turn a blind eye, it is true that “this light momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” (2 Cor. 4:17)

It is the tending of this very life that God has intended to use for our good and for His glory. As we learn to care for the dangers in the midst of a life where we are also learning to gratefully embrace with certainty all of the beauty and love of our days and of each other, this struggle that we carry in the balance is preparing a glory that we cannot yet see.

Even while we walk another day in this world, God is sovereign over all of these bodies of dust. He is sovereign over any wrong we have seen and sovereign over each wrong that we have done. As our compassionate, all-knowing Father, He is able to use all of it to grow and prepare His children for the glory that is coming. He sees the broken places, and He knows the eternal weight of it that cannot compare with anything less than what He has planned for His children.

“Therefore, my beloved brothers, be steadfast, immovable, always abounding in the work of the Lord, knowing that in the Lord your labor is not in vain.” (1 Corinthians 15:58.)

On Making Peace with Unsolved Stories

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 15 Jul 2021 16:06:20 GMT

The kids were playing at the playground late in the day during sunny July while Nano and I sat to watch... and that was when the man walked up. He had the friendliest smile you’ve ever seen and ready to make some afternoon friends. Soon enough after he had sent his grandchildren off to play, we learned much about his upbringing working with his family to farm cucumbers and keep the woodpile stocked for the cook stove and for warmth all through the winter.

He talked about life growing up as one in the group of ten children, some of the dynamics of the relationship between him and his father, and his journey through blaming and forgiving.

We learned that his father had been hard on his children, that he knew nothing of the idea of resting while the sun was still up. And nothing of the idea of getting a bite of food after school until the sunlight to work by had set and gone dark. And that much greater than connection and personal caring, his father had been focused on survival and teaching his children hard work through strict discipline and firm expectations.

We were told his father lived past a hundred and that in his last couple years of life, our friend got to live with and care for his father as he lived out his last days. And how those last days left fond memories and how his own heart that had once felt bitterness about the story he had grown up in, found contentment in the story he had gotten to live and appreciation for the person his father was.

He told it all so casually, yet not, as if he deeply knew all of life was a miracle. And it glowed across his face in a way where it was easy to tell how genuine his joy really was.

His name was Willy.

His presence and his story preached a sermon with no instruction. What Willy had to share came through story and joy and hands that didn’t grip on to a wish or demand of what the story should have been, but learned through a life to openly receive and appreciate what the story was. You could tell that even while he didn’t try to wash away the hard things that happened, that he saw and loved the beauty of the souls within the story.

I would think most anyone would look at him and the way he looks at his own life and that mostly anybody would want to be able to look at their life that way too.

To look at the things in a lifetime and the million things in all kinds of relationships that should not have gone the way they did, and to look on it all with a soul that knows there is grace and miracle in the whole experience just as it is and while we will not ignore the pain, what we will remember most is the beauty.

I think over many situations in my life and many relationships where I have struggled and can struggle deeply to let go of how the story was supposed to go in my book.

And ultimately, if what Willy has , is what I want in my own life, if his same perspective is the outlook I want to have for every relational interaction in my life that could have gone better, I wonder what is happening inside me when I want to grip on to the idea that *this is not how it was supposed to go.* Whether due to my own failing and weakness, or that of another, or perhaps likely due to a combination of all of our imperfections and struggles, whether due to all kinds of things that I just can’t understand or to misplaced hopes and expectations, so many things in life end up looking miles away from what we hoped for. I’m curious what is happening in my heart when it feels impossible to make peace with the realization that the story did not go the way that I was sure it was supposed to go.

And in sitting with that curiosity and the truth of the Word, in sitting with things I know to be beautiful and true, this question is more simple than it feels at first.

It is not an abnormal part of the human experience to struggle deeply with moving through the parts of the story that did not go according to plan. It is not unusual to deeply struggle with accepting things about life that are not understandable.

One thing I am trying to remember is that Willy, himself, is not a young man. He is moving towards his sunset years and he has been learning to move through it in a lifetime, not overnight. He didn’t describe a moment when he simply flipped a switch and never struggled with accepting the story ever again. I don’t think I would believe anyone who told such a story. But Willy’s story was believable and genuine and he described a story that involved a continual turning of his heart back and again to the Word and what is true, a story that happened over time.

It is normal for our hearts to have a need to keep being turned in the direction we want them to go. We will continually have moments in this life where we struggle with blame or shame or refusal to accept the story that is.

We can’t end our bent toward that, but we can name the arrows in life that point toward where we want to go and we can keep turning our sights that way.

In those places where we don’t know how to accept the story, we have a real need for gentle compassion, a real need to be intentional with the specific needs of the heart inside us, and a real need to receive what life is teaching us in the places where we need help learning to trust God with the story that is out of our control.

In the middle of unsolved stories, the heart needs compassion and empathy.

Nobody can heal without compassion and nobody gives it like our God. (Psalm 78:38-39) While God, our loving Father, will not pull us out of situations that we have a need to go through in order to learn and grow, God provides the covering for our wrong in Jesus and promises to never leave us or forsake us even as we go through the fire of a fallen world and the brokenness of our own weakness.

His Spirit is there to remind us of His presence, His Word is there to remind us of His promise, His people are there if we look for them, people of the Cross committed to Love, who are not perfect, but who keep coming back to how much compassion they themselves have been given and will help us feel God’s empathy through their love and care and the truth of our beloved-ness.

Our heavenly Father’s compassion through all these means He graciously gives, will provide us level ground, firm foundation. The strength and grace we need to root our hearts in healing places and access His constant, steady flow of love that will never waver or weaken.

In unsolved stories, the heart will likely have need to grieve and let herself feel the pain of the loss of the version of the story that she is letting go of.

God is close to those who mourn (Mt. 5:4) and a heart that doesn’t feel is a heart that can grow hard. (Ps. 119:70) When parts of the story confuse our hearts and turn us around, it is natural for feelings of grief to want to ride through our bodies. As we grow in allowing each wave of grief to ride through us, not fighting against it, or numbing out to it, that grief is always a gentle invitation drawing us closer to the heart of our God who is so close to us in those places.

As we recognize those waves of grief and work with them, not against them, our energy is freed up and as each wave of feeling is allowed to pass through we have new energy to think more clearly on the other side.

In unsolved stories, the heart may need help and time to settle in herself on whether or not she has done everything she can to live at peace with everyone as far as it depends on her. (Rom. 12:18)

We’re called to see the active parts of making peace that lie within our own court and to step into those things, even as we learn to let go of the things that fall outside of that. As we learn, it’s normal for it to take time to discern and learn through practice and counsel what lies within our own court and what does not.

At times, it may take whole seasons and caring counsel to settle within ourselves on whether we’ve done what we can to take care of the pieces of the story that are ours to step into.

While we cannot undo anything that’s been done, we can pray, seek the Word and the insight of good friends as we assess, take steps, and settle within ourselves that we are taking care of our part in the story for today and learning to let go of the rest.

In unsolved stories, the heart needs stillness and insight to help her see the truth about her situations and the truth about where her heart is.

The deceptive parts of our hearts can so easily lead us to start seeing a false version of the story rather than the story as it stands in reality. As we keep bringing our thoughts to what is really and simply true about our stories and to what is beautiful about them (Phil 4:8) it is easier to have clarity in our situations. And as we are honest with ourselves, our people and God about where our hearts really are, it is easier to know what is needed for our next step and to have gratitude as we take it.

When in doubt, the Word and prayer can always help us to see the truth and our own hearts better. Psalm 139:23-24.

In unsolved stories, the heart needs grace to lean back into trust again and again while her heart will want to lean on it’s own understanding. (Prov. 3:5)

While there are many healthy things we can do and rhythms we can engage to try to learn from as we grow in understanding and learning from our own stories, it’s also true that when I exercise a compulsive need to try to understand the story, I am not trusting God with all my heart. If we understood everything about the story, there would be no need to trust. Yet trust is what God invites us to as the place that opens our hearts and it is the very place where He astounds us with His grace and faithfulness.

We don’t need to understand when we can hold onto His hand. And we can keep turning from a relentless craving to understand, to a relentless trust in God as a good Father.

In unsolved stories, the heart needs hope and time in learning to hold space for all the beauty of possibility without knowing anything except that God promises to work all things for good. (Rom. 8:28)

When it’s hard to hold onto hope, we can hold tight to God’s promises and find hope in them. We can’t really know how the story will go. But we can know of a surety that God will work it all for good. The words we wish we hadn’t said, the choice we made that we thought would lead us one place and instead brought a thousand question marks, the hurt we felt in that situation, and the places where we did the best we knew to love but it didn’t seem that love was communicated at all… the promise to all the called of God who love Him, is that He will work it all together for the good of His story. And God’s promise never fails.

In unsolved stories, the heart needs receive grace to seek the kingdom of God in today and lovingly take the next step to care for her own.

We’ll keep asking for our daily bread, (Mt. 6:11) the provision we need for today, and we’ll let His hands hold tomorrow. We’ll seek the kingdom that is among us, both in the life of the soul inside us and in the souls around us. There is Love flowing through today, inviting us to come along. To look into the eyes of the people beside us and see miracles standing there. For here in the spaces between us are highways upon which Love travels from soul to soul and the Kingdom keeps coming down with a glorious call that is eternal. So we’ll keep knowing how loved we are, we’ll do what is ours to do and we’ll step on in the Kingdom that gives our moments eternal purpose.

We’ll get it wrong in so many ways, but what we can always do is recognize when we’re off course and keep turning our hearts back again to these arrows we can name, the way we want to go. The way of love, healing and forgiveness that our hearts were always made for.

And Willy remembered our names as he said goodbye that day. And as we drove away from there with three little ones buckled in, his smile kept stirring up stories inside me. And as we wrapped up our day I was grateful. Thank you, Willy, for sharing a piece of your heart and life with us. We like the way you see.

So we’ll aim to see life like you do. We’ll take the beauty that is here to enjoy in the story just as it is now, and we’ll enjoy the beauty of ourselves and each other just as we all are today. Grace will be enough for us and as we keep on turning to God’s own heart poured out, His Love will keep clearing our vision to see the miracle of the story that is and the utter gift of the souls within it.

On the Other Side of Shame

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 11 May 2021 16:43:01 GMT

It was the beginning of May - it was a few days ago - and I was hearing words over the phone that were making me feel defensive.

And as I was hearing those words, I saw myself in the mirror and I didn’t like the person I saw.

The person on the phone was asking me to consider something that, in reality, could help shape my person.

They were not words attacking me. They were not inconsiderate words. They were simply words that were asking me to consider what my actions may have felt like on the receiving end.

And I was getting angry.

I paced around the living room while they were talking. My steps got heavier, more like a march. I was stepping over toys, trying to listen through the noise of my children playing in the background. I stubbed my toe. My chest started feeling tense. I started breathing faster.

I wanted to get angry at the person on the other end of the phone. I let out some frustration. I started trying to defend myself. My anger was real, but the person on the phone was not the person to be angry at.

Tears came. I didn’t like the way I was handling any of it. I didn’t feel clear at all on why this was making me feel so angry. I needed to step away from the conversation for a bit. We agreed to talk later and said goodbye.

Two of my kids both came to me asking for help with different things. I started trying to help them, but then I remembered so many times before when I tried to help my kids while feeling this way and how it never ended well.

And I knew that I couldn’t help them from a healthy place right then. I told my kids that I had just heard some words that I was having trouble processing and I needed a few minutes to breathe and collect myself. They understood and stepped into the other room.

I plopped myself down in the big ole leather chair and I took a few minutes to close my eyes, breathe deep, and remember that the birds still were singing outside the window behind me, the breeze was still blowing, my kids were still playing in the other room and healthy, and I still belonged to a good God.

I let myself be still for a few moments while my prior thoughts fell quiet.

I remembered some conversations I had had with my therapist last year. I remembered that often I have a hard time seeing things for what they really are. Then I found a question and some answers.

I asked myself what was actually being said in the conversation and if that was different from what I was actually understanding and hearing.

The person on the phone was simply asking me to consider this: that the thing I had been doing in hopes of being helpful and hospitable, was actually not a helpful thing to do.

That is all that they were asking me to consider, and in fact I am quite sure that they were correct.

But what I was hearing… what I was translating those words into… was not at all congruent with what was actually being said.

Even while I was hearing those words spoken, I started hearing different versions in my head about what they were telling me. And the stories that I was hearing were my fears talking to me, not that person’s actual words.

As the person on the phone was speaking, I started hearing my fears say things like, *They’re telling you that you weren’t even trying to be helpful at all. You were only trying to feel good about yourself and make yourself think you were helpful. I bet that’s what you were doing. Maybe that’s what you are. You’re not a useful person at all.*

And my fears also started saying this one big, scary thing: *When you try to help people the best way you know how... you only hurt people.*

That was a really familiar story to me, but I had never named it like this. The more I thought about it, the more I realized what is true. This is a story that I’ve heard and believed often. It’s a story that feeds my self-pity and my shame.

And in that moment I realized, the person to be angry at was not the person on the phone. What was being communicated to me over the phone were words that can help me use my strengths in more effective ways if I am willing to consider them and learn. Because it really was true... Yes, I was honestly trying to be helpful. But, what I did was not actually helpful. One of those things does not have to nullify the other. Both of them can be true. And it’s okay that it happened.

The person to be angry at, is the enemy of my soul who loves it when I believe that lie that every time I try to love people, I only hurt people. My soul knew it was time to be angry and rightly so. But my mind did not know what to do with my anger, until I acknowledged what my heart was honestly feeling and hearing.

The person to be angry at was the enemy of my soul who wants to shame me into a corner. He wanted me in the corner where I wouldn’t have ears to hear what I can learn from the person on the phone and how their information can help me Love people better. He wanted me in the corner where I made an enemy out of the person on the phone when they were trying to be a friend. He wanted me in the corner where I saw my own self as a threat to all of the people I love. He wanted me stuck in fear where I would not step toward Love.

This situation was much more simple than what the voices in my head were playing it up to be. On the other side of shame, I felt free and this story felt much easier to navigate. When I loosened my grip on the version of the story that I am used to listening to, I could feel it true: what is true is that while I was trying to be helpful, I did something unhelpful. While I cannot change that, I can hear it with an open heart. I can acknowledge it and take ownership of it. I can learn from it and do the best I know to keep moving forward in Love and connection.

In reality, even in my best efforts to be helpful, I will do many unhelpful things. But the sooner I accept and own what was unhelpful about the things I did, the more effectively I can move forward in Love. And when I listen to the message of the Gospel, I can believe, that the unhelpful and hurtful things I’ve done do not define me. In the death and resurrection of Jesus, I am given an identity that is not changed or dampered by the mistakes I’ve made. I am covered in His life. This is how I stand before God, and this is how I can step on in Love.

So we take up Love and do the best we know to open up space to let Love knit damaged things back together. Not because we know how to knit well, but simply because we trust in Love and who Love is.

These places inside us are tender. How we long to know that we can be helpful and loving to the people in our lives from the unique way that we are made. How difficult it is to have eyes to see it and ears to hear it, when the ways we want to offer ourselves are not actually serving people in the ways we want to believe are true.

So we keep asking for ears to listen, for eyes to see, and for hearts that are open to all of the truths about our own lives that we don’t like to hear. Keep giving us grace to recognize what story we're hearing. Keep providing us ways to see the story on the other side of shame.

We ask for grace and patience to meet each other with, knowing how tender these parts of our hearts can be. And how much we all need each other so.

The conversation continued later that day... and relationships are hard and holy and healing all at the same time. It is one of the most sacred of all gifts to know and Love another soul and to be known and Loved by them.

Our God is good. And we are all held in everlasting arms that will carry us through while He keeps refining our Love for the glory of His kingdom.

The Secret Place: Where the Broken Things Find Rest

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 25 Mar 2021 18:49:25 GMT

This February, I decided to buy myself a pair of leather boots for the first time in my adult life and it felt like a big deal. Based on the price tag, I would guess it’s imitation leather maybe, but they look like leather boots just the same. They’re brown ankle boots with a bit of a heel and ruffles around the cuff. It’s not a style I’m completely used to yet, and they’re a bit tight on me, but I’m hoping they’ll break in a little.

Usually in the colder months, I’ve mostly worn boots that were more of the ug type style. Those make me feel comfy and relaxed when I’m wearing them, while the leather boots make me feel intentional, on purpose and womanly. Or something like that.

I’ve thought about buying a pair of leather boots for a while, and there we go. I did it, and now I get to walk around feeling a little extra stylish.

Some decisions are fun and easy like that… what to wear on your feet.

And some decisions are not easy. Like when you’re trying to discern what it means in your own life to be still and wait on God.

The invitation to wait on God is freely given in our Bibles, but I can struggle so to grasp onto this in practice. I think something inside all of us instinctively knows that the Bible is not telling us to do absolutely nothing while we sit back and watch life happen. And when we look at the rest of the Bible, we can be assured, contextually, that this is not what it is saying. Our first call as God’s people is to Love and Love is an active thing, not an inactive thing. Yet, we are invited and called to wait on God.

“But they who wait for the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings like eagles; they shall run and not be weary; they shall walk and not faint.” (Isa. 40:31)

This verse gives us the promise: waiting is the place where God gives us His strength.

It doesn’t encourage us to go to intellect to find strength . It doesn’t encourage us to turn to passion to find strength. And while each of those have an important role in our life and our journey of learning, while each one of these is powerful as God’s own grace and strength uses it, neither one of these, themselves is the place where we are promised by God that He will give us His strength.

Sometimes, a decision to wait can feel like it goes against the grain of my intellect. And if not that, it feels like it goes against the grain of my passion. Because I have an intellectual understanding of life and a passionate understanding of life and sometimes I’m not sure how in the world to make sense of them together.

Whether I am having a moment where I want to lean more on my intellect or my passion, my understanding of life and of Love is easily offended either way, by the idea of waiting. But in the Spirit of God, waiting is the place where God gives His strength to our whole person.

In his description of Love, it was the very first thing Paul wanted us to know: Love is patient. 1 Corinthians 13:4.

Why is it so difficult for my mind and heart to feel at peace together in the intentional choice to wait? Why can the two of them feel at such a war with each other in what it means to wait on God and is there a place where the two of them, my mind and my heart, can find peace with each other?

Because when my mind and my heart cannot join hands together, I don’t know how to rest with peace, until the two of them each come to both rest together in the same Spirit.

It’s as we bring *every* need, to Him, that He gives us the beautiful promise: “And the peace of God, which transcends all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” Phil. 4:7.

Our hearts and our minds, both, are pointed to their life and peace, in the same place.

Stillness with God is the place where truth and feelings connect with His Spirit inside of our own spirit.

When truth and feelings are disconnected in my life, I will feel out of sync and I will not be at peace.

I recently listened to Emily P. Freeman’s podcast episode entitled, “How to Cope with Disappointment.” She talked about how all of us have the tendency to start thinking in extremes and forget what is really true about our situations.

When my feelings in life are not connecting with truth, I will start thinking things like…

*I’m a terrible, worthless person.*

*They are a terrible, worthless person.*

*Life is terrible and worthless.*

In all of these examples, feelings and truth are out of sync.

Truth tells me that I am not worthless. Truth tells me that they are not worthless. And truth tells me that life is not worthless. What is truer than true is that I have worth, they have worth and life has worth. These things are undeniably true and biblical. And holding onto these truths is essential to our well-being.

The truth of those things does not invalidate my feelings and it doesn’t change the fact that I am feeling something terrible and I have reason to pay attention to what I’m feeling.

But when I bring my feelings to truth, I can draw more balanced thoughts from what I am feeling. When my feelings and truth are in sync, I am more likely to have thoughts that go more along the lines of this:

*This situation makes me feel terrible and I don’t want to interact with it this way anymore. We need to try something else. What do I have the ability to do as part of the “we” that removes myself from what is not working while also extending a hand for connection, compassion, respect and grace to everyone involved and gives the best chances for successful change?*

Most often, it takes a messy journey to go from the place of thinking of ourselves, someone else or life as *terrible and worthless,* to the place of *This situation feels terrible and I want to change the way I interact with it.*

When truth and our feelings work together, they can normally point us in a good direction. A next step. But we are the most forgetful people and mostly none of us are strong enough to put our feelings and truth together. Rarely do we remember in the heat of a moment to think clearly about our situations instead of jumping to extremes. And rarely do we easily recognize when we keep trying different versions of the same thing over and over, expecting that maybe... maybe this time, it will work. We need a strength that is not natural to us in order to see our own reality.

Those who wait on the Lord will renew their strength.

And mostly, when everything inside me wants to jump to one end of the pool - one way of seeing them or seeing me or seeing life - mostly what I need more than anything is a still heart and mind before my God. To recognize when I’ve done what I can with what I know and it’s time to pause, and possibly just let go, of what I most want to manage.

In the pause, and in the letting go, the heart and mind have to stretch in a way that hurts. And they have to learn to flow a little differently. In the pause, the heart and mind are left with nothing else, but to bring everything by prayer and supplication, with thanksgiving and flow into all of this together in the Spirit.

In the pause, we release what we want to keep grabbing up, desperate to manage, and lay it instead at the feet of the One who knows how to shepherd our hearts in His time.

And the peace of God which transcends all understanding will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.

And maybe waiting on God, doesn’t have to put me in this place where my heart feels like it’s being punished and labeled a disappointment, where all of it’s passion is dammed up and my life runs dry. Maybe waiting on God is an invitation to gently learn with time to let all of the heart’s passion flow into another course, a river that is more wild and free than my heart ever dreamed.

Because while the beautiful streams in this life - relationships, adventures, and lifework - are all good gifts for the heart to occupy and enjoy in her time and place, none of the streams in this life were created to be able to handle all of the wild life of these hearts of ours. Sometimes I expect the gift I’ve been given to be a place where I can gallop and run free becoming all God made me to be. But when I expect to find that in a gift God has given me, instead of in God, Himself, I will always be disappointed.

But the river of life in God holds room for her every wild dream and journey inside of His own heart. God’s heart is never a place where anyone has to tiptoe, desperate for a dance, holding themselves back, lest He draw away. How limited is our view of who God made anyone else to be and foggy is our view of the life is growing in us. Small is any human ability to hold all of anybody’s heart. For God's heart alone is the only heart that is able to contain all of who we really, truly are. And the human heart that can’t ever be fully tamed or calmed, is set free to gallop again, in all the wilds of prayer with it’s God.

She can be who she is with the One who made her, and in time, the streams she is gifted will overflow with the splashes of the dance... good gifts to enjoy with freedom. For her Father’s heart will always find hers with untamed Love in that river eternal.

Her Father’s heart will find hers for He is strong enough for her. And the failing of her weakness will always show His strength.

The failing of our weakness will always point to an unfailing God.

-------------------------------------------------

Excited to share with you today, a prayer kit to help you grow in the wilds of prayer in your own journey.

Enjoy an overview exploring the unique and heart-grounding ways that the people of the Bible used prayer.

Learn to use a few Scriptures to guide your heart in opening up it's hungriest places into untamed prayer.

And use your five senses in the sensory sheet, to inspire your own unique weekly adventure into the heart of your God.

Prayer Foundations: A simple guide to freshen your prayer life.

You can get it here below. I pray it's a blessing. And today I simply pray that whoever you are reading this, are blessed and grounded in your heart this day with all of the joy and the undying hope of having all the wilds of prayer within your heart's reach for all of your life. Be blessed.

When the Cracks of a Body Meet the Story of Peter

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 04 Feb 2021 19:51:05 GMT

Inspired by Ephesians chapter four and the biblical life story of Peter

Poem inspired by Ephesians four and the day..

Even while acknowledging the broken walls of God’s own church,

The Word of God points beyond, to what the church is becoming.

And when the broken body of Christ,

Feels distorted beyond recognition,

It’s true that when we set our eyes on what the church is becoming,

We could fall in love with each broken part of the tearing body of Christ.

For when the body that you knew turns into something you saw not,

When nails go right through hands and clothes fall exposing scars,

When all the church of God hangs naked and exposed,

This is hard... to hold hope when the story feels lost.

But what tragedy never knows is the beauty that follows,

So while we grieve at the feet of what is exposed,

We remember what beauty followed Your tragedy on a hill,

And how Your risen life can bring hope to any loss,

And the promise you give the becoming family of the cross.

Turn our gaze to the kingdom that is becoming,

Even while we grieve the loss of yesterday.

Teach our hearts to fall in Love with every last part

Of the scarring and beautiful body of Christ.

Devotional inspired by Jesus' rock for the church and the day...

The Word of God points the gaze of the church beyond its broken walls.

My heart does not know how to remember, and it is hard to keep coming back. The Bible is not there to fix us. To fix me. To fix us.

To seek after the kingdom of God is not a quick fix for the problems that are, but a continual turning toward what we are becoming as a people of the cross. And when we feel out God’s description of the beauty of his church in Ephesians chapter four, the cracks are there... acknowledged. But the cracks are not the focus. And our gaze is turned from the cracks, to the beauty of what the body of Christ is growing into, to what the entire body is becoming altogether.

It’s easy to look for quick fixes in this life. Easy to want the kingdom of God to be the quick fix to our problems. Yet, the kingdom of God isn’t coming to fix the broken things in us, but to allow our brokenness to become into the beauty of the kingdom.

And I cannot stop needing the story of Peter. And the story of the friendship between Peter and His Jesus is an utter gift to all of us forgetting hearts.

Peter loved to fix the story. Peter wanted to strive after leaps of faith, and was vulnerable to growing weary of small, steady steps. He wanted to right the wrongs right now. To get the story under control.

He was quick to speak and draw conclusions, when God had more to say. Peter was quick to be sure of himself, and slow to hold space for the mysteries of faith. But... perhaps the call of holding space for the mysteries of faith was something he was always growing into.

I keep coming back to a specific rebuke that Jesus spoke to Peter. Because as strong as Jesus’ words are to Peter in this passage, I think they shine a spotlight on the very places in our hearts, in my heart, that struggle to open to the mysteries of God.

Jesus was telling his disciples about all of the things he would suffer and how he would have to die. But Peter… Peter wanted Jesus to stop talking like that. This must not happen. That was how Peter saw it.

I can relate to Peter when I point to awful things that are happening in my life, in my surroundings and think… this cannot be happening. God, why are you letting this happen? God, stop this from happening.

I don’t think these are simply moments when we’re grieving the sadness of life. Peter was rejecting this part of the story.

When I am not accepting the way that the story is going, I am also rejecting grief.

Peter wasn’t speaking to Jesus as a submissive learner honestly coming in his overwhelm of not understanding why this horrific thing must happen.

Peter was rejecting all of it. He wouldn’t have Jesus be the person who allowed his own death. Jesus was not being who Peter wanted him to be.

But Jesus knew who He had to be.

He called Peter out sternly… “Get behind me, Satan! You are a hindrance to me. For you are not setting your mind on the things of God, but on the things of man.” Matthew 16:23.

It was none of Peter’s business to tell Jesus who Jesus needed to be.

Peter wanted for Jesus and all of them to do everything in their power to stop the bad things from happening. Peter’s heart was closed to the story of Jesus looking any other way than the way that Peter wanted it to look.

Peter’s passions were misplaced. Just as Jesus exposed, Peter’s mind was on the things of man, rather than on the things of God.

In contrast, Jesus’ passion was the will of God and the story that God was writing.

The rebuke that Jesus’ spoke shines a spotlight on our hearts that asks… Where does my heart want to insist that the story God is writing must look this specific way that I think must look? Where is my heart not open to the possibility that the story God is writing could look different than anything I’ve ever expected?

And yeah, Peter was the one who drew his sword when they came to kill Jesus. Because Jesus, you know that sometimes, we, Your sheep, need a thousand and one corrections to start having a faint idea of what direction You want us to go.

When Peter cut off the ear of one of those who came for You, You lovingly corrected again… “Put your sword into its sheath; shall I not drink the cup that the Father has given me?” John 18:11.

Put your sword into its sheath.

Peter knew that Jesus had flipped over tables and spoken in anger at the wrongs of the Pharisees before. And Peter must have wondered… how could this be so different? It was after this that Peter denied knowing Jesus. And again, Jesus wasn’t being what Peter thought Jesus was or what he wanted him to be.

This was a habit of Peter’s, to think that He knew who Jesus needed to be. But Jesus loved Peter. Jesus never told Peter to stop trying to learn. And Jesus never abandoned Peter no matter how many times Peter got in the way.

Peter hadn’t stopped receiving the rebukes of Jesus. Even when it may have felt at times like he was dying inside. Maybe Peter felt that the most this time when he was told to put his sword away. When he didn’t know how to say that Jesus was his friend.

How do you let yourself die inside? Peter did learn through all the times he got in Jesus’ way. Peter’s mistakes could not thwart Jesus Love for him.

Which of us cannot relate to Peter?

Jesus, teach us to set our hearts on the story that You are writing, when it will likely look nothing like what our limited imaginations could come up with.

God, keep showing us when we get in your way. Keep loving us through the story. And teach us when it’s time to put our sword away.

Teach us to take up our cross and let ourselves die inside. Just as you took up your cross and died for all of us.

Remind us of your Love when we get in Your way, for as many times as Peter got in your way Jesus, you never stopped giving Peter space to learn.

And just as You weren’t asking Peter to be happy that You had to die, teach us that we don’t have to like anything that is happening in order to humbly receive it and accept it as something that is a part of the beautiful story that You are writing.

Because as we set our minds on where the story is going with You as the gracious and trustworthy Author, You will teach us to accept the truth of where the story is.

And now, right now… Peter’s own life story is a bedrock that broken places in the body of Christ can always build on.

Jesus’ own words spoken even amidst all the ways he had to continually call Peter out and away from the things of man: “And I tell you, you are Peter, and on this rock I will build my church, and the gates of hell shall not prevail against it.” Matthew 16:18.

Jesus never took His eyes off the value of what God was writing with the story of Peter’s life.

When Peter failed in every way trying to take the story into his own hands, Jesus always saw the worth of Peter’s own story. Despite the many times that Jesus had to rebuke Peter sternly for his lack of trust in what Jesus was doing, Jesus never walked away.

And when Jesus rebuked Peter, Peter ultimately did stay by Jesus, because deep down in his heart, Peter’s desire to learn from Jesus, to have his own darkness exposed to the light of Jesus, was greater than his desire to be right.

As Jesus rebuked his ignorance, Peter learned through the story, to trade the version of the story that he had gripped onto, for the story that God was actually writing.

And through all of the mess of it, Peter learned to trust Jesus, not because Peter was strong, but because even though it was so hard for Peter to see, the blazing Love of Jesus taught Peter that the weakness inside him desperately needed the light of Jesus. Peter kept staying close to Jesus, when all the light of Jesus exposed all of Peter’s darkness. And eventually Jesus called Peter the rock for the church.

How many cracks in the foundations of the church happen because we can so easily become more consumed with passion for the story that we are gripping onto, than with a passion to trust and obey when the story God is writing goes all different than we thought. To trust in the story God is writing even when it all seems wrong to our human eyes. And to obey Love.

Every story God is writing is a part of His Gospel story because every little thing in this world will point somehow to this. God is always writing the story of the good news of His grace. The redeeming power of His Life.

If we are to be passionate about the Gospel, we can trust in the story that God is writing. We don’t have to like what is happening when we can’t understand where it’s going, but we can learn surrender in accepting the story when it all looks blown to bits, feeling all of it and giving it to God to keep writing the story while we do just what is ours and obey Love the best we know for today.

In the end, Peter wasn’t just a life, He was there for a body.

In the end, Peter’s life, holds us together, the body of Christ. A people who each have our version of how we want to insist that this story goes. How I want to insist that this story goes. And we are each learning through the death of our own individual stories, to hold instead to the story that is all of ours to share when we hold to the Head. That Head is Christ.

Until we come to the end, His Love will keep giving us, giving me, opportunities to die again and again to the story we want to hold onto. Because He Loves us that much.

I think perhaps, it wasn’t until Jesus was dead, when all of Peter’s version of the story was dead and the rooster crowed thrice… that Peter felt Jesus’ rebuke most of all and let it sink into his heart. And sometimes the parts of life that we cling to have to die… before we can see.

There is an Author. And He knows what He is doing.

In finality… a portrait painted with God’s own words. Here is the essence of the body of Christ, the church...

“And he gave the apostles, the prophets, the evangelists, the shepherds and teachers, to equip the saints for the work of ministry, for building up the body of Christ, until we all attain to the unity of the faith and of the knowledge of the Son of God, to mature manhood, to the measure of the stature of the fullness of Christ, so that we may no longer be children, tossed to and fro by the waves and carried about by every wind of doctrine, by human cunning, by craftiness in deceitful schemes. Rather, speaking the truth in love, we are to grow up in every way into him who is the head, into Christ, from whom the whole body, joined and held together by every joint with which it is equipped, when each part is working properly, makes the body grow so that it builds itself up in love.” Ephesians 4:11-16.

When the cold wants covering

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 21 Jan 2021 17:55:40 GMT

At the end of December, we were given a coffee table for our living room and it felt like it wanted to be white. So I sanded it down and painted it. There’s more painting to go because the end table wants to match it. And the couch was begging for white pillows, so we got some of those too.

Winter begs for white. And when the Texas grounds don’t bear it, it feels most natural to find any way to cover things in white. White invites stillness and silence and rest. And the one day we’ve had snow so far, even though the snow didn’t stick, when you stepped outside you could hear it and feel it, the snow that makes the unmistakable sound of silence.

It came on Sunday, at the end of a January week that made history for it’s blots and the damage of words. When the sound of snow is a welcome treasure.

I hadn’t heard snow in such a long time and it doesn’t sound like normal silence. It sounds like something that invites you into it, into falling gently and letting things die.

In some form, the world around us goes to sleep every year. Yet, snow, she doesn’t feel lazy, she falls with purpose knowing this is her time. Winter comes to reset the earth for what is next to come.

And even when the ground isn’t covered in white, winter invites all who feel her to fall still along with her. Hope softly in what is coming while winter does her work.

Late in the evening with kids all asleep, I step close to the space heater and tighten the towel to my skin still cold. I think of all the ways it’s true. We could never witness the wonder of spring without going through the bleakness of winter.

Cold seasons teach our hearts to find warmth, press into what keeps the flame inside us alive.

My two girls have one favorite fact they each learned in Kindergarten that they like to repeat over and over. “Winter is when the trees get naked.” They giggle every time they say it and every time they stop and notice a naked tree.

The trees are exposed in winter. Life in green is exposed to the cold that puts it to sleep... to rest it’s beauty away for the spring that is to come.

And just as the world around us is exposed, winter seasons expose the candle in our hearts to the winds that want to blow it out. Winter puts the flame inside us to test and teaches it how to hold steadfast to life.

This winter, I needed to see that snow - even if it didn’t cover the ground. That snow had something to say.

How many of us feel like winter is longer when the cold doesn’t simply come from the weather, but from coldness of words, coldness of thoughts, coldness of death by virus… How many winters have felt so cold?

This world, she’s always changing, new seasons always coming, as we are invited to not simply stay forever in the place where we are, but consider where the seasons are inviting us to change too. For the Author of the seasons is the same Author that knows just what to do with these places in our hearts that need movement and light.

When we see cold things happening around us, our hearts struggle to sit still - for good reason. Cold words and cold actions are always offensive to Love and Love is the source that can keep our hearts warm. When our hearts see cold behavior, our hearts have to find some way to move.

Every season has something to teach, something to change. And what is true despite the coldest of winters, despite moments when we could just go to sleep to all the world around, what is true is that nothing cold could ever be a real threat to Love.

The coldest of winter weather only makes the spring dress the world in fuller, more vibrant blossoms than before when it’s her turn. And when this world is given its life in God, no cold can kill off earth’s life for good as long as He wills her to be.

And coldness of words may try to threaten Love, but no kind of cold could hold a viable threat to the beauty and strength of what Love truly is. God can always use the cold to shape us for good. Trees that have been exposed, to be dressed more full and vibrant than before.

This winter has had me sitting with questions, why does the heart long to fight cold with more cold? And how do you sit in the middle of such a cold as this has been, and keep your heart going back to warmth in the middle of the coldness of thoughts that want to take hold of your mind?

Help me remember the falling snow.

For any coldness is ugly, dark and wretched if she is not covered in white. The coldness that has wanted to blow through my mind needs all of the falling snow.

How do you look at the cold around you? You turn your eyes to the heart inside you that was cold to Jesus and He fought that cold by Loving you with His blood. Like the falling snow. This is how Jesus meets the cold in us.

“Surely I was sinful at birth, sinful from the time my mother conceived me.” Psalm 51:5.

“Cleanse me with hyssop, and I will be clean; wash me, and I will be whiter than snow.” Psalm 51:7.

When I was cold to Jesus, He Loved me with His blood. He covered my cold in the white of His spotless life. This is Love like falling snow.

The snow, she comes to cover the world in white. She invites us in. For anything cold becomes beautiful when she is dressed in white.

In the middle of a cold winter, it’s all we need know. My heart is susceptible to the cold, but snow is falling even when we can’t see it and the best way to fight off the cold is to wake to another day stepping into the falling snow.

Jesus Love is free... alive for all of us cold hearts who keep needing remember how deeply we are in need of this covering of white.

Love will cover the cold.

Craving Blue

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 10 Dec 2020 19:43:23 GMT

I was craving blue on the Christmas tree this year. The kind of deep royal blue that goes well with a rich crimson.

We set up the tree in the dining room this year since it’s the room we spend the most time in, the room that the rest of the house stems off of. This year we have new wood floors in there, to replace the cracked and faded linoleum that was in there last year and I love the way the tree glows over those new wood floors. And even when there’s hardly ever a time when all the lights on the tree are working, there’s magic in walking into a dark room in the morning and turning on the tree before waking up the kids for school.

Tuesday was the day we put up the tree. That day I was working on getting the house back together after our long November. It was a foggy-brained month full of no routines where Daddy felt awful with covid there at the first of the month, where the kids had three weeks of remote schooling, where it’s never easy to navigate the emotional territory that goes with elections, where my brothers came to help us tear apart our only bathroom to do a remodel right before we went to see my parents for Thanksgiving. And we closed out the month with sweet family time that revolved around filling our bellies full at Aunt Sarah’s house, then squeezing into swimsuits the next day to take the kids to an indoor pool with Grammy, before the Saturday when Gramps and Uncles Dill and Dan helped Daddy to build the new bathroom and there was sad news on the phone.

That Tuesday while getting the house back together I was thinking over life, about the kids and Nano and me and some unknowns we’re facing as a family right now. I thought about how I am twenty-seven and my oldest is seven and how I’m still growing up while I’m learning how to mother her. I thought about how Nano and I got engaged when I was eighteen and how I don’t regret it at all even though… eighteen-year-old me feels like she has nothing to lose.

There’s something to that. Embracing life as if you have nothing to lose. I miss her and I’m grateful for her and I wouldn’t change her. If I were to meet the eighteen-me, I think a part of me might have a lot of things I’d want to tell her. But then again, if I were to think about it, I’d want to hold my tongue and trust the story where it is. I’d want her to travel the journey ahead just the same. And I’d want to relearn some things from her.

Eighteen knows how to dream and risk and see life with fresh eyes. Eighteen-me signed up to become a wife and mom within a year. Teach me how to step into new seasons with courage even when I have no idea what I’m doing or how to even feel like a full-grown adult.

I thought alot about her while I put the clothes away and got out the Christmas decorations and I told her that I thought she was brave.

That afternoon, we went to the park with some of our dearest sister-friends. There were reminders of the sweet gift of friendship, as well as the moments when I realize what I forgot to pack for our trip to the park, feel like the most unprepared mom, and then have a two second conversation with myself where I tell myself to quit feeling that way, criticize the way I’m telling myself to stop feeling, question whether that was actually a thought or a feeling, and then remember where I am, call timeout on the scattered debate inside my head and bring myself back to reality where we talk about all the things that you talk to a sister about including how in the world to parent a child.

While we talked, Liesel leaned up against me under a blanket waiting for the things she needed.

That evening after dinner was when we set up the tree and baked cookies. There was music and Amayah requested the ‘Twelve Days of Christmas’ and showed us the hand-motions that she learned at school. Liesel thought the cookies were for Santa and was very careful to set them up on a plate next to the tree until Daddy told her that they might go bad before Christmas and we could always make Santa fresh cookies. She didn’t at all mind the thought of eating them.

The girls started homework while I cleaned up the kitchen from the soup and tortillas that Daddy and Amayah had made us. Liesel was overwhelmed with her homework to the point of tears and I took her to her room to rest a bit together. By the time bedtime came around, we were all out of energy and the toys were cluttering up the place in such a way that it rubbed our last nerves and turned into a small disaster of interactions.

We got to bed in the end. Amayah was the last one to fall asleep as she always is. I rubbed her back until she was out. And when I got in bed I cried, for though we had finished today, I felt lost to be the mother she needed tomorrow.

I picked up my phone to set the alarm and there on the screen was the verse…

“Then the Lord said to Moses, ‘I will rain down bread from heaven for you. The people are to go out each day and gather enough for that day. In this way I will test them and see whether they will follow my instructions.’” Exodus 16:4.

And I was hungry for this truth that He has always been the God who gives His people what they need just when they need it, on the day they need it, because all He needs us to do is to trust Him. To ask for this day, our daily bread. It rested my soul in knowing that while I don’t know what my kids need in a mother tomorrow, He does.

He knows how to give them the things that I can’t, the things I haven’t learned yet because I’m still growing up too. And He knows perfectly how to Father the person that I am inside. He knows how to Father me when I long to understand the whole story and know my next twelve moves, rather than simply being content to take the next step with Him just today.

He knows how to use the weakness of me to show Himself strong. Sometimes, there are moments when I have wished that I could be a robot that simply stuck with the plan and kept doing the next thing and moving towards the goal and ignoring the feelings. But the thing is, if God wanted children who didn’t know how to feel, He could have made children who didn’t know how to feel. He, Himself is a God who feels and He chose to form us in His own image.

The Bible shows us a God who rejoices over His creation, aches and heartbreaks over the mess of humanity, and dances in His Love for them. And when I have moments when I want to rejoice over what I can make with my hands, when I ache and my heart breaks over the mess in this world, or when I simply want to dance in Love for another soul, none of these things themselves are cause to call myself an unfocused mess.

Rather, these things are cause to enjoy the gift of getting to have a heart that feels, just like my heavenly Daddy.

One thing that makes me so different from my Daddy is that I don’t know what to do with all of these feelings inside me, but He does.

He knows how to perfectly use everything in His own heart to write the story of His grace and glory. And as my Daddy, He is the One who knows what to do with everything in my heart too. All He wants from me is to lean my one heart up onto His own.

“The one who calls you is faithful, and he will do it.” 1 Thess. 5:24.

He will show Himself strong with the weakness of His child. In her life, in her marriage, in her children. Each friendship and each failing is held by hands that work all things together for the good of those who love Him.

Each teardrop that falls from the face of one of His children is a prayer and He is the God who sees, the God who listens and the God who takes note of every tear and holds it precious. (Psalm 56:8)

So we wake to another day, and two heads of long brown hair wake up before their brother and each tuck themselves under one of my arms to rest on their mama’s heart. I can’t understand this world for them. And I don’t have the perfect guidance needed for the wild and beautiful hearts inside them. But just as they rested themselves firm upon my heart, I can rest myself firm upon the heart of my Daddy who has all the guidance we need for one more day in a broken world that is just a piece of His one good and beautiful story.

This is grace.. the gift that's longing to be unwrapped inside of each blue this Christmas.

The sure presence of a God who always keeps His promise.

When You Need to Hear Beauty in the Sounds of a 2020 Year

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 29 Oct 2020 18:22:00 GMT

Yesterday morning I was in my favorite little coffee shop where I do the most of my writing. I ordered my salted caramel latte, like I always do when I’m there, and I turned back to the story of Paul and Barnabus.

In October of 2016, the story of Paul and Barnabus in Acts 15 was the story that helped me feel some shreds of light and hope in the middle of the divisions that were happening in the country and in the church.

I’ve looked back at it a couple times in the last few weeks, but this week I’ve needed this story in a number of ways.

When I read about Paul and Barnabus it helps me remember how different we all are as people. And even when so many different people all belong to the same body of Christ, we can each see things so differently. Heated disagreements can happen among the most Gospel-minded of people.

In the story, Paul and Barnabus were about to embark on another part of their journey, when their big disagreement happened. Barnabus wanted to take John Mark with them on the trip, but Paul did not.

Paul strongly felt the need to not have John Mark accompany him and Barnabus on their journey. John Mark had not been there when they needed him before and Paul, from what I see, had a need for traveling companions that he knew he could count on. Maybe it was simply something that Paul strongly needed to be in place in order to go on being the person who God made him to be. It wasn’t that Paul didn’t care about John Mark, but Paul had a need to let him go and trust him to God while he found someone else to partner with them in the work they were doing.

But then Barnabus was a man who was called the “son of encouragement.” It’s part of who he was. Barnabus was all about second chances and lifting people up even after they had gotten it all wrong. Barnabus could not let John Mark go. Even when it meant, in this specific instance, that Paul and Barnabus would part ways in their journey, Barnabus had a need in his spirit to be there for John Mark as someone who believed in him and lifted him up as he grew in his character and in his service to God’s people.

And maybe it wasn’t so much that one or the other was wrong, but that Paul and Barnabus had different gifts as members of the body of Christ and in this story, they each felt a need to take different kinds of paths in order to be the person God made them to be.

Maybe Paul was created to be a kind of person that carried the weight of caring for so many churches on his plate. So much so that he felt a need to clear unnecessary personal relational struggles off of his plate, so that he would be free to do the best he could to carry the big picture of the care of the churches. Maybe Paul was a person that was made to deal more with big picture things.

And maybe Barnabus was created to be this kind of person that cleared this large space on his plate just to carry relational struggles, because personal relationships were that important of a part of him being the person that he was created to be. Maybe Barnabus had a really soft spot in his heart for the individual people that struggled to find their place within the big picture.

Maybe some people are created in a specific way to care for the big picture, and others are created in another way to care for the pieces of the picture. Because both kinds of people are just as needed. We each were created to be a different kind of person in the body of Christ and we each have different kinds of needs in order to keep on being that person.

One thing it teaches me is that while some things are black and white in general, there are other things that may only be black and white to the person God made me. While there may be a different set of things that are black and white to the person God made you.

We need the Paul’s who are able sometimes to let people go so that they will be able to carry the big picture that God gave them to carry. And just as much so , we need the Barnabus who can keep believing in someone long after they have gotten all the things wrong.

We need all types of people that there are in the body of Christ. We need the John Mark who is learning to use the person God made him and fails people while He’s learning. We need John Mark to keep learning and growing. To keep on letting God use him. John Mark needs a Barnabus too. And he also needs the Paul’s to keep on caring for the bigger picture that he is part of.

There are so many ways this encourages me during a year like 2020.

During pandemic seasons, some feel it black and white strongly in their person, that they must not do something that has the chances of putting someone else in danger. And some feel it black and white strongly in their person, that people need people, that they need them in person and we have to keep finding ways to move toward each other and keep asking God to cover the risks.

During political seasons, some feel strongly the need to keep quiet about political things. Some feel strongly the need to use their voice. And during political seasons, some are just learning to use their voice, getting it wrong and trying again.

During an election, part of the body of Christ has a heart that goes out most for the big picture of the country. And part of the body of Christ has a heart that goes out the most for the smaller pieces within the bigger picture. We need all parts of the body of Christ.

We don’t need everyone in the body of Christ to do it one certain way, for then we wouldn’t be a body at all. But we do need everyone to keep exercising the person God made them. To keep trusting that God can use them as the person that they are.

In one of my favorite teachings that I’ve heard on spiritual gifts, the community group leader at the group I attend related spiritual gifts to musical instruments. It’s been a couple years since I heard the talk, but it has stuck in my mind ever since. Dewanna Crane said that when God’s people start using their spiritual gifts, sometimes it might sound like a middle school band who just got their instruments. It might sound really off and squeaky. It might just sound like a great big mess. But the only way that the band can learn to play is by continuing to practice.

When I remember that picture it always helps me find more graceful perspectives for myself and for others. If we want to be people who use the spiritual instrument God gave us to play in His symphony, we have to use it, even when we feel like we don’t know what we’re doing. Even when it sounds squeaky and off. But we’ll keep practicing, keep learning how to play this instrument that God gave us to play. And by practice, we’ll each keep learning how to use the instruments we’re given in a way that works together to sing the song of His grace.

Maybe in 2020, we can find beauty in the ways that ourselves and our neighbors are pulling out our instruments to make a noise. Because even when the noises sound squeaky and off, what is underneath it, might just be a lot of us who are longing to learn how to use the instruments that God gave us to play. Maybe a lot of our noises that come out as messy squeaks, are noises that are finding room to grow into the beauty of God’s symphony of Love.

While we keep on in our lifelong learning, may we not forget to keep tuning our instruments, not to the sound of the wisdom of the world, but to the sound of the wisdom of God’s Word, and to the sound of those who come alongside us in Love reaching out a hand to partner with us in practice. May we keep our ears open to the symphony God is playing, remembering that this is not a solo practice. It’s a body intended to work together. May we be at peace with it, when the oboe that we are playing doesn’t sound one thing like our friends violin. And more than anything else, may we keep our eyes more on our Conductor than on the people around us.

What about you?

What’s the hardest part about playing your own instrument during the song of 2020? Is there something about your part to play that you’re asking God to tune right now? How have the squeaks in the symphony been hard to hear this year? What is one thing you can do today to grow in the wonder of our differences and grow in the joy of getting to be a part of the symphony of God?

When It's Hard to Know: Am I being passive or still?

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 08 Oct 2020 18:54:41 GMT

For thirteen years, I tried to learn how to be happy with things being the way they were. But nothing inside me wanted to be happy with this. For thirteen years, I had nights where I woke up in tears wishing things were different. For thirteen years I wondered why I couldn't just be happy with this one situation.

And after thirteen years, somebody asked me... what if there was actually something you could do to change the situation instead of just simply trying to be happy with things the way they are. What if what you are feeling isn’t simply discontentment, but rather a need to do something? Is there something you can do?

And there was something I could do , but it felt impossible to even try. I was afraid that if I tried... the whole blue world would spin right off its axis.

Over a span of several years, there were three people who all encouraged me with the same simple notion that almost felt half crazy to me. I could do something, and as catastrophic an idea as it felt in my head, it wasn’t, in fact, impossible.

Three people all sat and listened well to my pain. Three people heard my fears, asked lots of curious questions, and helped me see after all, that it wasn’t as scary as it felt.

And by the time that third person had listened and heard me out, by the time that third person had asked so many curious questions that made my fears seem so much smaller, when they had heard the whole story and assured me it was doable, I was ready to try.

So I did try, and in one day the dynamics of the situation changed. It's not that it made everything perfect, but everything became different. The thing I had wanted for thirteen years, but never thought it would happen, it happened. The thing I had hoped for and waited for, I didn't have to keep waiting for it to come from outside of me. And those thirteen years were over when I would wake up in the night crying over the same situation that I felt powerless over.

It wasn't catastrophic after all. It was really rather simple.

I’m grateful for God’s faithfulness to meet me in my fears, grateful for three people who met me there.

And I’m grateful to learn it through experience… I am not powerless.

“For God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power, and of love and of a sound mind.” (2 Tim. 1:7, NKJV)

I want to cheer when it says that God has given us a spirit of love.

I am glad when it says that God has given us a sound mind.

But I feel brand new in learning to embrace it and know the joy of it when it says that God has given us a spirit of power.

When it says that God has given us a spirit of power, I can tend to skip over this, to want to give the power to someone else. But to take control of the situations in my life, when it’s in my power to do so, that doesn’t feel like me. And well, power can feel like a bad thing, when you’ve seen it used in unhelpful ways. And even more so, when you’ve tried to exercise power before and felt like you only burned situations to the ground. It’s true: there is ‘power’ that is not from love or from God.

But the power God gives us is the power to receive His own Spirit of power. To fully own our part in the situations that we are in and give God the rest.

In the verse, God doesn’t give us three separate things to pick and choose from. He gives us His own spirit where power, love and a sound mind all work together. I can step into love best when I am owning what is mine to have power over. I have a sound mind when I simply own what is in my control and give to God what is not.

His Spirit is not in my fears, though his Spirit is in humility to be willing to recognize when I get it wrong... to recognize when I put more trust in my own understanding than in the heart of God.

My natural tendencies are not what makes up the person that He made me to be. His Spirit works altogether with power, love and a sound mind over the fears that want to keep me in the shadows, inactive to own my part in this life.

When we explore the possibilities, we often have power over many more things than we first realize.

It's hard to keep remembering it. When you've always felt powerless over so many situations, it's hard to keep remembering and embracing what kind of spirit you really have been given. It's tiny steps forwards and back again to keep holding the truth: things that I have felt hurt by do not have to have power over me.

Not everyone’s situation is the same, but when I explore what I really do have power over, I find many areas of life where I often forget that I am not powerless.

Here are a few things I find:

I’m given power to extend invitations to partner with people in my time, in conversation, in my work, in the growth of our hearts. And I have power to own how I extend those invitations. I have no need for shame in extending them.

I don’t have power over how invitations are received, but I do have power to take note of how they are received and what I can learn from the situation.

I have power to remember that I am deeply loved as a truth that has nothing to do with what my life looks like or feels like at any certain moment.

I have power to recognize my needs and to express them. I have the power to ask for help. I have the power to recognize what things are important and necessary in my life and how I will carve out my time. I have the power to say yes or no to people’s requests from me based on what I need that time for.

I have power to receive my emotions, to feel them and let them move me in learning and growing as they are designed to. I have the power to learn from the mistakes I make in exercising my emotions. I have power to exercise control over what I do with my emotions, but also to let them move my heart in healthy ways.

I have power to share my feelings with other people and find healing for the things in my heart that need company sometimes.

I have power to recognize when I need some time alone and seek out help with my responsibilities while I take that time. I have the power to think through my struggles and decisions in healthy ways. I have power to recognize my unhealthy thoughts and choose to trade them for healthy thoughts.

I have the power to initiate conversations with people about the things I feel in the air between our hearts. I have the power to stop when people aren’t receptive to those conversations. I have the power to receive and learn from what I gain in those conversations.

I have the power to recognize when I don’t like the way my life is going, evaluate what I don’t like and make changes. I have power over what I choose to do, regardless of what somebody wants.

I don’t have the power to take away the pain and grief of anyone in my life who is hurting, but I have the power to be ‘with’ them in their pain in just the best way I know how.

I don’t have the power to make any of my own pain or grief go away in this life, but I have the power to hold the promise of God’s presence with me in it, I have the power to reach out to people for support while I am in it, and I have the power to receive what the pain must do in my heart.

I don’t have the power to know what anyone I love is thinking or feeling, but I have the power to ask and I have the power to care.

I don’t have power over someone else’s hurtful behavior, but I usually have power to say something or to do something to remove myself and others from the behavior even while loving and caring about the person.

I don’t have power over other people’s decisions, but I have power to Love them and embrace the person God made them, regardless of the decisions they make. I have power to do what is mine to do, then trust God with the people I love. I have power to say something and do something about it when I don’t like the way someone’s words or actions affect my own life. What I say or do may not change the nature of what they do, but it can help change the way I am treated.

I have the power to recognize what things most frustrate me in the world and let that frustration move me toward Love in the way I live out my life in this world.

I have the power to forgive and heal from the hurts I have felt. I have the power to live forgiven from the mistakes I have made.

I have the power to Love, because He first Loved me. And the more I live knowing that I am given a spirit of power, the more His Spirit of Love can live through me.

I always have the power to petition my Father over everything that is outside of my control. I have power to take every anxious thought and every hurting place inside me to the throne of God in the name of Jesus, by which this world and everything in it holds together.

And in every moment, I have the power to call on the name of Jesus, who is my salvation, my Lord and my ever present help who is always there for any in this world who call on Him.

And with a power like that, the possibilities are endless.

“Now to him who is able to do immeasurably more than all we ask or imagine, according to his power that is at work within us, to him be glory in the church in Christ Jesus throughout all generations, for ever and ever! Amen.” (Ephesians 3:20-21)

May we be people who step into the world learning and growing in the knowledge that what we are given is a spirit of power, love and a sound mind. We are not powerless over the situations we find ourselves in in this world. Through the spirit of power inside us, and through the gift of the power of prayer and God with us, we are given more than enough to live lives that are abundant with hope, color, purpose and Love as we hold onto the promise of His Kingdom here on earth.

When Things Go Dark: Three Ways to See the World in Color

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 17 Sep 2020 14:47:06 GMT

The problems in life can so easily cloud our view until they darken everything we see and all the world feels grey.

Yet, God promises His children, “You are all children of light, children of the day. We are not of the night or of the darkness.” 1 Thess. 5:5. When our view goes grey, that is not who we really are, or who we’re made to be. We are children of light. We are the salt of the earth. And God uses His own children to color up this place with the life of His own Spirit alive inside our hearts.

It happens to all of us in this life where we walk through valleys in this world: we hit places where the light feels to fade and it can grow more difficult to remember who we are. When darkness drops into your life, how in the world do you see the Light?

When I think of times in my life when my view of life went grey I remember one season of pouring constantly over the political state of divisiveness to the point where it made every part of the whole world feel grey.

I remember one season when I had a terrible at fault accident with four children in the back of the van, and weeks afterwards of seeing the world through the cloud of my own feelings of irresponsibility and inadequacy.

And more than any of it, I remember many seasons of agonizing over relational struggles that I so eagerly wanted to figure out how to fix here and now, until the struggles in those relationships clouded my view of every good thing in my life.

No matter what the problem is, any problem can easily darken our view of life, until a thousand colorful things in our world lose their life and color and joy.

How do we see the world in color again when darkness is trying to be the ruler of our view?

We are children of the light, and that is where we can start. Being children of the light, doesn’t change the fact that the darkness is there, but it does change the way we relate to the darkness. And mostly, when we rest in the knowledge that we are children of the light, it can change the way we think about the darkness.

A verse I’ve always heard commonly quoted in church is Proverbs 4:23, “Guard your heart above all else…” I recently came across a translation of this verse that caught my attention. The NCV was created to be a very simply stated translation of the Bible for people with a low reading level. It words the verse this way, “Be careful what you think, because your thoughts run your life.”

I think it stands out because of how deeply life can prove this to be true. The way that I think about the things I experience, shapes my decisions and shapes my life.

I cannot remove problems and pain from my life, but I get to choose how I think about those problems. And the way we think about the problems in life can shape the way we see everything.

How do we know we are even able to think about our own pain in healthy ways? Because as God’s children, we are promised that we do not belong to the darkness, we belong to the light. If we belong to the light, then we know that darkness is not able to overpower us.

When we are confident that we belong to the Light, we have no fear of the darkness. “I will fear no evil.” Ps. 23:4.

Belonging to the Light empowers us.

“Since we belong to the day, let us be sober, putting on faith and love as a breastplate, and the hope of salvation as a helmet.” 1 Thess. 5:8.

As people who belong to the day, we have faith and love to protect our hearts. We have the hope of deliverance to guard our minds.

Faith, hope and love are the primary colors of life in Christ. These three can combine in infinite ways to color the way we see any situation. And the greatest of these is Love.

And all of life can be seen as the art that the Artist is making. Infinite mysterious art in this world that will have its grand colorful reveal. We can choose to wait to see the color until the whole masterpiece is revealed one day, or we can choose to marvel at the color of this life even while we don’t fully understand the beauty of what the Artist is up to.

So then, three ways to see the world in color:

Faith is the color that enables us to believe in what we cannot see. It keeps our hearts trusting. And we know that the problem we see on the surface, always holds underneath it some grand beauty God is making. Faith keeps us trusting the story. And faith keeps us open to trusting what God is doing in the people beside us and with the hearts within us.

Hope is the color that anchors our life and keeps us grounded when nothing else makes sense. Hope reminds us that when logically, it looks like we’re moving nowhere, we are always stepping home. Hope reminds us of the promise that we are secure in where we’re going, and we will be delivered from every pain and heartache one day very soon.

And Love is the only color that can bring dead things to life. Love is the Person who is always there to bring His life to every dead thing in our hearts. Love is the most beautiful thing in the world that can flow through even us, simply because He chose to Love us. Love is the most priceless privilege of all that can plant color in the most grey of hearts.

Faith, hope and Love are the things we have access to as children of the day. These three things don’t promise us permanent happiness in this world, but what they do give us is worth so much more. They can color our world with beauty even in the darkest pain.

As long as we have faith, hope and Love, we can always make like an artist. We can always see the beautiful color in our pain.

“And now these three remain: faith, hope and love. But the greatest of these is love.”

1 Corinthians 13:13.

My post this week is specially dedicated to one of my favorite artists, my friend Bubba. I met Bubba at Christmastime a couple years back. Upon our meeting he gifted me with a candy cane and we have been friends ever since. Bubba loves to work with color and is an expert at seeing the color in people’s hearts. One of Bubba’s favorite people was a man named Mr. Jack. Nearly anytime you talk to Bubba, you’ll hear about Mr. Jack.

Mr. Jack was a bus driver when Bubba was in elementary school, and Mr. Jack made a lasting influence on Bubba’s life. When I’ve asked Bubba why his bus driver inspired him so much, it seems to simply be true that Mr. Jack impacted Bubba so, because he was a person who saw the world in color and it shone right through his life.

Different Kinds of Broken

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 03 Sep 2020 18:16:21 GMT

Down the streets of our lives march a thousand kinds of souls. We love differently, we sin differently, and each of us see the world differently. Yet we’re all given life by the same breath of God. We’re each living in His one story.

Maybe there are as many different kinds of people as there are expressions of God’s Love. And maybe we all can feel it: that there’s this unique expression wanting to come out of us, wanting to play its role in this world. And while we’re each wanting to let this expression come out, we do a million wonky things. Because these bodies we live in are broken. Because it can feel impossible to navigate the fears that hold back the true expression of us that is wanting to come free. And truly these broken bodies do not have the strength in themselves.

Perhaps we all have different broken ways of trying. For myself, in longing to let out the person God made me to be, I have at times, written poetic kinds of things to people hoping they’ll see what I need, or what I’m trying to ask them. I think often I don’t consciously realize that that is what I’m doing. And there’s nothing wrong, in itself, with being poetic. It’s a piece of my personality that I enjoy and that I believe has many wonderful uses to it. But to use poetic language to try to communicate my needs to the people in my life… it doesn’t give them much to go on and it leaves me feeling depressed because I’m trying to communicate my needs and my needs are going unmet.

And at its core, when I want to ask someone a question and end up finding any other way to try to communicate with them, what it comes right down to is this fact here: I am afraid.

I’m sure there’s many more ways I’ve done it and many that I probably don’t know about yet. And more than that, I’m sure there are innumerable ways that we as people try to communicate with each other when we are feeling afraid.

We are all different kinds of broken. Doing different kinds of broken things to try to let this person inside us be the person we’re made to be. So many indirect ways we try to let ourselves come out of hiding. We’ve all done wonky things trying to communicate what we need. Hoping that someone will see what we need. Often we’re so accustomed to our own ways that we don’t realize how indirect we can be about getting our needs met.

It’s a good thing to have needs and to know what your needs are. And even what your wants are. When blind Bartimaeus called out to Jesus, Jesus asked him one question, “What do you want me to do for you?” (Mark 10:51) And the answer Bartimaeus gave was simple, “I want to see.” When Jesus asked him the question, he wasn’t ashamed to speak his desire. Bartimaeus knew what he wanted. Jesus saw through Bartimaeus’ cries for help. Where some would have dismissed Bartimaeus as crazy in his crying out to Jesus, Jesus cut through what some saw crazy. He got to Bartimaeus’ heart with one simple question.

The spirit inside us has it’s own specific needs and desires in learning to let the old ways of the flesh die and continually come alive as the person God made us to be. In the funny things we can do hoping someone will see what we need, Jesus knocks on the door of our heart, “What do you want?”

Our Father invites His children to be honest about what we want.

“What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and connot obtain, so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.” James 4:1-3.

Our Father invites us to ask our honest questions in this world.

It’s simply a fact that each of us have needs and desires that are a normal and necessary part of us becoming the person we are made to be. If we are not honest with ourselves, with God and with each other about those needs and desires, our spirit will hurt and find a way somehow to express those things in ways that aren’t fully honest.

Sometimes I think it’s true that we aren’t sure how to be fully honest. We’re learning and God gives grace for the process. While we carry the brokenness of this life, we get to share in fellowship with our friend Jesus, who carried every bit of it before us. He didn’t want the cross, but He wanted us and He willingly laid down His will for the will of the Father. He laid Himself down in trust that this suffering way, was the path to joy.

God walks with us through the hard places, comforting us, and knowing that He is working these things for our good. He is growing us as people who are becoming who He made us to be.

And what is more than true is this: different kinds of broken people all find healing in the same kind of broken place.

His broken body on that cross is the healing place for all of us. Here are at His cross we are safe to fall apart at His feet, where His blood and His Love takes the role of putting pieces together. We can not fix ourselves, but we can fix our eyes on Him and hold onto His Love as people in desperate need.

In the goodness of His Love, we can say it in His presence.

In the goodness of His Love, we can say it with His people.

In the goodness of His Love, we can learn to not be ashamed of our honest needs.

I need a friend.

I want to know that I can be seen in my mess and someone will still care.

I need help finding the way through this.

I need a place to use my gifts.

I want to be able to use my abilities and serve without getting burned out.

I want to be healed.

I want to not be afraid anymore.

I need community.

I want to know that I can be useful.

I need a place to call home.

I want to know that I am not a burden.

I need a safe place to cry and fall apart.

I need Love.

It’s okay and good to say those things, even when we don’t know how. In the Love of God, there is no shame in what we truly need or what we truly want. And in His Love, He will bring us home one step at a time, while our desires are finding their life inside of the kingdom of God.

Below, I share a poem kind of prayer that I wrote in a season of struggling to be honest with what I was wanting in a certain situation. Writing the poem helped me find comfort in the Love of the Friend who can always meet me where I am. It’s His Love that emboldens us to know we’re safe to be more honest.

What is friendship?

And why do seasons change? Is it winter?

And is there a marked place when a friendship moves to winter?

And does winter last forever?

Can a broken person be a friend?

And can a broken friendship be healed?

And what is a friend’s silence?

And what is a friend’s forever questions?

And when will brokenness be gone?

And are we the same kinds of broken?

Or different through and through?

Will the sun shine here again?

Did I imagine it before?

Do I know how to be a friend?

Or do I see the whole world wrong?

Do you know that I still care?

At least, I believe I do.

Is my heart beyond repair?

Is there healing yet to be?

Can the Son still touch my face with His own loving mercies?

Will Light yet have it’s way with the darkness here in me?

I believe it will. And need help my unbelief.

Is Jesus’ blood enough to heal all broken things?

Can it heal what keeps me asking and pleading to be seen?

Can His Love break through the deafening roar of the silence?

Is it enough alone to fill the aching things in me?

I do believe it can. And need help my unbelief.

Can I fix these things myself?

Can I stop longing to be seen?

Can I offer anything that fills the void of the silence?

Can I truly make right any one thing I’ve done wrong?

I can’t, but I trust that there is purpose to the darkness. And need help my unbelief.

Can I understand these struggles?

Or reason out the ways?

Can I say with any confidence that I know all that’s right?

Can I even fathom God’s own working in a place?

I can’t, but know He does. And need help my unbelief.

And perhaps what’s here to see is maybe all along, we’re all more different than we know,

And more alike than we could say.

And maybe what’s true is different kinds of broken people,

Are all very much the same. We are mirrors to each other.

And maybe while we all do different kinds of broken things,

We all find healing in the same kind of broken place.

Maybe friendship in this world is a broken kind of beauty,

That shows us the kind of Love we stand here in need of.

What is friendship?

And what is Love?

“Greater love has no one than this, that someone lay down his life for his friends.” John 15:13.

When it's hard to see where the battle is

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 13 Aug 2020 11:47:44 GMT

Two wedding stories that could speak to the battles of today

I sat on the wooden staircase, veiled and dressed in white, waiting for my dad to say it was time. In just a few minutes, I would live the freedom that did not exist for the nation just five decades earlier. Fifty years earlier, we could have been arrested for a day like this. But this is America, where our legacy has always been in striving to put away our prejudice and call all people equal.

Luiz and I were made for each other. We just happened to have different skin colors.

Taking my dad’s arm, we walked to the chapel doors. And when those doors opened to begin a new chapter of life, they opened to a freedom that had been fought for by generation upon generation of Americans who won battles in their own hearts in asking themselves where they fall short in holding people of every color, creed and nation to the same level of respect and honor, each as people who were created in the image of God, just the same as they.

This belief in equality gave the strongest fight, not on a battlefield or in a war of words, but inside of individual hearts. It fought strongest in the hearts of people who admitted the prejudice inside their own mind, and determined to war against it.

Because of God’s grace, lived out in those people, I got to live my wedding day so freely. Less than fifty years before, Mildred Loving had been arrested for the marriage she had partaken in with her new husband Richard, a man of a different skin color than she. But me, I walked the aisle of that chapel to take the hands of the one I loved. I had none of Mildred’s concerns. On that stage, I looked into his eyes and spoke my vows. There was one simple line that I was so proud and grateful to offer in front of so many witnesses. “Your people will be my people.”

The life my husband and I know today would look so different if America had not chosen this. My children’s lives would look so different. I am grateful to over two hundred years worth of a nation’s people who have lovingly sought to stand on the ground of equality.

As an American, the grace that can work through my one heart is the same as it was in all of those who made the freedom of my wedding day possible.

As an American, and even as my husband’s wife, prejudice tries to live in my heart too. It finds the most success when I say it’s not there. As much as Luiz and I are proud to belong to each other, and as much as we are proud to call each other’s people our own, we very much need each other’s help and accountability to strive to see every kind of people with the same love and honor.

Prejudice tries to creep in any way it can and it happens with more than just race. It wants us to suspect things about a person simply because of the family they came from, a group they belong to, a job they have, or a word they said. It wants us to look at any part of them other than the heart inside them that was made just like our own.

But we have a God who is bigger with a love that is stronger than any prejudice we have ever known. He is able to give us the grace to take up the fight inside us, where the battle is really won. A legacy has been created in America because this is just what He has done in so many hearts already.

Luiz was not born here but he is so proud to call himself an American. It is not a perfect country, nor does it’s legacy perfectly exist in every part of it’s soil. But the blemishes will never change the legacy that has been made here, the legacy that gave freedom to the open doors on my wedding day. To be American is to be part of all of this.

As long as each of us do our part to listen inside our own hearts we can see where the battles really are. And when we hear ourselves say it... they have no right to feel that way, they shouldn’t feel so hurt by that or see such a problem with that.. there is where our own battle is. This is where we have prejudice inside our hearts to wrestle with. This is where the true battles are fought.

The moment we think that somebody has no right to feel something or to be hurt by something, we fall short of giving them the honor of being a God created soul, who is given the same honor that we seek for our own families. The only way to give a human being honor is to listen and respect their words and their pain when they say, that hurts me, please don’t do that. Please see the value of our lives. We all fall short and we all have battles to face.

Because the only way we can communicate that somebody's life matters to us, is to show that we care about the hurt that they feel. And the only way we can grow in showing that care is to continually ask ourselves where we miss it, where do we fall short of caring for someone's hurt no matter what their hurt is or what walk of life they come from. We have all made mistakes, but what we are always able to do is keep learning one thing at a time and keep on doing our best.

The best way to fight prejudice is with Love. And the best way to give Love is to continually receive the Love that God has for us. He never shuns us for what we feel, or for what we feel hurt by. He receives us as we are and He draws us to His healing arms.

Mildred herself knew, and learned to embrace it, that she had no reason to be ashamed of wanting her marriage and family to be recognized by her country with the same honor that was given to other families. Doing her best in respect and honesty, she brought her pain to the court where battles were fought in hearts and the decision was officially made to make a nationwide freedom that Luiz and I got to enjoy on our wedding day.

Mildred's hurt did not diminish the hurt that anyone else could have felt in the cultural climate of her day, but her hurt was real and valid. She knew it was valid and she was not ashamed to bring her hurt to the table, to step up and be bold to ask if some would listen and battle this in their own hearts.

We pray there will be more people in the future who stand on the ground of the battles we fight in our own hearts today… to get to live some of the most glorious moments of their lives in freedom, just as Luiz and I did on our wedding day.

To be American is to stand in the beautiful victory already won by the years of battles in so many hearts. And more so, to be a child of God is to continue to take up the battle to let God’s Love pour through our own hearts to all the wonderfully made people in the world who are just like us.

If you know that the hurts of your own heart matter and you believe that other people’s hurts matter just as much as yours, please share. And let's all take up Love and go win just one battle in our own hearts today.

To Explore Wounds for Healing

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 21 Jul 2020 13:05:22 GMT

How many days I have wanted nothing more than to put everything in life on hold so that I can explore my own wounds.

Why can I feel this dire longing to explore the wounds as if one day I could reach a place where I could get to the bottom of these wounds I feel inside my soul. Always, there’s a voice that whispers, if you could only dig a little further, explore your wounds a little more... you’re almost there. You’re about to find the end of this.

And it can feel as if the healing of my own wounds lies at the bottom of the wounds themselves. For years I did wonder, what would happen if I could have the time and space to talk through it all with somebody who could help me understand these wounds? Would I actually get to the bottom?

This year, I’ve gotten to go through four months of therapy. And what it has felt like is getting help in reforming a new relationship with my wounds.

And in the past week reflecting over it… I remembered what felt so fitting. At the beginning of this year, the verse I asked my daughters to learn with me and hold onto for the year was “He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree that we might die to sin and live to righteousness. By His wounds you are healed.” 1 Peter 2:24. And through weekly holding that verse with my girls and weekly reforming my relationship with my wounds, the words feels more alive.

By His wounds we are healed.

The Child

Perhaps we all have a wounded child inside us somewhere. Perhaps, none of us interact with our wounds in quite the same ways. But still it’s true, there is a child inside us who is broken. And when that broken child hurts, Jesus comes close.

He’s always been the God who draws near to the brokenhearted.

His Word tells us to be like a child (Matt. 18:3), and yet to put away childish things (1 Cor. 13:11). To have a child’s faith and yet, to grow mature for solid food (Heb. 5:14).

And the child inside us surely holds inside a wonder-filled spirit of faith, from a beautifully quirky person, that longs to be brought alive with faith and purpose for the journey. And the child inside us surely also has a wounded part that needs be continually wrapped in the knowledge that she is loved as she is, but she needs be brought to those arms of the one Father that knows just how to grow her up in Love.

It’s the child inside her who can have the faith to bring the wounds to the Father, to trust the wounds to Him. To bring them yet, again, when she still longs to take them back. She is given all of His Love and everything she needs to bring her wounds forward one step at a time.

In Love, she can remember and hold her head up in the truth: the hurts that she has felt from others were not because of who she is. Her hurts are valid and she is free, as best she can, to bring those hurts to the table where truth and Love have place to grow.

In Love, she can remember and hold her head up in the truth: she is one who has brought hurt to others, and mostly to the wounded man on the tree, but she stands in a place of Love and forgiveness so she is free to Love and forgive.

Because of this Love, she can have faith in what He is doing in her. And because of this Love she can have the same faith in what He is doing in them.

The Wounds

And all the while it can feel like I’ll find my truest identity at the bottom of wounds, the verse tells me something I am hungry to remember. Jesus bore the wounds that heal me.

At the bottom of my own wounds, I find the places where I am most broken, and that is as far as I get. I can try to find identity in that, but it will not rest me in the peace I’m looking for.

It’s not by my own wounds that I am healed. It’s by His wounds. Through His wounds I am healed.

And the searching out of my own wounds that shows me endless brokenness, finds its completion in the searching out of His wounds.

When I search out the life and death of my Jesus, endless are the places where His wounds give identity to mine. And the uniquely broken places in me find their fullest purpose when they are pressed into His own wounds.

His own wounds encompass all of my own. Where I find through His story that He is the man of all sorrows who understands all of my hurts. And I can trace the wounds He felt, and the way He lived in response... the things He walked away from and the things He walked towards. I can trace the ways He Loved and where His hard places fill up my own.

And I find in His Word, that His wounds were given so that I could die to the sin that kills the person He made me to be, and instead I could live in the righteousness of His life that brings alive the person He made me. 1 Peter 2:24.

I find it true: that He never wanted me spinning circles of soothing the wounded child in me with things that are not good for her growth. That kind of soothing will not allow space in my spirit to be filled with the solid food that He offers me in His own life.

In Jesus, we are the people of the Spirit. When the wounded child in us is weak and hungry for soothing, she is not able to stand on her own. We have to lean her up on something that will get her through.

And in Him we are free from being chained to our old soothing patterns. In Him, we have all that we need to pull her from leaning on those places and lean her up on the strength of the Lord.

His strength wants good for us.

The Choice

We are wounded people in this world, and it’s true. Wounded people must find their identity in wounds.

We all struggle with wounds of some kind. We don’t get to choose what the wounds are. We don’t get to choose what the struggle is, and we do not have the power to make the struggle go away.

But because of the wounds of Jesus, we always get to choose this…

Will I identify myself by my own wounds, my own struggle? Will I say this struggle is who I am?

Will I find identity in my own wounds, or will I find my identity in His?

When I choose to lean up on His wounds, I do not have to live as one who is controlled by my own.

My life will not be removed from struggle in this broken world, but His life makes me free to choose who’s wounds are me.

And I always get to lose who I am in my own wounds and find those places alive when I lean up on His.

This is the life that He frees us to have. Our wounds are not who we are. Because by His wounds, we are healed.

The wounded child inside us is always welcome in His arms.

And the faith-filled child can always marvel at the promise of the work He’s doing.

The wounds of our spirits can always remind us how needy we are.

And they can always find healing inside the wounds of Jesus.

We always get to choose where we will lean our wounded places.

And we are forever free to lean wounded hearts onto the God who wants good for us.

No matter the hurt of the child inside me, Jesus is enough to hold her. Jesus is enough to heal her. God is able to grow her up in the goodness of His own Love. And no matter the places she’s given herself to before, His heart has never stopped longing for her to know that His Love wants His very best for her.

She will find herself where she loses herself and finds herself in Him. Matt. 10:39.

On finding your own race for Love

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 02 Jul 2020 20:20:36 GMT

How many days I have spent in this old house, feeling at a loss to find my lane in this life. How do you find the lane that you are made to run your race on? For no matter who you are, the truth is just plain: you simply cannot just run the race of your life in a lane that was made for someone else. Everyone else’s lane is already taken. Everyone else’s lane is not the lane that I was made to run. We all have to find our own lane in order to run our race well.

And maybe life is a little like a racetrack unlike anything we’ve ever physically seen before. Where we all really do have our own lane in the race according to the abilities and drives that we were made with. Perhaps we each get to run our own race that is made to be a gift for us to uncover with each step, a journey where we never need show each other up, but simply show up as the person we are for the glory of the One heartbeat of Love that the world runs on. For the race is ever a story being written about us and our Maker.

And to sit at the sticky kitchen table with my laptop while the dryer hums happy in it’s new little corner and I sit under our freshly painted “misty surf” colored ceiling with bright white trim in place, I feel like our home is starting to find it’s lane in our lives. Something is finding place here and even in struggle, there is beauty. The kitchen in our fixer upper house has been under construction for more than two years. We’ve cooked on a stove that sat smack in the middle of the kitchen, have lived without a kitchen sink for over a month, we’ve jerry rigged the washing machine to work in the dining room and we’ve lived with a hole in our kitchen floor that seemed to just suck toys down under the house every day. Yet, even if it can’t happen quickly, it’s so beautiful to see things coming into place, one day at a time.

And for so many pieces of my heart that have felt so out of place, even while so many things in this kitchen were out of place, this home can feel reflective. And sometimes sitting back to breathe in the coming together of what has happened in this house so far, can rest me in the remembrance of Jesus making home in my heart. Where little by little He assures me that there is a lane for me in this life.

Steps don’t always go forward. But it is sure that the lane is there, and step by step the race is more sure. I sit in this same kitchen where I’ve wrestled and fretted over feeling so out of place in this world. Yet, looking at what has come together in here, brings me satisfaction in the remembrance of what He’s bringing together in me.

The kitchen being made in here is brought forward with things like hammers and nails, wood measured and sawed, ladders and paint, the work of the hands and the sweat of Nano’s brow. It doesn’t feel too difficult to at least know how a kitchen comes together.

But how the race of life comes together, how the steps you’re made to run are brought forward, those are things that can feel so much harder to find. What are the things God offers and uses to help us uncover the lane He has made for us to run in this life?

How does God show us what Love even is? How do we learn and find the ways we are made to live Love from our own authentic person?

Desire

Many times in life I’ve heard people in my circles speak low of the heart’s desires we hold as people and that has influenced me. But over the last few years, I’ve been asking God to help me reshape a new relationship with the desires of my heart. It’s been so bumpy and messy, but I’m grateful for the journey and I believe it’s been necessary.

Because the Bible places value on our heart’s desires.

“May he grant you your heart’s desire and fulfill all your plans.” Psalm 20:4

“The desire of the righteous will be granted.” Proverbs 10:4

“Delight yourself in the Lord and he will give you the desires of your heart. Commit your way to the Lord; trust in him, and he will act.” Psalm 37:4.

Our desire is one of our greatest gifts to help us know what kind of fuel makes us go and what part God made us to play in His symphony of Love in the world.

Honoring our heart’s desires can feel so messy, and usually, it’s right in the middle of my heart’s desires that the biggest messes and struggles happen in life. Sometimes it can even feel like there’s a war going on between the very desires inside me. But God’s Word gives the best insight on where we get tripped up the most in this.

“What causes quarrels and what causes fights among you? Is it not this, that your passions are at war within you? You desire and do not have, so you murder. You covet and cannot obtain so you fight and quarrel. You do not have, because you do not ask. You ask and do not receive, because you ask wrongly, to spend it on your passions.” James 4:1-3.

The problem is not that we have desires. The problems are created in what we do with our desires and the way we go about seeking them.

You do not have, because you do not ask.

So often, when we seek our desires, we seek out something that is only an imitation of our desire, instead of committing to our most true and honest desire itself.

It takes more courage than we naturally have to ask for our most honest desires, instead of the imitations. It’s why God always invites us to first abide in Him and His Spirit in us. To rest in the value that He places on us and the place He has made for us in His kingdom. “But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you.” Mt. 6:33. It’s the only place from which we can trust God in bringing Him the requests for our honest heart’s desires, resting assured that He will act. Ps. 37:4-5.

It’s largely through the journey with our desires where God uncovers the lane He has for us to run our race on. As we daily surrender the cheap imitations of our desires that we can want with a passion, He helps us to let the darkness inside us fall away as we run our race. To let go of the old and put on the new. To find the specific expression of God’s true Love that He made us to live in the world.

Our desires are always trying to tell us about it, always telling us a story.

Maybe there are as many kinds of people as there are aspects of God’s Love. Maybe we all have a need to find our own lane in this race because we each were made to show a different aspect of the God whose image we were made in.

Relationships

Relationships are like refining fires where each person is given the opportunity to be made stronger.

In relationships, we get to see the places and hopefully sometimes be told (Pr. 27:6) the places where we tend to seek out the imitation of what we want in the relationship. We cannot pursue relationship without becoming aware of the things that we are the most unsure about in ourselves. And we cannot receive relationship without realizing what makes us feel frustrated or hurt and also what makes us feel Loved.

Relationship gives us information of how every form of words and actions make us feel. We learn how we feel Loved ourselves and we get to practice by trial and error of how to Love others well from our own person. Relationships show us both what makes us come alive and what makes us feel drained. They show us how we can use our own personality to make others come alive and the things we tend to do that can drain other people. And as long as we’re willing to learn, we are refined through the gift of each other. Pr. 27:17.

We get to see where what we think is our lane to run our race on is actually hurting other people. And we always have the opportunity to adjust based on what we find.

Relationships can help me feel the Love of God in tangible ways, when people just love me where I am, even when I’m a mess. We all need the people who will believe in us even after we’ve gotten it all wrong. Relationships can give me the support I need to know that regardless of what hurt I’ve caused, I am still Loved, and therefore I can go on and grow.

We always have areas to grow in and it’s right in the place where we can’t see our growing places on our own, that relationships show us what we are not able to see for ourselves. The gift of people helps me feel the consequences of the places where I get it off. And the gift of people always reminds me of the reward of Love.

The people in our lives and our relationships with them are our most tangible teachers of the wonder of Love and what it is.

Word

And even while relationships are the most tangible teachers, there is only One teacher that never gets it wrong.

The Word gives me God’s own perfect wisdom.

And we have perfect commentary in our Bibles on endless examples of messy people who were on their own messy journey to find their lane in life. Some people who were seeking God and some who were not. But they were all trying to find their own lane to run on in this life that we live. We have numbers of people to learn from who were trying to find their own race with God. And from the stories we get to learn it, and be shown it, in always new ways that it is never easy to find your lane in this life. That the road will often be full of messes, mistakes, doubts and shattered plans, but through all of it we can trust the One who is holding the story from beginning to end. And even when it feels like we never get it right, He is holding our steps all the way through, showing us that He surely has made a place, made a lane, just for us to run our race on. And as long as we seek Him, He can and He will accomplish Love in our lives. Because Love is bigger than us.

Love is a person who died on a tree after He lived a whole life.

And the whole life that Love, Himself, lived is on record for us to pour over. The only person in this world who ran the race that covered the lanes we all run. We have record of what perfect Love looked like. We have the stories of so many ways that He interacted with people.

It’s unending gift to pour over His words, His interactions, His life. It’s space to see where my own idea of what Love is, doesn’t match up with who perfect Love truly is.

The more I let my heart see what His life looks like, the more I see where I misunderstand Love. The Word is the gift to each person’s race. And each person finding the lane they’re made to run in this life, finds more rest in Love, more surety in the steps they take toward Love, when we look to the only One who is Love, Himself.

If life is like a racetrack and God has made a lane for me, then He has given me everything I need for my lane to be uncovered one step at a time.

He has given us desire, relationships and the Word and most of all He has given us His presence. He will uncover the lane He has made for us one day at a time.

We can run our race with confidence. We can go on finding our lane because He is a good God and from beginning to end, it is certain: He has this race of Love all planned out for each of His children.

Fixer Upper Heart

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 18 Jun 2020 19:24:18 GMT

When it's time for a new start

“Has no one condemned you?”

“No one, Lord.”

“Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on sin no more.”

It was the woman they wanted to stone to death because of her sin.

To the woman caught in sin, Jesus’ sermon was only one line. (John 8:11)

It was time for her new start.

Sometimes it’s just time. Sometimes life makes it clear. Sometimes the dysfunction in your life is simply something that can’t be ignored anymore. Sometimes, you are just loved where you are and you simply can’t let this pattern of life go on doing what it’s been doing.

If you’re the woman in the story, sometimes, Jesus shows everyone around you, that they can lay down their stones and walk away.

Sometimes you’re the one with the stone in your hand and Jesus shows you that the ground is even after all. You can lay it down.

For the one feeling the accusations, when you’re shown a love that says not a one of your accusers has any right to accuse, when you’re shown a love like that, what is left to fear?

In the presence of Jesus, all that is left is the place where you are not condemned. And what is found there is all the hope that is needed for a new start.

To the Pharisees in other instances, Jesus gave a bold kind of sermon. He called out the act they were living and would not let on in the slightest sense that any part of it was pretty. (Matt. 23:33)

But here, his focus was all on letting the woman know that it was just between her and Jesus. He waited there until it was just the two of them. He let her hear the silence when everyone realized the truth: they were no better than she. They had no good ground to condemn her from.

The only audience she needed was not one of condemnation. She didn’t need the voices of mankind. All that she needed was an audience alone with Jesus. He believed in her.

Jesus gave her the shortest sermon ever. It was only one line. Three pieces of information. It was all she needed to know.

1. You are not condemned. No one has room to accuse you.

2. Go. You’ve got this.

3. From now on sin no more. You’re ready for a new start.

Jesus knew she had everything she needed to pass through this change in her life. Jesus knew: he didn’t have to give her instructions on what to do. Jesus knew: she was ready to take the next step. Jesus knew.

‘Go, and sin no more,’ might sound like a major life change, but Jesus was freeing her. He knew she had everything she needed to take the next right step and then another. It was just her and Jesus. And nothing was holding her back from the new start in front of her.

Those moments with Jesus freed her and empowered her.

She could face the next difficult step ahead, because Jesus didn’t condemn her. Because Jesus said she could do it.

How do you make a new start when it is just time?

You remember: it’s really just between you and Jesus.

In the presence of Jesus, the sound of other voices fall quiet. All that matters when you’re making a new start is what Jesus thinks.

He doesn’t condemn you for getting yourself in this place. He doesn’t look down on you for what you’ve gotten wrong. He covers you with His Love and lets you know it’s true. Your soul has intrinsic and absolute worth to him.

What was the value I placed on your soul, my child?

Jesus is the only human being that was 100% pure in his honesty. God cannot lie. He would have never paid more for something than he honestly believed it was worth.

You are worth the blood of the Son of God. It’s the worth that Jesus placed on you.

And the only person in the world who has the freedom to throw away the value that Jesus has placed on you, is you, yourself.

Other people may claim to. But as Jesus showed the woman, nobody else has the authority to price the value of your soul.

It’s between you and Jesus.

You are valuable.

So, go. Take a step.

In the light of the woman’s value, Jesus says ‘go.’

Because of the value he saw in her, she could believe. She could do this.

She could step forward into her life knowing that she has value. She was worth more than the sin that had controlled her for so long. She was worth more than the role she had played.

If she believed what Jesus said about her, then she wouldn’t have to cling to those old pieces of her life. If Jesus’ words were true, she didn’t have to hold onto broken things inside her as part of who she was.

She was free to ‘go.’ She could take the next step in life with her head held high from a true and honestly beautiful place.

Jesus empowers us to live our true life.

In him, we have all we need to turn from death to life.

It’s a given, that we are human.

It’s true that we will take imperfect steps, and in this world, sin will never leave us alone.

Yet, the beauty of what we step with, is simply the beauty of Who is within us.

The Spirit within us gives us every spiritual blessing, to recognize when we start acting like we have no value. In the life of Jesus, we have all we need to turn.

From walking in death, to walking in life.

The woman had everything she needed to step into the new start that Jesus directed her into. She lacked nothing that she needed to do what Jesus said.

Step by step, we can learn to follow the leading of the Spirit of God, the rivers of living water that are there to flow from the heart inside us that has always been so thirsty for this. (John 7:37-39)

Moment by moment, Jesus is there for our thirsty hearts.

Each thirst inside us finds its truest place in the life of the kingdom of God.

Don’t look back. Look ahead and step into your new start.

“On the last day of the feast, the great day, Jesus stood up and cried out, ‘If anyone thirsts, let him come to me and drink. Whoever believes in me, as the Scripture has said, Out of his heart will flow rivers of living water.’ Now this he said about the Spirit, whom those who believed in him were yet to receive, for as yet the Spirit had not been given, because Jesus was not yet glorified.”

John 7:37-39.

The Spirit has been given. May the Spirit of God continually make his home in these fixer upper hearts.

He isn’t finished and He is faithful. He will do it.

When It's Hard to Let Go of a Negative Label

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 04 Jun 2020 19:12:31 GMT

There’s a place inside my soul where I can desperately want to change the things I do, but I get so stuck spinning circles with myself.

Where I know the things I do create problems, but it’s hard to find a way around it. Where I know what I would like to do different, but every time I try to change my behavior itself, I find myself up against something that I don’t even know how to understand. Do you ever feel that place? It feels like beating your head up against a wall, an immovable force inside your soul that just won’t go away.

Where it feels like something inside is sick, infected.

Like something inside me is not right.

Our life springs out of our longings and fears. The wellspring of life flows from our hearts. And while our longings are trying to find the place where they belong, we all fall down on the journey while we are finding our way forward. (Prov. 4:23, Prov. 24:16)

Why is it so hard for me to remember? That the work I have the truest need for is the work inside my own heart.

In John chapter six, Jesus told the crowd that they were working for the fill of the loaves, for the food that perishes, rather than for the food that endures to eternal life. When they asked him what they needed to do to be doing the works of God, He told them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” (John 6:22-29)

And sometimes, that can just leave me confounded.

Why do you give the most simple answers, Jesus? What do you mean? What does that look like?

But, Jesus knows what we need. He knew what they needed, even while they were desperately seeking Him out in ways that concerned Him.

He was inviting them to see, the problem was not in what they were doing. He invited them to look, rather, at what they were believing.

Jesus didn’t want them to be so concerned over the things they were doing. He invited them to look instead inside their own hearts, to believe. Believing gives us rest.

It was true that they were, in fact, seeking Jesus out. They were seeking Him desperately. They fully intended and wanted to do the works of God. They were all about working for it. But the work that Jesus wanted them to focus on was that of believing.

Jesus offers Himself to fill our hunger. “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)

Sometimes, it can feel too overly simple to think that the work I need to do is believe in Jesus.

But truthfully, when I look at what I really do believe, I can find places inside me where I really struggle to believe in Jesus. I can feel terrified of this thing I tend to believe about myself. I can tend towards living out of this idea that I am an unlovable, toxic, difficult person. When I believe that about myself, I am not believing Jesus. When I believe that about myself, I am disrespecting Jesus’ own death.

I can tend to find a million reasons to excuse those beliefs. A million reasons why it’s okay for me to believe those things and a million reasons to ignore the fact that I am believing those things. And all the while, try to work for Jesus, in effort to fill the hunger they leave me with.

I can work to try to fix my wrongs. I can work to put safeguards around me acting the way I do. I can try to pursue things that are healthier for me. And from that place, I can strive to work for Jesus from my heart. But even in all of this, I am trying to treat my symptoms.

When Jesus asks me to believe. Belief deals with my heart.

I have no power to live my life perfectly. I have no power to master my behavior. I am powerless over this sin in me. But, it’s what Jesus gives me power to do... that is what is beautiful.

What I have power to do in Jesus, is to recognize when I am not believing what Jesus’ life, death and resurrection says about me.

What I have power to do is to turn. Every time I recognize that I am believing what is false, I have the power to repent and to turn from those false beliefs to what is true. I am given every ability to do it over again and again.

What Jesus asks is that I believe. To renew my mind with the truth. (Romans 12:2)

Found in Jesus, I have access to every spiritual blessing in Jesus. (Eph. 1:3)

Found in Jesus, I am Loved, forgiven, chosen, adopted, redeemed. (Eph. 1:4-10)

Found in Jesus, I am not unlovable. I am not a toxic, difficult person.

Yet, when I am believing those things about myself and acting like they’re true, I’m rejecting everything that Jesus gave His life to say.

When I’m believing those things about anyone else and acting like they’re true, I’m rejecting everything that Jesus gave His life to say.

Jesus sets me free from what I’m afraid of in me.

When I’m not afraid of what’s in me, I don’t have to be afraid of what’s out there.

If Jesus’ death means anything to me, this is what I have to stake my life on… His Love is there for any of us. Each of us are equally capable of receiving it and all we have to do to live in the new life He gives, is just believe.

There are no toxic people. There are lots of sinners who do lots of toxic things. There are moments and days when all of us are difficult. But we are all made from the same dust. We are all given life from the same breath of God. And we are all created with equal capacity for Love.

Each time I turn from my false beliefs, every time I repent of the negative things I’m believing about myself or any other human soul, I’m renewing my mind in the Truth of Love.

It’s Love that changes us and it’s Love that helps us grow.

Love is compassionate and Love is also not a pushover. Jesus was never a pushover.

When sinners were being disrespected, Jesus boldly spoke up. It was Love.

When His Father’s house was being disrespected, Jesus got aggressive. It was Love.

When Jesus was concerned about what He saw in people’s hearts, He did not excuse it.

The Bible teaches that "Love covers a multitude of sins." (1 Peter 4:8) And the God of the Bible has also never excused anybody's sin. Sin that is covered with Love, is a very different thing than sin that is excused. God could never excuse our sin because that would not be Love.

Jesus never excused people’s behavior. Instead, He Loved them where they were.

Jesus’ life shows us what Love looks like.

At first glance, it seems like Love and hate are always opposites, and they are in terms of people. But when we look closer at the person who is Love, I believe it's true that we always find it: Love hates anything that opposes Love. While Jesus always Loved people, Jesus hated when anything that was of value to God was not respected with that value.

The reason Jesus did something in all of these situations was because He saw the value in each human soul. Jesus would not have gotten aggressive and bold with people in the specific ways that He did, if He did not value them as capable people.

He wouldn’t have invited some of the people He healed to go on without Him, if He didn’t believe that they had everything they needed to go on without His physical presence there with them.

In all of these actions, Jesus was showing Love. In letting some people feel hurt, in inviting others to go be brave, Jesus was Loving people.

I fail at Loving like Jesus. These are aspects of Jesus' Love that I need to let change my heart, as imperfect as it can be. The Love I have to give is imperfect.

We all fail at Loving like Jesus. We fail at seeing the same value in the human soul that Jesus saw. We fail at seeing the same value in God’s temple as Jesus saw. But, we are people of Love because that is what Jesus died to say is true of us, despite anything we have done.

All we have to do is believe.

God never excuses my sin. He never excuses our sin. What He does do is invite us to come home to Him, where He covers our sin in His Love. He weaves our worst mistakes into the beauty of His good story.

That beauty is a mystery worth considering.

We do not have the power to Love with the pure and spotless Love of Jesus. But we are given the power in Jesus, to constantly let His life show us where we misunderstand Love. We have the power to recognize it and turn every time we are getting it wrong. We have the power to turn our hearts time and time again to what Jesus’ life, death and resurrection has proclaimed about the worth of every human soul.

So in turbulent cultural times, in imperfect families, in the false beliefs we have to face inside our own hearts, let us step on in faith.

Jesus simply invites us to what He knows we can do.

“This is the work of God, that you believe in Him who He has sent.” (John 6:29.)

Step on, and believe. And lift up your head because it’s true: He believes in you.

On learning to use your own design

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 07 May 2020 14:15:46 GMT

A letter to my beautifully protective daughter

Dear Amayah,

The words I have to give you here are not perfect and they may not make sense all at once, but I hope someday these words help you see the gift of your own design... and your own tears, and how your tears help me see my own reflection. One of the best gifts I know to offer you is to tell you the story.

When you were a baby, I was afraid to leave your side. I was terrified that if I did not pick you up the second that you cried, you would grow up believing that I did not Love you. That you would grow up believing that, and that it would make me a failure as a mother and a failure as a person.

I thought that by trying to learn how to make you know how much you are Loved, I was learning how to Love you well. I thought that when you finally learned how much you are Loved, then I would have figured out exactly how to Love.

At that time, I thought my only truly important purpose in life was to make you know how much you are Loved.

And I lived life thinking that it was my job to make my newborn baby see that to the point that she would stop crying. And you cried what felt unceasing no matter how much I tried to show you Love. You cried hours and hours every day. And I could not understand what was wrong with me. I was seeing the situation in the way I knew how. I struggled through, trying to find the way to see what was true.

What I do believe is if you seek out the truth with your one earnest heart, the Truth will show Himself to you. He will never hide anything from you that you need to know in order for Him to write your story well. He will come and find you just as He knows best. As long as you live, never stop seeking the Truth.

One thing that is true is this: Nobody can “make” anybody see how much they are Loved. And in the moments when we are living out of fear that we can’t make it happen, we are up against so many battles. I struggled to Love you with peace, because I did not know how much I am Loved and that my own worth and peace is not dependent on my ability to make you know worth and peace.

I had to free you from being the measuring stick of my own success as a person. But I did not know how.

I can say this another way...

When I was pregnant with your sister, I Loved her and you both, but I greatly feared that I would not ever be able to make either of you ever see that you are Loved. I greatly feared that all that I was, was a failure.

I tried to follow Jesus the way I knew how and I tried to make you both see Love, but often, when I felt like I was failing, I numbed out my fears with the old place of weakness inside me that I had always wanted to shed for my whole life.

And by the time that your brother was born, within two months, I knew for sure that I was an absolute failure at this. I could never hope to be capable to make any of the three of you see worth and peace, because even though I was trying to follow Jesus the way I knew how to, I could not feel stable worth and peace for myself.

It felt that I had to find a way to free all three of you from being the measuring stick of my own person. It was too much weight to put on these three precious, vulnerable hearts.

I had to learn how Loved I am so that I could free you all from being the measuring stick of my own peace.

I followed Jesus in the way I knew how, and I turned to the place that I believed would help me learn how Loved I am. The place I believed would help me learn how to truly Love and what to really do with everything inside me that felt like it could only find glimpses of peace at a time. I often felt like Peace was there in me, deep, down inside me, but I only felt in touch with Him in the quiet where I could take much time to plunge deep down through all the rivers of my feelings to what I knew was True.

I deeply wanted to learn how to access that peace in normal, ordinary life. Not just in the quiet. I turned to what I believed would teach me.

And I became deeply intertwined in trying to see how this one thing could teach me how to Love the way that I am designed to Love.

Still, the Prince of Peace never did let go of me.

What I mean is when I look at the mother I was with your newborn brother in my arms, I cannot judge her. Though at the time, she did not see things that I can look back and see for her now, I believe in her and I'm grateful for the story. What I really mean by that is that I believe in the image of God there inside her. I believe that she was doing what she could find in her heart to learn to let that image of God shine out.

I believe in her, just as I want you to know that I believe in you always, no matter what you ever do on your search.

Sometimes, my Amayah, God invites us to follow Him through a valley. He will lead you through a valley that will make every self-doubt inside accuse you with screams in your face. He will lead you through a valley where you will make mistakes, yet all the while He is training you how to hold on to courage. Even through your every mistake, He is teaching you how to take hold of His joy and let it be your weapon to battle your self-doubts again and again down to their place at the foot of His cross.

I was walking through a valley where I felt no stable peace. So many people kept pointing me home in the best ways they could find.

This pandemic brought it out even more. More and more, I was hearing people’s concern.

I messaged a friend to ask her about how she saw it and part of her response… “I feel like you are looking for meaning and understanding in a way that most of us cannot help you find. And that’s okay, both ways.”

It was kindness and it helped me want to receive help with more openness.

Well, my Amayah, it was just a few days later, you are almost seven years now. I laid by your side so long that night, like I still do most nights. This is one way I have best known how to show you Love. Nights are still when you feel the most afraid. Nights are still when you long the most to feel protected. Maybe God used my own fears to inadvertently form you in this. I don’t know for sure, but I know that everything, even my own actions done in fear, can be redeemed. I know God wanted you to be the strong, beautiful protective girl you are. Nothing enrages you more than when you feel your baby brother is not well protected. Nothing enrages you more than when you fear he is in danger. Protection is one way you feel Loved. And protection is also this one beautiful way that God designed you to show Love. Many times I make mistakes in truly recognizing this and nurturing the gift that God gave you.

I laid there for nearly an hour rubbing your back that night. You were still awake, but I had to get up. I had to go to my room, because I need rest too.

You cried at the door and I heard you. You cried like I did not Love you. And I have to be honest, my first thought… Why can’t she see that I do love her? I laid by her side all that time. I simply can’t do it forever. But, would I have done that for all that time if I did not love her?

And in that instant, I remembered that morning. The question from my therapist flashed across the screen.

I had been answering his questions and told him all about what makes me feel Loved.

“How else do people show Love?”

The question froze something in me with wonder.

Maggie, how else do people show Love other than in the way that you know Love?

In that moment by brain hurt. I knew there were answers to this. Of course there has to be several answers. Still… his question was, in fact, hurting my brain. That was just how it felt. Why is this question so hard to answer?

The experiences in my life that have scared me the most were words that cut my heart and times when my feelings felt like they could not breathe. And now, when I want to show someone Love, I want to offer them words that breathe out feelings, to offer them words or provide them with a place that might help their own feelings breathe. Feelings are what I am tuned into and how those feelings can find beauty and truth and freedom through words expressed. Feelings breathed out with words are what I most readily want to see as Love. This is what life has taught me. This is how I tend to want to build trust.

When I feel something that is beautiful, I must find a way to share it. This is ingrained into my design.

Of course, everybody is not wired this way. Why is that so hard to remember? Why can it be so hard to accept the fact that everybody else is not wired just like you?

Thinking about this, I realize, of course, I am so glad that everybody else is not wired just like me. Who wants to live in a world where all anybody ever does is talk about their feelings? That would actually be terrible and so many things would fall apart. The whole world would end up in ruins. Each person’s design is equally important in this world that we live in. No person’s design is better than mine and my design is no better than any other person’s design. We are all made by the same God and we each hold a valuable purpose.

Still, I know that feelings and words are extremely valuable because they are both dimensions of God’s Love that He has firmly built into my design. Feelings and words are both ways that we connect with each other as people. They are not the only ways, by any means. But they are ways.

I do have to stay true to what God has designed me for. If I try to move over to what God has designed somebody else for, that would be all wrong and I would fail for sure. I can not serve God or the people in my life by trying to take up a place that He did not design me to stand in. I do have to exercise feelings and words. These things are expressions of God’s Love that He created me to express.

Yet….

Yet… I cannot stand well in my own design, unless I release the people in my life... None of us can stand well in our own design unless we release the people in our life from this one thing...

This one thing… is what Amayah made me realize with her tears that night.

Why can’t she see that I do Love her? That had been the question in my head. But her tears told me what I struggle so much to see...

She only knows how to feel Love in the way that she knows how to feel Love.

The people in my life only know how to feel Love in the way that they know how to feel Love.

And I only know how to feel Love in the way that I know how to feel Love.

This is a struggle. This is the reason that we so misunderstand each other. This is why we can struggle so to connect with each other. This is why it is so hard to see how much we really are deeply Loved.

While certain expressions of God’s Love are alive in each of us, we all have many more expressions of God’s Love that are broken in us.

There are so many expressions of God’s Love that we each do not know how to feel, because this world is broken. Each of us are broken.

And we are all born, not knowing the best ways to use the very design that God gave us.

There are so many expressions of God’s Love that I have been completely blind to. I have been blind to the ways that so many people in my life were just trying to show me Love.

When I am grateful for the way that they are trying to show me Love, then and only then, can I see. When I believe in them... I am not believing so much in their own actual abilities to live in Love. If I rest all of my confidence on my own abilities to live in Love I know that I will fail. And I can expect no more of them. Rather, by believing in the people in my life, I am believing in the expression of God’s Love that they were designed to shine with. I have to have faith that that design is there underneath everything that they are doing and everything that they have done. I have to believe that they are fighting a thousand kinds of battles that I cannot see and I trust God is making way through the dark for them just as I trust that He is able to make the way for me.

If I believe in them, I will give them loving space to do what they need to do on their journey. If I believe in them I will also have faith that they are doing their best with what they have right now.

When I believe in that and explore it, what I find is this... the things I have felt the most hurt by in life, were actually just ways that people were trying to use the design that God made them with. They were usually doing the best with what they had to use the things inside them that were made for Love.

They are doing their best to exercise their design with what they have. I have to trust that, because I trust in the One who created them.

And I… me… I can struggle so to learn how to use my design in the way of Love. I struggle the most to use it, when I am looking anywhere, other than Jesus, to try to see how valuable my design is.

I cannot live life questioning whether my expressions of Love are helpful. I have to live with faith.

This is what I can do… This is the one thing.

I can release every last person in my life and every last thing in my life from being the measuring stick of whether my design has worth or not. The more I look at who Love, Himself really is, the more I will know how to do that.

Any time that I am putting myself in a position where I am holding something else or someone else up as the measuring stick for how well I am able to use my design, I am getting myself stuck in a pit where I cannot see the situation clearly. I am getting myself stuck in a place where I cannot well learn how to grow.

No person in this world can be the measuring stick of how much worth that my own design has. No person and nothing in this world can be the measuring stick of how much worth that your own design has.

Why is it so difficult for me to see what I am doing? Why can it feel so much easier to see what everybody else is doing?

We need so much more help than we realize seeing inside our own hearts.

I need so much more help than I realize.

Of course, no person could ever be a good measuring stick for my own worth, no matter how hard they tried, if that person is not Love, Himself.

I could not see what I was doing. I knew that something was wrong, but I couldn’t see what I was doing or how to get free.

Still, Amayah, still... I am so grateful for this valley that God has brought me through. I would never trade this valley away. I would never, ever trade away the person that I have been wanting to be my measuring stick for all this time. That person has been patient with me. So many people have been patient with me. And that simple patience has been an offering to me of space that I need in order to learn.

Jesus has been using this valley to open my eyes to so much Love.

I am not past life’s valleys. And I am not beyond the reach of my fears. Yet this valley has brought me peace in Love in a way that God knew how much I needed.

I have all I need to take the next step in Love.

Because I have peace that is settled in my soul...

I am deeply satisfied in admitting, I cannot attain Love ever in this life, but I can be eternally satisfied in the knowledge that even in my mistakes, past, present and future, I am deeply Loved and forgiven in every step that I take toward Love. I can be eternally satisfied that I get to take steps toward Love at all and because of that I can take them with peace. Because Love has attained me. Jesus has come to find me right here where I am. This is grace.

My Amayah, I pray that this will teach me to give you more patient space than I ever have before... as you discover the way that God has created you.

I know I will make so many mistakes, but I believe God will use this valley that He’s carried me through to make me a more patient mother. I pray that it will give me strength and hope to walk through all the more valleys that He has for me and you and for our family. To show more Love and grace to all three of you and your Daddy.

I pray it is a beautiful experience to be shared. I’m so grateful to get to call this my story at all. And I pray that we always go back and remember: the best kind of way to protect the people in your life may often be to offer them patient space that is made safe through Love. Patient space where they can freely exercise the design that God made them with.

This is the kind of protection I want to offer you because it is the best way I know how to protect you.

There are a thousand more things I could tell you, here approaching your seventh birthday, about the ways God uses you to help me see more clearly, like how your tears made me realize, that even my own tears of self-pity for what I haven't seen can all be redeemed. Everything can be redeemed. Reflections of grace are everywhere.

Yet for now, I will leave you with this...

Always exercise your design my precious girl, the one that’s built into your heart. And no matter what any voice in your head ever tells you, always look to Love, Himself, to be the One who leads you in learning to use it. Follow Him in just the best way that you know how. It’s all you need to do.

Seek out peace and pursue it... and Peace will make His home in your heart.

I believe in you and I Love you always,

From your broken, but very Loved Mama

When it's Hard to Hold True to God's Leading

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Sat, 11 Apr 2020 20:49:53 GMT

A holy week re-membering

Sometimes my heart holds questions that can feel strangely impossible to put into words. And sometimes God is so good, to guide others to ask the question.

The question was asked right there: “How do you truly know that this is God’s voice you’re hearing? How do you really know that this is the way He’s leading you or if this is you’re own self just wanting to go this way?”

I leaned in and listened hard. Because that question, said that way, felt like so many things I had been confused about, like a question I felt and couldn’t figure how to ask in words. I was so grateful it was asked. Maybe I was afraid to ask it. And maybe I’ve wrestled with that question before. Maybe I’ve heard answers several times before. But I am so forgetful and I needed to hear what she had to say in answer.

And she began to speak, where I could see her face there on my phone. She has around fifty more years of learned experience than I do and I wouldn’t say that the zoom app is her comfort zone. But she had learned the resource new, showed up and invited us there so we could stay connected even while we stay home. Her words came refreshing, just like the gift of her presence offered.

And what she had to say felt like so many things I had lost somewhere along the way. She said she didn’t think anyone is ever one hundred percent sure all the time, but that’s why we walk with God. That’s why we keep bringing our hearts to Him daily and stepping forward with Him one step at a time.

Sometimes we get it wrong, but that’s where God gently holds us and brings us back home to His presence. The biggest danger is not in stepping wrong, but the biggest danger is in being so afraid we will step wrong that we hold back from taking steps.

She spoke those words and the verse I read earlier that week rang out like a lifeline to hold for all of my confused places. “Only let us hold true to what we have attained” (Philippians 3:16).

Hold true.

She spoke those words and it felt like the biggest reassuring gift to hear them spoken as true from someone who had so many more years of life behind her in which she had learned it proven.

We can hold true to where God has brought us.

We can hold true to what He has taught us.

And He will be faithful to hold us for the next step just as He always has before.

I don’t need to doubt the way God has brought me. I don’t need to doubt His ability to lead me. I don’t need to doubt His promise that He’s given me His Spirit with which to hear His leading. And I am always invited back home to remember and hold true.

Maybe He’s been inviting you to hold true too?

I know it’s true that often the most confused and tangled up places I can get myself into are due to my very own doubts and questions. Where even though, somewhere inside, I know where God’s been leading me, I question it. I doubt it. I wrestle with fears I don’t even want to admit to myself. Or I even struggle to simply be honest and keep my eyes forward in acknowledging His leading in my life and holding true to it.

My four year old Liesel, she has been such a gift to me the last couple weeks in ways she doesn’t even know. She was bored and she pulled the box of my old high school journals out from under our bed. I picked up my journal from tenth grade and I was five pages in when I just had to bawl. My struggles have not changed. I still spin the same circles that I did in tenth grade. And looking at those pages I realized, in more than ten years of life, my weakness that I wrestle with has not changed at all. And when I look through my journals, the only thing that does change in that regard, is what I’m doing with my weakness.

What made me cry even more, is that it felt like I was in a season of doing some of the same things with my weakness that I was doing in tenth grade, and looking back, I knew it was a broken approach. But I felt so stuck to put my finger on the reason.

My Nano, he listened, patient with me in the old ruts I get into. He spoke tender to the tenth grade me and her approach and what he said felt like so much life.

You don’t have to try to get around your weakness in order to get to God. God wants to walk with you, through this, right here where you are.

Don’t try to get around your weakness to God. Let Him walk with you through your weakness and let His power be shown perfect.

With His words came the simple thought: remember.

Remember how God has walked with you through your weakness before. How has He walked with you through your weakness before? How has He already shown Himself faithful to be with you through your weakest places?

You have no reason to fear that He’s on the other side of it, apart from you, waiting for you to figure it out. That’s not who He is.

We can hold true to where He’s been leading us.

Because He is the God who goes with us.

He is the God who came down. He is the God who stepped into humanity with us and learned moment by moment how it feels to be a human among humans who is brutally misunderstood. He is the God who walked through our own roads with us. He walked the stage of human struggle before us “in every respect” (Heb. 2:17).

He is the God who goes through it with us.

Right when I fear that He leaves me to go through the hard parts alone waiting on the other side, that’s when I’m most forgetting. No, He is the God who goes through the hard parts utterly alone so that I do not have to.

When I fear that my fellowship with Him is split in my weak places, I’m forgetting.

The only split that ever happened with God was when the Trinity split up so Jesus could walk my own hard road all alone. To walk the lonely road of the cross that I was destined for and give me instead a destiny of hope.

God split with His only Son then, so that He would never have to split with a single one of His children ever again.

He is the God who goes with us in every last way.

We can trust Him to go with us through this too.

We can hold true to where He’s been leading us.

It doesn’t have to make sense to everybody else. No, it simply has to be in peace with His Word and His Spirit and be continually brought to His Throne. We are free to keep bringing the songs of our lives that are not understandable to the One who does understand and leads us through it just one day at a time.

We are His poem. And the lovely thing about a poem is that while it’s beauty can be felt by anyone who chooses to enjoy it, the only One who can truly understand a poem completely is the one who wrote it.

He is the Poet who writes the poem we are living.

We can keep stepping into the poem, knowing that He didn’t call us to make it make sense. He called us to be a poem. He didn’t call us to find a way around our weakness in order to get to Him. He calls us rather, to just be His poem. To let Himself be glorified beautiful with our weakness. He will go through it with us making it lovely as we simply receive His with-ness.

We can hold true to His Spirit with us.

When we look at the promises of Scripture and take them at their Word, we have no need to question whether we are able to sense His leading on our lives. If we are His children and His Holy Spirit is inside us, we are able.

The thing we need guard against most is our own doubts.

We guard against them by remembering and holding true. By being honest before our God.

It was when Liesel invited me to go on a quiet walk with her, that the sunshine gave quiet space to my heart to remember. It was disappointment inside me that I hadn’t been acknowledging to my God. The disappointment I wanted to shirk, it turned to fear quiet inside me. Turned to frustration and anger directed mostly at my children.

But that night when I acknowledged that disappointment to God with tears and let Him be with me there in that feeling instead of trying to get around that feeling, something inside me could breathe again. And for these several days after that, it’s been so much more easy to be patient with my children. It’s true. I was never really angry at them. I was just overwhelmed because I could find no way around my disappointment.

But God came to be with us. And if I can just remember Him there on that tree, then I’ll remember that He wants to be with me in every weak place, even in my disappointed feelings.

Isn’t that why He went to the cross? So that He could be with me?

Are there weak places inside me where I am not receiving His with-ness that He died to give me?

It’s when I let Him be with me in my weakest places, that He walks me through it to a place where I can keep holding true. It’s through the weakness with Him that the promise is real.

We can hold true to where He’s been leading us.

We can hold true to His Spirit inside us.

We can hold true to His promise to hold our steps.

He doesn’t ever let us go. And our most broken steps are held inside of His own. If I can only remember His steps to that cross, coming for me...

He went to the cross to be with us in weakness and death.

So that we can hold true to the new destiny He is forever bringing us with His risen life.

This holy week, we can re-member our weak places to His coming to be with us.

Our God is alive and we can hold true to where He’s been leading us.

“That I may know him and the power of his resurrection, and may share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death, that by any means possible I may attain the resurrection from the dead.

Not that I have already obtained this or am already perfect, but I press on to make it my own, because Christ Jesus has made me his own. Brothers, I do not consider that I have made it my own. But one thing I do: forgetting what lies behind and straining forward to what lies ahead, I press on toward the goal for the prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Let those of us who are mature think this way, and if in anything you think otherwise, God will reveal that also to you. Only let us hold true to what we have attained.”

Philippians 3:10-16. (ESV, italics mine)

Three Rhythms to Hold in Uncertain Times

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 24 Mar 2020 06:14:08 GMT

We pulled up our driveway and I opened the car door. Stepping onto the walkway with a smile, I admired the old house I do love and was glad to see our dogs. It was evening time, cloudy, but light enough to make the spring greens all around the house glow. There is nothing like spring green at the farm. It’s so lovely I don’t even mind when the yard gets a little overgrown from all the rain. It makes the spring greens fill up the yard even more. Still there was that looming sense that is just there, the state of the pandemic world. I don’t even like using those words, but my heart has a need to learn how to acknowledge it and to acknowledge the feelings that go with it.

I knew that smile felt like an effort that evening. And that it didn’t match so many moments over the last week. Still it felt like such a peaceful place, our home surrounded by pasture that can feel worlds away from the rest of the world. Where the dogs have no idea that anything about the world has changed from a couple weeks ago, other than maybe the weather or the kind of leftovers they got from us after dinner.

Then, I almost wanted to envy the dogs. They don’t even know.

The glowing spring greens, the fresh feel of the grass after the rain, the open pastures showcasing the skies. The old white fence around the yard and the dogs wagging their tales without a worry. This feels like peace.

That evening though, even over that peaceful place, how could the feelings still loom even here? How could one problem become so big to weigh itself down like a blanket that spreads itself over the great big world?

And even as I enjoyed our open view of the skies and the spring greens that have always been my favorite part of this old farm I’ve always known, I couldn’t help feeling that blanket called pandemic lay itself down over our skies and the whole world too.

In the past couple weeks, I’ve had days where I wanted to avoid the words pandemic and virus altogether. Focus on the beauty and shut out the ugly words. Talk about anything else.

Then I’ve felt behind to see the statistics and realize how I have a responsibility with this just like anyone else. Then, I wanted to learn how to be as cautionary as I reasonably could.

Days where I wanted to pour myself into deep-thinking work to keep my mind occupied.

Days where I cried.

And of course, a million other things in between.

But feeling that blanket of pandemic rest itself over the world, even reaching this peaceful place I love, that felt different. More reflective. And more recognized as a real feeling to some place inside me.

Do our hearts need time to catch up in seeing what our feelings are doing? Time to process what a worldwide crisis even is? Time to respond to what it’s doing inside us.

Even while I feel the looming blanket of pandemic rest itself over the world, I know those feelings are offered rest. Sometimes it can be so hard to remember how to lean the feelings into that rest.

Sometimes I can try to pray, and struggle to let it refresh me in the truth.

Sometimes I can want to show love, but it can feel empty in a time like this.

Sometimes I can know that there is power in being still before my God, but I can feel lost to find that place.

More than ever, I need rhythms to lean on right now.

Prayer.

I have a need, especially in a time like this, to recognize where I’ve gotten into ruts in my prayer life and find prayer rhythms with my God that will help move my uncertain heart into His certain presence. I have a need to exercise my prayer life right now, to get out of my stuck patterns and be willing to step into my God’s presence in ways I might not be used to. Because I have a need. We all have a need to press into what will help move the feelings of our hearts into the presence of our God.

There are so many practices and exercises for helping our relationships get out of the ruts they get into, and how much more important is that for our prayer life with God? In a time like this, the need is the same as it has always been, but it’s easier to see the need here.

Maybe I have a deep need to see the beauty of the moments when David complained to God out loud, or when Daniel kept his appointments to physically get down on his knees before God. Maybe I have a need to try the things they did. Maybe I have a need to just be like a child and simply pray the Psalms aloud to my Daddy in heaven, allowing the words to train my heart in how to open it’s uncertain places to God.

There are limitless things I can do to exercise my prayer life right now.

Love.

I have a need to Love, even when Love can feel empty to me right now. Love is best learned through practice. And I have lots of opportunity right now to practice rhythms of Love, especially towards the people who I share home with. It’s in the action of Love that God reassures our hearts and grows us up in His own Love.

Even if my Love feels empty, there is nothing empty about giving Love if Love is given out of worship to my God. It’s through the worship of Loving that He grows His own Love in us more than reflection or reading about Love could ever do itself.

It’s as we pour our uncertain places into the worship of loving that He works on the unsure places inside us in the quiet, assuring our hearts that we can rest in the One who is Love, Himself.

Be Still.

And so greatly right now, I have a need to be still and know that He is God even if I feel like I’m not sure just how to do that. God is so patient with us, always there for those who come to Him. Always drawing us in closer as we aim to step closer ourselves.

He will be faithful to teach us all we need to know.

We can learn to be still from trying to make the jagged pieces of our hearts perfect. We can learn to be still and rest in the knowledge that He is the One making it all beautiful. Not us.

He has blessed us with so many ways to take the unsure and uncertain places in our hearts and turn them toward Him. And as these places in our hearts keep finding rest in His presence, pandemic can become a tool to strengthen our hearts.

This thing that raised these feelings, can bring us into places where we lean our feelings harder on the only One we need.

And He will be faithful to lead us through with the promise. No blanket of a problem that covers this world we live in, is near as big and sure as the blanket of God’s arms of Love around us that have always and ever been certain.

He sees us and He covers us with the blanket of His Love. He gives us all the ways we need to rest our every feeling deep into the peace of His promise.

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For weeks I’ve been polishing an audio series for you. For over a month, I’ve been planning to share this series this week and it’s been beautiful timing for my own heart to lean into.

If you’d like to lean into these three rhythms more deeply, I’ve created one audio piece for each of them. Thoughts for leaning our unsure and uncertain places into each of these rhythms: prayer, love, and being still.

If you’d like to spend a few minutes each day for the next three days unpacking these three rhythms for your unsure places, you can request the three audio pieces below.

Hope to see you inside!

How to get back at the things you don't know

Sat, 14 Mar 2020 18:48:00 GMT

10 Truths to Hold through Uncertainty

I'm Maggie and this is a journaled manifesto about the way we navigate our unsure places. It's about refusing to simply quiet our unsure hearts and instead, letting them lead us with messy longing into the beauty of prayer and the God of Love. If you struggle with doubts and longings in your life work and relationships + have a need for some healthy rhythms and truths to help leverage those feelings toward more Love in your life, then you're in good company. Today we're talking about ten celebrations that can double as swords to fight the fear of the unknowns in our lives. Welcome!

The things we don’t know can feel like monsters telling us we’re trapped until it’s all figured out. They loom and prod and make us feel trapped by our lack of answers. Fear of not knowing can stifle the things inside us that want to grow and thrive.

With a birthday coming up in a couple days, I want to retrace everything I’ve learned this year and what I’m taking with me into 27. But what I actually have, what I have felt for weeks, can feel much more like a ridiculously long list of things I don’t know.

I have felt haunted by what I don’t know.

And unknowns in general suddenly feel like the theme of the world this week, with everything changing so suddenly because of the health concerns the world is faced with right now.

Unknowns are everywhere we turn right now and they can be present in so many more ways than one.

We all have things looming under the surface of the new concerns we are continually informed of this week.

So here is one sure way to face the things we don’t know.

For of course it’s true, that the things we don’t know cannot truly trap us.

We don’t have to understand in order to be free. We just need the One who does.

When there are a million and one things you don’t know, what do you do?

You celebrate the things you DO know.

You celebrate those things and you let it carry you through all the things you don’t know.

Because unknowns just cannot stand up to that. It’s filling me with hope today.

In the middle of feeling just a little numb on the inside this week, I desperately want to share the beauty of simple truths, regardless of how simplistic it could feel. These things are more beautiful to me than anything right now and they calm my soul. I hope they fill you with peace too. Because when so many other things are uncertain, what feels more strongly reassuring and comforting to me than anything in the whole wide world is holding onto the simplest old truths that I know will always be certain. Here are ten things I know and can hold onto with certainty, that I am celebrating for my 27th birthday.

These things are the most beautiful, powerful things in the world to me right now that we could savor forever. These are the truths that gird up our messy places and can hold us together through any unknowns.

1. God is Love.

It’s Bible truth. And the fact that God is Love means there are so many things that God is not. I’m so glad that God is not rules. I’m so glad that God is not beyond what our hearts can feel. I’m so glad that God cares about the tiniest thoughts and feelings that run through my brain.

2. Love is patient.

In the great chapter in the Bible about what Love is and what it is not, the very first thing it says is that Love is patient. If that’s the first thing the Bible notes about what Love is, it must be important.

If Love is patient, than God must be patient. He is exceeding in patience for the time it takes us to learn and grow.

And, if Love is the most important response we can have to the situations in our lives, and the first thing we know about Love is that it is patient, then perhaps in the face of the most dire and uncertain circumstances, maybe the best thing we can do is to ask ourselves what it would look like for us to patient with this. With her. With him. Love is patient. And Love has always been patient with us.

3. Jesus is the Truth.

Even if we’re not sure at all what else is true, we can rest in the knowledge that Jesus is the Truth. There is so much we could trust that could turn out false, but trusting His Word will never put us to shame.

4. Jesus is the Way.

When we don’t know which way to go, all we have to do is follow Jesus. There’s a million ways we can make that complicated, but following Jesus is always more straight and simple than we want to make it. He tells us it won’t be easy, but it is always rewarding.

5. Jesus is the Life.

Abundant life is here. There is no furthur place we have to look. Abundant life is in the life of Jesus.

“He Himself bore our sins in His body on the tree, that we might die to sin, and live to righteousness. By His wounds, you are healed” (1 Peter 2:24).

We are dead to sin, and sin has no more hold on us. By his wounds, we are made alive. His risen life has made us free to walk in the life of His righteousness today.

6. Our Father’s name is holy.

The One we belong to is holy. This is where we find our belonging. This is who we’re made to be like. Everything will fall in place as we hold it in our hearts that He is holy.

7. His Kingdom is coming, His will being done.

Every day is one step closer, one page more of His story unfolding, one day closer to seeing His face.

His story is perfect, even when it doesn’t feel perfect to me. And it takes every sad and happy chapter of the story to communicate the message of what the story is saying.

8. He is all we need.

God is all we need, and He, Himself is here to meet our every need. He longs to satisfy us with His own glory. With His own Love He comes to meet us.

“Man does not live by bread alone” (Matt. 4:4). And we do not live by anything else alone, but by every Word of God.

9. Forgiveness is always the way forward in Jesus.

Without a doubt, if forgiveness is not there, it’s not the way of Jesus.

If I am not living forgiven for my sins, I’m invited to the free way of Jesus.

If I am drowning in unforgiveness for a brother or sister, I’m invited to the free way of Jesus.

10. The Spirit of God is here to lead us and our promise is deliverance.

We have no need to fear, with God as our Guide. He will not lead us into temptation. He will deliver us from our enemy.

His way is the way that delivers from sin. His way is the way that delivers from death.

He will deliver us safe into the beauty of His own glory.

It’s all we need to know for now.

We won’t be afraid. For if all these things are true we have all we need and we have no need to fear.

We don’t need any new truths. May we be content and filled with hope by the old truths that we will hold to more deeply.

In Jesus name.

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God is Love: 1 John 4:8

The greatest is Love: 1 Cor. 13

Jesus is the Way, Truth and Life: John 14:6

The Lord’s Prayer: Matt. 6:9-13

For my book about the Lord's Prayer as a place to lean in the middle of uncertainty...

https://www.amazon.com/Leaning-Place-Lords-Prayer-Learning-ebook/dp/B07SPJ6R3F/ref=sr_1_1?keywords=leaning+place+maggie+janaye&qid=1584211604&sr=8-1

5 Things To Do When You Don't Know What To Do

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 27 Feb 2020 20:41:34 GMT

I’m Maggie Janaye and welcome to the Once Shy Column. This is a journaled manifesto about the way we navigate our unsure places.
It’s about refusing to simply quiet our unsure hearts and instead, letting them lead us with messy longing into the beauty of prayer and the God of Love.

If you struggle with doubts and longings in your life work and relationships, and need some healthy rhythms and truths to help you leverage those feelings toward more Love in your life, then you’re in good company.

I’m a shy girl found in Jesus. I fall down a lot. But I’m so glad He is able to work through us no matter where we’re at.

Today we’re talking about some healthy patterns to follow forward for the unsure places in life where we can sometimes wonder if we might just have it all wrong. I am writing out of one of those places, so if you’re there too, I am so grateful for your company.

We are a people who can feel fear often.

And we are made by a God who is in the business of making His glory known.

From what I know about God, He lets us feel fear only as much as it can drive us to the peace of His own beauty.

His glory is the purpose of life and the only beauty that can cover any fear. He will do anything to bring us to a place where His glory can be more clearly seen in our eyes.

In that sense, fear can be a gift that helps us remember how hungry we are for His Love. Even though fear is the choice tool of Satan, God can use our enemy’s own weapon to wake us up to remember what we really are after.

Fear shows up and we are invited to receive more of God. Fear asks me if I could have it all wrong.

What do you do when fear asks you a question like that?

There are endless things we can try, but fearful feelings are strong. They don’t like to be told to go away. They need firm and safe places to go.

Emotions are meant for motion and they are relentless. I’ve never known my own emotions to rest until they are put into motion of some kind. And prayer is what can give our emotions the motion they crave.

Here are five prayer motions that are available for the emotion we feel when fear asks us if we could have it all wrong.

1. Remember how faithful your God is.

When we take this feeling of fear and hold it up in the presence of our God, there is peace. When we turn the eyes of this feeling toward the rememberance of how faithful our God has always been, our fear is covered in His promise. He has never ceased to be faithful and He has never failed us.

“Know therefore that the Lord your God is God; he is the faithful God, keeping his covenant of love to a thousand generations of those who love him and keep his commandments.” Deuteronomy 7:9.

“He will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart.” Psalm 91:4.

Historically and biblically, the people of God have often used the posture of their own bodies as a way to help move their hearts in prayer. If you have to cup your hands to imagine you are holding your feelings of fear, if you have to hold those cupped hands up toward the sky to help you feel their size in the presence of your faithful God, then do it. Do what helps your heart put your feelings in motion toward God.

2. Ask for wisdom. (And be honest.)

We all face situations where we have no idea what we’re doing. But we are offered the gift of getting to freely ask God for wisdom any time we need it. He promises that if we seek it, He will generously provide the wisdom we need without finding any fault in our own lack of understanding.

“If any of you lacks wisdom, you should ask God, who gives generously to all without finding fault, and it will be given you.” James 1:5.

When we turn our fear into an honest, (and perhaps specific) question, it doesn’t feel as scary. And when we carry that question to the presence of God, we can trust in His promise to meet us with His wisdom just as we need it.

He may even guide us to ask for counsel from His people. The best wisdom is found in those who will (1) be private and full of grace and prayer, those who will (2) point us to the Bible and willingly hold us to it’s words, and those who will (3) allow space for God to be God in our lives.

3. Leave it in God’s hands . (Be still.)

I don’t know that I fully understand this one, but I want to. And I believe it’s an important place to go with fear.

“The Lord will fight for you; you need only to be still.” Exodus 14:14.

I think one reason this could be challenging is that perhaps we can never understand this promise until we trust God with it. God is the One who can help us discern what it means for us to rest from trying to manage the fight we’re up against, and fall in trust that we can leave it in His hands. He will help us know what we need to be still from, even if it's for a season. This is an active form of prayer as Mark Batterson points out.

“Praying hard is trusting that God will fight our battles for us. It’s the way we take our hands off the challenges we face and put them into the hands of God Almighty. And He can handle them. The hard thing is keeping our hands off” (The Circle Maker, 132).

4. Keep showing up to your life. (And keep resting your heart with Him.)

It’s the seasons of doubt, that can feel like the hardest times to do the ordinary things. But it’s so often the ordinary Love of our daily life, where God delights in showing Himself.

Showing up can look like taking care of the simplest things your responsible for, and doing the simple kindness. Love can look like reading a book to your child or washing the dishes to serve your family. It can also look like continuing to show up for community when everything inside you wants to be alone.

Fear can find a certain kind of calm when we usher it into place with the rhthyms of life. Simple, daily actions of Love done in faithfulness and the strength of our God can speak to fear so firmly.

Fear can make us want to press pause on life. But as we allow God’s joy to be our strength to keep on doing the next thing anyway, it shows fear where it’s place is and our heart gets the message.

Ordinary rhthyms are where God loves to meet us.

“Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up.” Gal. 6:9.

“Dear children, let us not love with words or speech but with actions and in truth. This is how we know that we belong to the truth and how we set our hearts at rest in His presence: If our hearts condemn us, we know that God is greater than our hearts and he knows everything.” 1 John 3:18-20.

As we keep on in the work, God will guide our hearts in the quiet.

5. Remember who you really are. (Dressed in Jesus’ life.)

Finally, when fear asks you if you have it all wrong, remember who you are. If Jesus is your Lord, you are dressed in His life and you are not the person who has it all wrong.

You may feel lost in some areas of life, you may have made mistakes. But none of that is who you are. You are held inside of His life.

You are redeemed. You are beloved. You are called His own.

And you are Loved. No fear you could ever feel has the power to take away the truth of who you really are in Jesus. When you feel the fear, lift up your head and remember.

“God made him who had no sin to be sin for us, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God” (2 Cor. 5:21).

“Who will bring any charge against those who God has chosen? It is God who justifies. Who then is the one who condemns? No one. Christ Jesus who died - more than that, who was raised to life - is at the right hand of God and is also interceding for us.” Romans 8:33-34.

Jesus is constantly pleading our cause. Even in the darkest fear, He is standing in defense of what His life has won for us. He is the One who bears testimony of who we are by His own blood.

We can bring our fears face to face with the Truth. And He always wins.

So in the end, fear may just be inviting us to step in deeper adventures of Love with our God.

May we put the fears we feel into motion towards our God.

We will remember our faithful God. (Lift the fear upward.)

We will ask for wisdom. (Turn the fear into a question.)

We will leave it in God’s hands. (Hands off in trust.)

We will keep showing up to our life. (Do the next thing.)

We will remember who we really are. (Lift up your head.)

And He will use the fear to grow us up into more of His own Love.

His Love is what we’re after, after all.

The Open Hands of Love

Thu, 13 Feb 2020 16:45:43 GMT

My boy was but a few weeks old napping in my arms while my four year old sat next to me and we read about how God richly gives us everything to enjoy (1 Tim. 6:17). She was amazed at the thought, but it was the events that followed that made that day so memorable. It remains one of my most treasured memories of Amayah as her mama. And in the middle of so many messy days adjusting to being a mama of three, it is a lovely soft spot to remember in the middle of those times.

She asked me so many questions that morning with her brown eyes that kept getting so round at my answers. I told her how God is always wanting to show Himself to us, sometimes we just have to open our eyes and look how He is coming to meet us. She had all the wonder of having learned a piece of news that was completely remarkable.

After awhile, she asked if we could play outside. I slipped into my shoes, found two sets of little girls shoes for my older ones, then I gathered up Gideon in a blanket. Stepping out the door, I found a seat on the bench to nurse, and the girls followed. I don’t remember how soon it happened after we were out there, but Amayah was standing next to me there by the bench when a pretty, yellow butterfly landed right on her arm.

“Mama” she whispered with grand importance, but quietly, so as not to startle it. “God sent me a butterfly to show me He loves me.”

It was a matter of fact that she believed with all the roundness of her deep, brown eyes.

Ever since then, every time she sees a yellow butterfly like the one she met that day, she says “there’s my butterfly, mama.” And this past Thanksgiving, as a six year old now, the first thing she said she was thankful for was yellow butterflies.

She loves to chase them and giggle so hard at the way they flutter. And the sight of one always fills her with joy. She’s delighted just to chase after it and watch it fly.

It’s one of my favorite memories of Love on a week like Valentines Day.

I think it’s perfect. And maybe chasing Love is a little like chasing a butterfly.

When I was little, my brother and cousin and I, we chased down a butterfly right until one of us caught it. I can’t remember which of us it was who caught it. But anyhow, we put it in a can. It was great to think we could trap the fun and enjoy it as we wanted. But, well, when we opened the can again, the butterfly had no more life to flutter and fly.

Then, it became real, that the greatest enjoyment in chasing a butterfly is not in catching it. Butterflies are most lovely when they are free.

It’s just like the nature of Love itself.

Love doesn’t trap a butterfly. Love holds open hands.

Love doesn’t make demands. Love holds open hands.

Love maybe doesn’t grasp too tightly to the things it is given to enjoy. Love holds open hands.

Love can make space for things to be where they are and grow the way they can.

And how does one ever learn such a Love?

It’s hard to enjoy what you’re given without fear that you’ll lose it. It can feel impossible to Love with perfectly open hands.

And maybe, it helps to know that no human being has ever perfectly held their hands open in Love. Except for the One who held His hands open for us on the tree.

His death and resurrection, not only makes payment for the mistakes of our closed hands in love. It can also give purpose to the faltering steps of our closed hand moments.

We can always trust the One who ever Loves us with open hands. He has never tried to trap us. When we wander, He loves to pursue us, yet never forces us back home.

He doesn’t condemn us when we close hands on the gifts He gave us to enjoy. When we close hands and all but forget that the real gift is the One who gave.

The chances He gives us to Love again are countless. Innumerable times, He pursues us again. It is the nature of our God plainly seen throughout His Word. So we will Love again. And again and again.

This is the life He freely gives us.

We get to always and ever learn how to be content following our butterflies and keeping open hands.

We are learning, with messy practice, how to enjoy the gifts He gives. Even when they feel just slightly out of reach. Especially when they feel just slightly out of reach.

And maybe the way we follow God Himself is just a little bit too, like chasing a butterfly. I had never really thought about it before until I was reading this week about how the Israelites followed God in Joshua.

“As soon as you see the ark of the covenant of the Lord your God being carried by the Levitical priests, then you shall set out from your place and follow it. Yet there shall be a distance between you and it, about 2,000 cubits in length. Do not come near it, in order that you may know the way you shall go, for you have not passed this way before.” Joshua 3:3-4.

The Israelites followed God, but they had to follow Him from a bit of a distance. In this scenario they had to leave some literal space between the ark of God and themselves as they physically followed. But they also followed from a distance in the sense that they could not talk to God directly themselves, but had to pray through the priest, if I understand that right. And they did not have the Holy Spirit inside them like we get to today.

In today’s time, we get to follow God closer than they, with the privilege of direct prayer through Jesus, and God’s Spirit inside us. And yet, we still don’t get to see God’s face or feel His presence the way we will get to one day (Rev. 22:4). We are still following God from a kind of distance and still trusting in what is coming.

We don’t get to hold His presence in our hands where we find instant and constant relief from the loneliness our spirits can feel. But we are learning to be content following Him with what we have, until we reach the day when we get to see His face.

When my little girl chases her butterfly, it’s the chase itself that is her great enjoyment and the source of so many giggles.

We are chasing beauty and chasing after it with open hands. We leave our hands open because we surrender to the promise of what we know is coming.

We are waiting for home and the loving face of our Daddy in heaven.

And we will wait with hope. Because after all, it’s a short wait to get home when you’re running after Love all the way there anyway. Our Daddy in heaven does richly give us everything to enjoy.

What Tragedy Does to Love

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 28 Jan 2020 22:50:11 GMT

It’s when someone is gone that suddenly every interaction you’ve ever had with them becomes so much more valuable than you ever realized it could be.

We were in small group together. I shared mistakes in my life that I can near daily struggle to let go of guilt from. I cried to tell the story. She encouraged me and handed me a slip of paper with a note from her inviting me to come with her to another Bible study she attended. Though I didn’t end up going, it meant alot to me that she would reach out and extend the invitation. I only saw her every Thursday in small group, but she met me as a friend. One day, her and I and two more of us took care of the three year olds together in the children’s program for our group. I know she was a kind person to serve alongside. The things I remember most are her laugh, her confidence, her kindness, the joy that seemed to stay with her always, and the simple times she would make a point to catch my attention with a smile and a wave. It was simple, but it lifted me up. I didn’t realize how much so until she was gone.

Then, on the phone, there was the hard, tragic news. I don’t even know how to say it here. But maybe you will understand.

Uncontrollable gasps of horror came out of me like a reflex. Then, I was speechless.

I can’t imagine the grief of those who knew her best.

It’s a kind of tragedy that can bring in a whirlwind of questions, doubts, fears and a thousand other things that feel like they could be strong enough to throw the whole world off it’s axis if you don’t find a way through.

Different people process things differently. I only know my own grief. I’ve called a few friends, partly to cry to, and partly to hear their voice that helps the world feel more steady than the feelings inside. I’ve asked lots of questions. I’ve tried to understand until I felt like I couldn’t breathe. I’ve been lost to try to pray. I’ve had moments where I couldn’t stand the thought of crying anymore, moments when I just really needed to laugh. I’ve said a piece of Scripture over and over, louder and louder, as if maybe if I speak it enough times or say it loud enough, maybe it could make all of the fears go away. One of my kids missed a day of school this week and wasn’t even sick. I’ve had moments where I felt like I had to hear a friends voice right now or the whole entire world might just explode. I’ve told and retold the memories of the small number of interactions I’ve had with her beautiful self.

I share this simply because when I have big, scary feelings myself, sometimes, it can help me more than anything to hear that other people have big, scary feelings too. It helps me have proof that we can carry through.

And again, I can’t imagine the grief of those who knew her best.

I found the simple little note she gave me. Though it’s just information about where she was inviting me to, it feels so much more valuable now. To think of the hands that wrote that note. Maybe it could help me remember that all of us are just as fragile and every interaction with another human being is an utter gift. Even though the interactions I had with her were small in number, they were beautiful, just as she was.

Instead of the phone call with the tragic news, I want to hear her tell the story. I want to hear her tell about how she made it through whatever she was struggling with. I want her to be able to tell the world that story. The enemy of our souls has robbed this world of hearing that story. He is the only one to blame. That story won’t be told. Yet, my own story is impacted by her as are so many others.

For myself, the gift of her presence lingers only in those Thursday morning memories. Memories that seem just out of reach. Those memories were just here a moment ago when nobody knew what was about to come.

There is no way to go back to yesterday.

But there are a lot of ways to use the memories to love her today.

These simple ways of love are helping me find peace and a new perspective.

I can love today by accepting her in what she was going through on her last day and releasing what I can’t understand.

The more I accept the reality of her last day on earth, and surrender the need to understand, the more my own soul will find peace to continue in love and find beauty in the gift of the people that are still here around me.

I can love her by seeing her eyes in the eyes of the people around me.

I can know that all of us are susceptible to being overwhelmed by our feelings. Every soul is so fragile. And with that thought, I can treasure each interaction with another soul as an opportunity to share love today from one beautiful, fragile soul to another.

I can strive to be here for the people around me, just as if it’s for her.

I can love her by finding the helpers, the way that I would want her to find the helpers.

This is attributed to Mister Rogers. His famous quote: “When I was a boy and I would see scary things in the news, my mother would say to me, ‘Look for the helpers. You will always find people who are helping.’”

I love this, because it turns attention to something so hopeful. There are always people who want to help. And the truth is, we all need help hearing truth sometimes. When we can’t hear truth ourselves, we can look for the people who want to help us hear it. They want to help us through.

I can love her by holding hope, because even though the story of how she would make it through has been robbed from this world, her love has impacted a lot of stories including mine, stories that are here to be told.

I can love her by sharing the story of love, because by doing that, I am partly sharing her.

I can love her by fighting the one who robbed this world of her life. And the best way to fight him is prayer.

Even when we feel lost in prayer, God still knows when we’re praying and He still hears the groans of our hearts. We can always find a simple prayer. He makes it so easy for us to come to Him.

Satan, the enemy of our souls, wants all of us to believe that the story is hopeless. But he never has the last word. And he can never, ever separate us from the One who loves us.

We can pray. And as we pray, it will help us all to learn Love.

Toward the end of the funeral, the preacher said something about how the tragedy that happened could never negate the love.

It’s true. No matter what kind of tragedy could ever come, Love will always live on. This tragedy is no different. The love that took place in her life, both given and received, the love lives on. It cannot die.

Love is stronger than any kind of tragedy.

And it makes me remember that there actually was one tragedy that happened when love did die.

The catch was what happened to Love after the fact.

The worst tragedy that ever took place was when Love, Himself died. For the people involved, nothing could be harder to process than that.

Jesus’ friends had seen him heal the sick and raise people from the dead. They had seen him calm an entire storm with one single word. They knew what he was capable of. And I can’t imagine the feelings they must have gone through trying to understand how Jesus could just let Himself die. Maybe they felt like he was abandoning them. Maybe they felt angry that he would let this happen. Maybe it rocked their entire world more than anyone could fathom to think that the very One who was the only hope of the world was just letting Himself die. And he wouldn’t even let them try to stop it from happening.

Horror of all horrors.

But….

But, if they could have only seen what else was to come, they would not have been afraid.

Well, we have the Bible and we know the truth of what they could not see at that time.

For three days, they endured the shock of the worst horror of all time. Love, Himself, was dead.

But, it was only in death, that Love could win the victory that proves for all time that the worst tragedy in the world can only multiply Love more than anyone could have ever imagined.

With the risen life of Jesus, now it was true. Before Jesus died, he had multiplied bread to feed five thousand. But after he died, the tragedy was actually used to put into action the greatest multiplication of Love that could ever happen.

Now, Jesus’ own body, became the bread that was multiplied to be offered to the entire world.

Because the thing is, tragedy might think it can kill Love.

Or maybe more truthfully said, Satan might think that he can thwart love with a tragedy like this.

But truthfully, tragedy can only make Love stronger than it ever thought that Love could be.

Tragedy always multiplies Love somehow.

Or rather, God always multiplies Love through the tragedy.

If we could only see what is coming, we would rest assured.

That is why we know: we have no need to fear.

To Be Cheerful or Real?

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Tue, 14 Jan 2020 19:41:03 GMT

A Letter to my Hesitant Soul

Dear Hestitant You,

I know it’s the most ordinary moments that make your insides freeze.

When, just like any other day, she smiles with her eyes, reaches for your hand and asks you how you’ve been. Such a simple moment, but it’s where the war inside can sound so loud that you think she has to wonder what’s going on.

Do you smile, say what’s good? Because there really is so much that is good. It just doesn’t always feel good. And that’s the honest truth.

Do you be honest? Share the truth of the days when you can hardly remember how to breathe? Because you feel so weak and you hardly know what to do with this.

“Rejoice always.” 1 Thess. 5:16.

It’s so curious, isn’t it? How in the world do you always be joyful, yet also be true. For God never calls us to hide. He always calls us to bring the darkness to light. To be honest. And how the ache can sting with longing for all these people to know every dark and doubting thing about you so you can feel truly, and really authentically honest. But why can this sometimes feel like such a pull away from joy?

And can’t it feel a constant war in all these interactions? How in this blessed world do you be both cheerful and real? And how do you ever stop hesitating so between these two long enough to really love people? That thought that can ache so deeply.

These thoughts, these hesitant circles you spin in yourself… when you hear them, perhaps you’re paying attention to a war that is not yours to fight.

Confusion is your natural way, but confusion has never been the way of God.

Yet, this struggle surely aches for a reason. And you remember the days when you couldn’t hold the tears back and they didn’t understand what could be so wrong. And well, how do you even explain it? Sometimes you just have to mourn the fact that you don’t really know what you’re doing with this life.

When you can’t control your grieving, it’s not the time to ignore it. Maybe though, tears are an invitation to pay attention. Maybe tears are drawing our hearts to see, not a war, but something else.

Tears come to help relieve stress. I hear it’s a proven fact. So maybe one reason tears come in is to invite you to lay down the war and run your race.

Dear hesitant you, let’s lay down the war between joyful and real and instead, let’s take up the daily race of staying real in the presence of His joy.

You may feel too weak and you are, but we both know that He is enough.

So then... here are three ways forward, three ways to stay real in the presence of God’s joy.

Run the race of joy (and know what it is not.)

“Rejoice always.” 1 Thess. 5:16.

It doesn’t mean to fake a smile when you don’t feel happy. It doesn’t mean don’t grieve or don’t ever feel sad. It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you if you don’t feel "joyful." It doesn’t mean you have to just cheer up when you’re actually aching inside.

And just in case you doubt that, we can find out what it does mean. God sees hearts and it’s okay to find and share the meaning of things if it helps your soul rest in truth.

The word for rejoice here “has a direct ‘etymological connection with xaris (grace)” (Str. 5463).

And maybe running the race of joy is nearly the same as running the race of grace. Maybe the way you rejoice, has more than anything to do with the way you’re relating your moments to grace.

I’ll include the definition of the word rejoice (xairo) in the footnote of this letter for when it helps you to see it. But what we know tugs on the heart inside you is the idea contained inside it: “leaning towards grace.” “Delighting in” God’s grace. “Experiencing” and “being conscious of” His grace. This is what it means to rejoice. It’s not that we always hold a certain feeling. Rather it’s that we take each feeling we walk through and we bring that feeling to grace.

Simply put, you could say that the word rejoice here means leaning toward the joy of God’s grace.

Rejoicing is not a constant emotion we strive for. It is rather a way of being. Perhaps, you could say it’s a way of caring for the feelings and thoughts inside of us.

“Rejoicing” is the act of taking our moments, our feelings and leaning them toward the joy of grace.

So we’ll wake up in the mornings and gear up for the race of rejoicing. We can run into these moments ready and eager to see how the unique moments of our day today can meet the joy of God’s grace anew.

Especially our broken places.

2. Run the race of healing (and run with confession.)

Jesus has always been the One who stands with the broken, the weak, the weary, the sick, the sinner, the lost and the hurt.

The only ones Jesus never stood with were the ones who claimed to be none of these things.

When you feel broken and weak, you know from experience that trying to see through your own brokenness will never heal you. Trying to work the pieces of your weakness like a puzzle will never make you strong.

But confession and prayer is healing as a promise.

“Confess your sins to each other and pray for each other so that you may be healed. The prayer of a righteous person is powerful and effective.” James 5:6

The realest healing we can know takes place in the light, takes place, day by day. With each new morning, we get to bring our broken pieces real into His presence, where He takes each scar, each doubt, each failing piece of our broken bodies, and He names it whole in the name of the risen Jesus to walk another day in the victory of His life.

So we’ll run the race of healing by waking up each morning to new morning mercies, bringing our broken places to the healing of His light. Even though your heart may be failing, His joy always heals it to run another day. Full on His mercy...

…and you are free to praise Him for the weakest part of you.

3. Run the race of praise (and praise your way to bold contentment with your weakness.)

It’s as we praise God for our weakness, and live in bold contentment with it’s presence, that the power of Christ rests on our lives.

Run the race of praise with the challenge of this: When you speak of your weakness, when you think of your weakness, when you pray for your weakness, speak satisfaction.

Maybe if you choose to daily speak over your weakness with satisfaction, contentment and praise for what God is doing with it… maybe it could change everything.

There are a thousand reasons to praise God for your weakness. Maybe at the end of all your prayers, there is only praise.

And you just read it last week: “There are moments in life where you need to stop pleading and start praising” (Mark Batterson, The Circle Maker, 40).

How you know it’s true, this feast you are free to partake in. Relief for so many cares. Maybe it’s why you keep running into a thousand more reasons to give thanks for the weakness you find inside.

“When we pray for guidance, perhaps God’s answer is every way he hems us in, like a river” (Christie Purifoy, Placemaker, 27).

“Limits lead us to the water. Like a tree I will send out my roots toward the stream, grateful for every hard rock and difficult stone that tell me this is the way, walk in it ” (Christie Purifoy, Placemaker, 27).

A thousand reasons to praise Him for what He is doing with the beautiful weakness in you. He is writing a good story and before you were ever born He knew the form of the days coming to meet you.

Remember that He is forming a story of His faithfulness with the weakness of your life. You get to be a part of this beauty.

Praise Him. And run your race.

Lay down the war of how you want to be. And run the race of who you are in Him.

Find three tiny ways you can gear up in the mornings to run your race each day.

Rejoicing. Healing. Praising.

When you fall down, the race is not over. Your God’s mercies have not run out.

The morning always comes again.

So wake up in the morning… and run.

----------------------------------

Footnotes:

Rejoice (xairo) is defined as “(from the root xar-, “favorably disposed, leaning towards” and cognate with /xaris, ‘grace’) - properly, to delight in God’s grace (“rejoice”) - literally, to experience God’s grace (favor), be conscious (glad) for His grace.” (Strong's 5463)

Where Love Meets Valleys

Tue, 10 Dec 2019 06:43:03 GMT

Life will bring you to the dark where you can’t see straight anymore. It comes to people in all places, and if the thing that brought you there doesn’t seem all that extraordinarily hard on the outside, it’s still okay if it feels extraordinarily hard on the inside.

Your valleys are your valleys and God is not too big or too small to go with us into the valley our own lives walk.

We need each other’s valley stories in all shapes and sizes because when we’re in the dark, it’s beautiful to reach out and feel that someone else is there and knows the dark too.

Beauty in the dark.

My third baby arrived, and the beautiful mountaintop blessing, held hard shadows of a valley. Settling in those first few months proved me to be more mentally overwhelmed than I ever imagined I could be as a mom. That's how it started. Stepping up to the sink to wash dishes would leave me standing there staring at the dishes as if I was trying desperately to remember how to even wash dishes. At the grocery store, I would walk the same aisle up and down for minutes on end trying to remember why I was there for more than a second after I looked up from the list and the swirl of canned goods and grocery carts going past overwhelmed anything my brain could hold. One morning I washed my hands to put my contacts in, but the sudden burn in my eyes told me that somehow I completely forgot to rinse the soap off my hands before reaching for the contacts.

Why does it feel impossible to do the things I do all the time? Pull it together. It’s what I kept telling myself.

But I couldn’t and everything felt like it was falling apart. Not only in physical tasks, but emotionally, I was lonely and my heart was responding to that in ways that scared me.

Internally, I’d swing between crazy longing to uncontrollable sobs for all the mess of who I felt I was. The house around me bore testimony to the disarray. My littles tried to do the dishes, spilling water across the floor. Where can I find the motivation to stand up?

Pulling my baby boy out of the crib one Sunday morning, his eyes looked so tired. I fed him and he was calm, so we went on to church.

A few hours later, we were on a careflight and they said he was in kidney failure. I stared at his limp body. I had asked Nano what I should feel, what I should think, because I was lost and it couldn’t be real. Once they settled him into ICU, a doctor told me he could have died and I needed to take better care of his health.

All of my near-numb kind of shock, turned into hard shame.

What kind of mother am I? I’m not qualified for this. I don’t deserve to be his mother.

Two days later I woke up in that hospital room and that day I saw Gideon smile again. That smile. He smiled at me and the beauty so new put new breath in me.

You don’t participate in Love because you deserve it, but because Love says this is where you belong. I can keep Loving, not because I'm good enough for it, but because Love has placed me here.

A week later we were home. His kidneys were okay and maybe this could carry us forward.

Yet maybe seasons aren’t over in a moment and maybe they always have more to teach us. Hard changes came and internally I’d swing from jumping into love with what I could find, to sinking in defeat when I tried to measure the story.

Four months after that week in the ICU with Gideon, I was in the driver’s seat with my three littles in tow, plus our little friend. All was well driving down the highway, until I woke up to realize I had been sleeping and we were full-speed, hardly even on the road. My attempt at getting us back on the road sent the van rolling down the highway.

We landed upright in the grass. The wall of the van was smashed into the headrest of the front passenger seat. It was the only unoccupied seat in the van. Three little girls jumped out of broken windows with screams and tears. But physically, they were unharmed. And after keeping them off the highway with my own screams and tears, when I made it to Gideon, I found him unharmed too. Nobody inside the van or outside of it was hurt at all.

Our little friend’s mama came to the scene. When I told her what happened, I fell apart and she just hugged me tight. She could have lost her child because of my mistake, but even still, Love was there. Love was what I was given.

For the nights when that day has played over in my head with all of the weight of what could have happened, I don’t know how to hold that as part of my story, except to know that Love is still the Author.

Maybe when you make a mistake that could have cost four children’s lives and your story feels like a disaster, maybe Love, Himself, refuses to leave you there.

Gideon had his first birthday and there was so much to be grateful for that we had made it there.

Day by day, there was trusting and forgetting. Eyes open to his smile, there was Love saying I belong. There was Love coming through a friend to meet me in the mess, and I’d remember it: He’s the Author and He’s not done with my story. A day later, there was drowning in shame, forgetting how to breathe all over again. I wanted desperately to feel whole. Wanting to learn some kind of secret, I kept searching for a way. I wanted to learn how to breathe easy through an ordinary day. Maybe I was looking for something grandiose? Why did it feel so difficult?

But months after the crash, on a Sunday, unexpected, I was sitting with Nano in children’s church. We were talking about the Lord’s Prayer, all the children joining in. And the words of that prayer that I hadn’t heard in such a long time, made me cry. It felt like someone just opened up the doors and windows and let the fresh air right inside to the stuffiness of my soul. Those words of prayer were so simple, and there was nothing grand about that moment. Yet it felt like everything inside me could breathe.

I felt safe. In that moment, my broken Love felt secure inside of who Love is. The longings in me felt safe to fall into Love’s purpose in the world. The weight of my broken life felt free when it asked God simply for what it needed today. The pain and mistakes in me felt courage when they leaned up on His forgiveness. And I felt free from my weaknesses, knowing that He is the One leading me through.

The next morning I woke up and wrote the words of the Lord’s Prayer down in my journal. I did it again the next day, and the next. In some ways it felt way too simple, but all I really knew was that it felt so healing. It felt like a lifeline that my own soul desperately needed to cling to and this was one terribly simple way that I could.

It continued for months after that, sometimes it was just the simple words themselves, sometimes they would be a starting place to help me open my heart to God a little more. Sometimes even to people. Now, I’ve filled up journals with the words of the Lord’s Prayer as if I was dependent on these words for my very breath, because Someone used all the broken pieces of the story to drive me there. And all the simplicity of it has been so deeply healing to me.

That prayer has been a secure place to land, an ongoing conversation that helps me see that places that truthfully felt so empty are also truthfully so full of love, and relationships that felt broken really are so full of hope.

During those months, I’ve become more aware of all the hands stretched out around me. I’ve found more peace from my failures, I’ve found more healing in relationships and I’ve felt more rest in who I am as a child of God, then in any other season of my life. I don’t know exactly why that is or even understand the story really, but there are some things I do know.

What I know from all of it is that when everything feels broken and I’m looking for a miracle, Jesus is coming in the quiet. When we’re looking for Jesus in a palace, He is coming to a manger. And when I’m looking for healing in grand revelations, He is there with the children. He is coming to meet me in my simple, childlike prayers and in the simple love of the people around me.

Maybe all I need to heal are the things that sound much too simple. Simple words of prayer. The presence of friends, who have always been there wanting to help all along. Maybe the needs of my heart are more childlike than I think.

Maybe the prayers of children are the most beautiful in the world and we all are offered the freedom to be just as simple as that each time that we come to the end of ourselves.

And this is why I have to share the story of my darkness, because plenty of us can feel the dark. When life finds us there, we are not alone and it is always so okay to be a child again.

Say a simple prayer. Reach out for a friend. Let it feel a little messy and rest in the healing promise of Love. Keep doing it again. Keep leaning on simple prayer.

Love will meet you there because that is who He is.

--------------------------

Today is the first day of the holiday special that I'm running on my book. Leaning Place is the little book I wrote out of my valley, finding the Lord's Prayer as a place to lean in the messy learning of Love. It's designed to be a help and encouragement in the restful art of prayer and Love.

The paperback is on sale for $5.99 and the ebook for $1.99.

It was so healing for me to write it and I'm confident that it will be an encouragement to someone else. I pray it's a blessing to someone's Christmas, to someone's new year. Maybe there's someone you'd like to gift it to. Or maybe you'd like to begin 2020 with some encouragement for your heart and your prayer life.

Now is the best time and the lowest price that it's been. My heart to yours.

https://www.amazon.com/Leaning-Place-Lords-Prayer-Learning/dp/1070507075/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?keywords=learning+place+maggie+jane&qid=1575065264&sr=8-1-fkmr0

The Tower of Mirrors (And how to find beauty)

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 21 Nov 2019 06:07:16 GMT

My little girl’s eyes look back at mine. “Mommy, can you come snuggle with me?” My six year old asked me one day last week, and it was so dear to me, partly because it’s become a little more rare for her to show that side of herself. Sometimes moments between us are pure love like that, and then of course, because life is broken, sometimes it’s a little more complicated.

These girls of mine are finding their way, trying to learn. Longing to be valued. Longing to be beautiful, to know they’re treasured, even when they get it wrong. Just like me. Sometimes when I look in their eyes, I can see reflected the little girl in me. And still, sometimes I am the one longing to be treasured in their eyes.

The child in me can still seek. That growing girl of me who wanted to be done seeking, she wanted to put away the longing. Because sometimes it can feel like growing up to quit showing that side of yourself. But maybe the story through the child can teach a greater gift.

Inside the heart of me, the little girl can still breathe it. She is there locked up in her tower. She’s the once-upon-a-time hoping that inside her lives the princess, for she feels more like the beast. She’s reaching for the mirror-enchanted longing for a clue.

How to even know if the mirror tells the truth or not.

She’s been told where to find the truth. One place to look where she can find “a dim reflection.” Yet, she longs to see more clearly. She’s been told where not to look for her reflection. She knows. But still, the mirrors are there in rows upon rows. Endless places to search out a brighter view of her own reflection.

In secret, she holds up the mirrors of all the people, to see her reflection in their eyes. In secret, she finds the one mirror she most longs to be beautiful in. Mostly, she’s not completely sure why.

Maybe we all have a kind of mirror we want to cling to.

I’ve carried my mirror deep in the secret of my heart. I’ve stayed long in my tower just staring at the mirror. Trying to find myself beautiful, scared that I am not.

There’s something there in a mirror. Something that brings us to put them there on the walls of our homes. We have a need to see ourselves, after all. It’s not all vain.

There’s something in these reflections that draw our attention so. The little girl in me she hopes that maybe there’s something inside her that’s beautiful, something that’s worth getting her down from the tower that can feel so haunted.

And the mirrors tell stories. Why do all the mirrors end up telling a broken tale?

When she looks too hard in these mirrors, she doesn’t see herself beautiful. When she looks too hard for beauty there, she ends up losing sight of beauty altogether. All the lines go blurry and every beautiful thing goes fuzzy.

I have looked long in the mirror until I saw myself a villain. And when you see yourself a villain, it’s easy to lose your way. It’s easy to forget there’s any worth in you, any worth in the mirror, any beauty in the world.

But the tower of mirrors has secrets to tell. Something still bids her know that beauty is here somewhere. That the reflections in these mirrors, distorted as they are, are trying to paint her a portrait, trying to sing her a song. The song keeps bidding to not give up.

As soon as she thinks she can never understand, as soon as she rests from trying to figure it all out, the song grows more clear. Finally, she sits and listens.

In it’s quiet hum, the song-gentle comes to invite her. Come rest in the promise.

You are not the villain. The mirror you carry in your heart is not the villain.

And the longer you rest from trying to see yourself in these mirrors, the longer you listen to the poem they speak, more clear is the portrait the tower of mirrors is trying to paint you.

The rows of mirrors in this tower, all of them are broken. And all the while you were trying to see yourself in them, sometimes they were even trying to see themselves in you. Broken mirrors looking for their own reflection too.

There through the rest from all this searching, she finds the truth. The only portrait she could find of herself here was distorted all along, but it was trying to show her what is true. She herself is broken.

And finally she can see the portrait clear. She is a broken mirror too. She is a mirror too.

As if it’s her purpose.

While she had been trying to find herself beautiful, her truest purpose all along, was to reflect beauty. How could she forget? This is what she was made for.

Yet, despite the intricate artistry she was made with, despite the careful forming of the curves on her handle and the grooves in her frame, the marks of an Artist who carefully created her for a beautiful purpose, her purpose is still to be a mirror. And her mirror is broken.

What in the world do you do with an old, broken mirror?

What use could anyone have for an old, broken mirror?

She puddles in the floor of her tower, surrounded by the broken reflections of her. Again she sees them there, monstrous reflections of a thing made for beauty, yet broken and useless. They dance around her, seeming to taunt… And you thought you were beautiful.

Losing hope she looks once more in that dim reflection, that old place they said was Truth. And there she finds a light that she didn’t notice before. She turns to face full on to that one place to find it’s truth. And when the light shines full on her broken, fractured parts, it works a magic right there through her, the broken mirror.

Right through the place that she was certain made her useless, the light reflected from her cracks shines out a brilliance of light and color that she had never dreamed. All the while she was trying to find herself beautiful, the Truth, the Light just longed for her to be the broken mirror. It was there, content with being the broken mirror turned to the Light, that she found the beauty she had longed for all along. She still felt the seeking ache, but now it had a purpose. It found it’s place.

And the tower of mirrors that once felt like a curse, it now felt more like a part of the gift. For those mirrors she had tried to see herself in, the mirror she’d carried in the secret of her heart, they were each part of the story. They helped her find her broken place. And it was in her broken place that Beauty found her.

It’s when His Light shines through all the cracks in her broken mirror, that she can look around and see it. He uses these mirrors to shine His brilliant light and it was through that very light of mirrors turned toward Him, that she could see the Light of Truth.

Every last mirror she’d ever tried to see herself in, has a cracked place to shine out His brilliance in another new Light. Each mirror with cracks of their very own, each wanting beauty all the same. Still, mirrors are searching their tower, same as she. And we’ll keep on, broken mirrors turned to the Light. Though, we’re broken, though we’re cracked, we trust in the Song.

He’ll shine out His glory till the last mirror hears and the story finds it’s whole, perfect Song.

My little girls eyes look back at mine. There are cracks here between us still that can hurt, but the cracks hold a purpose. He sings out His Song. And the ache of these cracks are little and light, compared to the glory the Light’s bringing in.

And in the meanwhile, God, thank you for cracks that give us a place in your kingdom of Light.

One thing to do when it's all too uncertain

maggiejsifuentes@gmail.com (Maggie Sifuentes) — Thu, 24 Oct 2019 19:35:46 GMT

A seventh grade me looked up at the school bus full of teenagers. She dreaded climbing those stairs that climbed so high into the unknown world above her. What if her bag was dorky? What if her hair was wrong? What if she tripped and fell flat in front of everyone? What if she didn’t know what to say? One step at a time she found her way nervous onto a seat next to a girl she knew just a little.

The next comment brought tears and a seat all to herself.

All she wanted in the world was to be over the fear.

A ninth grade me walked into the room as the new girl determined not to be rejected. When a friendly face gave welcoming words, she turned away cold. She wanted no pity for being the new girl.

Later she knew, she had been so rude. She felt the shame and how could she dare walk back into that room again?

All she wanted in the world was to be over the fear.

Sixteen-year-old me had new license in hand... and the guy she’d had a secret crush on for forever asked her for a ride to church. She showed up and he took his place in the passenger seat. Wanting to say something friendly, she spoke words that simply stumbled together on each other. Giving that up, and moving on... she stepped nervous on the gas moments before crashing right into his neighbor’s mailbox.

She wasn’t sure how to play that off, but she did her best.

She so wanted to be over the fear.

Maybe we all feel a little longing sometimes to know exactly what we’re doing. To be so sure of our steps that there’s no room for doubt. To feel the world as our comfort zone where we never have to wonder what we’re doing or where we’re going.

Maybe it’s just way easy for life to feel like a great big loop-de-loop uncertainty.

That longing to feel sure can get me all kinds of tangled inside myself, but remembering teenage me helps me see through my own mess sometimes.

It reminds me of one thing I can always do when the plans and the moments feel uncertain and broken.

Teenage me would listen to preachers and sometimes argue with them in my head. I wanted to believe that God could use me too, but all I could think of was everything that felt so limiting. The imaginary me was using lots of words to tell them all about it. Saying things like, hey, I’m shy and I don’t know how God could ever find my life very purposeful. I have to get over being shy before He can use me… but I don’t know how. So give me something that will help me know how!! There are too many times and too many places where I just don’t know what I’m doing.

Often I’ve thought about what I would say if I could go back and talk to me. But I’m not sure there’s anything I could tell her that could ever compare to letting her live through the uncertainty and feel the story God is writing. Maybe I might just tell her that the best answers don’t come in the way she’s looking for them. That if she simply keeps on living those uncertain moments and listening to the story God is writing through them, she’ll find something much better than life without uncertainty.

Better than an end to her shy feelings, better than knowing exactly what she’s doing, she’ll get to live and feel the story of God’s faithfulness that He is writing uniquely for her heart to delight in.

Often, I am teenage me all over again. Desperately, I’m looking for someone to tell me how to stop feeling unsure and know exactly what I’m doing and where I’m going. I am so forgetful.

I have tried repeatedly to put everything on hold while I search my life for answers. And normally that leaves me in a confused and muddled mess where I am forgetting completely that God’s Spirit is inside me and I can trust in Him to lead me in each little step of today even while I don’t quite know where I am going.

Where we are sometimes encouraged to not move forward without the five-year-plans and goals, all the schedules and budgets, the full-bodied vision and intention, may we remember that these very valuable things and our personal record in using them do not, in the end, have the ultimate say on our life. We can find breathing room in the middle of uncertainty when we remember that the Holy Spirit is inside us and He is bigger than the plans. That going the right way according to human wisdom is not at all the same as keeping our eyes on the One who is the Way.

And the best gifts are found, not in the answers of a moment, or the most sure kind of plan, but in the story unfolding.

Paying attention to the story might be one of the best things we can do, whether we’re uncertain about the five-year-plan or uncertain in navigating the pieces of today.

Earlier this week, I was the girl who had no idea what I was doing.

Because life will put you in places where you are face to face with the pain of another. And pain must stir things inside you and your heart is given the gift of movement.

I stepped unsteady over gravel into a place where I was a stranger and hadn’t been invited. I said a few words that simply stumbled over each other. I held something out without quite knowing for sure if I was doing it to feel better about myself or from love. I felt some uncertainty about if I was in the way or not. I didn’t know what I was doing.

I was glad, but I also cried for awhile afterwards because the world is full of pain that no one should have to go through and I am so empty in the face of it. My steps are broken to meet it.

All I mean is that I haven’t gotten over feeling the fear.

It’s more beautiful than that, isn’t it?

Maybe it’s as breathtaking as taking crazy steps into the empty sky where magic steps appear underneath you. Except it’s not that perfect because you forget and forget to trust that God really will put the steps there. Maybe it’s like letting Him catch you time after time because faith is a work in progress that only grows with practice. It’s falling down again and again while you’re learning to trust that He really is the Way.

It’s living a messy story where God proves to you more and more, that He is holding every unsure step you take. He is making beauty with all of it.

He teaches us through the story, that taking an uncertain step in trust, might feel really empty and broken at the time it’s taken, but one day, someway, God will step into the very place where you took that broken step and He’ll meet you right there to show Himself to you. To show you how He was holding your steps all the way through the journey.

Every uncertain step taken with Him, is a place where we invite Love in.

It doesn’t matter so much if the step is taken the *right way,* it just matters that we step with the One who is the Way.

We don’t have to wait for the day that our steps feel perfect as we take them, we can simply take them with our eyes open. Maybe this is all I’d want her to know after all. Maybe this is what I still want her to know today... When you keep your eyes down looking at your own feet, all you’ll see is what is broken. But if you lift your eyes up expecting to see, you will get a glympse of Jesus right there in their eyes.

Keep looking up to see Him in their eyes and you’ll find the Gift . Though the steps forward can all feel so broken, all you ever have to do is look up.

On the way home

Tue, 06 Aug 2019 13:36:21 GMT

She never looked so lovely. Half broken can feel so right.

And she watches from the distance while the bubbles dot his hair. The hair slicks down his face and your grin lights up my world. The splash that soaks my skin feels all her evening glow and she watches in the distance as we play there while she knows.

That you can soak up her presence and let it breathe love, but when it comes right down to it, there’s something broke through. She always knew she was a good but broken thing and the song she always sang was never her own.

She was always a hint of home.

She carried our steps and she watched us grow tall and she heard when we cried and longed for that home. Steady she stayed. She didn’t say much, but what she gave was a place we were safe. Safe to be heard and safe to tramp free and safe to shout all the hurt song of a soul.

We planted our dreams in the wild of her life, and there, in her quiet she taught us of love.

Gift to our hearts, she sang the borrowed song that never grew old.

And she always knew.

Her sights were never perfect, but she was breathtaking. Her song never found the melody-exact, but it was lovely. And the love that was given in her light was never whole, but it was stunning. Where beauty breathes.

Hearts were yet reaching even when fading. Hugs given like tiny dares to light another dark yet. ...And you can jump before you realize that you’ve made another dark and forget the next light is just over the hill.

But light comes in loves given one at a time.

She never was home itself.

She knew that you can find the light of home in the eyes of a sister who brought a dark and feels the shame. There in her eyes you’ll see the glint of a light. It’s a longing for home.

A longing for home where darkness won’t be. An ache for the place where love will be whole and we can pass ‘round the love without passing our dark.

We all ache for home and hints of home are so hard to lose.

We will make it through yet. We’ll go meet the light of home in the eyes of the brother beaten down with his load. And we’ll give our daily bread to the mother fighting for love. And we’ll hold tight to our babies when they cry for it’s not fair. And we’ll give hugs like a battle cry to light one tiny dark.

We’ll give a drink of water to the smallest needing soul.

There in their eyes, you’ll see… a glint of light. It’s a longing for home.

It’s a proof that home exists.

When we lose a hint of home we’ll go on finding it even more. Letting the light come in loves. Given one at a time.

We will look in longing eyes and see the proof of where we’re going. And until then, we will pass ‘round hope for home in all the tiny, mighty ways of weakness.

And the more we pass this hope, the more home will grow in our hearts. The more we meet her light in eyes the more we’ll know we’re almost there.

We will love the One who loved us (Mt. 25:35-36,40). The ones ignored, forgotten, they’re where we’ll find You most. We’ll press the dark and glory we’ll find… we are found in the stranger’s eyes.

We’ll keep lighting his dark from these holes in our hearts and the holes will find their place. Home never was where we thought.

She was always most alive right there in the stranger’s eyes.

So long to the home we knew, yet we aren’t really saying goodbye. We’ll be fighting to find you more in the light of that stranger’s eyes.

The path may look down-trodden, but now... home’s glow lights our way new.

It won’t be broken long, because she always knew. We were always out to meet her there and always on the way home.

Where Sunsets Glow and Love is Broke

Thu, 20 Jun 2019 09:14:50 GMT

Our family of five spread down the road in front of our house, one tricycle, one bike, one wagon. Four dogs of ours prance the glow of the evening sun on fields of tall grass under the open skies. You are so many steps behind with our middle one and those steps between can feel halfway broken. You smile at me and look back away so far down that road. We used to take walks side by side.

To be by your side in a broken kind of way or to be down the road with your smile. It’s not so much the steps between that feel broken. I do miss those walks when our voices could reach the other. Even then, it was broken in just as much a lovely kind.

In the giggles and the sunlight and your eyes that love on mine are the stories that we alone know. They’re bittersweet joy, painful wounds, failing places, and love growing even yet.

I tell you tonight I feel messy. You laugh... say it’s as it should be.

And I think you’re right.

Down the open road, light still shines. Heart that still aches from the mess. Learning one day at a time to treasure these moments that spill all the love that overflows on our lives.

Here on this road, broken love it may be, but what is sure is that it is held. Always the Love has been held by the One who is with us.

And eyes that shed water fall, feel unsung beauty with all that glow on the grass. Maybe what is pictured is a beauty we need. To feel the broken places and know they are held. It’s always been a broken mess, but that truth bids come to receive the leaning places.

How to ever know the beauty of our Leaning Place if not for the broken of our Love?

Broken Love it will be. Yet whole is it's name, because the One who holds it is the One alone who names it.

The banner here will be perfect Love.

All the broken relationships a life introduces and they are learning, finding place in the arms of Love Himself.

When you feel again just how held you are for all the mess you feel inside, it sets the story free. I get to feel this broken so I can feel this leaning Love where I can rest my unsure places hard onto who Love is.

The One who keeps you never sleeps.

He won’t rest, He’ll keep working to make Himself known in, yet again, this weakness too. And while we walk on broken paths we simply get to embrace it.

Though you feel so alone on this path at times, remember who is with us on the journey.

One day the heavens will open, the cross will break barriers, we will all love free. And we'll give all the songs of praise for the glory made with our broken.

One day this broken world will say goodbye with all it’s broken pieces and we will all be whole. Until then, we get the beautifully broken privilege of leaning our messy Love onto our God. Where the wonder of prayer is ours to carry us through our love that is broke all the way there to that day.

The place for healing and leaning where our hearts meet his and we get to release all the broken, vibrant colors of our ever-changing hearts onto the canvas where our hearts fall open to the One who never does change.

So when I look down the road to your smile in the sunlight, though I want to make it perfect in these steps here between us, I think it’s beautiful broken. Here is the place where we both screw it up and find in the journey that the story is held.

Our Love is held.

We will take up the beauty of leaning and remember that the kingdom of God is the place where we join hearts.

“We live in the strong and unshakeable kingdom of God. The kingdom is not in trouble and neither are we.” (Dr. James Bryan Smith)

Love’s purpose will win in just the way Love wills. And Love is the One we call Father.

So we will lean on Love and He will not let His children miss the beautiful broken life that we live.

He is with us. He goes before us. And He is the One who is the Keeper of our lives.

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My little offering for your days that may feel messy: an artful guide in prayer as a healing place for the heart. Enjoy Leaning Place.

When You Make a Lovely Mess

Tue, 11 Jun 2019 20:52:01 GMT

Somewhere a child cries from a heart that hurts and she curls up in her Daddy’s arms to feel the warmth of his presence over the confusing pain that she can only feel inside.

Somewhere an aging man reaches out for his wife’s busy hand, unsure how she’ll respond, but he loves her.

Somewhere a young man holds his baby niece for the first time. He tries to hold still so as not to break her, as he feels the weight of knowing that he will have some kind of impact on her life. He says a prayer as he watches her sleep.

Somewhere a mother is saying goodbye to her baby girl who has packed the car up to move out on her own. She struggles with how and where to find the space to say goodbye to the way things used to be and hello to the way things are becoming.

Somewhere a young woman takes a seat next to a friend she knows is grieving. She looks in eyes and has no words and stays there quiet beside.

Somewhere a man steps into a coffee shop and spots a woman in tears. He waits for a moment then takes a step toward, unsure but with a big heart.

Somewhere a man stands beside his father’s casket, saying the goodbye that he wishes he could’ve said when that heart was still beating.

Somewhere a wife fights tears for words. She wants to be honest with her husband and she never imagined it could be this hard. She grabs his hand and takes a breath and hopes in her God while she opens her mouth.....

We all feel a lovely mess sometimes.

If you ask Google to define the word relationship, it will tell you that the word refers to “the way in which two or more concepts, objects, or people are connected, or the state of being connected.” What Google will not tell you is what the way of connection is, because every relationship has it’s own way.

It’s through stepping unsure into the ways of connection that relationships ever find a path to take shape at all.

A relationship is a piece of messy art where it’s people are finding shape and color and grief and life together. Sometimes in the tiniest ways.

You never master the art of relationship. There’s no college degree on how to do it. No crash course that will fill you in. It’s a thing to venture into where you are a beginner. You’ve never been in this relationship before. And you’ve never been at this place in this relationship before.

You do what helps the hearts inside you. There are always more places to grow. Always more art to uncover. Even when you’re hurt. Especially when you’re hurt. For the hurting places can grow the most beautiful places.

Relationship is an unknown, untamed, uncertain adventure into the ways of connection. The only guarantees are that you will feel a kind of beauty that comes with relationship alone and you will be broken. They both come together in this world.

Maybe relationship is the easiest thing in the world to feel like a failure at. To feel like you have no idea what you’re doing or to feel that giving authentic Love is something you’re so unlearned at.

Relationship always hits broken places. Always shows you how broken you are.

But even in its most broken forms, even in its ugliest grief, relationship never stops being a beautiful thing. What is beautiful about it, and what will never cease to be beautiful about any relationship in this world, is that a way of connection was formed in the middle of a broken place.

Relationship is connection in a world where it’s all broken. Relationship is miracle. And it forms around Love. Living, breathing Love who sees our broken place and lets Himself be found and felt in this world. Love that shares the beauty and bids us ask what it is.

Our most beautiful pieces form right around Love, but how to find security for all the untamed, uncertain?

Can we lean right up onto Love, Himself?

Because I’ve felt so lost to love the people in my life. I’ve wrestled with questions and the doubts inside that place. I want to learn how to lean the mess of my love up on my God. But sometimes I’m not sure I know how and it can all feel so complicated.

From wrestling the dark of it, there was one simple day at church when Nano and I were sitting around a table with children and we were talking about the Lord’s Prayer that Jesus gave to his disciples.

Talking about that prayer in the simplicity of that little room with those kids, felt like a miracle itself. This is how you open up the holes of your heart in the presence of God. This is how you lean right up on who Love is.

To lean right up onto who Love is, this is our security.

And prayer is the place where all of our broken loves are opened up to Love’s own healing.

Relationship is the way in which we connect with people around Love.

But prayer is the way in which we connect directly with Love, Himself.

We don’t have to be without security in the beauty of relationship because we have a sure place to lean on. We are secure inside of Love, in the only relationship that we can lean all of our needy places hard onto.

The Gospel says it’s true, that Love can live right inside us and we are safe to lean all our unsure places right up onto Him.

The way we connect with Love makes everything about the whole, broken journey beautiful.

That’s why I wrote Leaning Place.

When you make a lovely mess, there is One who's just waiting for you to lean hard right into His arms.

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Leaning Place is an artful guide in prayer as a healing practice for the heart. It’s a small, little book and journal in exploring the art of leaning broken places onto the God of Love.

It will launch on Tuesday, June 18th.

Follow the leaning page for the countdown to launch and updates on when and where the book is available.

https://www.maggiejanaye.com/leaning

Or if you like, subscribe to the mailing list below (the manifesto) and you'll be notified in your inbox on the 18th.

Love and blessings to all your beautiful, messy love.
-Maggie :)

When the building of you is falling down

Thu, 14 Mar 2019 17:54:11 GMT

A guide through disappointment to a place of fresh hope

My eighteenth summer held the day of my first heartbreak. Just the day before that, I had sat at my piano with a song swelling inside. “Come thou Fount of every blessing…” It was a praise to hold out where I was at peace that the step I was about to take was a step God was calling me into. I fully expected God to meet me in my step with His perfect blessings. But the way it all unfolded disappointed the three years of hope that led me there. And I curled with wet cheeks on the floor of our upstairs study with the small yellow flower that was my relief that day. St. John’s Wort. That was the flowers name.

I read that my yellow flower was named after John the Baptist. And that the crushed petals of the flower steeped in oil turn the oil into a blood red balm that is useful in treating wounds. When the petals are crushed they become a healing thing, but they have to be crushed first. It was fitting that the flower was named after the martyr. And it was fitting to the heart inside me that day.

It resonated so deeply and so dearly. Because I felt like a person who had just taken the most treasured, most long-guarded flower from my own garden and held it out shy, trusting and hoping that it would be received as a gift. But what felt to happen instead was that it’s petals were softly crushed.

The great hope I held was crushed. All that was love felt broken.

My flower that day was a new hope to hold. It was a hope that God was doing more beautiful things in the crushing of this than He could have done in giving me just what I hoped for. A hope that maybe in the crushing there was a kind of healing coming that I couldn’t understand.

The very next day I met a man named Luiz. I shook his hand having no idea that eight years before that moment he had had a dream that God showed him who he was supposed to wait for. And as we shook hands, he knew... I was the one.

One year later we stood side by side at our wedding with a song. “Come thou Fount of every blessing...” Today we share a home with our three babies and the sweetest kind of messy love in each other that we get to share every day.

Then, exactly seven years to the day after I lay in tears with my broken heart and my flower, I received what I never could have seen coming... The flower of hope I had held that had been crushed when I was eighteen was pieced back together in a whole new way. It was given back to me not at all as I had first hoped for it. Nothing like I had expected. No, it was a more perfect and beautiful blessing than any dream I ever hoped in. Seven years to the day after my hopes were crushed God gave me what I hoped for in the way He knew it would bless the most. ( Here is that story. )

Come thou Fount of every blessing. I am more than abundantly blessed.

After all of this blessing, it’s nonsensical of me that I still try to figure God out. It’s nonsensical when I start thinking that God is waiting on me to figure my life out. Yet I do... I've been in a season of feeling like everything I know as me has been blown down.

In my most recent reading journey, God used Shauna Letellier to help me see these blessings in my life with new eyes and remember my faithful God fresh. It’s a remembering hope that I need every day.

Shauna tells the stories of people in Scripture who didn’t get at all what they expected from Jesus. Eight people with disappointed hopes. And of course, the one that stands out the most to me is John the Baptist. Reading his story revived the memory of my St. John’s wort. My new hope when I was crushed.

I was amazed at the number of vital details about John the Baptist’s story that I had never slowed down over. John gave his life preparing the way for the Messiah, the King who would take over and set the captives free. John even risked his life to share his news at the palace. He fully believed and expected that Jesus was the Messiah who would reign as King and it would only make sense that John would be safe. But John was taken captive. And he never saw Jesus again on this side of heaven.

John had always been so certain that Jesus was the Messiah. But from prison, he sent his questions to Jesus so confused. If Jesus really was the coming King, then why was John stuck in prison? Why was Herod still king? Had he been wrong after all?

And even in hearing John’s questions, Jesus affirmed the faithfulness of John. Jesus sent word assuring John in his belief and told him to trust. Then... John was beheaded.

John expected to see the fruition of everything he had prepared the way for. He had expected to see his faith made sight, the promise fulfilled. But it was in John’s death, that he was rewarded with the holy love of His Father’s voice, naming him faithful. It is in John’s crushing death that this story of hope is made so beautifully healing.

Shauna has taught me a new hope to cling to. I still expect so much from Jesus. But Jesus rarely gives what we expect. Yet He always, always gives everything He promised in astonishing ways. One of the biggest gifts that Shauna’s book has given me to hold is the truth that when I try to understand the story I always make it way too small. I’m sure John the Baptist knows alot about that now. The story God is writing is so much bigger than my life and bigger than my human understanding can hold.

I resonate with Shauna’s words, “I am prone to squander peace of mind by conjuring solutions that discount Your power.” Oh, how I am prone.

Disappointment can bring you to places where hardly anything you’ve ever known to be true makes sense anymore and all that is left is hope. But hope in the God of Love is enough to anchor us through all the blowing winds. While we're trying to figure out what to do with these flowers of love we hold, Jesus just enters in quiet and assures us that He's got this.

I can see myself in Peter when Shauna says, “he thought he was devoted to Jesus but Jesus showed Peter that he was devoted to his own expectation of what Jesus ought to do.” Peter’s strongest devotions were crushed, firm walls of his life blown down.

The blowing winds of disappointment can tear down every single little thing that you have built your life on. But disappointment can never move the anchor that rests in the sanctuary of God.

Hebrews 6:19. Hope in God is a hope secure.

As long as we hope in God, no storm destroying the building of us can blow us away from His Love. He will still be God.

In the end we will find exactly what Shauna said… “disappointed wishes were God’s way of satisfying our needs and building his kingdom.”

His Kingdom come. His will be done.

Here is the hope that holds us.

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If disappointment is blowing down the building of you, I urge you to grab a copy of Shauna’s book and let these stories of Jesus revive your hope. You can get the book right here.

“This hope is a strong and trustworthy anchor for our souls. It leads us through the curtain into God’s inner sanctuary.” Hebrews 6:19.

How to find a bridge when doubt is an island

Thu, 14 Feb 2019 15:57:00 GMT

Story Two in “A Venture to Enter the Silence”

The white whicker was spread with cobs of corn and butter and Daddy’s best homemade spanish rice. The sun fell on our porch trying to shine on our souls and I can just barely remember the scuffle between us. It was about a walk. It was one of the first warm days in weeks and she wanted to run her bike out in the road and go on a walk in the sunshine so very much she could hardly stand it.

We had all missed the sunshine and we all needed the open skies.

I told her wait. After lunch.

Her frustration brought her to sitting on steps, arms crossed. My girl was determined not to eat with us.

When Daddy stepped onto the porch bringing drinks, I announced it out. I let out in words my own frustration. And drove her farther away…

My feet stilled on the porch while her own steered across the grass to slip behind the van. I went on setting out cups wondering why on a sunny Sunday we all can’t just have moods to match the sunshine and enjoy the day as it comes. And how often do I do that myself? Disappointment can crawl up the sides of my heart and twist every bit of beauty in my life and strangle all the pieces of the story that are so good, and it all just looks like a melting mess. And what do you do with disappointment if you don’t at least feel it?

I want to see beauty. Truly I do. I want to believe I’m capable of seeing through disappointment. But then I don’t. I don’t want to miss the deeper beauty I can find when I don’t ignore the feeling. Disppointment begs to be noticed and held and considered. Disappointment has somewhere beautiful to take us. It doesn’t happen on default, but it’s intended by design.

When I try to see through disappointment, am I lying to myself?

The screen door banged and I ventured out across grass, across the space between us. I find her there and she’s quiet. Sitting still on the rear lip of the van, her “bump shoes” hanging there on her feet. And I lowered down onto that ledge by her. What was she feeling? Her eyes stared down the grass.

They’re all sitting to lunch and asked us to come. But we stayed there on the end of the van. And slow, through the thoughts in stillness coming, her lips open to my question. Her words… honest, they come.

“I’m not going to eat lunch with you. I’m mad at you. You talked mad about me to Daddy.”

I talked mad about her to Daddy.

I speak what I want her to know before I start to remember how words can pierce your soul.

Words can pierce your soul.

You girly, you were a few weeks old and I was checking out every library book I could find on baby care. I stayed up into nights reading those books because I had no idea what I was doing with you and I was desperate to figure out which one of these books had it right. Because girly, I wanted to get it right with you. You cried more than other babies I saw and I didn’t know why and I wanted to help you. I wanted to fix it.

And every single one of those books claimed that it was proven to be the right one. But every single one of them said something all different about what I should do with you. All that happened from those sleepless nights pouring over baby care books was that one, I lost sleep and two, I got even more confused and unsure about how to be your mother. And I was so scared that I was doing everything wrong.

We were out together and ran into an old acquaintance. She was admiring you in your dress and asking me how we were getting along. I told her about how you cried and I felt guilty. She had a response for that.

“She cries because you’re not confident and she can feel it.”

I went home and cried because it felt like my soul had been stabbed through and broke open.

I think somewhere she just intended to encourage me to trust my instincts and not doubt myself as a mother. But all I felt at the time were accusations that I was failing as your mother because of who I was.

I have made most every step in life with so many feelings of uncertainty. I don’t know that I’ve ever known a way to do something without feeling unsure as I did it. I’ve always tended towards being hesitant and shy in most everything. It had so often felt inescapable like a curse, but those words made it feel more like a curse than ever.

I could read every single baby book in the library to try to be a better mother, but if I had to find a way to completely rid myself of all these feelings of self-doubt inside of me in order to be a good mother, I had no hope of daring to think I could be a good mother for you. I’ve never known how to just turn away from my feelings and my uncertainty wasn’t going away.

I dramatize people’s words. I do. I’m sure I dramatized that ladies words but the feelings were no less real by any means. And it was one of the most depressed seasons of life I’ve gone through trying to work my way through that. Trying to find a way to trust that I could go on and keep being your mother because God is with us and His grace will always be there to carry us through the blindspots.

So there we were sitting on the bumper of the van. I want to try to be your mother best I can. I want to sit with you when you’re feeling everything, even though I still don’t really know what we’re doing.

But I have that… I do know what it feels like to hear words that pierce your soul.

And I had just pierced your soul with my words.

Where in the world is there a soul who is dear to my heart who I have always, unfailingly loved with my words?

My words come out and they show that the grace I have for my people falls desperately short of the grace that I hope they give me.

I don’t know if I can even remember what were the words came out my lips that pierced you through. Somehow I can remember so well the words that pierced my soul, but struggle so to remember my own words that pierced someone else. I wasn’t feeling what you felt when I said the words, was forgetting how words can feel.

Words can hurt. The hurt doesn’t change the needs. It doesn’t change right and wrong, doesn’t change what was told or what was needed. But it is a real hurt, a place in both of our hearts where we can find new grace for each other and build a bridge that our hearts need.

All of this moment hits an open place in me where hardly anything about the mother I am, the person I am, the place I’m going… hardly any of it seems “right” to me. There are so many confused questions that I don’t know even know how to ask and I sure don’t have answers for. Doubts can feel so full over the unknown place life goes.

But just like when you were a baby, every time I try to do it “right” all I get is sleepless and more turned around and confused than ever. And we can’t afford that kind of right. Not for me. Not for you. Not for any of us.

“Trust in the Lord with all your heart and lean not on your own understanding.” Proverbs 3:5.

The internal place your mother is going scares me sometimes, girly. And we’re on it all together and that’s what scares me more. It feels messy and weak and I know it’s laced with mistakes and the markings of my flesh. It goes against what I understand. But God never said that trusting Him will be in accordance with what we understand. He said for us to trust Him with our heart and not to depend on our understanding.

That feels like letting go of alot of what seems stable. And maybe like learning hard through a mess of floppy-feeling-moments to simply accept the grace God freely gives.

I want to give you the same grace that I need myself. I want to remember that we all will best learn how to walk in this life, when we are given the space to stumble in the process. We all learn best through mistakes… through following the story God is writing in us with enough wiggle room to do it messy while we’re learning.

May grace be found to renew the grace we have for each other’s messy stories.

You weren’t sure how to forgive me with your words, but in the quiet you found your smile and threw your arms around my neck. When I caught you there off the bumper of the van, what I knew is that our hearts had found a bridge. Blessed, blessed bridge.

Truthfully, it’s easy in this life to feel like you’re on an island, but what I want to know and remember, what I want to testify to you, my girl, is that there’s been a thousand bridges extended to my island since the first day I held you.

And it’s the love of a single moment that can light up those thousand bridges that you never fully realized were there before.

The love of a single moment. Never underestimate love, not for a moment.

I don’t get love and I don’t think I ever will, but what I do know is that you don’t have to get love in order for it to get you.

Love gets us girly, so thank God for the beautiful bridges of love He gives us. Heart to heart, we make it through.

So a body of us all will take another quiet step today. It might not look like much. It might feel a little like falling down. But this is God building His kingdom. Using the weakness of a child’s heart to guide us onto the mountain of fear, into the cloud of disappointment – a step that makes no sense when we take it. But somehow, somewhere He builds it into one more bridge, heart to heart, that heals our own and multiplies heart to heart again. Love always multiplies somehow.

If faith is walking by what we trust instead of what we see, then maybe we don’t have to learn to see without fear in order to know that we can still walk with our God.

Maybe we never have to be able to see through our disappointments, but only let our disappointments find their stumbling way to falling on the God who sees through us.

When these hearts understand so little, they can always unwrap the gift of getting to reach out blind and stumble our way toward God with each other, while He teaches us all how to walk and multiplies bridges with the journey.

And we’ll breathe in what is true over all these unsure moments…

Our inability to understand the way we’re going never alters God’s ability to build bridges with us and grow our hearts on the way.

“For the Lord will be your confidence and will keep your foot from being caught.” Proverbs 3:26.

So with a new bridge fresh built heart to heart, my girl and I came to gather again at the table in sunlight, and our hearts were filled with cobs of corn and Daddy’s spanish rice.

For the year that comes in with more quiet than direction [A venture to enter the silence]

Mon, 31 Dec 2018 18:59:00 GMT

2019 is ready to step in and I want to know how I can fix all the things and make this one life beautifully right? And Jesus pleads, look up. See his beautiful life.

I can only give my focus to my life or His and here is this cross to hold that hurts like a call that feels impossible to remember. It can make you feel the weight of a fallen heart that cannot for life remember to not forget what really matters.

“I tell you, do not worry about your life.” Matthew 6:25. His words are simple but Jesus gives them as words worth the whole attention. “I tell you, do not worry about your life.” I tell you.

I look at this life of mine, and how in the world do I take my eyes off of the sinking waters I sit in? I have to do something before everything falls apart even more. I have to fix it. I have to find a way out of this mess. And Jesus, He calls my heart. I tell you… He knows how much I need the small, quiet words.

One night, Nano comes home from work and it doesn’t take but minutes after he walks through the farm’s front door for me to open the gates of all the cares I’ve been brewing inside the four walls of this heart. I spill out in words all the weight of these pieces of life that are just not right. We can’t do this, Nano. What are we going to do? I shed tears and troubles. I want to know he hears me. He doesn’t say much. It’s getting late. As I’m on my way to tuck in kids for the night, he cracks a joke at the troubles in the laughter-language he breathes by. And in defense, I unleash more of this pity. How could he? I heave my frustration before I hold my head up and march to the kid’s room without looking back. I haven’t been refreshing to come home to tonight and in that moment I don’t care.

Seconds tick slow in between beds and the sinking brokenness of a heart that always forgets. Oh for a redo. And in the final night of three sleeping babies, I ache from my worry, from my mess. I hope desperately to find him awake. I long to make peace with our evening.

In the dark, the pieces of this old farmhouse sag under my steps. I push open the door and I’m frozen. There spilling into the dark are candles. And music. Two chairs sit pulled together by the heater. My Nano is there with his eyes on me. I didn’t expect this. Not at all. This isn’t a place we’ve been for awhile. And tonight? After that?

He stands up to take my hand and guides me to the chair. I follow his lead, breathing it in slow, uncertain. It’s dark but I need to see those eyes. I lean in to see him in the candlelight and love is what looks back at me. The flickering flame lights it up in those eyes. I had marched off in defiance and why would he romance me now? We sit there together with the music playing. I look down at my own nervous hands. I’m not sure how to take it in. I look up and his eyes are unmoving, focused on me. I had so much to say, and words still haven’t made this right. My feet fidget, so unsure in the glow of this love. I look up yet again. Those eyes know. In those eyes, it’s all right. My own eyes might spill.

He picks up a cup of water from the end table and holds it out to me like a gift. Now the tears fall. What he offers is love for all of this mess. Simple. Imperfect. Catch-your-breath. Love.

I wrap hands around the cup slow and pull it up to my lips. I’ll drink this love.

I drink it – slow, like it feels like I’m doing something sacred but I don’t really know. It’s done, and I set the cup back to the table… He’s still looking.

There’s this something small inside me that’s almost frightened by how this feels. Is it real? I need to feel his touch. Looking into those eyes for reassurance, I reach uncertain for his hand. He takes mine in his. My reaching hand is held. Strong, quiet love that holds me in my mess.

This is unabashed romance. This is the sound of grace….

Love like Jesus coming from the quiet strength of my husband, pursuing my heart while my heart is a mess.

What do you do with this?

What do you do when you spill out all of this frazzled mess of a year that you need lots of words for and Jesus tells you. I tell you… What do you do in the glow of this quiet strength that doesn’t even begin to try to tell you what to do with all the mess you feel? Jesus listens, but He’s not saying much. I want words.

I carry on with my head up until it kinda sinks in… and when I come back to Him with all the things I want to fix, He sits there with the glow of His Love for me to receive. And there is so much inside me to say, and I didn’t remember how hard it is to just sit here and receive the warmth of His quiet Love. This quiet Love is His answer.

I wanted words but that’s not what I needed. I wanted noise, but sometimes Love is a simple, fierce quiet.

It is a mystery that grows fullest not in the words, but in the quiet places where we discover slow the art of receiving grace.

Grace isn’t waiting for me to say anything. Grace doesn’t need me to figure out what I did wrong and give a proper apology. Grace only waits for me to sit down in the gift of this and absorb the quiet Love that is here. The quiet Love of a heart nailed naked in front of all the judging people to pay the ransom for my own failing heart that only hurt him.

Grace simply sits here with me quiet, loving me, waiting.

I look up and I don’t know how to take this in.

I want to find beauty in everything expressed. But grace expresses itself with this strong quiet. Grace sits here beside me, unmoving, focused on me.

Grace might not give a lot of words, or a lot of clarity, but grace offers me quiet love to drink.

Grace only waits for me to reach out my hand and receive love.

All the things that the turn of a year comes without, all the longed-for things, maybe they’ve been there all along, right alongside in the silence.

2019… You’re coming has sounded so quiet to me. Teach me slow and gentle the art of embracing your quiet beauty.

And maybe what a new year needs is less a list of doing things and more a manifesto of remembering things for a forgetful heart to cling too. My soul needs a daily heart-cry to hold to for all these things that make it shy away from the life of love I need.

For when my heart does all the nervous things that love grows from, I tend to shy up and try to sweep it all away so I can fix it… instead of letting it be exposed to the life of the One who already fixed anything I could ruin.

I don’t want to sweep it all away. And I hold a manifesto in hope.

We will not pretend our shy feelings don’t exist, but we will let them have the space to find their purpose. We don’t need to sweep away what we feel, but to let Jesus pour His life into all that we feel.

I invite you to come with me in the shy soul’s manifesto and a venture to enter the silence…

When you just need a gift from a child

Tue, 18 Dec 2018 06:00:00 GMT

At the beginning of December, Luiz and I had a big red bow on the top of our Christmas tree at home, like we do every year. But a few days after we put it up there Amayah came home from school and looked up at that bow for just a minute before she grabbed some paper and markers and made up a paper star. When she finished, she held it out to me and says, Mommy you can use it for the tree because we need a star.

So I tied that star to the top of the tree. And if you saw our Christmas tree right now you’d see, the top of the tree curves in a point and there is that paper star tied on there.

That star was something she wanted to see up there so much that she made it for us herself and it’s been something that has been a great reminder to me.

I have very little sense of direction and I tend to get lost as a habit. This week, on Wednesday, I was headed to Mount Vernon when I got turned around and ended up all the way in Sulpher Springs before I realized I was headed the wrong way. And, while I was there, I got my car stuck on the side of the road. I cried that morning, frustrated at myself for not realizing how off course I was, frustrated that I got myself stuck.

And as someone who gets lost often, it’s beautiful to me that when God told the wise men how to find their way to Jesus, He made it simple. He put a star up in the sky, like an arrow pointing their way, and all they had to do was follow.

And thinking on how God gives directions is comforting when you’re not only directionally challenged on the outside but your directionally challenged on the inside too.

Because of Amayah’s gift, Christmas this year has been a reminder that while God gives us the baby, God never stops giving us the way to find the baby too.

I can struggle so deeply with shame over the childlike need for love in my heart. I can frustrate myself to tears over how childlike and needy my heart can feel. And I can shame myself even more when the love I want to give feels like a child holding out a handmade paper star or a bunch of dandelions I picked from the grass.

But that same childlike need for love, like a star, it points down a journey looking for someone else who will be a child too.

When someone dares to be a child with me, it breathes love on the scars in my heart and it frees my heart to be loved like a child again and to love like a child again.

Because when a child gives a gift, they hold out tender beauty straight from their own heart. And it can touch the heart it gives to in a way that nothing else can.

And Love is the star that is always this learning, growing, crushing dare to let the heart be a child one more time, so it can dare to find the child it needs.

And there is Someone who made His own self into a child for me in the most complete way. He makes Himself into a child and offers Himself as a gift to the child in me.

He held out his heart formed into an unborn baby inside of a womb, and they wanted to put away into the dark the mother’s body that encased him. He held out His fragile heart coming through the sacred bloody entry of a woman’s birthing body. And he wasn’t met with a warm home, but with a bed where the donkeys eat. His offering given defenseless was met with those who sought the death of His child form.

The Child of Christmas gave His whole heart, holding it out for the world in the shape of a baby. He let His heart be a child to hold out vulnerable for the lost child heart.

And the person of Love kept on in his exposed human form, offering Himself until He was crushed.

What He offers is the crushing we all need for our human love that’s been given in so many broken ways and wounded beyond recognition. We all know wounded love. I can carry my wounded and fallen love so heavy. I can long for it all to go away so I can feel whole again.

For the crushing we need, he gives the Cross where the wounded child heart is always offered crushing and renewing-fresh in new life to love again.

He gave the Cross we need and how would we know we needed it if it were not for the child?

There is nothing like a gift from a child. A gift from a child can love on the coldest part of my heart. And only the touch from a baby’s hand can touch the closed-shut scars in my heart tender enough to open them up and make room for Love.

I desperately need a gift from a child. And this Christmas, as always, that is exactly what I am given. That is what we all are given.

There is a child in Bethlehem, who is king of the world. He accepts the gifts they bring of gold, frankincense and myrrh, even though, these are things that He himself made, things He already has.

Why does He accept them? Why does He receive the gifts of those who have nothing of their own to give? Because he is a king who treasures the simple beauty of a gift from a child, so much so, that that is exactly how He offered Himself.

As much as I need the cross, I need the child.

The best way to heal a heart that is broke, is to take it to the child and let his tiny fingers touch it’s scars and make room to love like a child again. Where there is room for the child, the child makes room for love.

Joy to the world. The Lord has come. Let earth receive her king. Let every heart prepare him room.

Whatever your Christmas season may look like this year, we can trust it for each other, that the baby’s touch makes room for this Christmas to be bright and merry to each of our hearts.

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A note of thanks: I was so incredibly grateful to be able to share these words in spoken form this week. If you were there, thank you so very much for being the kindest audience ever. I was so touched by you all.

When the place you want to go terrifies you

Thu, 29 Nov 2018 19:20:00 GMT

There are dreaming steps the soul longs to make that will not be ignored. And no matter how hard a soul may try to move past them, to put them behind, they are there, showing up inside in ways that can haunt a person. Try as we might to shush the yearning spirit inside us and focus on the good of our now, the longing fights to find freedom from the prison where it is locked away in the soul. It will not be ignored. It will beg and plead as if it’s desperate for us to know that it holds a secret to our very existence, a key to our own purpose.

There are voices inside that poke fun, calling us names for even considering the place we want to go. There is a voice of logic and reason that tells us our longing is senseless. There is a voice of moral duty that tells us the potential danger of this longing inside us for good reason. Careless pursuit on a road to destruction is not what any of us ultimately want. So we may shush the longings and shush again. It can seem like the only sensible thing to do. Yet, how it goes, at least for me, is that when I keep shushing, it feels like I’m shushing a huge piece of who I’m made to be, like my passion is slowly dying. And the longer I shush, the greater will be my fall when the longing finally breaks itself free, desperate to live.

This is a seven year story of struggling to quiet a broken longing and finding God faithful to my own weakness.

For months, I’ve been planning to share this story in the Thanksgiving month. I’ve been long jotting down notes and anticipating getting to share this story that is so dear to my heart. This story that has needed more time for me to tell myself than I first thought. Wednesday the week before Thanksgiving was the day I had set aside to give shape to it. But in the days before I had been so discouraged. And the Tuesday before my writing day I was trying to hold on to Psalm 121… He who keeps you never sleeps. He will not let your foot be moved. He will watch over your life, and your coming and going . Wednesday morning I woke up struggling to hold onto that – as I expressed to Nano. And when I sat down at the coffee shop, I got three slow paragraphs into this story before a man I didn’t know approached me. He said that when he saw me God had laid me on his heart. He encouraged me greatly and brought grateful tears from my soul. And he quoted Psalm 121. He will not let your foot be moved.

My God showed Himself faithful. He who keeps me will not let my foot be moved. It’s what He freely promises to us – to all who simply rest in who He is. He is not slow to remind us of His promise. And His promises are enough for these weary souls to feast on till we meet our last day in this world.

Today I share a story of the heart that I can never finish feasting on and never finish sharing. A story of how God shows His faithfulness to us, of how God showed His faithfulness to me through the very ache of my own longing.

It was May 28th. Seven days after I finished high school.

I stepped through the gate at my community pool, eighteen years old. Not really sure why I was there, I had just left a conversation that my heart didn’t know what to do with. My neighbors asked if I was okay but I couldn’t speak. There was a knot in my throat that wanted to break free in sobs. I sat there, a body holding a heart that didn’t know how to break. I had taken my scary, dreaming step and what seemed to happen was three years of hope falling apart.

I sat lost for a while. Blank.

Then away. Out the gate again, I walked aimless. Stepping slow over hot Texas sidewalks, tears falling on the pavement. I walked and I cried. Why did it go like this? What was wrong with me? I let my heart fall down. I read the whole world wrong. I made a mess.

I wandered and wondered. I was broken and it ached. My soul cried a song under the beating sun. And I sang it through gasps. “God will make a way.”

My grieving teenage soul sang that song in the heat, that song that felt like a ridiculous hope that somehow this broken place in my heart would all be made right one day. Like a hope that this broken longing inside me held a purpose.

That longing that was broken that day lived on inside me for years. I was ashamed of how much I wanted to cling to it. So many days of my life I would linger… lost over this hurting want. I was afraid to tell anybody, afraid of this thing that felt like my biggest weakness. I tried so many ways to make it go away and the more I tried the more it seemed to grow stronger. It showed up in dreams more often than I wanted anyone to know. Often I criticized myself for it. Often I tried to silence it, but it was there, very present in the depths of my heart, yearning. And in a way I felt like a prisoner to this piece of me that I had no idea what to do with.

I was a wife. I was a mother. Stuck inside in a secret prison.

Slowly, the secret comes out in waves because it simply has too. When you can only fall down inside, all you can do is look at your mess. Coming acknowledgement… to myself, to God. Terrified acknowledgement to Nano, to friends. And the moments that feel so terribly exposed with people, places that feel so painful and dark to go through… they bring so much struggle, yet they find ways in time to join hands with this sense of growing freedom through the journey.

Like waves it finds this heart in me. Waves of freedom, and waves of feeling stuck and hidden and ashamed again. They say faith is messy and is like a flame that blazes and flickers. Maybe faith is receiving the blaze over and over again from the blazing One, learning more and more, for the seven thousandth time, how to accept God’s grace for the flicker that’s barely there, because I am always forgetting.

Still, another flicker. Still another stuck place. And still, God is faithful.

Nearly seven years after that first ache of my broken longing, with three babies to love on… there was feeling more stuck in my own ashamed weakness than I ever could recall. And suddenly, in the middle of it, I found myself up above the world on a careflight with my baby boy. He was lying in front of me and I was scared, shocked, confused. They said he was in kidney failure, on the verge of brain failure. We were headed to spend the next eight days in the hospital where we would fight fear and he would fight to recover. Six months old.

Through a long week of heart-cries, confused tears, and smiles slow in coming, he did recover. His brain never was damaged. His kidneys were whole again. All was well, once again, and we were so very grateful.

Towards the end of that eight-day stay, the door of our hospital room opened and when I looked up… I was eighteen again.

There in the doorway was that old longing I never knew what to do with. What came through that door was a lot of hope that I needed. A lot of hope that I am known by a God who is watching every little thing that is happening inside the depths of my own heart.

For seven years of ache that could feel so shameful, for seven years of struggling with this thing in my heart that I could never find a way to manage, God knew. In that moment, what I knew is that God sees me.

It would be a few weeks before Nano and I sat long in our home with our anticipated guest. And there that day, that burning ache inside me found the home it didn’t see coming.

That broken place inside me was made right that day. And it was given a “home.” It wasn’t anything I had imagined, but what I realize is that it allowed my own yearning to find its shape. A place it could live in and thrive in. And the broken things found purpose, beginning with that conversation.

Reminiscing in the quiet after those healing hours, I checked my phone and saw the date. It was May 28th… And it hit me.

The dates were the same. May 28th was the day this longing was broken. That was the day I wrote it all down in my journal with tears. And May 28th, exactly seven years later, was the day God made a way.

In seven years to the day, God pieced this one broken longing in me together and gave it a home.

It didn’t look like what I had first thought I longed for. But it gave fulfillment to the root of that very longing just the same.

God gave me what I longed for, not as I first hoped. No, He gave it in the way and in the time that He knew it would be the most beautifully orchestrated blessing.

And I can’t know the ways of God but if He had not allowed this thing inside of my heart to be broken, then I don’t know how there would have been a way for Him to give it back to me in the most perfect timing, with a home for it that is more beautiful than anything I had imagined.

What I know is that my God is a Shepherd, watching over every ache inside the heart of every one of His sheep. And He delights in proving to us just how much He knows about us and the scary steps we take. And just how much He cares.

The longer He shepherds us, the more He proves to us that there is nothing we can do to mess this up. For everything inside us that can fret over how to manage our own hearts, over the steps we have made and the steps we have yet to make, He promises that He is holding each step His beloved lambs take and He has the whole story covered.

These inward parts of us that feel so unmanageable to us, they are never in the way of what God is doing. He formed our inward parts while we were still in the womb… forming each heart into a vessel that could showcase the beauty of His grace in a way the world has never seen it before.

We can take our next step knowing we are a work of God. And we know full well that His works are wonderful. We remember and we carry forward with the joy of knowing where our help comes from.

“I lift up my eyes to the hills. From where does my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth.” Psalm 121:1-2.

The same God who formed the hills freely gives His promise to form our story.

Whether we step right or left, the banner on our hearts will remain as constant as our Savior. As sure as there is a soul within us that calls it’s Lord again, it is certain wherever we go: He will not let our foot be moved.

God is with us.

When It’s Hard to Know: Following your Heart or Following God

Thu, 25 Oct 2018 04:21:00 GMT

I lay sprawled on layers of fluff and pillows writing in my journal, writing about the day I sat on plastic under the bodark and a bee flew by. Writing, remembering how terribly scared I was to do the thing. Where I had prayed and prayed. Where I didn’t know what else to do. Where I felt desperate for a safe way through. And it happened. I’d been grateful, grateful for the place to do what I felt I needed, for the grace and the kindness. But I also didn’t get it. I kept wondering at myself. Wondering if I was just fooling myself and maybe… maybe I was really living a great big sham and didn’t know it. What if I just thought it was a beneficial moment and really I had just done something terribly, horribly wrong? What if everybody knows this except me? How did I even get here? How did I let myself get here? Did I follow God or did I follow my heart? And are they even opposites or do they fit together somehow?

I kept writing in my journal like I was glued to it, like if I kept writing in it, eventually it would talk back to me and tell me what to do with this life of mine or how to understand it. I kept pouring out these thoughts, kept getting myself more and more entrenched in this. It went on for weeks. And months. And I could spend a lifetime processing my life.

On top of the pillows I wrote it, “Am I deceiving myself? Am I a person in terrible sin and don’t know it? What if I’m doing all of it wrong?”

Obsessed with trying to find all the little pieces in my heart so that I could put the puzzle together somehow and fix all the things that were broken in me. So afraid that the puzzle was so impossible it was beyond any hope and everything about my life was only wretched… so afraid.

I was all attuned to the mystery of my heart and longing desperately to solve it. Picking up every clue I could from a place that just couldn’t figure much that was more important than this need to fix whatever you call this thing that my heart kept doing.

Sometimes maybe the feelings just have to keep coming hard, shouting at me, trying to help me feel it… that there is nothing I myself can do to put my own life together again. And life is love and love is this adventurous, unknown rhythm of searching and waiting for the One who is remaking it all in His own time that is eternal.

And there is this coming whisper that was always there under all the noise. Grace… it whispers rescue. Breathe. You are free.

It tells us with the story.

Sometimes, even if we know truth, even if we hear it again and again, we can get stuck in a dark place where our mind knows the truth plain, but our heart is turned around with life and met with this dark, unsure path, invited into something so unfamiliar it’s scary. And though the path is unknown and unsteady, and though it might not really make sense to us or our people, we simply don’t know what else to do than to go down this path that something in our spirit cannot figure a way around.

When you try to refuse the unsure path, the heart starts to numb out. And how do you live life without your heart? But what are we even doing?

This is something this season of life has been asking me. What am I doing with my one heart? How do I live from my heart in God? I’m not out of my dark place, but there are candles in the dark space at my feet giving light for the now.

“Keep your heart with all vigilance, for from it flow the springs of life.” Proverbs 4:23, ESV.

It’s been interpreted so many ways and I’ve been so confused by it that it’s been hard to try to look back at this verse with an open heart. Some translations say keep your heart. Some say guard your heart. Some say watch over your heart. One thing that is not debatable about this verse is the vitality of life that our heart gives to us.

From your heart “flow the springs of life.” ESV

Your heart “determines the course of your life.” NLT

“Everything you do flows from it.” NIV

We must keep our heart. We must hear it and keep it alive. The heart holds the image of God and it’s beautiful! This is a truth my own spirit wants to cling to like it’s the air I breathe. But… the other thing that is not debatable about this verse is that our hearts need tender care. The beauty that grows in the heart needs careful gardening if we want it to keep beauty. This is why our Father provides our heart with careful guidance… guiding posts for following the things that move the one heart He’s given us to live with.

So we will not be careless. And we will look at these guiding posts. Guard your heart, because the Truth also says:

“The heart is deceitful above all things, and desperately sick; who can understand it?” Jeremiah 17:9

Our human heart holds God’s beautiful image deep down inside it, yet… it is also sick from the start and if we don’t watch over it with tender care, careful-inviting help into our own garden, we can be so deceived. Somehow yet, God tells us to “delight yourself in [Him] and he will give you the desires of your heart.” Psalm 37:4. It’s spoken like a plea to know that yes… these desires in your heart are valid and part of your life for an immensely important reason, but let these words be your strongest guiding post! Your desires will only find their true purpose with this as your surest guide: Delight in the Lord.

Beauty.

Delight in the Lord, and this B eauty is strong enough to carry all the sick things in your heart while it’s desires find their life.

Your heart is made for beauty and it can only sustain beauty through the One who is Beauty. The heart is made for this, for the beautiful feelings of this life that all give us a door to one all-encompassing heart – the true heart of Beauty.

The heart that beats with all the glory of the universe and every beautiful grief and emotion in the heart of all mankind. The heart that encompasses all of it with the pumping Love that gives it all life. Every beautiful thing is a door to this One Beautiful Heart… the “God who richly provides us with everything to enjoy.” 1 Timothy 6:17.

Let beauty direct your gaze to Beauty. Delight in this God.

With this guidepost, go ahead and step into the thing you don’t get… and maybe kinda fall down too. “The Lord is close to the broken hearted.” Psalm 34:18. So we never have to be afraid of stepping into something that could make us fall apart. Those are the places where God comes in so close. And we want God close.

Why in the world does my heart have a dire need to fall down? Why does it feel like resisting everything that is life to ignore the things that bid your heart break?

Falling apart might not necessarily be a bad thing. It can leave your heart vulnerable to so much deception if it’s careless… Yet, perhaps it might be true that you can fall down in safe places. And maybe it’s safe for the heart to fall apart when it is surrounded by loving people who know the workings of your heart and know your heart’s Maker too. Because those people can help you up and point you back to your true Love when you forget.

Maybe when we fall apart, maybe we are remade too.

Perhaps, when you step into the falling apart places, even if you try to explain it, you really have no idea what’s happening or why. And the thing about traveling the unsure path of the heart is that you know you’re going somewhere, you just don’t really know exactly where you’re going until you find that you’re there. And while you’re in the waiting, you get to participate in the art of story… this story that keeps remaking you.

Story.

“Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything by prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God. And the peace of God, which surpasses all understanding, will guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus.” (Phil. 4:6-7)

This verse gives a specific plea to the heart, and the mind too. When you have a thought, when you have a feeling, that feels like a threat to your peace, speak every little part of how it feels to your Father. When your heart only wants to bask in the glow of something that makes you feel like you are sick beyond cure, tell Him every little thing about it and why it calls your affections. And this finding and opening up of all this mess inside you in the presence of your Father, this is your beautiful art where you are completely free to express all the mess. You can “paint with all the colors” of your heart here and let it all be fully exposed in this safe place where it will all be artfully remade inside of His own heart… His heart that works on ours in ways that can’t ever possibly be explained on human terms. Inside this peace, He will cover your hand with His own while you hold the paintbrush, and He will form the places in His time for all the colors of your heart to paint their story into the world too… Because in this art that is made by way of His peace, this is the painting of His story. His glory coming through our own unsteady brushstrokes. Story guides your heart into the no-bounds place where it can pull out all it’s colors and free-paint the sky.

This is the art we were made for. This is the coming “boldly to the throne of our gracious God,” (Hebrews 4:16) where we are continually met with the ever-fresh Gospel of grace and given a thousand ways for Him to paint it into the world with the weakness of our lives.

Our weakness is lovely. It is our own delicate weakness that awakens our heart with tears, with mercy, and invites it in… In to the very purpose that it hungers for.

Mercy.

Surely, we follow the God who “is close to the broken hearted” (Psalm 34:18) and we have no reason to think that if our heart is weak, it means we are on a path away from Him. Faith is messy and the path of following God doesn’t go around the broken-and-close-to-God-places. It goes through them. And it lets these places breathe into us.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction, so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Cor. 1:3-5)

Our own tears in the broken places, come from the specific things that most grieve our very own heart. And these tears that grieve us are the things that wake us up to the very hurt in our fellow man that our souls were made to meet. These are the places that give us compassion and help our heart find the place it was made for. We must hear our own hearts in the midst of the hurtful things that grieve it. We were made to follow our own hard journey of hurt, following mercy and the “Father of mercies” through.

Mercy wakes us up to the spirit inside us that holds a piece of God’s heart. It guides us on the unknown road of being the person He made us, the person that won’t ever fully make sense to someone who doesn’t know the spirit inside you the way your Maker’s own Spirit does.

We find the way through mercy, the way through the weaknesses in our lives that He has always intended to show His glory.

We are known, fully. Known by the God who became the most misunderstood man to ever walk the planet. He knows.

I want to nail down exactly what happened to me. I don’t understand my heart. I want to lay it all out in tangible pieces and put my whole experience into terms that I can wrap my mind around.

Perhaps sometimes I am more misunderstood by myself than by anyone else in this world and I’m not sure why this can ache so much.

What I know is that I couldn’t ignore this place in my heart, and I stepped into an unknown journey trusting that God was with me. And somewhere on the other side of the step, I broke apart and fell into pieces.

And last week Ms. Crane spoke to our group of ladies about Abram’s own fearful place in Egypt and the falling-apart place where God trains us to see His face coming in the dark. And I was scribbling down her words like my life depended on it. Because this is the life saver that I deeply need… this knowing that I don’t need to understand my own faltering as much as I need His promise that there is purpose to all the mess in my heart. Ms. Crane… she helped us see the story of this promise there in the pages of Genesis. This promise my heart always forgets, that He uses our weakness. 2 Corinthians 12:9.

I don’t understand my own heart at all and as much as I might think I can understand the work of God, I can’t. How untraceable are the ways of God? Romans 11:33. Yet, this is the only One who understands me full when I will never understand myself in this world.

All we can know is what He gives us. And what He gives us is this… His own Spirit to Love-guide us through the dark . What He gives us is Truth that sets us free from all that we don’t know . What He gives us is one heart’s desire to set a course for this life with Beauty and Story and Mercy .

It doesn’t make sense and it won’t keep us out of the dark and failing places. But what is sure, is that right there in the dark place where nothing makes sense, there in the mystery of our own weakness, glory is waiting. There in the dark, barely visible through the fog, the glory of God’s face will come and find us.

So we will follow God on the path where our heart can keep beating with the life He gave us. We will step into the dark. We will fall hard on Beauty and Story and Mercy and we will let them carry us weak into the wild journey of our heart.

You misunderstood God-man who knows us,

On the pages of our lives, keep writing songs not understandable.

Let us be your poems. Let us be your stories.

Let us be your Song.

Wild Gift that You would write your Song like this.

When you need to breathe like a child again

Tue, 25 Sep 2018 17:31:00 GMT

Maybe every grown up soul is a hurting child at heart. And healing is spending a lifetime learning how to breathe like a child again.

As a child we dream about what we’ll be when we grow up. And when we grow up we spend a lifetime trying to remember how to be a child again so we can be what we were made for.

These are thoughts from my own journey of meeting people who help me remember. Inspired by child-hearts that I love…

I lay long by my girl’s bed the night before dropping her off at Kindergarten for the very first time wishing for a magical way to take the way I see her and the heart I know inside her and share the loveliness of how she looks to me with the world she will live in tomorrow. Because I want everyone to see the beauty behind her stubbornness. I want everyone around her to see that even the roughest parts of her determination are part of the ingredients that make who she is beautiful. This longing, it’s a beautiful thing I can’t escape and I don’t want to because when this longing carries out it’s circle inside me, it breathes fresh healing to my own child soul.

Longing speaks to more than a single moment, more than a single person. Sometimes longing is the very thing that whispers secrets to our soul, clues to our souls questions. It can open a window to let the light fall on a corner of our lives. And maybe it’s a light that can change all of our life.

And somewhere in the world there is a grown up soul with a real live family to take care of and a thousand bills to pay, responsibilities to meet, who will wake up in the morning for the first day of a new job. On the outside they look like a person we expect to get themselves up and make it all happen. It’s just part of life. You can handle it.

But somewhere under the flesh that holds them all together is the heart of a five-year old still beating. Still excited and nervous about that first day of school and all the unknowns. Still in need of grace from the teacher. Still needing friends. We all beat with the very same heart we did on the first day of Kindergarten.

How many mothers in the world must make this prayer for their child, whether their child is five or fifty-five. How many mothers must hope people will look at their child with a mother’s eyes and a mother’s heart. And how many people in the world there must be who never knew a mother’s love.

And I can’t imagine that there’s a single one of us who has not had this hope for our own selves. We’ve all let the monster of sin come out of us. We’ve all lived moments that made us look unloveable. When we are at our worst, when we have caused hurt, perhaps we all hope for people who will look at us with a mother’s eyes, people who will see our heart beneath the mess.

The first time I saw him, I was a thirteen year-old sitting on a church pew and I was feeling so lost. Lost to figure out how to put the sensitive child’s heart to rest and be a confident person. It was the first time I watched a grown man stand on a stage and cry from a broken heart and I’ll never forget it. One of the things he grieved on that stage was the moment he lost his mother, feeling at a loss for who could love his messy self now. He knew it might seem selfish but all he could be was broken. He cried like my daughter does when she feels so unloved. And it didn’t feel selfish. It felt beautiful. And I got to see a child’s heart come out of a man’s grown up body and something about that moment breathed into the child’s heart in me right when I was trying desperately to put it to sleep. And I cried. A thirteen year-old who wanted so much to be grown up and put together, but all I could do was cry like a child. Like the man on the stage. My child’s heart felt permission to breathe for the first time since it started trying to say goodbye. Because God had used another child’s heart to touch my own.

We are all children at heart who keep forgetting.

We keep forgetting it about our neighbors. We keep forgetting it about ourselves. We are all children made in the image of God. And there isn’t a single person who hasn’t been a hurting soul wanting desperately to find a way for that likeness that they can sense inside them to go free. There isn’t a single person anywhere who doesn’t share the same humanity as my girl.

And my Amayah, my own five year old baby. You will be my lovely girl for always. And sin can come all the way out of you just like it comes out of me. We can make the worst mistakes and messes and hurt each other to the core and no matter how messy it gets, I’ll always see your beautiful heart in the mess. I’ll always be with you and for you. And you’ll always be lovely to me because I Love you. Because Love is here when I look at you.

Love is like magic. And when you put it on, you get to witness what people look like underneath the flaws of their flesh. And people, witnessed with love, are the most beautiful wonders of the world. And Love is the only thing that lets us see how beautiful they really are. Mountains and oceans cannot compare to the beauty of the human soul witnessed with Love.

Sometimes we choose Love and sometimes Love chooses us when we weren’t even looking for it. Because we all need to be thrown into something we can’t understand and reminded what a wonder it is to witness the beauty of the human soul with eyes that can’t even remember how to see the flaws as flaws. To witness the likeness of God, the child’s heart that only Love can let us see in people. That only the God of Love can let us find inside ourselves.

Love is a Being who will not be contained, who will pursue the farthest reaches of our hearts in the most mysterious ways just to let us taste what He is.

He never stops pursuing our child’s heart. Never stops using one child’s heart to touch another.

The child’s heart holds a secret for the longings of your heart. Because you will desperately long for love. You will desperately long for the people you love to be loved. And those longings have a crazy force that can drive what you get to see while you live in this world.

Witness a monster in one person, a monster who hurt the child in you, or a child you love, and with that fear you can witness a world of monsters. And when we witness a world of monsters, our tender child hearts become stifled and scared to show their faces. We start forgetting how to breathe.

But witness a child in one person and with that same love you can witness a world of children. And when you look at the world of people and see children… you get to see the heart of God take on shape.

We can look for God in this world and what we find is Love. We get to taste it at the corner of head over heels and weak knees. We get to feel it in the love we won’t let go of even when our baby girl is at her worst. And we get to hold it where we see that child-heart we will never stop loving inside of the hurting, scarred-up hearts of the people we meet.

And when we hold Love, we see it all around us, that pieces of God’s image were always surrounding us in all these people all along.

Find one broken place in your heart that lets you see with the magic of Love and don’t ever trade the Love away. Keep Loving Jesus with this. And when the Law of Love reminds you what a flawed and busted up a love you give, let it remind you. Let it remind you all the way to the One who died to redeem your Love. Let it remind you all the way to the Gospel that is alive. This Gospel that assures you that no matter how desperately short your heart falls of perfect Love, there is no love too banged up and broken that Jesus will not receive from you and make it His own. And your heart will break open and Jesus will multiply the face of perfect Love into all the world of souls around you. And here inside His Love, you get to see the heart of God in the shape of people.

Right here in the heart of God is where your own child’s heart finds a safe place to breathe free… right here in the loving arms of the God it was always made for.

We are all children at heart who keep forgetting. And we will forget again. And when we remember what Love we forgot, we will cling to the grace of our Father who never has, and never will forget how to see the redeemed heart of Love in His own dear child.

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“Above all, keep loving one another earnestly, since love covers a multitude of sins.” 1 Peter 4:8

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Audio of these posts and my monthly letter is available to all who request it below. This month’s email will go out tonight. So excited to once again have a full day of quiet every month set aside for this and all who take part. Thank you as always for giving ear to my heart today!

When it’s Hard to be You

Thu, 09 Aug 2018 16:33:00 GMT

It was an April warm on a park bench and she sat kind next to me holding my baby boy while she listened to the words I was giving her in stammers, words that hardly knew how to come. Because sometimes you wonder how you can feel so empty over the person you are inside, over the person you still have no idea how to be.

And while you were born with your own innate desires and strengths and weaknesses and quirks and dreams and struggles that all make you who you are, there isn’t anyone who can teach you how to be you, because no one has ever had the same bundle of things inside them that make you the person God made you to be.

Sometimes it’s just hard to be you. Sometimes you have a restless ache to know if you can tell another soul who the real you is, and if they will stay beside you still, if they still will call you friend. And sometimes you just have to go to someone who is farther down the road you want to be on and ask them to hear the story of you and beg them to tell you if there’s something terribly wrong with the person you think you are. Because how in this great big world do you find out how to be the real person you are on the inside when right can look wrong and up can look down and the world keeps spinning round you reminding you what you’re not. Please keep reminding me that I’m not too broken for grace, not too broken to stay in this race, and it’s all gonna be okay.

Sometimes you look for answers and what you get is not so much answers as a soul that will sit with you where you are and accept your story as it is, relating with you, trusting with you that God will keep walking you forward from right there where you are. And maybe by doing this they help you come to terms with your own story. And maybe right there is where you find what you needed.

I want to find the kingdom of God in step by step notes. But Jesus never described it that way. When Jesus talked about the kingdom of heaven, he told people about the kingdom in stories, and every single time Jesus used a story to describe His kingdom, the story was always completely different than the one He used before. (See Matthew chapter 13)

And Jesus is always telling His good news in stories.

I ask Jesus my questions and it can feel like He’s not answering at all. But the truth is that He is always using my heart to tell me a story – even when I’m not listening. Or even when I try to say the story is all wrong.

Because the Word says that He creates people and orchestrates their lives “that they should seek God, and perhaps feel their way toward him and find him.” (Acts 17:27, also see verse 26) He created us with a heart to feel this life, created us so we can “feel our way toward Him.” Our feelings are real and they are valid and they are made to lead us to the heart of God. And our feelings are always listening to something. And He pleads with us to guard this heart that holds these feelings. (Prov. 4:23) This heart that was made to receive those feelings and to do with those feelings what the feelings were made for.

We ask Him for answers and when He says be still, maybe He asks us to listen with our hearts… to move toward Him with each and every one of the feelings this heart holds no matter how messy it feels.

He’s telling us a story…

I look at the desires in my heart and sometimes all I can see is something that looks like a curse. My heart’s desires can also feel like my life’s biggest struggle. It can make me feel like there is something deeply wrong with me. Sometimes I don’t see how the things in my heart could ever lead me closer to God when the things I want can sometimes feel so far from His goodness. It’s so easy to want to wish it all away, to wish away my own longings and desires.

When I look honestly at the things I want, it can make me feel crazy and dirty. And what He says confounds my understanding. “Delight yourself in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart.” (Psalm 37) Why would God ever give me what I want when what I seem to want is not consistent with who God is? And doesn’t Jesus like to confound us? Almost like it’s one of His favorite gifts to give us. And maybe it really is a gift to receive the feeling of not understanding. Maybe it’s always a gift to feel like a child again. To trust what you’re told like Santa Claus and believe what you’re Papa says.

This verse does not make sense to me. But it makes me feel. And maybe sometimes when God speaks, He talks to the heart more than the head.

Delight in the Lord and He will give you the desires of your heart…

God reaches into what I desire.

He reminds me what those desires feel like.

He speaks to my longing to find it all fulfilled.

He gives my heart one thing to do.

And He gives me a very deep promise.

And maybe He even bids us to ask ourselves what our hearts really do desire…

My own heart’s desire longs for a way to explore and fully experience and express my every feeling until I find the truest beauty in it. It longs to escape all the counterfeit feelings I have when I’m walking away from a conversation and I feel like we haven’t said all the meaningful things there are to say. My heart craves secrets to tell, meaning to expose. My heart longs to be known and found out. And nothing can make my heart ache more than when it feels hidden things that it can’t figure out how to get past, than when it can’t figure out how to be honest with someone as much as it wants to. Nothing hurts more than being in a room full of people laughing and feeling like it’s all a joke because there’s so much of our hearts we haven’t shared with each other and how can we laugh when we still haven’t figured out how to say all the beautiful things. Sometimes my heart will do anything in the world to try to escape the ache of it to the point of what feels insane.

And sometimes I look at these desires inside me and feel like I’m a person who is flawed to my core, like a person who overwhelms the people in my life.

Yet, God’s purposes are good and He has more of the story to tell. God allows every person their own unique desires and there is such a curious beauty in this. Just like He does for every child in His family, God is always telling a story with these longings.

God is telling stories with the desires of our hearts. And He gives it to us to delight in Him.

And here’s to your heart whatever it desires. God is using the desires of your heart to tell a story. Because here’s what matters… While it is true that the desires of our hearts may expose our hardest weakness and they can even follow a path of sin and self-destruction if we allow them too, what we have to remember is that the desires of our hearts themselves are a gift through which God allows us to participate in what He is already doing.

Your desires are good. And there are people who can sit with them and it will be okay. God’s got you and He’s big enough for your desires no matter the story.

And there is no feeling you can experience that you cannot delight in God with.

We may have hearts full of questions but Jesus loves to give us answers sometimes simply by continuing to unfold the story in His own way. He’ll tell one story with my heart. He’ll tell another story with yours. Jesus never tells the same story twice.

Jesus gave His heart away so that He could tell a story with yours. And he is telling a story in you that He has never told before.

The story he writes with your heart will look so very different from everyone else’s story. There will be people who don’t understand. Jesus has never been in the business of telling stories that are easy to understand. But just like a poem, sometimes even without really understanding its words in the head, it’s the emotion and the beauty of the story that speaks life.

So if you are a story Jesus is telling, if you are a poem Jesus is writing, you can find rest in delighting in Him as He writes it and even if no one understands you, there will still be a soul somewhere who feels the beauty of it. And it will be a story that makes them feel something beautiful, a story they haven’t heard before. And it will help them see Jesus in a way they haven’t seen Him yet. Because Jesus picked this story to tell with your heart and yours alone and He understands it all in the most complete way. He will give it all purpose and that is something you can trust more than anything you feel.

And He will give you the desires of your heart.

The blind man wanted to see. And when they saw his struggle the disciples asked Jesus what was wrong with the man that he had this need. “Jesus answered, ‘It was not that this man sinned, or his parents, but that the works of God might be displayed in him.’” (John 9:3) The blind man did not have his struggle because there was something wrong with who he was. Jesus made that clear.

And it just might be that the biggest struggle you face, the crazy desires you have, that make you feel so entirely different from everyone else, might just be in your life, not because anything is wrong with you at all but simply because this is the framework Jesus wanted to use to show the beauty of the Gospel in a way He’s never done it before.

If you are His poem, you can rest into the story. Listen to the beauty with everything in your heart and let it move you to the heart of it’s Author.

And move you with His heart.

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When you light a broken candle

Sun, 27 May 2018 02:07:00 GMT

She threw herself around the porch in laughter reminding me that I can laugh and what a wonder that a heavy heart can laugh. And sometimes laughter can hit you so empty like an echo yet sometimes it can also feel so full and healing. Somehow it’s true that joy and brokenness can sing harmony in the same heart.

Something about that face looks so perfect, yet sometimes it can also feel just out of reach. She can laugh because she knows she is loved, yet how she can crush when she doesn’t feel it. Because perfect love is alive and well but we all still live in broken bodies, broken hearts, a broken world. The love that comes out of us is flawed in this world, so imperfect.

Sometimes we give love to someone in the best way we know how and they don’t feel it as love. And sometimes we long to give love but are lost on how to cross the barriers of all the mess inside. And sometimes we let our love get twisted up into something that we’re not completely sure can be classified as real love anymore. And for all of the longing inside us to be people who are part of the web of love in the world, we find that we are incapable to step into it perfectly. It can leave you feeling broken for aching so about it. And perhaps the greatest ache is simply to know that there is some kind of beauty to all the mess inside you.

And when one person dares to take the mess inside their own soul and trust that there is beauty in it, they carry a candle in the dark. They take the candle of their own weakness and they let it be lit to go into the world trusting that God will use it even if they never see it.

When you hold out a broken candle, you may not know what you’re asking for or be sure of why you do it. You may receive pity. You may hear a loud critic. You may wonder at the shape of your own soul.

And maybe for each broken candle of yours you hold out into the world, the harder it is to face the next day. But maybe when you offer a broken candle, you light up a heart in a secret place where it had a need to see the heart inside you.

God uses weakness. So we find our next stage and we offer the next candle. We let ourselves be a broken gift to the world.

The best gift God ever gave to the world was also the most misunderstood. A gift never has to be understood to be a gift.

We hold up our broken candle with all the aching heart inside.

Where the heart can fill with such an aching longing for perfect love to exist in all of us here and now, a soul is allowed to feel the weight of the imperfections of it… a Savior who experienced such imperfect love from us. He felt the weight of our own hearts.

Perplexed but never despairing, we will not lose hope for what this world can never give us. We will not despair for the perfection we do not live because we have a promise that there is a beautiful purpose to every weakness inside us and that there is coming a day when the pain of the imperfections will not exist any longer.

So we will wait because love is patient. And those who wait on the Lord renew their strength. So we will look at each other and we will trust in the perfect love he sees each of us with, the perfect love that is coming to us, the Love of God that lives within us. We will trust that in each other and here we will wait on our God.

And when we wait He comes to us. He finds the aching heart that feels it’s own failure at love. He pulls us in close and lovingly, knowingly, He gives the smile that only He knows how to let our heart feel and He speaks the sweet assurance that rescues us… Don’t you know who I am?

Don’t you know who I am?

This is why we can laugh.

Because when we hear His question with our heart and feel the beauty of what it means…

Now I can remember what I forgot. Did I think it was my job to make the love that comes out of me into something perfect? Did I really think I could do that? As if I was the one weaving it all together…

Did I forget who God is that I’m not holding to the truth that He is enough to use the most broken things? The candles of love that come out of my heart will always look broken and that is perfect. Because those are the exact candles that God uses.

I may not see their use but I can trust it… when I wait to remember who He is. May we let the candles go and when we start to question whether or not there is any purpose to it… give us grace to wait on You and hear Your question once again.

The biggest mess inside me always melts away in His presence where He answers all of my questions with a question of His own.

“Have you not known? Have you not heard? The everlasting God, the Lord, the Creator of the ends of the earth, neither faints nor is weary. His understanding is unsearchable.” Isaiah 40

I’ve included the link to a song below and I invite you to give it a listen and sit with the question that always reaches out to rescue us in our greatest weakness.

Light our broken candles Jesus. And let us keep laughing with the lightness of knowing that you are giving them purpose even when we can’t see it.

Click here to listen… Please do!

I was a little excited about broken candles after writing this. Can you tell?

Go free dear human heart…

Sat, 17 Mar 2018 19:09:00 GMT

Happy St. Patty’s Day to you! Maybe you celebrate it? It’s my birthday so I’ve always been fond of it – though I’m not wearing green today. I’m actually wearing red. For my birthday I’m sharing from a place of struggle over how to let my heart find space to grow and go free. Maybe there is a piece of this struggle we share and if so I hope you are blessed. This post is part of the audio series I aim to send out by email each month. If you would like to hear the audio version of this post or read a bit of what prompted me to write this, you can subscribe at the bottom of this post. Thank you so much for being here today. The time you spend here means so much to me.

Like a young river finding a way to forge its own path, is the human heart finding a way to go free. She must go free.

Without her freedom, the heart walks alone.

To walk alone through a valley without one friend who knows just where you are – perhaps these are some of the hardest valleys we walk. The pain that has never been spoken. The hopes you’ve never shared. The struggle that has never been revealed to a single soul. And hurts can pile up and scars don’t just go away and learning how to trust can be the scariest thing in the world. The human heart can feel the most lonely ache in the world when it cannot find a way to let its nature go free.

I was twenty-one years and I was in this valley. But all the while I never knew that you who laid beside me in bed every night were walking the very same valley. We never had to walk it alone. But we did for too long.

I think part of the reason we finally took the risk of letting our our hearts find some freedom in front of each other was because we could feel something unspoken.

Somewhere in the darkness, I think my spirit was saying it to you begging you to know. And somewhere in your silence I think I could feel it coming from you too. This plea that was not yet spoken with your words, but somewhere in your eyes, somewhere inside your touch it was there. It was there because I could feel you say it, because it was true.

I could feel your heart speaking to mine, begging me to know that if there was something crazy in my heart, you had a crazy-something too.
That if that something was too dark of a struggle, yours was that dark a struggle too.
That if I ever felt alone, I didn’t have to wonder if you had a secret yourself.
Because your eyes told me… that you were human just like me.

The human heart is wild like that.

And for every bit of my heart that I’m afraid to let you see, you love me there and you ask me to show you more. And even when I don’t understand how you still love me, I know I can trust you. You have helped me find a boldness to tell you the things in my heart that can hurt you. Because you have convinced me that you are as human as I am and you have taught me that you love me so deeply that you value being closer to me even if it means you feel all the hurt I can bring.

You help me get a start at going free.

Now I know I can be bold with you. And if a husband is told to love his wife like Christ loves the church you have done that and in doing so you have taught me more about the way Jesus loves me than I have ever known. I’ve been told of Love, but Love can never be explained well enough with words. And after all of the love you’ve shown me, after all the ways you’ve treasured me in my humanity, it lets me feel this whisper.

The Spirit of God uses you, speaks to me through your Love.

And while I’ve always claimed to know that I could come to Jesus in the middle of my mess, I never had come to Him in my mess the same way that I’ve learned I can come to you, my husband.

Jesus uses your Love to tell me about His own. And though I can’t hear His heart, I can feel it through you…

He uses your humanity to speak to my heart… begging me to know when I am tempted, that he has been tempted like this too.
That when I long for my heart to be known, He knows the longing too.
That if I ever cry out for love from the darkest of places, He knows this cry even deeper.
He uses your Love to tell me… He was human too.

As hard as it is for us to admit to each other that we are human, Jesus, you said it first. You let yourself be the human that none of us wanted to admit to and claimed the wild human heart.

You identified with us.

You say it with words in our Bible that you have been tempted in every way and understand all of our weakness. Heb. 4:15-16.

You ask us to come bold into your own presence. And even if I come bold to you with my struggle right after the struggle has taken place, I am still putting limits on how bold I can be with you.

Maybe all you ask of me is that I dare to be as bold with you as I am with my own husband. Because maybe a mind fixed on you isn’t a mind that is strong enough to say no, maybe it is a mind that exposes each wild feeling to you as it comes and finds your grace abundant. Because maybe any crazy idea brought into your presence can’t help but be shaped by You and Your love.

I wanted to have a heart with straight edges.. like a river so young and straight. But instead my heart ebbs and flows like a river that is growing. It is stubborn and beautiful finding paths I never knew it could where it’s edges are wild and glorious.
It does not have the straight edges I wanted to give you. And I wanted to hide this river’s edge from you.
But you seek out my edges, you feel every bend and you delight to send more wind to the flow of these crazy waters. I don’t understand it, but I’ll let the river flow if your heart can delight in the free ebb of my own.

Maybe I can trust that you, Jesus, delight in the wildest parts of my heart.

My humanity is my deepest insecurity. But my humanity is the very place where Your Love finds me out.

I am human too… Thank you for saying it with your life Jesus. And give us grace to say it with you in the safe place where this crazy heart can go free.

When it’s Hard to be a Woman

Tue, 06 Feb 2018 17:24:00 GMT

Whether you’re 24 year-old me, or my four year-old little girl, some things about being a woman hold true for the littlest girl in ribbons and I would guess also for the one with the whitest crown of curls.

Every woman has felt the pain of days that make it deeply challenging to be a woman. It’s a pain that can easily bring the deepest wounds a woman’s soul will know. But even as every girl’s womanhood can be so deeply wounded, it is also true that a woman is most deeply moved and emboldened in her person, when she is offered the freedom to embrace the womanhood she was made with…

When I was eighteen and you and I had just met, I would stay put in church every week until you came to talk to me. I always knew if I stayed around long enough you would make your way to me with a kind smile and gentle conversation. You could always make me laugh but more than that, you were a gentleman. And it made me feel like a woman.

Then one Sunday as church ended, I got up and left. I was afraid you didn’t want me to wait, so I didn’t. But that same Sunday night, I was headed for the door again and you didn’t want me to leave without letting me know. I was almost to the door when you called my name. I turned around and there you stood with the courage to be nervous in front of me. You weren’t ashamed to let me know that you had missed talking to me that morning. And more than that, you weren’t ashamed to give me a sheepish grin and say those words that made me float, “I made you something.” You said it like a shy schoolboy who was so in love and gave me your handmade card, the one you had cut out and drawn on yourself and I felt like a woman in the very best way.

And the first time we went to lunch, you didn’t have to hear a word of how I felt about you before you gave a nervous speech letting me know with an open heart that I was the girl you hoped to grow old with. You risked a rejection that could wound you so deeply. And you meant it, I could see it in your eyes. And even though I’ve always been shy, though I was struggling with who I was as a woman, I knew I could trust you to treasure my womanhood, whatever that meant. And close to seven years later, though it’s never been perfect, though I’ve seen how very human you can be, and you have felt the pain of wounds that I have given you, it has been a constant truth to me that you are a man who embraces me as I am and fights to free the woman in me.

You embrace my womanhood. You speak love into my wounds. And sometimes perhaps I’ve expected you to heal the wounds of my womanhood as well. Sometimes I forget that no man can heal those kinds of wounds.

I still bear those wounds and I’m still seeking healing. And while you’ll never be able to heal my wounds I know you’re always there to help point me to the Healer.

There are still times when it’s hard to be a woman and these are the wounds that still sit on my soul. Every woman bears wounds of her own and sometimes a lifetime can feel like too short a time to heal. There are still moments that pick at old wounds. And those old wounds can hurt just as much as ever. And even while trying to bind up old wounds, there are still wounds coming in this wounded world. But the wounds to a woman, while they may leave her feeling powerless for a moment, they can become her greatest asset. Because every ugly wound can make her beauty that much stronger.

Here are moments that wound a woman.

It’s hard to be a woman when there is no one asking you to dance. This does not make a woman weak. It makes her a woman and it’s the strength of who she is.

Women are born with souls that long to be pursued because this nature plays an essential part in our world. And women don’t simply want to be danced with. They long to be ‘asked’ to dance by a gentleman. And asked by him again. And no matter how much a girl might think or say that she doesn’t want a request to dance, she does. Yet sometimes her request fades away. And sometimes the request never comes.

This can leave a woman feeling that her beauty is not worth being pursued. And while every woman can know truthfully that her beauty has the deepest worth, even with that knowledge she can still be deeply wounded.

If all was perfect perhaps there’d be a gentleman to pursue every girl but even still, maybe sometimes the reason a girl isn’t getting her request is because men are wounded just as easily as women and those wounds can leave us both struggling to be what we were made for…

It’s hard to be a woman when you must wrestle through the question of whether it’s the time and place for you to do your own asking. This rubs rough against the grain of who a woman is because the mystery of her womanhood is made to be pursued. Sometimes a woman must step outside of her nature, yet when a woman is doing the pursuing, she doesn’t feel much like a woman. She opens up so much potential for old wounds to grow deeper.

If she questioned before whether her beauty was worth being pursued (as her nature has intended) now she’s opened to the struggle of feeling that it’s not worth receiving even if she offers it herself.

She boldly dared to defy her own nature and open up the mystery of her womanhood for another. Whether it was treasured or not, she took a bold risk and gave away a piece of her own mystery for the sake of love…

It is also hard to be a woman when any little piece of your womanhood feels taken from you instead of offered by you. When a woman is danced with without being asked… When she is flattered by a man who doesn’t recognize the mystery of the woman inside her… When she is treated like her womanhood has an owner… When her affection or commitment is assumed instead of pursued… these are moments that want to trample the worth of her soul. A woman is fully a woman when she is strongly pursued while also given the space to offer her own womanhood.

A woman needs this space dearly. For it is a pain that echoes far into her life when a woman struggles for the space to let her nature be free.

These wounds can leave you in a battle with yourself… trying to remember that your wounds do not define you. It is one battle to know it in theory, but it is another battle completely to learn to part ways in daily life with how you’ve let your wounds define you before. It can leave a woman saying no for a bit, simply because she’s still battling to find her own yes. For she does have a need to heal.

And what does a woman seeking healing do with her wounds?

She stays in the battle. And when she looks at the womanhood she wants to embrace and knows that she can’t do it, she looks to One inside her healing her soul and trusts that He can. No matter how many times she falls, she keeps stepping forward in the nature she was given.

And she loves the one who wounded her. She recognizes that every person who has wounded her has first been wounded themselves. She never excuses the wrong that was done, but she always forgives. She does what she must to protect her womanhood from the offense, while she loves the offender where they are.

And inside of the cross, every soul is worth loving no matter how wounded. No matter how often we’ve allowed our wounds to drive us, no matter how many wounds we have caused, no matter the wounds we bear on our soul or how much of our lifetime it can take for us to heal, nothing makes it impossible for us to still give love and still receive it.

A woman in healing acknowledges her wounds and invites Jesus in. She can learn to boast in these wounds because there is a Savior whose love penetrates the hollow places these wounds have made inside her. These wounds are where Jesus breaks into her beauty and uses it to invite others into His love too.

When it’s hard for a woman to be a woman… this makes her deeply needy so she can be deeply aware of how she is pursued by the only One who fully knows her.

This is the strength of who she is… Yet she gets to be more.

The nature of Jesus is one of pursuit, but the funny thing about pursuit is that it takes two and in the kingdom of God we all get to play a part in both sides of this story. The more deeply needy and inviting we are, the more we will notice Jesus pursuing us. And the more we see Jesus pursuing us, the more His love will drive us to pursue the needy people around us.

So in Him we find that we are both the one pursued and the one pursuing. And this is the best adventure we could live.

So in the end… when it’s hard to be a woman, life gets fuller still.

The Soul’s Reflection

Fri, 26 Jan 2018 19:45:00 GMT

Welcome to this space you. I’m happy you showed up here. The words below are words I’ve been holding onto for over a month. I wrote them before Christmas and I’ve struggled to embrace them, but I hope they will be a blessing. I thank you for being here. So many of you have encouraged me to keep sharing and I’m so grateful. It’s a joy to share with you today…

While I have sat in the corner of life where you stare at your soul’s reflection, maybe you have sat there too.

The reflection my eyes can see isn’t pretty.

What I know with my eyes, and what I know in my heart don’t always match up.

With my heart, I know I have come to the table where the bread of life is given. This is where the ugly mess inside us dies. When I sat at this table with Jesus, it was true of me too.

But sometimes I look in the mirror, and that ugly mess still mars my reflection.

Here on this earth, isn’t it true? “Now we see in a mirror dimly, but then face to face. Now I know in part; then I shall know fully, even as I have been fully known.” 1 Corinthians 13:12

That ugly mess still comes out of me sometimes. That ugly mess still sits in the reflection of my soul. But still, it is true that that ugly mess is dead.

There is only One who knows us as we truly are. Only One who can see what we look like without that deadness on our soul.

We see in a mirror dimly, maybe you feel this too…

Jesus is yours and you come here to the table having so much you want to share, but you see this, your soul’s reflection.

The moment brings its gift… Yes the mirror says there is an ugly soul inside you, but the One who loves you keeps offering the bread of life. Take this gift in faith and believe the One who knows you better than you know yourself.

What you can see is a poor reflection. So, keep giving Jesus the deadness inside you and don’t believe what you see in the mirror.

Trust the only one who can see you as you truly are…

We gather around together here. Sometimes your drink might tumble. Sometimes I might spill the gravy. But as sure as the table gets messy, it is sure that we need each other.

We come here together sharing in the same body. This is where we all became one.

When you look around the table, we don’t look like much. But we can’t trust our eyes.

May we come to the table looking around with faith instead of our eyes – faith to see ourselves as a needed and lovely part of what is happening here. Faith to look across the table and see each other as the same. So much darkness can exist in a world that is so broken, but just as Jesus is our Lord, love is who we are.

We all came to the table with faith that He could make us new. We will trust it for ourselves and we will trust it for each other.

The prayer for myself is what I pray for you.

Even as we see the poor reflection of our own souls, may we trust You more than the mirror. Give us grace to keep offering ourselves to each other when it just feels like a mess. Give us grace to welcome the person across the table as you welcome us. May we believe You when you tell us that every spiritual blessing is ours to claim, that we are all equipped and gifted to play our part in this sweet Gospel story we sing with You. When we sing the song with the voice you gave us, in the part you gave us to sing, and all we can hear is a mess, we will keep giving the deadness to you and we will keep singing because we trust you more than we trust ourselves. You are in us, shining through us and You make the Beautiful Song.

Why tiny things might hurt so deeply

Sat, 18 Nov 2017 18:29:00 GMT

Your life used to have that old form. It was nice. You had learned to wear it, to dress your day in the shape it took. It almost felt like a part of you. But then, it was different.

Life took on a different form. Change can happen in a moment and there may have been one instant when it all shifted. But the heart inside you cannot make a shift in a single instant.

Even if on the outside life appeared to keep going on as always, it still happened. And something started happening inside you the day the shift came.

That shape of your life that felt like a part of you, it said goodbye. But it couldn’t wait for you finish saying goodbye back. Because how do you even say goodbye to something that feels like part of you?

And even as you tried to keep your head up and move forward, even if you weren’t going to let it get to you when that part of your life said goodbye… it was after that, that all those old pieces of your life that had said goodbye to you before, came back to enter your memory and remind you of what you’ve lost, to remind you of who you’re not, and the way your life does not look today.

And while I’m talking to myself, maybe you can relate somehow. Because the Word says there are no struggles except what is common to our experience as people.

And maybe you’ve had a baby or moved to a new city. Maybe you’ve had to part ways with a person whether you both stayed on this earth or not. Maybe you’ve lost a responsibility or gained one you weren’t ready for. Whatever shape your life has taken, you’ve said hello and goodbye to so very many seasons. It’s a whole lot to be grateful for and it’s also a whole lot for a soul to bear.

And as much as it may seem sometimes to be a much smaller load than what someone else has to carry, life is still a lot to bear for every life that lives here.

Sometimes it can feel ridiculous to give myself permission to call something a real struggle. Tears want to come, but the moment doesn’t feel grief-worthy. Silly me. I’ll just keep stepping forward.

But then it happens again.

And this year, while we were learning the hellos and goodbyes of calling a new town home, we had our first surprise pregnancy. And we were so excited to say hello to our little boy, that “goodbye” didn’t seem to have a place. Then, I passed my due date, the induction was scheduled, and the night before he was born we got in the car with the girls to go to dinner as a family. And when we pulled out of the driveway, my eyes got really wet. Because while I was so excited to say hello to my baby boy, it suddenly felt like this season of life was saying goodbye to me and somehow tears were the only response I could give to that.

I thought on it for a few moments that night, but it felt a little silly. And we went on to enjoy the evening, to look to the joy of the next day when we got to experience all the wonder of meeting our precious little boy. Then a few days after Gideon’s birth, tears fell when I looked at Liesel and all of a sudden she didn’t look like a baby anymore. I took some time that day to hold her tight and to journal through the moment, then… we stepped into the next day… and the next week, because that’s what you do.

Then, for the past couple weeks or so, life has felt so wonky. Feelings I’ve known before keep coming back. People I’ve parted ways with, moments of life that brought tears, pieces of life that I’ve struggled to recognize as something separate from what I’m defined by… one by one they keep resurfacing. As if something has triggered the remembrance of how all those broken pieces of my life felt.

Because, I don’t know, but it feels like my soul is trying to grieve something. Like a whisper inside me wants me to know that even while I take joy in getting to know my baby, it’s okay to also feel sad about the season of life that has gone. I don’t completely understand why it’s something that I feel a need to grieve, but somehow I have a need to give myself permission to acknowledge that life no longer looks the same way it did that evening when we rolled out onto the road with four occupied seats in the car. It’s okay for both Liesel and I to grieve that our relationship does not have just the same shape as it did before. Grieving the change does not lessen the joy that we have in getting to call Gideon a part of our family.

It does not make us any less grateful for what we have when we acknowledge the grief that we feel.

Because grief and gratefulness do their best work when they join hand in hand.

And our one biggest reason to be grateful took place in death. The cross brought grief and gratitude. How could it bring one without the other?

So we feel grief and we give thanks.

We feel broken grief just as Jesus body was broken and this becomes a gift. With this grief, we get to press our hurting pieces into His death that brought life.

This grief, perhaps it allows us to not simply say words of thanks, but to feel something inside us, a glympse of what Jesus felt, and to remember with the heart inside us, the life that His death has brought us. Maybe when grief and gratefulness join hands in our lives, we get to press into something that is big enough to bear it all.

That life of yesterday that felt like a part of you, it said goodbye. But it couldn’t wait for you finish saying goodbye back. That season where you were a mother of two, it said goodbye and now you remember it all again…

The season when you called Garland home, it said goodbye. The season when that soul you loved was a part of your life, it said goodbye. That season when you were a little girl sitting in front of your dollhouse and life didn’t feel this complicated, it said goodbye. They all felt like part of who you were. And when they said goodbye, shy, awkward and incomplete felt like part of who you were.

It all felt like a war: Feel the grief and hear how incomplete you are, or just try to be grateful enough that you can’t hear the rest of it. It felt like grief versus gratefulness, as if this was your war, as if they were opposites.

But maybe the grief that invites you to feel as the flow of life carries you forward, maybe the grief of insecurity that keeps showing up to remind you what you are not, maybe this is an invitation.

An invitation to know that this war that you feel between grief and gratefulness: this is not the war. The war is against that devil who wants you to think that these two pieces of the cross are separate.

Our call is not to deny the grief, the dark pieces inside us that can feel so incomplete. No, our call is to deny ourselves, but to take up the cross.

The cross of Jesus is the place of grief, where everything that ever said goodbye to us belongs. It’s the place that can bear everything that ever felt like a part of who we are.

I wanted to be enough to hold all the seasons of life without breaking. I wanted to be enough for the ones who parted ways with me. I wanted to be enough to never feel like my personality was shy or incomplete. But that is not what I was made for. Because I was made to know the beautiful glory that happens when all these broken pieces that feel like a part of who I am say goodbye to me and attach themselves to the beautiful cross.

And when I grieve and feel that grief in the presence of Jesus, I acknowledge that I was not enough to hold it all without breaking. When I grieve, I deny that I was ever enough. I cannot move from one life season to another without things cracking inside me. I cannot live this life without feeling incomplete inside. But when God uses that grief to move me… to help me to keep carrying these broken pieces of myself to Jesus and press them into His beautiful cross, everything incomplete in me dies with Him there. And inside His cross, He gives life to me. He takes these broken pieces of me that were pressed with grief into the death of His cross and in His death He presses these pieces all the way through to the life of His cross that shines on the other side. He makes me a part of His own sweet cross of life and here He makes these pieces of me into a new person that is whole. The broken person of me is remade, renamed and found whole inside of this lovely cross.

He never looks to my grief and says it’s too small and unimportant for His cross to carry. He invites it with His Word. “For we who are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus’ sake, so that his life may also be revealed in our mortal body.” (2 Cor. 4:11) And if today wants to bring me grief for all these little things that I cannot carry, these are just more broken pieces of me that will keep being remade inside of that beautiful cross.

When God Paints Portraits with His People

Sun, 12 Nov 2017 07:26:00 GMT

Maybe God can paint portraits not just with a sunset, but with my personality too, when I let Him live through it.

There are those moments. Playing my part, I do it ever so carefully, and, if I really try, I can do it without my mistakes being noticed. Because, well, messing up feels uncomfortable, exposed, like I just showed people that I might not really know exactly what I’m doing.

It feels like the evenings I spent in my little corner at the keyboard. Playing along with the guitars, when our small group of friends sang worship together. I watch my fingers hit the keys and I think on the little insecurities of the moment. I think of the people who do this on a grander scale. In the church auditorium on Sundays when sometimes the distinct way a note is played can be used to stir my soul to my own need. In my own small way, I want to offer my playing to be used that way too. So I try to offer that, and it all comes out messy.

When I sat on that bench, there were really two options. One option was blending in to play the basic chords with no mistakes and very little notice, and the other was to venture with my fingertips up the keyboard and risk wrong notes. The first option is the safest. But the second option opens to the possibility of bringing unique beauty to the hearers through my fingers. One option closes off an opportunity and the other opens to it.

As I played keyboard those Wednesday nights, I hit the notes wrong and I could feel a truth small and simple, a message delivered through my insecurity.

Life can feel just like this.

Sometimes it’s the tiniest pieces of life that feel like the biggest risk, like being willing to play my little part in what’s happening around me, or offering the words of encouragement that my heart wants to give. The words start coming out and suddenly it feels that I’ve ventured up the keyboard away from where I blend in. It’s the whisper to my heart with the remembering of that corner I sat in, inviting me to trust what is true – that He can use me as me.

If I’m honest with myself, I struggle to trust God with my personality more than I like to think. Offering my thought or the words on my heart, it can feel like playing all the wrong notes for everyone to hear.

Maybe God can paint portraits, though, not just with a sunset, but with my personality too – when I let Him live through it. Maybe the awkward things that can come when I open my mouth, maybe they are music to somebody. Maybe they want to be brushstrokes in the beauty God is painting today. I know something happens when people open to the possibility. The room of people seem as if they were blessed in some small, mysterious way, as if maybe the spirit inside one can commune with the spirit inside the rest of us and offer an unspoken joy to us all. Maybe there are secret passageways through personality where a part of us runs through and blesses the other.

I see God shine through a friend’s personality when she says the thing that only she would say, in the way that only she would say it, and it stirs my soul to the sacred healing of something I cannot explain. She said the quirky thing and the words didn’t have to be spiritual, to be used to bless my spirit.

It’s where the mystery whispers hints into our lives and we find it true – Christ in you.

Today for the uncomfortable mystery in the moments we face, may we hear the quiet invitation. Perhaps at times, God calls us to simply trust what He can do with the personality He made in us. And maybe the most beautiful portraits are made by the Artist who made you and me.

New Baby Journal

Thu, 12 Oct 2017 19:58:00 GMT

To spend an evening surrounded by the people you’ve given your heart to, to let the evening glow and listen to the giggles and the singing and snuggle up with your baby in your arms, this is beautiful. And no pain from giving birth or long night with a baby could make these moments any less worth it. Those moments of pain have a beauty of their own.

When my oldest little girl was a baby, that was when shy feelings started becoming something beautiful instead of something ugly I had to run away from. God knew I needed my girlie in my arms. I had always been painfully aware of the “shy girl” inside me, but when I became a mommy, in those first few weeks and months the “shy girl” was all I could see of myself. And it was the ugly wonderful truth of the cross that spoke into my heart through the people God brought me. The truth that was powerful enough to make my ugly postpartum feelings – along with the shy feelings that had been such a large part of my life – so beautiful.

The postpartum, new baby life is what God used to show me my shy feelings as a gift instead of a curse. They were what led me to start writing here. And I’m blessed to experience postpartum life for the third time this October. (Pictures and info about my little Gideon below)

One of the most raw times in life for those small feelings to come are those postpartum days after birth when you are adjusting to the sudden hormonal changes accompanied with the major life changes that come from it all.

The arrival of baby is met after months of anticipation, some of the greatest feelings of anticipation a lifetime can know. All the hoping and waiting is met on a date that is often unknown until it happens and when it does happen the way it all goes is out of your control. There are bound to be numerous unforseen things about the way that day unfolds. And while you always know that the day your babies are born will be in the happiest of your life, nothing can so prepare you for birth, that the joy of the moment does not overwhelm your soul.

All at once, birth can carry with it the weight of joy, the weight of love and the weight of knowing that a life is in your hands. A soul that will last forever is wrapped in skin and placed in your arms for you to give life and nourishment to, for you to train and raise, for you to speak love into as this soul enters a world that is so broken.

And the weeks following can bring you more awareness of your own inability than you have ever known before. While you want to love this child perfectly, and value their needs more than your own, sometimes you don’t. Sometimes you just want to sleep through the night without waking up for your baby. Sometimes you wish you could take a shower without having to worry about whose going to keep the baby safe from big sister. The dependence you are met with can wear on you and you might even wish you were free to jump up and go somewhere without having to feed and change the baby before you leave and be prepared and ready to feed and change the baby again when you get where you’re going. It doesn’t seem like a big deal until you remember how long it can take to feed a newborn baby or how hard and long a newborn can cry and make you want to cry until you feed them.

And sometimes you can feel like the worst mother in the world for even having the wishful thoughts in your head. So inadequate, so insufficient to be all that this baby needs. And, of course, you aren’t sufficient. You were never made to do it on your own. But accepting that can be so hard, so much harder than you think it will be.

And then, that’s just a small piece of the story.

This month I won’t be blogging, but my aim is to journal a little every day, and share those words, with a purpose.

My purpose is to share the small feelings of postpartum life and pray that they lead closer to Jesus.

Because I’ve known a postpartum life that felt so alone and thought I was the only one who felt this.

Because Jesus is able to shine through the dark feelings inside me.

Because I like the idea of having a place online to show up daily and remember that all the feelings inside me can lead me closer to Him.

If you’d like to join me, for the next month or so I’ll be sharing my new baby journal on Instagram under the handle @maggiejanaye and the hashtag #newbabyjournal.

May our small feelings lead us closer to Jesus. For all of us in the messy sweetness of life keep our eyes on You. You give the beautiful imperfections and offer them all as a way to see Your grace. The moments we most want to treasure never look picture perfect, but Your grace is too great for perfect picture frames. Be the Shepherd that guides us on down the broken road to the always unexpected show of how Your grace does its work in our stories. Amen.

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Each of my babies have given me some of the greatest gifts of my life, not only in their own lives but in the gifts God offered to my heart with them in my arms. Such a treasure. Thank you for sharing in the joy with me here. I look forward to sharing more in November.

Here is our little Gideon Harley and my first journal entry after his birth.

“Gideon Harley was born on Tuesday just before 8 pm. I just can’t get over his sweet little face. Having my two little girls, I’ve been a little unsure during pregnancy of what it would be like to mother a son but getting to hold my own little man melts my heart. I’ve only mothered a boy for a few days but it feels beautiful. He has my heart.

He’s been my littlest baby – 7 pounds, 1 ounce at birth and the birth experience I’ve had with him has been so unique to my others. My longest labor. My first c section. The first time Daddy got to hold the baby first. The first time the family got to see baby before I did.

A few minutes after they told Luiz he had to step out of the labor room, the baby and I both went into stress and the c section had to be decided on without Luiz there. They couldn’t get me numb so they chose to put me under and in what seemed like seconds (an hour later) I woke up in a room alone and looked down to see that Baby wasn’t in me anymore. Luiz, Mom and Dad came in to see me and eventually my little guy came. The moment I met him didn’t have the grand newness of birth and I hurt to have not been there in those first few moments but I’m learning to treasure the moment we met as it was. I was told to stay flat on my back and he was laid in the crook of my arm. It’s hard to see a persons face from that angle, especially when you’ve been waiting to see it for months. But we got acquainted in our own little way and it was arranged by the one who knows and cherishes my desires and lays the very best plans still. The moment we met was special as it was.

The past few days I have known a deeper respect for c section mommy’s. When all you want to do is get up and cuddle your baby, it hurts to not be able to get out of bed by yourself. It hurts because you know the mommy you want to be and how can you be that when you can’t even go to the bathroom without help? When your baby is dependent on you, you became nearly as dependent as he is. You get to remember a bit more of what it is to be like a child and maybe while that dependent soil can feel ugly, maybe underneath, it has the nutrients that faith needs to grow.”

Those are some of my first thoughts after having Gideon. Thank you for being a kind listening ear as I step through them without having it all figured out.

This month, as part of my monthly audio series, I’ve sent an email letter on things I want to remember about seasons of waiting. (As September was one of the longest months of my life waiting for baby Gideon’s birth.) Also in that email, I sent the audio file for this month celebrating the ways God has used this waiting season, in its imperfections, to point me to the patience of His Love. If you haven’t received the email and would like to, you can sign up below.

3 Encouragements for Giving Wholehearted When Your Heart Wants to Melt

Thu, 31 Aug 2017 20:48:00 GMT

If you’ve ever just wished that you could offer yourself wholeheartedly but your heart just felt like melting, then I feel like we have so much in common and I’m so glad.

There was a day this month, more like a string of days, when my heart longed to be useful, to feel useful, but mostly all I felt was overwhelmed, falling short, limited, broken.

And in that place, my daughter asked me to read her a story from her children’s Bible. It was the story of the small boy with a small lunch, and for those few moments while I read it, it felt like I was that boy. It felt like Jesus saw all these pieces of my heart and still waited with a loving smile for what I had to give. And the tears came.

So I wrote about it and we made a video. I hope you enjoy it.

In case you’re hard of hearing the transcript for the video is provided at the bottom of this post. Below the video I’ll talk a bit more about those three things I’m still learning from that little boy and you’ll also be invited to five days of letting your heart sit with truth and encouragement as you offer what God has given you.

How do I give wholeheartedly when my heart just wants to melt? Sometimes I think I can never give wholeheartedly as long as my heart feels this way. I forget that the “the Lord is close to the brokenhearted.” (Ps. 34:18)

When we want to give ourselves wholeheartedly but our hearts feel all the things, here is what we can do:

1. Acknowledge the reasons our hearts feel like melting.

We are never more wholehearted than when our hearts are resting in Jesus acknowledging to Him every part of what lies inside. There is no safer place to pour out the depth of our hearts than in His own loving arms. He is the only one who can make good out of every part of what we feel inside us.

When we tell Him what our hearts are feeling, when we tell Him the things in life that overwhelm us, we acknowledge our own weakness and that weakness becomes a tool in His hands. The Bible never tells us to make our hearts invicible, it simply tells us to keep our hearts and to let Him use our weakness. (Pr. 4:23, 2 Cor. 12:9)

2. Give from our melting hearts.

We may not feel it, but we are so wholehearted coming from this place. We don’t have to have hearts that feel strong before He can use us. Because the strength of our heart does not lie in us. It lies in Him. When we don’t feel strong, we are invited to trust Him for the strength and keep on resting in the promise that He is using us.

Even when our hearts feel like they’re melting, by faith His strength holds them together and close to His own heart. Our own usefulness does not depend on our strength.

3. See Jesus meet us in the giving.

Even as we may question ourselves, when we put our eyes on His faithfulness, our trust is not in ourselves, or in any outcome we can see, but in the simple promise that He is moving in our lives. We may not see exactly how He moves, but as we look to Him, He always meets us in the giving.

We look for Jesus in the giving and we become that little boy giving the little offering from our sack. Though our offering is so small, Jesus gives His big smile because while we don’t know just what He will do with it, though we may never even see how He does use it, He assures us with His smile… Yes, you are so useful.

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If these thoughts speak to you, then I’d like to invite you to a personal, five day Bible study. I’ll share some of my own struggles in this and we’ll look at what Scripture says both about giving our offering and about how to keep heart in the ministry of life on this earth as one of His children. As children of God, there are areas where we can start to lose heart in the giving. We’ll look at five ways we can strive to keep heart even as we let our weak hearts rest in the strength of Jesus.

Each of the five days I’ll send you a (free) PDF that includes a short intro video, devotional thoughts, Scripture study and journaling prompts / meditation for your own heart in the offering. You can sign up below if you’d like to be a part. I would LOVE for you to join me.

And whether we are offering ourselves today as parents, friends, creatives, teachers, whether we offer ourselves behind a desk or on a stage, may we all claim it together by the strength of His love, “Having this ministry by the mercy of God, we do not lose heart.” (2 Cor. 4:1)

Video Transcript

There is a crowd surrounding us, a swelling up of people who must surely know they’re purpose in this place. And in the midst of people, we strain to hear the One who leads. We are finding our way in the ocean of possibilities, hoping to stay afloat, our minds drifting and remembering again and again who we are here for in all the mess.

Just one in the world who can be so uncertain, we need one hope to cling to for the noise that swirls around us.

And the leading one holds a dear child close, lifts him up as treasured. What sweet joy to be that one, to be so treasured by him. Yet, the heart of the idea is slapped by a whispering accuser. Perhaps the voice is true. Perhaps my heart does want the praise of all these people. How can I deny that such broken feelings rise inside me?

But when I look up at him, he still gives his gaze my way. Still the smile rests on his face, as he seems to know what’s in my heart. Those eyes don’t look to accuse me, nor do they give one reason to stay away. I look down on what I have to give. Maybe he knows what I hold inside.

Still, I wonder. Still the courage is not inside me, but you, my friend, come close with kindness. You point me on to trust those eyes. A smidge of courage rises in me. And it is not my own. For it was sent through you.

I take a step, clutching the bag in my hand. Ducking through the field of people. For all the assurance my kind-eyed leader seems to give, there are so many calling for his attention.

Seeing a man who knows him stand quiet to the side, I make my way there. As I stand there in the presence of this man, he looks down waiting to see why I have come. My hands tremble to reach for the contents of my bag, for I know they are so small.

With such doubts inside me, I remember your encouragement friend and I look again to the One I’m doing this for. I lift my package and pull it open, to show these two small fish and pieces of bread to the man before me.

The expression on his face seems to be one that has questions too. Yet, he gives a kind smile and takes up my offering. Stepping away from me, he goes on to carry it for me. Beyond the broad shoulders of this man, there is the one who I hope can use my offering. One more time, he gives me the happiest smile I’ve seen from him.

I don’t know what he will do with my offering, but what I do know, is that smile he just gave me makes every part of this story worth it.

For all the broken feelings inside me, for all the ways my offering may be flawed, for every part of my steps to get here that were so imperfect, he treasures me and he treasures my offering.

While we paused in the questions, he already knew how he planned to use our offering. And he waited, without an ounce of judgment on us.

He waits in love for each offering from us. For we are all the little boy with our bits of bread and fish.

Why the Heart of America Still Stands Strong

Tue, 15 Aug 2017 19:52:00 GMT

The following post is something I wrote a couple months ago and never shared. But in light of the events of this past weekend, I pulled it back out. I think it’s a good time to share it. What took place in Charlottesville is heartbreaking and it’s a good time to remember the goodness of what it is to be American. It’s a good time to feel the heart of this country with the heart inside our own skin, and sit in the quiet of how God is using the past weekend in our own lives. For this is where battles are won. May we face the small feelings it meets us with and bring them to the one who is Light.

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Luiz and I were made for each other. We just happened to have different skin colors.

Taking my dad’s arm, we walked to the chapel doors. And when those doors opened to begin a new chapter of life, they opened to a freedom that had been fought for by generation upon generation of Americans who held tight in their hearts to the belief that people of every color, creed and nation were created in the image of God, just the same as they.

Because of God’s grace, lived out in those people, I got to live my wedding day so freely. I walked the aisle of that chapel to take the hands of the one I loved. On that stage, I looked into his eyes and spoke my vows. There was one simple line that I was so proud and grateful to offer in front of so many witnesses. “Your people will be my people.”

The life my husband and I know today would look so different if America had not chosen this. My children’s lives would look so different. I am grateful to over two hundred years worth of a nations people who have lovingly sought to stand on the ground of equality.

As an American, the grace that can work through my one heart is the same as it was in all of those who made the freedom of my wedding day possible.

Prejudice tries to creep in any way it can and it happens with more than just race. It wants us to suspect things about a person simply because of the family they came from, a group they belong to, or a word they said. It wants us to look at any part of them other than the heart inside them that was made just like our own.

My husband was not born here but he is so proud to call himself an American. It is not a perfect country, nor does it’s legacy perfectly exist in every part of it’s soil. But the blemishes will never change the legacy that has been made here, the legacy that gave freedom to the open doors on my wedding day. To be American is to be part of all of this.

To be American is to stand in the beautiful victory already won by the years of battles in so many hearts. To be American is to continue to take up the battle to let God’s love pour through our own hearts to all the wonderfully made people in the world who are just like us.

This is why I still feel like a child

Thu, 03 Aug 2017 20:38:00 GMT

Is there ever a child who does not hear it with the growing of her body? The voice that says her heart is out of place. For do we ever lose the heart we were born with, the one that wants to hold and be held, the one that yearns to love and be loved, the one who gives herself to the world without a thought for how it all comes out.

For all of us living this life, perhaps the child we used to be still lives inside us enabling us to feel this life.

My own life took me from being a high school student one year, to being an adult, a wife and a mother the next. I don’t regret it and I wouldn’t change it, but my soul still feels the sharp turn life took and stands in great need of moments when I can curl up into my child self and say it honestly that I just don’t know exactly what I’m doing and this new road I’m on is still so unfamiliar and just a little daunting sometimes. There is something beautifully comforting in those moments felt in the presence of Jesus.

There was a moment I spent today sitting at the coffee shop when a lady came up to ask for the chair next to me and I began a delighted “How do you do? What’s your name?” conversation only to realize her intention was to take that chair to another table to sit with someone else. And suddenly the child inside me is more alive than it was before, and my heart turns to find comfort in Jesus in a way it hasn’t yet that morning.

Perhaps the secret of growing up is not in being more adult-like but in staying awake to the child inside you that enables you to feel the whole process. Because there is something about feeling this life before Jesus that can bring his presence into a place.

A child’s heart is beautiful.

My Amayah, she gives herself honest and beautiful. She is cautious with her stare that observes and does not try to impress. She will not fake a smile or a kind word. No, she will watch until she’s ready, but when that smile does break through, when those words of love come out her mouth they are pure gold, for there is no question that they were meant from the bottom of the little heart inside her.

My Liesel, she meets the world so open-hearted. When she gives her love, she gives it so freely. She hurts deeply for the moment Mommy is not there to hug her just when she needs it. She has no ounce of hesitation to run into our arms when the broken world has hurt her. Embarrassment plays no part in the times she cries out in need of comfort. And the open desire she comes with makes her little life so beautiful.

And my Gideon, he is still in my womb being nourished inside me, and no doubt he has no shame in the constant dependence he lives with. And yet his little life is being used in the world even as an unborn child, because God is always using the child’s heart no matter how small it is.

The world will make us think we must lose our child’s heart that hurts and cries and feels the imperfections of this world so deeply. But, the opposite is true. For the greatest secret of this life we’re given is to never lose our one child’s heart. Never is the tender pain inside us not worth it, for this is where we love, this is where we are loved.

One child’s heart is what we have with which to know and give love. One child’s heart is all we have to know the sweetness of the relationships we find here on this earth. One child’s heart is the gift we are given to receive the love and grace of Jesus that fills every hurt and flaw inside us. May we not despise the child inside us, for this heart we are given is beautiful and every hurting moment is a gift, an empty vessel we are given with which to receive more of Jesus and bring more of him into the hurting world.

Remarkable Faith (A Book Review)

Wed, 19 Jul 2017 17:36:00 GMT

Where I am a sheep and my Shepherd seems to call me down a path…

I follow Him, looking desperately for assurance of the sight of His feet ahead of me. I catch an occasional glimpse of His sandals lifting from the dirt, sometimes I can even hear His staff as it falls to the ground. I ache to see His leading with crystal clarity.

Sometimes I wonder if I really did see Him there ahead of me. Sometimes I even pause in following Him because I’m afraid to trust that it really was Him, afraid I’m getting it all wrong…

He is faithful to give me assurance on the path – a loving pat, a quiet whistle – but sometimes in the fog of everything surrounding me, I’m afraid to trust that it really was Him.

The doubts that want to rise in me call out their questions. What if this is the wrong way? What if you’re way off the path? What if what you’re following isn’t Him, but something that will only lead you into trouble? What if you misheard Him? What if when you get where He seems to be calling you, He won’t be there to meet you?

These questions had been calling out to me for weeks when I began to read the pages of Shauna’s book.

I wasn’t met with someone who told me I was ridiculous for feeling these questions. Shauna didn’t even tell me that I should go on as if I had never heard them.

She simply showed me broken people in the Bible who heard these questions too, broken people who encountered Jesus face to face. And when they met Jesus with their questions, He wasn’t disappointed. Rather, He marveled at their faith.

He didn’t tell them what failures they were for pausing at the sound of the question. He didn’t tell them to ignore the questions and get with it in following Him with haste. Jesus found value in them. Found value in the fact that they felt the questions and yet, continued on in their broken state…

Jesus valued that they longed for Him so earnestly, valued that they were well aware how broken and sinful they were. He honored their doubts, almost as if those doubts played a major part in their faith.

Shauna’s words bring tears of healing to my heart. For I had felt guilty for listening to these questions. For my guilt, she simply shows truth through moments from Jesus’ life.

“Remarkable faith is the braided strands of doubt, hope and wonder.” – Shauna

Her book fills me up with Jesus’ love as she looks so closely at His words and actions towards the doubts of the people He met. With eight stories from the Bible, she draws me into His grace. And with words of hope she points me on down the path. The questions of doubt will come. Sometimes I’ll wonder about the path. But He is still the One I continue on for, the One who loves me in my questions and values my weak faith. He is my hope. He is why I have faith.

“Refuse to be ashamed if you come to Jesus with questions and doubts, wondering if he can and if he will. It is not always for us to know the how, the why, or the when of his work. The fact that we seek him, with questions swirling about our hearts, is evidence of the seeds of faith planted and waking up in the fertile soil of trials and trouble.” – Shauna

Shauna Letellier’s book has been such a blessing to me and I’ve so enjoyed the gift of being acquainted with such a kind writer.

I pray you’ll be met with the blessing of her words yourself. Perhaps you have a friend who would be blessed by them as well.

You can find her book through the link below and you can read more of her words by clicking here.

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When You Need to be Needed

Thu, 13 Jul 2017 21:11:00 GMT

We all need to know we’re needed and when we don’t feel it from someone we love, it can get to us in the most tenderly painful way. It happens in grown people and babies alike.

It’s such a gift to see the useless feeling in another human being and know we’re not alone, especially in the vulnerable tears of a baby.

My toddler likes to insist on keeping her own little responsibilities at home. Especially when it involves something small and simple that she can do all her own, like throwing away mommy’s trash.

I changed her diaper one afternoon and when big sister took her job of trashing the diaper, she threw herself on the floor with the biggest tears. Her job that made her feel so important and useful to me was gone and she wasn’t able to offer her help to me the way she hoped to.

I saw her crying on the floor and while normally I would have been frustrated that she reacted so dramatically to something so small, that day I could relate to exactly what was happening inside her heart. I wanted to feel needed too…

That morning, with an earnest longing inside me, the question had found a place in my heart. God, do you need me? How can I truly believe that I matter to You if You’re so self-sufficient that You have no need?

I wanted to find healing from my hurts and look at the ways I mattered, the ways I was needed. For how can I matter if I am not needed?

That day God showed up for me in the tears of my little girl. Her tears spoke truth to my heart that I needed to see and feel, not just hear in words.

I spoke over my little girl who she was to me, and God spoke over me who I am to Him.

If this topic speaks to you, I think you’ll enjoy hearing this month’s audio story in the “Notes to my Shy Self” series. I hope you’ll take a few minutes to listen.

If you’re already subscribed to the series you’ll receive the audio in your email just as before or you can sign up below.

Where Truth is More Than Words

Sun, 04 Jun 2017 20:42:00 GMT

Eliab had harsh anger stirring his heart when he spoke the words to David.

“Why have you come down? And with whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? I know your presumption and the evil of your heart, for you have come down to see the battle.” (1 Sm. 17:28)

Pastor Jeff read the old story of David and the giant his last Sunday preaching for us, and this was the verse that got my attention. Eliab speaks just like the voice in my head.

Take one step toward the giant, and though you lifted your foot to take that step in faith that God could use even you, by the time you set that foot down, your enemy hurls these same thoughts at you.

Why have you come down? He questions your importance and the value of who you are to take that step.

With whom have you left those few sheep in the wilderness? He identifies your role as small and unimportant and accuses you of failing to be responsible even in that role.

I know your presumption and the evil of your heart… He accuses you of taking that step with a heart of wrong motives that only wants recognition for yourself.

For you have come down to see the battle. He finds a specific accusation to try to dig his foot into, even a weak spot where you have struggled with desire before.

Yet, met with these accusations that can tear people apart, David met his brother with a few short words and continued on in the same determination. Though he was called conceited, David pressed on to ensure that this giant who challenged God’s people would see the power of the God he was fighting against.

What makes a heart so confident in the belief that He will be used by God?

David’s legacy has lived on most in those dozens of prayers found in the psalms. A man of honest, heartfelt prayer, David let his feelings pour out before the Lord. He prayed his anguish and his hatred and his brokenness. And his prayers always brought him to knowing the place he truly stood before his God.

He prayed his feelings… “For evils have encompassed me beyond number; my iniquities have overtaken me and I cannot see; they are more than the hairs on my head; my heart fails me.” (Psalm 40:12)

He lets the feelings pour out before the Lord, and as he pours them out God meets David with hope in his very own words of prayer… “As for me, I am poor and needy, but the Lord takes thought for me. You are my help and my deliverer; do not delay, O my God!” (Psalm 40:17)

Just a few lines after giving his honest plea from his heart that feels so broken, those feelings have led him through that sweet communion to the truth God had for him to treasure in that moment.

May we know, just as David, that these feelings are not unwanted in God’s presence but welcome. May we bring the feelings so often to God that we are rooted in the truth of who we are even as the enemy throws those accusation at us.

In prayer, God teaches us to not just hear and know truth, but to feel it with our hearts.

Truth becomes more than words, as we pray from the feelings inside us. As we pray each unimportant feeling, He fills that place inside us with the confidence of who we are in Him. As we pray our useless thoughts, He meets us there and lets us know inside our hearts that we are useful.

In prayer, we do not just know, but we can feel the truth of this…

I am His valuable bearer of fruit right here, right now.

The role He has given me to play is an essential part of His kingdom, and He calls me faithful.

The imperfect steps I take to offer what I can are the sweetest of offerings in His presence.

My past mistakes are not a hindrance to His ability to use me; it only makes his light shine more brilliant through my darkness.

Teach us to pray as David, that we may feel with You through our hearts, all the way to the heart-deep hope You store for us there.

When life asks us who we are: An Offering

Thu, 25 May 2017 21:55:00 GMT

Life has its ups and downs and the downs can have a curious way of getting our attention. Sometimes it starts with a life-shaking circumstance, but more often it’s much smaller than that. The feelings find us when we’re doing life happy, sure that nothing can deter us. Out of the big world around us, they surprise us with thoughts that make us feel a need to pause. They ask us if we really are doing this right, if there’s something wrong with us. At least that’s how it happens in my world. Maybe you know those times too.

I was in that place the evening it happened. Coming from such a great day, I sat with a group of women. Feeling an urge to reach out to the one on my right, I tried to make a connection. Once then twice, I tried. But the first time, right as I opened my mouth she had a sneeze attack that required a search for tissues. Then again after that settled, I spoke up at the same moment as the lady on the other side of her who had a louder, more noticeable voice than mine. Then the tide of the room changed.

In the midst of group conversation, she opened up deeply and shared some hard hurts and criticisms she had been dealing with. She was trying so hard to do what was best and felt so much criticism from the people she loved. I wanted even more to connect and offer what I could to encourage her. I had to let her know that I believed her, that though there were so many ways people could judge, I knew she was simply trying to do the best she could.

When the conversation quieted down, I reached for her arm and gave her the first words that came to mind. It felt a little awkward coming out, but I offered what I had to give. Though she didn’t quite know what to say in response, she was kind. She walked to the other side of the room to grab something after that. And though we were in the same room the rest of the evening, we didn’t speak any more to each other that day.

It was such a small encounter, and she didn’t do anything wrong or unkind, but that night I felt so many questions rise up in my heart. What did I say wrong? Why do I have so much trouble connecting with people? What’s wrong with me? Why do I always say things at the wrong times and in such awkward ways? Why do I have to be so quiet? I felt like I was failing so much to be useful to my God and I ended up traveling through the memories of some of my most inadequate moments and some of my worst failures…

Maybe you’ve had interactions that felt so similar, that made you feel your own questions and travel down your own memories. Maybe you can relate, and if you can I have something I’d like to offer you in the best way I can right now.

The encounter I had that night ended up being such a sweet journey. It led me through the crushing I felt and to a place of looking up where I shed so many grateful tears for what I could see because of it all. I’d love to live it with you more than just what I can say in a blog post.

With the help of my husband’s audio work and his beautiful guitar picking, I’d like to speak these next words to you, to tell this story in another way that will help you feel the beauty of it more closely.

I hope you can listen to these four minutes with your cup of coffee or your morning walk… whatever your quiet moments look like. And I hope they speak sweet love into your heart for the moments that felt as if they wanted to threaten who you are.

To receive the audio in your email, simply scroll through the next picture and sign up below.

Love and grace to you sweet friend,
Maggie

P. S. This is the first in a monthly audio series. By signing up you will receive this audio as well as one audio in your email each month. You may unsubscribe at any time. I respect your privacy and will never share your email. By signing up you are offering your support for my writing in a non-monetary way and I so appreciate your sweet encouragement.

When life hurts: the binding secret

Mon, 01 May 2017 16:06:00 GMT

Sometimes an old pain echoes back through my mind. Sometimes I want to bring out my claws and growl and let the hurt rebound out from me to cause more hurt. It can feel that to put down my claws is to say that nothing unjust happened to the people I care about at all. It can feel that to not fight back is to give up on the hurting people the situation still represents to me.

Yesterday, the question of my heart was “how?” How can I carry a burden for a group of people without carrying bitterness for those who can appear to stand against that same group?

I couldn’t sleep last night and two words kept singing to my heart… love believes…

Bitterness cannot live towards a person when you are believing in the beautiful creation they are. Love believes all things, hopes all things, endures all things. (1 Cor. 13:7) When we love our neighbor we believe they are created in the same image that we are. We believe in the image of God inside them.

The question posed back to my heart today… Even more than carrying your burden, do you carry the love of Christ for the people who may not share that burden at all? Do you believe in them?

We are all people who are broken and make mistakes. Yet, we are also all people who seek to be honest, who want to give the best to our families, who want to play a useful part in this world. While that desire may not be apparent in every life, I believe that somewhere in the heart it’s what every soul wants. We are all people who are fearfully and wonderfully made. We are people who are made in the image of the same God of love. (Gen. 1:27)

We have different ideas, different views and faiths, different cultural identity, different pasts, different personalities but we are all more alike than we are different. Love sees his neighbor and love believes. Love sees that you’re the same more than it sees that you are different. And when love does see where you are different, love doesn’t see a threat, love sees someone searching for the same place that it has searched for – the same place where you are known and loved and welcome.

Love looks at his neighbor, whatever life he may come from and says you are just like me. Whatever differences stand between you love believes and love sees someone just like them.

Isn’t that the encouragement we all look for to help us live the life we’re made for? I think it’s what we all want. For someone to care to step into our world against all odds and say ‘Friend, I believe in the work being done in you.’

It’s so easy to see the things that divide and hardly notice the things that bind, when the binding part is what we need.

When I see the dividing lines first, I feel rejected and the insecurities rise. And from that place, love is hard to welcome. But with eyes on Jesus, I see the One who binds with His own life, and from there my eyes open to the binding all around me.

From His own binding, flows the love that believes and binds across the differences and we find ourselves seeing each other the way we want to be seen – with the identity we were created for.

So today, may we keep our eyes on the One who believed in us enough to die for us and bind our own wounds and from this place, love will flow and create binding places in this broken world. Love will flow out from us as we believe in the ones around us just as the Savior has believed in us.

Love believes. And the believing binds what once was broken.

When you wonder why you’re made that way

Sat, 22 Apr 2017 16:22:00 GMT

Sometimes my prayers look like questions. When I feel like I could be more useful as the girl who could connect with people deeply and quickly, but no matter how I try it doesn’t seem that is the person He made me. When I want genuine conversations to be a normal part of life but instead they come slowly and take much more time. Sometimes the prayer is why did you make me this way?

I’m glad to read about Moses who only stood before Pharoah with his brother to speak for him, and I’m thankful for Paul who wrote strongly in letters, but trembled to speak in person. It’s beautiful to have a Bible that shows me God using all kinds of people with all different personalities to carry out the story of His kingdom.

And this past weekend, the scene of the cross brought me here, where believers played purposeful roles in this story that took on all different forms.

Peter was passionate. He was rebuked for wounding a soldier. And after fighting for his Lord, he hid in the shadows and denied knowing him. We don’t know just where he is when his Lord is on the cross, only that he is remorseful of the person he’s been during these hours. And three days later, when told the tomb is empty, Peter is the slow runner who bounds straight into the empty tomb of Jesus. He is the one abandoning ship and diving into the water when he sees Jesus on the beach.

Mary Magdalene valued presence. She is one who stands there at his death. She valued presence in His last moments. She valued what she could offer his dead body. When she saw the empty tomb, she ran to the ones who would care, then she came back to the tomb. She was the first to see her Lord risen. Though by his direction, she had to go on without his embrace.

The thief was the one who stepped into heaven as the empty-handed criminal who had no good works to his name. He died next to Jesus on the cross and asked simply to be remembered. And for two thousand years, his simple story has been one that testifies to some of the sweetest mercies of Jesus and brought so many lost souls to the cross themselves.

Thomas was the doubter. Again we don’t know just where he was when Jesus was on the cross, though we know he was one of the twelve who were closest to Jesus. And after Jesus rose and witnesses testified, he said he would not believe unless he had the physical proof of Jesus standing before him and could touch the scars in his hands and side. Because of Thomas, we see the mercy and love Jesus showed to a doubter.

Nicodemus had been a Pharisee who had visited with Jesus in the dark of the night. And though he had been one in the group that had it all wrong with their rules and religion, he loved the Lord and he was there to tend to his body after he died. The man who had first given his life to rules denying grace, now came to the body of the one who gave his life so even he could know that grace.

Joseph of Arimathea had been a believer in secret. His love of Jesus was not something many knew about, but at the death of Jesus he came forward and asked for the body. And he provided his own tomb as a resting place for the body of his Lord. Though he had been so private about his faith, he played a major role in this story. His own tomb was where the resurrection happened.

John, the disciple that Jesus loved, was the only apostle we see in the Bible being there at the feet of Jesus at his death. He was by his side at his last supper, one of the ones closest to him during Jesus’ prayer in the garden. With the rest, John had fallen asleep when Jesus told him to watch. With the rest, John fled when Jesus was arrested, but at the cross he was there. He was addressed by Jesus from the tree, entrusted with the care of Jesus’ mother. At the scene of the tomb, John was the fast runner who arrived at the tomb before Peter and stopped in his tracks at the site of the empty tomb.

Mary was the mother watching the torturous death of her own son, watching the very body that was formed and nourished from her own be destroyed. The heart of her own heart beat it’s last before her very own eyes and she lost the son that was promised her as a young girl. She was the confused mother, who didn’t know how to understand the promises of God right now when her son was supposed to be the Savior. In Jesus’ dying moments, some of His last words, he reached out to make sure she was cared for.

The death and resurrection shows us Jesus loving people from all walks of life. Both the lowest of the low, and the one who had been highly esteemed for all the wrong reasons. Both the ones who failed Jesus again and again, and the ones who were there by him the most. The one who doubted, the one who denied him, and the one who had followed him in secret, they all played a role in making the story what it is.

And no matter who we are, what kind of role we play in this life today, He gives every child the joy of being a part of His kingdom in their own special way. He uses the failures, the insecurities, the personalities, the love of each and every one of His children and He treasures them as they are. He receives love from each of us given in the way we know how to give it and He values and redeems each and every part.

Life is not an impossible climb

Fri, 17 Mar 2017 01:59:00 GMT

I think I was fourteen. She was pointed out as a such a strong Christian who did so much for Christ, who heard God’s voice, who followed His lead. While I wanted so much to be like her, somehow, I felt so small inside.

A year or so later, a girl I knew asked me if I had ever heard God’s voice. I didn’t really know how to answer that. I was afraid to say no because perhaps that would make me less of a Christian. So I answered yes. Yes, I had.

Not long after that, I sat with a friend and expressed what was, in my mind, my concern over some girls I knew, but deep down I knew the words came from a place in my heart that I didn’t want anyone to see.

I wanted to be what they all called a strong Christian but more than seeking the God who is Love, I was afraid, afraid I could not live up to the expectations. So often, more than Love, I had fear.

I didn’t want to give in to the idea that I didn’t have what it takes to be a spiritually strong person. The idea scared me and I fought against it with Bible reading, and ministry opportunities. I gave my greatest effort to fighting against this fear of mine.

And as I kept fighting it, instead of feeling better about my own spiritual condition, I only felt smaller and more afraid that people were going to see through me.

Friendships, marriage and motherhood brought me face to face with my inability to be strong. One thing they taught me was how much I could hurt people. And it felt like I had no choice but to give in. Maybe I never could be strong spiritually. Maybe life is designed to point us here.

Because we are not made to live as people who fight to hold a spiritual state. We are people made to be free, made to freely delight in the graceful One who delights in us and calls us His own beautiful sons and daughters.

We are made for this… “Blessed are those who recognize they are spiritually helpless. The kingdom of heaven belongs to them.” (Mt. 5:3, GWT)

Maybe we can delight in Him most freely, maybe we can enjoy fellowship with each other most freely, from this place where we see that we are all spiritually poor people who get to receive the gift of being His and being used of Him in each small, unique way He chooses to use us.

Maybe it’s not as much about how much of my Bible I read, but more about my soul desperately longing to hear the truth of it’s words because I am in need.

Maybe it’s not as much about ministries people see me involved in but about my heart desiring to work in step with the Spirit because this is what I was made for, whether it be in the quiet of my home or with my children at the library or in the home of the neighbor down the street.

Maybe it’s not about climbing a spiritual ladder, but about finding anew each day that I am more and more in need so there is more space in the soul to receive more and more grace.

And the one ladder I know of in the Bible that went from man to God, did not involve the man Jacob climbing up to God, rather it involved God pouring blessings of promise down on Jacob. It was not a ladder that was climbed by man, but one that man stayed at the foot of to receive from God. (Genesis 28)

Maybe the point of us here on earth is not to climb a ladder towards our God, but to receive the graceful place where we know we only fail at climbing the ladder and He says He’ll climb it for us. Where we don’t try to climb any longer, but sit at the bottom of it all and receive grace from the hand of God.

Life is not an impossible climb.

Life is a journey of receiving the grace that Jesus made the climb for us.

And the small feelings that I thought were foe point me to this sweet place, where grace is not something I have to strive to give enough of, but something that I need most to receive. For when a soul is filled with how very much she has been given, that grace overflows in her and multiplies beyond the one, and on to the ones she sits with.

How Pocahontas helps me see grace in confusion

Wed, 08 Feb 2017 23:54:00 GMT

My Amayah and I watched Pocahontas together this week. I hadn’t seen it since I was a child. But watching it with her touched some of the deepest places inside me. To me, the movie spoke to so many aspects of my own heart.

Growing up in one culture of people, and loving someone from another, brings all kinds of feelings to me as I try to make sense of life in all of it. Perhaps we all know these feelings in a way. Perhaps, whether it has to do with skin color or not, perhaps we all experience the confusion of seeing life from one place, then seeing it from another and struggling to make these very different things we’ve seen make sense in our hearts.

Whether or not the Pocahontas movie is historically accurate, I love it for telling the story it tells. When John Smith, in love with Pocahontas, accidentally calls her people savages to her face, it tells true stories of people loving each other beyond the fears that have kept them apart. When his friends believe that her kind is not trustworthy and when her father worries that his people are not trustworthy, they are really both friendly people who want the best for their families. They can’t get along because they are afraid the people with different skin mean them harm, when really they are so much more alike on the inside than they know. When Pocahontas and John Smith find their people at odds with each other, they are find confusion in their story. Pocahontas struggles with doubting herself. But when an act of her love spreads peace in a time of division, it finds me where I am.
I do find myself confused by my story. Trying to see the world as someone who grew up one way and deeply loves someone who grew up another way, makes the constant struggle for peace between peoples bring that much more ache to my soul. Seeing the world through so many stages of life, can try the soul, no matter who you are or what your story is.
Sometimes my heart aches to find the end of confusion, and I want it all to look as simple as when I had only seen it from one point of view. But I would not trade the beauty of the love I have known for all the simplicity in the world…

And the truth spoken through John captures me today. “There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear.” (1 John 4:18)

A lack of peace is always caused by fear. And it is love that breaks that fear.
When Pocahontas threw herself in front of the weapon meant for John Smith, love broke fear in the hearts of so many witnesses. The story that day was changed by love.
When Jesus took the shame of our worst darkness, love broke fear in the greatest way, changing our own stories. And love breaks fear every time we give on the love He gave us.
And the story is confusing sometimes, but it doesn’t have to make sense to be a part of the beautiful love I’ve been given. And the thing that confused me becomes something that breaks fear in my heart and by grace on from there.
Even when it is confusing, sharing the story is sharing the love. I can testify to the times people have shared their story with me in confusion and in doing so they poured love into me.
For my own story, watching Pocahontas makes me remember what a blessing I experience in my own love story. It makes me want to say thank you. This country has been one that intends to strive for the equality of people. And there have been so many triumphs. We have walked away from slavery. People from all different backgrounds and cultures can vote today and be voted into office, actions that flow from beautiful triumphs. Different races now share the same schools and bathrooms. In 1958, Richard and Mildred Loving were thrown in jail for the “crime” of getting married across cultures. And today just fifty-nine years later, my husband and I are blessed to enjoy our own union at no threat of the law.
Today, even though it can take on so many differing forms, we see Americans from all viewpoints striving for equality. So many Americans strive for equality of the unborn. So many Americans strive for equality of immigrants and refugees. So many Americans strive for equality of the belittled and underprivileged. And with grace and love that carries beyond what our own eyes can see, Americans can strive for equality of all.
On the inside we are all in the same image, with the same feelings, the same struggle with fear, the same longing for love. We are made able to see each other with love, no matter what differences stand between us, and we continue to strive for that love.
We may be confused by the story, it may make us feel so many doubts and questions, but may we befriend the way it feels in the presence of Christ and tell the story still. This is grace: we do not have to understand everything about our stories, in order for God to use the sharing of them. When we share the story God is authoring in us, we share the love we’ve been given – love that breaks fear.

Even in a Whisper: For souls who thrive in the quiet music of God’s glory

Sun, 15 Jan 2017 22:37:00 GMT

My soul thrives in the smallest whispers of glory, in stories told by grandpa and the rag doll grandma made, in a friend who gave their lunch hour to sit with me, in conversations that may not sound revolutionary, may even sound insignificant, but are spoken with grace and love.

These whispers can sing a sweet music to my soul that a shout doesn’t do.

And these same whispers are what my soul thrives in singing itself.

But when the loud shout of it all is what I hear, something in my soul hears so many questions. Where the world feels as if it sings it all in wonder, the heart inside me feels a silent joy that wants to wait in the whisper. The questions that come in the waiting ask why the shout doesn’t sing the same song in my soul. They ask what’s wrong when I don’t thrive in the shout as so many others seem to do. I want to sing the glory of this moment too; the shouts look so normal. I can find a quiet rejoicing knowing others are blessed by the shouts, but I need to hear the whisper…

Today, in cups of coffee, in new kittens and old screen doors the moments whisper to my soul the sweet reminding truth that speaks grace to me. That maybe I struggle to remember we’re all made differently.

These questions felt as they are, teach me things about myself, about how I was made. Without them the whispers wouldn’t be on my mind today. Without them I wouldn’t hear the voice that tells me where God places me right now.

Maybe the moments where my soul feels out of place, are the voice of God telling me where He has made my place…

Where perhaps He’s here whispering a message I truly need. That people I love will thrive in the shouts and I may not always understand, but God has them where He has them and His story is good and these people are beautifully made by Him.

When I don’t feel like I can join in the shouts with the people I love, that is fine and good. For today, my place is finding beauty in the quiet and speaking God’s glory in the quiet myself. I can trust that this place is good, that there are other’s like me who hear the beauty in the quiet too. Maybe you are one of them and we need each other to be okay in the quiet because in some of us, this is where God speaks the words that reach to hearts, from me to you and you to me.

So today, when life makes us feel small, we will listen for the whisper speaking through. We will live the small words and the tiny steps that the Spirit wants to give through us in our own little way. There is a reason He wants to say it in us. There is a grand purpose behind the whipser that we cannot see. But we can trust that it’s there.

His power works best in weakness. When I can’t see it, I can trust the promise that is so empowering. His power works mightily even in my quiet personality, even in my flaws, even in my quirks. When I can’t see it, by faith through grace, his power flows through even me. Even in a whisper.

P.S. When I think of God working mightily through whispers, I think of my grandparents who both went home to Jesus this past year. I have paired my words with pictures of their home. I hope the whispers of glory lived there sing some grace to your heart as they do so beautifully to mine.

When truth is but a candle

Thu, 29 Dec 2016 20:57:00 GMT

Truth stands bold and small, a candle lit at the feet.

It bids the one its offered to follow its humble but trusty light that knows the path. Because Truth is the Way is the Life that gave first breath in a cattle stall. The Life that walked the path that knows struggle and victory, hardship and peace, bitter disappointment and unfailing hope.

His life is the gift that lights the candle at our feet, lays hope before our broken steps.

As sure as the candle stands, the questions come back to my head. I look down at my candle and I am distressed that I can’t see the road far ahead of me.

I look down at my candle and I feel fear to follow it’s light in a direction that I don’t know how to explain to the world around me.

I follow it’s light down paths that feel sublime and paths that feel wounding and paths that I cannot understand.

When it hurts, I struggle to process the pain. I wonder how I should feel, and what to do when I don’t have an answer for what to do with all the feelings. It’s hard to embrace the gift of this next step. And when it’s wonderful, I struggle to receive the gift without feeling guilty for receiving something so good.

I try to filter my candle’s light, and I struggle to embrace it’s gift.

It was just before Thanksgiving when the Wilson’s showed up at the farm to meet a need we had. When my first reaction was guilt to receive their gift, it showed on my face and I struggled with what to say. And Mr. Wilson, told me straight, he wasn’t doing this to make me sad.

His words hit something inside me that went further than that day. If each step the candle lights for me is a gift lived for me by the Jesus I worship this Christmas, perhaps each step is given to be embraced. Perhaps He desires for me to really embrace the gift of these steps and not be so concerned with trying to filter the way I feel about each one.

To receive the steps of life that bring joy with abandoned celebration and to receive the steps of life that bring pain with abandoned grief. For it’s the raw feelings of these moments that give us the gift inside them and point to the God who alone makes each of them a beautiful gift.

With the changes of my year that have scratched on old wounds, the death of my grandma this summer, my cousin this November, my grandpa this Christmas, I have had a need. And trying to push pain out of my heart feels like trying to push God out of my heart. This year, meeting God means meeting the pain of these steps and letting them sit raw in my heart for all the gift God wants to give me.

And some of the truest beauty on earth may just live in the moments where life is received like a child who takes it raw and open and honest, where Job fell on his face and David tore his clothes and Ruth lifted up her voice to weep and Jesus was in so much “anguish” before his crucifixion that his sweat was like great drops of blood. (Job 1:20, 2 Samuel 13:31, Ruth 1:9, Luke 22:44)

We are made by a God who grieves and is angry and maybe we forget what image we were created in. (Gen. 6:6, Deut. 32:21, Gen. 1:27)

In a culture that may frown on outbursts of emotion, I quickly forget the beauty in the raw feeling of the moments I’m gifted.

This raw embracing of the step my candle offers, without seeing the whole path that it’s leading me down, makes me feel cracked and broken sometimes, like I am less than enough. And that is the beauty of it.

The Gospel comes to us wrapped in stables and mangers, cow dung and animal feed.

And brokenness is the stable through which He tells the story in you and me.

Good News is spoken through us in humble wrappings, in insecurities and pain, and when I don’t keep my composure, when I know I don’t have it all together, something beautiful happens. My own strength that never can measure up is released and His own strength carries me.

It’s how He wraps Gospel in us. It’s always wrapped best in weakness. No, my candle does not call me to despair or to anything less than hope, but as I embrace the steps it lights in front of me, I am revealed as weak and struggling and He is revealed as strong.

What a beautiful gift to embrace each step, feelings felt and lifted up to the Father who carefully takes these most broken pieces of ours to wrap His most beautiful gift.

When you want a map for the path through hurt

Sun, 04 Dec 2016 20:33:00 GMT

There are hurts in life that are hard to put a finger on. It’s hard to explain them to a friend, hard to make sense of them in your own heart, and hard to learn to bring them to the God who authors the story and cares to hold the hurting heart.

Maybe it’s the loss of someone you love. Maybe it’s your own inadequacies to meet the needs around you. Maybe it’s the discovery of waking up in a world that is different than you thought it was. Maybe it’s a big life change that leaves you unsure of how to find your footing again. Maybe it’s past rejections that you still don’t know how to move on from. Maybe it’s things in life that bring back painful memories that you just don’t know what to do with. Maybe it’s many of these things combined that make life look and feel foggy. Maybe the filter that you’ve learned to experience life through feels a little dusty. If you’re there, you’re in good company, because I’m right there with you, and I’ve been trying to write through it for weeks.

Maybe you need time to dust off the filter, whatever that means for you right now, but it seems the time is scarce and there’s Christmas lists and people to care for and work to be done and laundry to do. And distractions too, lots of distractions that can numb it all for a little while.

Because there’s a desire to just move on and then there’s a questioning how. I like to try to patch my hurt right up, but patching isn’t always what my hurts need. Hurts come with so many questions, and when I patch the hurt I try to shove the questions right back in that little place they came from. That can feel smart because really, I don’t have the answers to all of these questions, and the inability to answer them can really put a sting in my heart. On the other hand, somewhere there’s a burning knowledge in my soul that those questions are there for a reason and that they are each sent to me to deliver a gift to my soul. There’s a need to let the questions come, because though they are hard, though they try me, though they burn things that have sat in my heart for years, they are sanctifying and they are gift.

Cousin Kenneth spoke it at Janie’s funeral this weekend. “God is here with us, He is weeping, mourning, and hurting with us in this time and place. He is here and He is encountering it all with His love, His grace, and His mercy… How do we move forward? We let ALL of these emotions, all of them, transform us, knowing that God is in control and that He is here with us.”

He spoke the reminding words that Jesus wept when death happend, Jesus threw tables at the sin in His Father’s house, and Jesus knew the feeling of being forsaken by God when He was at deaths door.

I have spent weeks looking for the answer to a question that I’m not really sure how to ask. How do I refuse to patch, how do I sit with the hard questions and be honest with them without giving in to the hurt they make me feel. How do I honestly feel the pain in my soul that I don’t even know how to put words to without giving up hope? How do I embrace the gift of all of the emotions while holding on to the love my God has shown me. What do the dark things I feel have to do with the God who I am loved by. How do I embrace the gift of them both simultaneously?

I’ve wondered if there’s some strange secret, some curious set of brain waves to travel to get to the end of hurt, some near magical combination of thoughts to reach all the way through the hurt and find the way through to the other side. No one has ever given me any secret recipe for that.

One thing Janie’s funeral is still teaching me in a way I haven’t learned it before, is that there is not a secret path for me to walk through the hurts of life; instead there is something much better. There is One who has already walked that path for me and has given me His own life to claim as mine. Because of the Gospel, I am loved as the child of the One, holding the hand of the One, filled with the Spirit of the One, who has already walked the hard path that all these questions take me on. He doesn’t give me the complicated roadmap all the way through a life of hurt and leave it to me to find my way through. He gives me something I can handle. He holds the roadmap for this path He has already walked through and He gives me this gift. I can boldly speak all the dark feelings at the foot of His cross where I am loved beyond measure and He tenderly lifts my foot in His own power to take that next step in front of me. Just one step at a time, as a beloved child of God, I walk through a world that hurts, by the power of the faithful love and victorious grace of my Lord and Savior Jesus Christ.

When I Am Shy: On the journey of learning that I am free to love

Thu, 27 Oct 2016 12:28:00 GMT

There is a longing in my soul to be independent and responsible, and there is another longing to be okay with being needy.

There is a longing to do all the things right and there is another longing to avoid being the people pleaser.

There is a longing to serve but sometimes that comes out of a longing to be loved for my serving.

I don’t know how many people can identify with these shy struggles, but I have a hunch someone can and I know for myself that when I see myself in another person’s struggles it gives me a strange encouragement to know that there are others fighting the same struggles with me. So as much as I can feel like my mental process is such a complicated mess to try to share, connecting with people over the shy stuff of life is where I feel called so I’ll just keep writing and trust that it’s useful.

I’m a people pleaser who likes to drive in reverse. I just mean that I often do whatever I can to keep people from thinking that I’d really like for them to like me. And so, in a roundabout way, I end up being a people pleaser who weighs in on the other end of the scale.

Last week I had the urge to tell someone that their words were a huge encouragement to me, but before I let those words come out, I stopped myself because I was afraid that I was saying that just to try to please them, or maybe I was just afraid that they would think that. I do that more often than I like to say and let the fear that people will think I’m a people pleaser drive what I say and do. Somewhere along the way, I developed such a fear of being a people pleaser that I would go as far as avoiding kind words and deeds, in order to hold on to that.

And God has used so many people this week to tell me that it’s okay to just chill a little. I live so often as a person who constantly questions why I want to do everything I feel the urge to do. There is nothing wrong with questioning my motives, but when I question my motives so much that I live in fear that I will do something with wrong motives, I am living as a prisoner. Maybe sometimes I even tell myself I’m questioning my motives when really I’m questioning the way my motives will be perceived. Either way, when I choose to think this way, I’m still living as a prisoner when, as a child of God, prisoner is not at all who I am.

On Sunday, Pastor Jeff shed a light on the idea of kindness and I saw the freeness of a life of Christ-centered kindness. And over the week other’s words keep bringing me back to it and the more I think on it the more I realize that that life hasn’t been something that I’ve been embracing.

The truth is that I am free in Christ to express the kindness that He puts in my heart and I don’t have to bother with fear about how that kindness will come out. I am afraid that I won’t do kindness perfectly, but I forget that Jesus already did it perfectly.

I am found in Jesus and free to let the kindness flow. My habits don’t live there, but I am loved by a God who renews minds (Romans 12:2) and gives all the grace I need to turn from my kindness stopping habits again and again and again. (2 Cor. 9:8) Though it’s a habit I’ve learned my whole life, I’m holding to the promise that when I fall, He is able to lift me up and keep me moving forward to let the kindness flow. It might come out funny, people might misinterpret it, sometimes there might even be streaks of people pleasing desire that come out with it. What matters is that I offer my imperfect will and let Jesus use it.

His grace is made perfect in my weakness. (2 Cor. 12:9) Any kindness that can come out of me will be coming from a weak, imperfect body, but that is what makes His grace and glory shine through me all the more. Praise God that he can use my desires for kindness in all of its imperfection.

When agreeing to disagree is harder than ever

Fri, 14 Oct 2016 20:54:00 GMT

Sometimes situations look so black and white. Sometimes so much so that we feel to be silent is to evade our responsibility to stand on truth. The past few weeks I have felt so confused about this – confused about the situation and confused even more about what was happening inside my own heart. Maybe I haven’t been as alone as I have sometimes felt.

Sometimes its easy to agree to disagree with our brothers and sisters in Christ and other times, it can feel as if it goes against everything inside us to do so.

Sometimes perhaps we all have to say what we believe we must say and sometimes the members of the body of Christ do not agree.

Sometimes Paul and Barnabus each have opposite convictions about an issue, so much so that they cannot agree on a compromise. And perhaps neither one of them is wrong. Perhaps unity in the body is not a matter of agreement, but of respecting and understanding that we will each follow the decisions God is leading us to make even if we do not agree. And perhaps the matters of my heart have been a matter of finding peace with this.

For several weeks I have been confused by all of these things more than ever. I have been concerned and I have let that concern rule me. Though I’ve tried to be respectful, I have still refused to choose God’s peace in my heart over the decisions that my brothers and sisters in Christ are making. I have been wrong to do so and it is healing to say all of that.

If you can relate to all of this in some way then maybe the same things that fill me with grace today can fill you too. Today the story of Peter is filling me with my God’s grace right now. Peter was so ready to say and do without a thorough examination of his heart in the light of Christ. I’m grateful to read the story of God taking a person like that and delighting to work on him and use him to share the good news of His kingdom.

Today I am grateful for physical reminders of how much he treasures me – for meeting Ms. Martha and seeing her artwork last week. For she has chosen to hang her museum worthy art pieces that are painted on clean white canvases next to things that many people wouldn’t give a second glance. She has chosen old gourds and scraps of wood and pieces of bone, and she has cleaned them up and painted them pretty and displayed it for all to see as a masterpiece that she delights to display.

I’m grateful that God delights to take people with flaws and crooked edges and display them as if on a shelf with all the rest of His handiwork. He calls me beautiful because though I may feel like my edges stick out most unbecomingly, I am most importantly a reflection of Him, not based of anything I have or have not done but because that is what He has found it in His heart of love to make me.

“For it is by grace you have been saved, through faith–and this is not from yourselves, it is the gift of God–not by works, so that no one can boast. For we are God’s handiwork, created in Christ Jesus to do good works, which God prepared in advance for us to do.” Ephesians 2:8-10

Quiet Mama Meets New Town: When you need to know that you are free to love

Fri, 16 Sep 2016 18:12:00 GMT

When you move across cities, it’s your heart’s cry to find people you can call family who live where you are.

When you leave the town you’ve always lived in, the home of your parents and grandparents, your brothers, home to your closest friends, home to the church family you love, fear tries to tell you that you’re trading a life of relationships for a life that is scratched of them – a life that is lonely.

Fear is the voice of a liar.

And when you so quickly find a group of people who welcome you with open arms and treat you and your children like you are family and give themselves to meet your needs, you are awed and grateful at how God provides. And even then, fear pokes up it’s ugly head.

You may be in the middle of a conversation, when it whispers that the real you is someone they’ll never trust, when it tells you to be someone else. It may ask you if these people could ever truly say that they believe in the work that God is making in you.

Fear speaks words of doubt and worry and nothing from the hand of God.

Fear speaks words that could drive you away from the very people God is pointing you too. In questioning the love people have for you, fear tries to kill the love you have for them.

The joy is in the knowing that fear has no power in a heart that belongs to Jesus.

If I was found in the goodness of shy Maggie, then when fear speaks I would have no strength of my own to stand.

But shy Maggie is dead and buried and fear’s words can stay in the grave with her because fear is powerless in a life that is found in the person of Jesus. He calls me free.

On the day He made me new, His Love found me where I was held captive by fear and made me free. I am free to love.

“ For the love of Christ controls us, because we have concluded this: that one has died for all, therefore all have died.” 2 Corinthians 5:14

“It is for freedom that Christ has set us free.” Galatians 5:1

“So if the Son sets you free you will be free indeed.” John 8:36

The Quiet Invitation of New Beginnings

Sun, 07 Aug 2016 23:35:00 GMT

We pulled in to this new city we’ll be moving to, went to order dinner and asked the cashier what she liked about Paris, TX. She laughed, a hysterical laugh, and answered with, “nothing… work, eat, sleep. That’s all there is to do here.”

Then we met Sergio. He hopes to leave his parent’s town soon and go to where we come from – Dallas. He has wonderful hopes for a future there.

I think somehow I really wished to hear from one person that night who was thriving in this little town. In a last effort, I started talking to Holley, the cashier at the dollar store. Holley told me she tried big city for a few months and decided she just couldn’t stay away from the small town that feels like home. Thank you, Holley.

I walked out the door to this, my Maker’s artwork and a reminder that the same God who forms the skies forms our life. Thank you, Jesus.

Of course, location is not the key to happiness, but our spirits sure know how to let us know when the place we live isn’t suiting our soul, or the purposes we were made for right now. Earth won’t give us the place that is suiting to our soul. Yet, God gives it to us to be where our purpose takes us. That is why we are moving.

And maybe the small feelings of changing places, or being the new person around, maybe these big changes invite us to see the value of little moments.

It’s the small things of life that follow along behind you, no matter how the scenery changes. They don’t need to be packed in boxes, and driven across cities to remain a part of your life. And while parts of them might stay where you came from, there are pieces that always come with you. And you see the life you’ve been living stripped from its outward parts.

So maybe it’s these small parts of life that matter the most.

And in my life I’ve felt the need to pray over big changes, but in the big changes my Maker bids me see that these little things of life might just be so important that I want to pray over them much more than what appears to be so big.

These little moments are where life is lived and where our purpose takes on shape.

Maybe sometimes I think of living for Jesus as productivity and “work, eat, sleep” life. But maybe it looks more like being present and hearing the small questions of our spirit, so we can take them to the Holy Spirit who knows what we were made for in this moment.

Maybe I need to know that times of silliness and laughing with people I love can be an offering of presence and what I was made for.

And even when I feel like I’m not sure how to do that, the Spirit is the One there ready to teach me in each small moment when I listen for His leading.

Somehow I forget that I can go to Him, not just for the big things, but the tiny things too. The tiny feelings of our moments always invite us to His presence where we can fall freely into His direction. And it feels like being a dependent sheep who is free to not have the path mapped out. He doesn’t know where he’s going or exactly why and doesn’t need to because he’s following his Shepherd just one step at a time.

There are Blessings Inside the Pains

Mon, 18 Jul 2016 14:03:00 GMT

This is my precious grandmother’s embroidery and the shoes my Nano gave me to promise that we are always a pair. They are things that speak to what has been on my heart over the past two weeks.

As the past fourteen days have seen hurt piled on hurt, and the struggle to process it all, I’ve been reminded in a such a sweet way yesterday and today of those things inside the hurts that I have to be grateful for. There was a pain that overshadowed the week last week and a deeper pain that overshadowed that this week. Yesterday the two pains both spoke to the same need in my soul to see the graces.

Since I became one with my Nano on our wedding day four years ago, I have felt the tension of prejudice in the American culture in a way I’d never seen it before. Interracial harmony is something my marriage must thrive on and when interracial harmony in our culture is threatened, it saddens me in such a personal way that’s hard to put words to. It hurt in a hard way to see that tension displayed tragically as it was last week in the two who lost their lives. Then we hurt for the men and women in blue who have so violently felt that same kind of prejudice displayed towards them because of the uniform they wear. Even then, much deeper pain has been felt since Wednesday when much of my grandmother’s mental abilities were taken from her so suddenly and the family was told to expect the worst. And the other pain was overshadowed by the pain of wishing I could redo the last few weeks and spend more time with my grandma. To think, in the still moments, that I may never get to have that last conversation with her, or hear her cute laugh again or say the little things I wanted to say, broke my heart.

Today I’ve been reminded of the blessings inside the hurts. In each of these hurts I have been given graces. Today I heard an, old, true story that gripped me of an American man and woman whose lives were at risk because they dared to marry interracially. Today I am so very grateful that though issues of prejudice are still very alive in this country, that there is somehow a difference between what was and what is. I’m thankful that interracial marriages are not under the threat of the law today and I am married to the man I love in freedom.

Today I’m grateful that though we’re unsure as to what is in store for my grandmother’s upcoming days, her life has pushed beyond doctor’s expectations. Because of that I’ve had the opportunity to stand by my grandma’s bed and say the little things I wanted to say. Though she wasn’t able to respond in clear words, the fact that she reached for my hand to squeeze gives me faith that she heard me. I was so glad again to get to sing to her for a little while yesterday. Though we don’t know what’s in her future I’m so grateful to have these little moments with her.

Each of these pains gave me a unique way to experience a blessing and for that I am so grateful. I have faith that even when we can’t see it, our God gives unique blessings inside of each hurt we face. Not every marriage exists in freedom. Not every person gets to have the bedside moments with that person they love. Still every hurt carries grace.

Today the chapter of Psalm seventy-seven speaks to the things on my heart.

“Has God forgotten to be gracious?”

“Then I said, I will appeal to this.”

“I will remember the deeds of the Lord.”

“You are the God who works wonders.”

When hearts are hurting and grace is difficult to feel, may we hold on to faith that the graces are there.

The Psalm speaks of God’s unseen footprints. I’m so glad that even when I don’t see it, God walks right along the path of all I face giving grace inside each painful moment.

Where smallness is victorious over the boldness of hate

Tue, 12 Jul 2016 22:30:00 GMT

Hate speaks loudly. Boldly.

And trying to stand in a world of it feels small.

It feels small to offer love and find yourself pushed to one side of something that can feel like a battlefield. It feels small to be in a world that is so confused by hate that love itself can feel like hate. It feels small to stand for things that looked so clear only to find that they are so much more complicated than our minds can understand. To speak to things that we all see from different places. To want love and justice so badly that we have trouble seeing it ourselves.

There is a certain smallness in being one person in a world of people who wants somehow to bring your own offering of good to it all. Because none of us know how to do it just right.

It is confusing to try to love two sides of something that can feel divided. To want so very much to love and support one side hard then love and support the other just as hard. It is hard to raise any flag of truth without getting knocked onto a side.

Maybe, just maybe, we all get lost in it sometimes. Maybe somewhere inside us we were all made to stand for good and against evil, but somewhere, in our own mess, we blurred up the lines between the two.

And maybe in the confusion of all the loud voices around us we can believe that in some curious way the smallness of it all speaks victory over the boldness of hate. Maybe the small feelings that come from living in a world like this are the invitation to the answer. The small feelings ask us if we do it right, ask us who we even are. Questions that invite us to the answer. I don’t do it right, but Jesus did and who I am is Loved by Him. Whoever we are, black or blue, brown or white, the small feelings find us where we are and invite us here.

I am not right.

You are not right.

But, we desperately want to be right, to do right, to give ourselves right.

So, Jesus is right for us.

And He calls us all loved.

His righteous Love has already won victory in this battle we stand in and that victory brings us together. When the small feelings come and you question yourself, listen closely because when you reach inside the questions, the victory shout of Jesus whispers through. In a world where we are never perfectly right, He is. He called all of us wrong people loved and His victory was won. In every little moment, He gives me the right to claim it too. He whispers through the questions and offers Himself as the Rescue.

When the Future asks ‘What If?’

Thu, 30 Jun 2016 18:39:00 GMT

Change has a way of bringing questions to our mind. What if this is the wrong decision? What if I regret this? What if it never gets this good again? What if? Change has a way of closing doors sometimes before we see the next door open. And we can choose to never close the doors on the things we already know, and in doing that we would instead close the doors that stood open before us. And then again we could ask ourselves what if? What if that was the door we were supposed to walk through?

But really, as a child of God, I don’t have to live in the what if. Because I’m dancing this life in the shelter of the Person of Christ.

Dancing has been on my mind since I started a daily dance workout routine last week. It’s a good way to get a workout at home even when my girls are around, and I’ve absolutely enjoyed it. I’ve done clumsy dancing boldly this week because it gives me a good workout, and if I’m clumsy, my family just gets a laugh out of it. In fact, the more clumsy I am, the more enjoyment they do get. I admire people who can willingly offer their clumsy selves even with people they barely know, and maybe I have a long way to go. But dancing like that on a regular basis, even if it just be with my family, has had a really strange way of helping me be more bold in other ways too.

I’ve been enjoying thinking of life like dancing. I want so much to get the dance down, to not make mistakes, to dance flawlessly, to live without falling down. I want to know the right steps to take, the right doors to go through, the right way to move. But when my focus on that is bigger than my focus on living freely in the Person of Christ, I become the self-conscious dancer.

The bold dancer and the self-conscious dancer can mess up just as much. The only difference is that the bold dancer knows that her mistakes can still bring others delight and she’s okay with that. She doesn’t try to mess up on purpose, but she is okay with the fact that she will mess up, knowing her mistakes can be the best gift of the dance to the people looking on.

The self-conscious dancer desperately wants to offer perfection. The only problem is that she can’t. I know the self-conscious dancer well. I wear her shoes on many days. She is at odds between what she is trying to offer and what she is actually offering. She wants so much to offer the dance right that she forgets to offer it freely – as a gift, mistakes and all.

When we deeply know that we are dancing in the shelter of Christ’s Person, that is where we dance life freely – no matter where on earth we are.

A couple of years ago I was writing out my thoughts as I tried to look at daily mommy life as a dance. And today, as I look at life’s transitions, the same idea still applies.

“Will I ever know what the answer is…? Will I ever get this dance down? But maybe getting the dance down isn’t the point…

Maybe the point is finding grace in every step, learning to give my every step to Him. Maybe it’s realizing that He’s already danced the dance of life perfectly and that He did it for me. If I seek Him, He will be faithful to guide me and sometimes I won’t seek Him and I will lose my step. But sometimes its in those moments when I lose my step that I see the Gospel more clearly. I can try my best to dance, to dance in Him, but even when I mess up, I can still enjoy the dance and come bold to the One who danced it perfectly, because that’s the Gospel. I never have to live guilty. Not because He’s accepted my imperfect dance, but because He’s accepted the Son’s perfect dance as mine. I don’t have to bear all the weight of the life that is before me. He’s in my yoke with me and as I rely on Him, He will push the yoke for me. And with Him here, I can enjoy this dance and even when my sight comes off of Him and I lose my step, I can dance on boldly before Him pouring out my every need, trusting that He’ll work out my failures for good.”

As I accept change in my life, I may not always make the perfect choice, and that’s okay. I won’t try to make a choice that turns out bad, but when I do I can dance on boldly knowing He can use each choice I’ve made. God has accepted Christ’s perfect dance as mine and I am free to dance boldly as a person found in Him, even when the dance takes on a new scene.

4 Things I’ve Learned in May about Offering Myself – Lessons from My Children

Thu, 02 Jun 2016 15:49:00 GMT

This month I’ve started a process of writing notes to my shy self on Instagram, so that in the times when I forget who I am or why it matters for me to live this life, I can find reminders that made sense to me before, so hopefully they’ll make sense to me in the moments when I need them. This is one I wrote yesterday that was inspired from an interview I saw with writer, Bri McKoy.

As someone who needs daily reminders that it is a gift to offer yourself to the world, I am so glad to be able to live life with my daughters who freely give me every day the gift of themselves. I get to see them offer themselves to me without fear, in the comfort of our home where it’s okay to be imperfect. They teach me what is true about offering myself to the world around me. These are four lessons I’ve been learning from them this month.

“Bragging” can bring joy.

Opposite to what I tell myself when I’m trying so hard to “filter” my own actions, (hopefully someone out there can relate) ‘bragging’ can bring joy. I say that based on my daughter’s ecstatic, “Mommy, I got Peppa!!” after she was gifted a Peppa Pig toy this past month. She loves all things Peppa Pig and being given a new Peppa toy she was brimming over with excitement and it was every bit delightful to see her reaction. The look on her face when she opened it that delighted the room, the way she grabbed my hand and pulled me across the house so she could show me every bit of it, it was pure joy.

It stood out to me because when I get the notion to do anything like that, I tell myself that that would be ‘bragging,’ so normally I resist the urge to explode with excitement like my daughter did. And perhaps I’m missing out on an important way to offer the gift of myself to the world. Of course bragging is a sin, but I think most of my life I’ve been calling something ‘bragging’ when it’s not really bragging at all. It’s just giving the world this gift – the gift of experiencing along with you the joy you find in life.

We are people who delight in being recognized and responded to and that’s okay.

This month, Liesel has been more and more fascinated with the idea of being recognized and responded to. One day this month, she was screaming and when I looked her in the face and screamed back she was beyond excited. We made a game of it for a good fifteen minutes and she thought it was hysterical. Then again, in the car one day she did a funny little jig with her feet and Amayah couldn’t stand how funny it looked and just blew up giggling. So, of course, Liesel was so proud, and she did the same little jig for the entirety of that car ride. Even after Amayah was too tired to laugh anymore, Liesel kept trying to get her attention.

We are people who love to be recognized. We love when others find joy in what we can offer. Often I criticize my own desires to be recognized and responded to believing that they are all desires based in pride. But then when I look at my baby daughter’s desire for the same things, it doesn’t look like pride to me at all. She’s finding joy in her ability to bring someone else joy. Certainly, pride can disguise itself in the midst of those desires and certainly pride is a sin, but I dare not be too careful. It might just be better to boldly try to bring someone else joy through my talents and abilities and risk the struggle with pride along the way, than to shy away from offering myself because I’m afraid it’s too similar to pride. I know it makes me so happy when Liesel is bold in trying to bring us joy.

Expressing my dislike can be a gift.

Sometimes Amayah says something that can really make a person feel down, but the thing is she’s honest. And because we all know she’s honest, the times when she offers a compliment or a hug or a simple “I Love you,” we don’t question whether she is sincere. That stuff carries so much weight coming from a child. This month we have had moments when she told me she didn’t want me and sometimes it breaks my heart. But the times when she wants to share her ice cream with me, the times she expresses her appreciation to me for cleaning ‘her house,’ the times when she asks me to cuddle with her, the times when she pulls my face into hers and tells me she loves me, those gifts are so very beautiful because I know my daughter is honest about how she feels about me. It’s because the truth hurts, that it can give the most beautiful love as well.

That’s a challenge to live out and maybe I shouldn’t be as blunt as my daughter, but I need to know that it’s important for me to express my dislike and my criticism because without them my compliments may just fall on deaf ears.

Give love and do the next thing.

In the past month, Liesel has learned how to give kisses and her hugs have become more clearly pronounced and intentional. And I’ve noticed this week her affection that can be so contrasting to mine. Sometimes she crawls up to me to give me a hug and turns right around to climb back down and crawl off to the next thing. Sometimes her hugs are quick like that, then sometimes she’ll put her head on my shoulder and hold tight to me for a good couple minutes.

Both kinds of hugs are a delight to me.

There’s something beautiful in her ability to give the hug she needed to and move on with life. In those moments, she doesn’t have to wait to see how I responded to her hug. She just knows she gave it and she’s ready for the next thing. When I see her do that I want to be like her, to give love with a freedom. She teaches me to give the love I want to give and carry myself into the next thing focused on what is in front of me. Because when love is given freely I can move into life free from worry over the effects of the love I just gave.

I hope that these moments in my daughter’s lives are a blessing to you like they are to me. I have four ways to think about how I can offer myself to the world, four ways to think about what it means to be like a child. May we offer ourselves like children today.

“Jesus never tells children to grow up, but he often tell adults to become like little children.” -Wess Stafford

“And calling to him a child, he put him in the midst of them and said,“Truly, I say to you, unless you turn and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven. Whoever humbles himself like this child is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.” – Matthew 18:2-4

Being told to be childlike is a gift to be free, and lest I forget that and feel overwhelmed and pressured to be perfectly childlike, this beautiful quote from Lysa Terkeurst that was posted this morning @proverbs31ministries. As someone who struggles with being shy and afraid that my daily choices won’t be just right, these thoughts have been treasured this morning.

How to Fight Back when Life Throws You Around

Fri, 27 May 2016 13:08:00 GMT

Dear you, how is today? Does life throw you around and is it hard to fight back? I know what that feels like and it’s the reason I’m writing in the wee hours of the morning. Can I tell you a story? And speak into yours?

I’ve been trying to work through this thing I’ve been struggling with – to be fully present in my moments. Because I don’t want to spend these years of chubby, little hands on my face and bouncy curls, and the sweetest giggles I’ll ever know – I don’t want to spend these moments thinking on “to-do’s” and miss being present in these moments that matter now. Because it’s not just who these girls will become but the people they are right now, that I want to protect, to Love, to give opportunity. Because God didn’t design them to just have a grown-up purpose, He designed them each with a purpose for this part of their lives too and I am here to help that purpose shine, to give them the opportunity to bring life in the world as they are right now.

But sometimes that doubt wants to creep in and tell me that this battle is too big. That when I get back up and let the distractions knock me back down again, that I am just failing and I cannot do this. And the enemy whispers, who do you think you are to think you can win this fight?

And for a second, I want to say I’ve lost. But the Victorious One has words in this battle too. And He says I am not of those who shrink back and are destroyed. (Heb. 10:39) And the very fact that He causes those words to go through my head is enough for me to know that He speaks it over me. Because we are not people who think life-giving words on our own. There is a God who puts those thoughts there on purpose. And He has spoken this over me.

And I can speak to that enemy to his face and say,

Who do I think I am? I am the righteousness of God in Jesus Christ. (2 Cor. 5:21) I’m a Child of God. I am Chosen, Redeemed, Set Free and you don’t hold me captive anymore. I am not of those who shrink back and are destroyed. (Heb. 10:39) I am of those who have faith and preserve their souls. (Heb. 10:39) And I can win this battle because I am found in Jesus, and that same power He has that defeated you, its inside of me. I don’t have to be captive to this thing you’re throwing at me.

Friend, know that it’s true. When you have some curiosity that calls you to look for truth – that curiosity didn’t originate out of your own good, because you’re not that good by yourself. That curiosity is put there by Someone who Loves you and is actively drawing you to Himself. That is enough reason to have confidence – because He has confidence in you. “He who calls you is faithful; he will surely do it.” (1 Thess. 5:24) If He calls you, He’ll be faithful to carry you through. Whatever thing you’re struggling with, it doesn’t have you. Because by faith you’re not the shrinking back one. By faith, you can be the assured and convicted, (Heb. 11:1) that God’s power is in you and in Him, you’ve got this.

May we take up the shield of faith that blocks every dart of the enemy (Eph. 6:16) and plunge onward in the name of Jesus as the victorious people we are.

– Hebrews 10:35 – 11:2

The Peaceful Truth in the Overwhelm of Parenting

Thu, 19 May 2016 18:37:00 GMT

I want my little girls to love me. But this week I’ve been guilty of wanting that more than I should, and parenting through that lens always gets messy. On my own, I’m the shy mommy who parents out of the fear that her children will reject her. But I am in Christ and that is not who I have to be. Sometimes I live like my job description is to do what I can to get Amayah to like me. And sometimes I excuse it by saying I am giving her grace, when that is not truly what I’m giving at all. But I can best guide her into the secrets of her Maker when I trust Him to oversee what she thinks of me. I am here to give her grace as I have been given grace. And sometimes I need to remember what that means. Because grace does not always look pleasant. Often giving my daughter the training she doesn’t deserve involves being willing to discipline her even when it’s hard for us both. But without a focus, I’ll try to counter my child-pleasing by disregarding the needs of my daughter’s heart. In my efforts to not be the child-pleasing mom, I become the mom without compassion. This week I’ve needed to take time to replace the faulty job descriptions for mother that I build in my head with a job description that’s healthy and true.

My young girl desire was always to be called mommy… to be cook, maid, teacher, nanny and discipler for little people who also happened to be my children. Maybe it’s common for people to say, but as a pre-mom teenager, I assumed that if, as a parent, I was responsible enough to read the parenting books and stick to them, that my kids would naturally be well-behaved.

As a newlywed, twenty-year old momma, I spent the first year or so of my daughters life reading every parenting book I could get my hands on. And I was so confused. And this is why.

Many of those books were in the bunch that I read, that were recommended to me by caring people. Each and every book was in disagreement with the last book, and I was overwhelmed to discover that parenting books only gave opinions. They haven’t gotten this down to a science at all.

After reading it all, I didn’t trust it. Not that I’ll never read another parenting book again, but I won’t be searching the books for do’s and don’ts the way I used to, because the practicality of parenting lived in faith will look different for me than it will for anyone else. There are no step-by-step, one-size-fits-all instructions on how to put a baby to sleep, or when its right or wrong to let the baby cry, or how to make a toddler stop throwing food on the floor, or stop kicking you and screaming no when you’re trying to buckle them into a car seat. There is a parenting book that has become my favorite. Its called Give Them Grace and is based on the few verses in the Bible that give instructions for parenting. It just didn’t give the specific, step-by-step, practicality of parenting that I went to it trying to find. Instead it asked me why as a parent I wanted so much to be told volumes of information on how to raise my children, when the New Testament, itself, gives parents only two verses that speak specifically to parenting.

“Fathers, do not provoke your children to anger, but bring them up in the discipline and instruction of the Lord.” Ephesians 6:4

“Fathers, do not provoke your children, lest they become discouraged.” Colossians 3:21

The Bible, Old Testament and New, gives clear and simple instruction on parenting, and God gives us faith for the details. I want parenting to come with a step-by-step instruction book, and instead I have grace for today, God’s Word, and the Holy Spirit inside me. My job is to have faith that that will carry me through today.

My simple job description is to point Amayah and Liesel to God’s grace, with the instruction and discipline of the Lord, taking care that I do not exasperate or discourage their little hearts in the process. That is what I need to know for now and God is able to guide me into living it.

When I hear myself being the child-pleasing mom, or the one who exasperates her children, I can hold my God’s truth in my heart and trust Him to give them grace through me as I rest in His grace myself.

When this House became a Home

Fri, 13 May 2016 05:40:00 GMT

The first time we walked through the house we now live in, I didn’t think it could ever feel like a home. The living room was huge and open and empty with smudged walls and hard floors. There were no cushy floors or surfaces – things that feel like home to me – and the only living room furniture we had at the time was one small, brown couch. And I could just picture our little couch swallowed up in that massive room. We weren’t going to have a budget for furniture or curtains or decor. We were not planning to live here for more than a couple of years and it didn’t seem worthwhile to save up for too much in the way of area rugs and furniture. The kitchen wallpaper was tearing, all the bedrooms had neon green and blue walls and the living room was so big it felt more like a warehouse than a home. Initially, I was opposed to living here. But we needed somewhere and this was where the door was open to us. It was really a huge blessing, and I didn’t want to see it that way. We were in need of somewhere else to live and we never would have been able to live here had God not opened hearts and doors. It was bigger than we could have asked for.

We unsettled and moved, six months after doing it before, our fourth place to live in three years. We moved into this house and, of course, my longing was to make it home. For us and for our girls.

And I was delighted to be gifted with so many things that make this place feel more like a home – to arrange the things together and watch them give shape to a place we feel comfy to sprawl out on the rug with our girls, or gather around a meal with friends.

We all long to know home, a place to feel secure, a place to share love with our people.

I bought this sign recently, because the words speak much to my longing for home. Because, of course, though I might work to make a place we call home, home is not as much the place, as the people I’m with. Home is with the ones I love and even when I have none left on earth to share it with, home is with Christ who lives in me. Wherever I am, with Christ in me, that is home.

And how beautiful to know that He calls me home, too.

“Do you not know that you are God’s temple and that God’s Spirit dwells in you? If anyone destroys God’s temple, God will destroy him. For God’s temple is holy, and you are that temple.” 1 Cor. 3:16-17

In all the mess I see in me, He makes the place holy and calls me home. He is the One who keeps house here. He will never sit by to see His temple in me destroyed. He is fiercely committed to the home He is making in me.

I am His building, His house where He works in the grace, all the grace needed for this piece of the world to reflect His beauty. He provides the color, the story, the cozy. He provides grace to clear the cobwebs and dust. And I get to be walls and beams that He resides in and works in. I am the temple He calls holy. And He invites me to open the doors and share the home He’s making here, to show the beauty He makes to my little part of the world.

I am His house and that may seem small, but were it not for Him taking up housekeeping here, I would be an empty, lonely building longing for someone to take the space my rooms offered and make them a place where love happened. That was what I was.

But He has called me holy. He resides here and gives grace to open my doors and let love flow in and out. I am not a lonely building today. I am not just a house because my God, He saw my potential. And He has called me home.

Blessings! If you’d like to see the before pictures from the rearranging I’ve done recently, you can see them here.

The Gift of Feeling Uninspired

Fri, 06 May 2016 17:15:00 GMT

Today is full of sunshine and clutter, giggles and bread crumbs. Today has been a day of finger painting and foggy thinking.

I see unconnected dots in my mind, like random pieces of a picture, and I want so much to connect them so I can see the beauty that they complete together. I feel uninspired because today there are no words to connect the things in my head. But maybe today it is a gift to sit without knowing how to connect the thoughts of today in words. Maybe it’s okay to just absorb the unconnected dots and thoughts of my life as they are and receive the beauty of them in Christ’s presence. Maybe its okay to offer myself this way.

Jesus spoke of those who thought Moses gave manna, when manna was from the Father. And maybe I am guilty of thinking I do something that God alone does. Maybe I think I connect dots with my writing and forget that God connects the dots of life.

For today, as small as it feels, I can rejoice in the day that God has made by giving worship with the unconnected dots of my life.

For today, when my finger painting feels as messy as my daughters, I can find joy in pink and yellow smudges that don’t look like much.

I can be okay knowing He will connect the dots and paint the bigger picture.

Maybe sometimes I try to make it complicated, when it is much more simple. Maybe when I try to offer my life and all I can seem to make is childlike “scribble-scrabble” maybe it’s okay.

In my striving to make it all look how I think it should before I offer it…

Maybe He just longs for me to delight in making the scribbles that I am even able to offer.

Maybe He longs for me to scribble with the freedom that my daughter does.

Because though I can’t see it, He’s taking all my scribbles and making the picture complete.

Here’s to giving Him my scribbles and trusting Him to find them beautiful.

When Relationships Feel Broken: 3 Truths that Bring Peace

Fri, 29 Apr 2016 17:18:00 GMT

Relationships are the only place we can give and receive the thing we were created for. Love. We thrive on relationships because they are what allow us to be human people who do what we were created to do. But those same relationships can also bring us the hardest kind of struggles, because not only are the people we choose to love messy, but because we are messy. We all struggle through our relationships at times. We all feel the smallness that our own mess can cause in another’s life. It was a while back, when processing the shy feelings of that, that I wrote this, and I want to share it now. This was me finding grace in the midst of the hurt I can cause. Whatever kind of friendship or relationship it may be, maybe you have known this same kind of smallness recently. It is a smallness that offers us so many of these gifts in pointing to the relationship we most deeply long for.

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I am broken, wanting, looking for the grace God offers in the people on this earth who I want to be loved by.

I am messy. I cause hurt.

But I long for love still. For same-day grace, no matter how little I deserve it. I’ve never seen same day grace when I caused hard hurt. Not in anyone on this earth.

And Jesus died for me while I was still sinning. (Rm 5) He considered me worth it. And Jesus is able to carry me through the times when people I love are still trying to work through the hurt I cause. The Savior is able to draw me closer to Him and able to draw me closer to the people I love if that is part of the perfect plan.

I see all my hurt can cause… their hurt, their inability to act from love as they normally would. And I ask why they can’t accept me the way God does. But there’s so many things I have forgotten. Perhaps God allows it all to help me remember…

1. Relationships are hard because the picture we’re made to show is one that flesh cannot perfect. That is why we thirst for more, for the one relationship we’re made to point to.

We live in flesh and always make an incomplete picture of the heavenly face to face relationship with God. The human experience will always leave us thirsty, if we come to it expecting perfect love. The lacking we find there gives us the thirst that draws to the One our soul needs. No matter how beautiful the love in our earthly relationships are, they will never satisfy the deepest thirst of our souls. It’s the truth that can bring the words true from our hearts:

“ O God, you are my God; earnestly I seek you; my soul thirsts for you; my flesh faints for you, as in a dry and weary land where there is no water. Ps 63:1

2. Though flesh cannot perfect relationship, found in Him, our relationships can be complete.

Sometimes I compare the love I experience from people, to the love I receive in Christ and these relationships feel so very broken.

And that is just the point. Of course these relationships are broken. Of course all of our relationships are broken. Compared to Christ – broken. But found in Christ… the story is different. We’re covered with His blood. As God’s children, we don’t stand apart from Christ to compare to Him, we stand as people who are found in the shelter of His Person. “ Found in him, not having a righteousness of my own that comes from the law, but that which comes through faith in Christ, the righteousness from God that depends on faith.” (Phil. 3:9) Found in Christ, me, my brothers and sisters in Christ, our relationships… they stand with Him as the righteousness of God in Jesus. (2 Cor. 5:21) He sees us together in Him and it’s all complete.

3. God, Himself, did not give me His favor until his wrath had been expressed.

I see my friends, my family in Christ express their “wrath” toward my wrong to them (sometimes that is simply just the silent hurt that they have to process before our relationship moves forward) and I ask why they can’t accept me the way God does. But why in asking that do I think that God dismissed my sin? I forget that God had the strongest wrath toward my sin. Wrath that Jesus stood in front of me to receive. He received that most brutal blow, the loss of God’s favor, and gave me the privilege to receive that as truth. “ For his anger is but for a moment, and his favor is for a lifetime.” Ps. 30:5

Perhaps this is the most beautiful gift God has for me here. To receive new the gift Jesus gave me. To know in a new way, that God did not dismiss my sin at all, but in His holy Personhood had to express His full fury on all that was flawed in me. And Jesus chose to stand in front of me through all of that mighty blow.

Yes, first I am broken. I am a small, shy, broken person who causes hurt in the people I love most. And I am the one who has not only forgotten to view the people I love with the identity they have been given in Christ, I am the one who compares them to a false version of who God is. But that broken me has died on the cross with all of God’s wrath in the person of Jesus and I’ve been given the beautiful privilege to move forward boldly in my relationships in the person of Christ. I am found. My relationships are found with Christ and the ability to grow beyond the hurts.

Story Share: Promise for strength when we’re afraid to say no

Mon, 18 Apr 2016 17:54:00 GMT

Do you feel the pressure sometimes of needing things to slow down? And if you’re anything like me, maybe sometimes you don’t feel like you have much control over making it slow down, when really you do.

That idea that we can’t slow down our own lives is curious. Maybe it boils down to fear – fear rooted in the pressures we put on ourselves, or the pressures we feel from other people – pressures that might not even be present as much as we think they are.

When I do try to slow my life down and have time for the small things that matter most, I battle the fear that I will be judged for pushing away from busy.

It’s easy to forget why I want to say no to busy. It’s easy to wrap my own idea of who I am in all the things.

I’ve been excited to share this post of Heidi’s that I read a few days ago. Her words have stuck in my brain.

Heidi’s post opens with the tears of her son who just wants to spend some time with his mama. Heidi shares her own battle of working through it too, the things she felt pressured by…

“For many years, I was under the mistaken impression that to be busy… was to be spiritual and therefore highly esteemed. I mean, if you had a full schedule doing God’s work, this surely must increase your level of spirituality.”

The few minutes have been so worth the read for me. Heidi has filled me up with the reminder of why I need to say no sometimes. Those opening words about her son made me teary to think of my girls and I’ve been soaking in those last several paragraphs.

“What if I saw my true self, that I am uniquely created by a living, loving God? What if I saw my utter dependence upon Him, my helplessness without Him? What if, like Job, I let go of my own agenda, lay my hand over my mouth and listened to what He has to say to me?”

For all the fears that try to lead us, may we give them to our Jesus who bore them when He said, “It is finished.” May we guard our days from the pressures we feel, and embrace our freedom to be still and know You are God. Give us faith in Your promise of who and Whose we are. Give us grace to put the fear of judgment in it’s place with faith in Your promise about the mind You have given us to use.

“The spiritual person judges all things, but is himself to be judged by no one. For who has understood the mind of the Lord so as to instruct him? But we have the mind of Christ.” 1 Cor. 2:15-16

In the context of this passage, “the spiritual person” refers to anyone who is born again, who has the Holy Spirit living in them. We have this promise to hold: the mind of Christ is ours and we are able to use it. We may forget to use it at times, but as spiritual people, God has given it to us to think and act from the mind of Christ. He is our Head and no one can judge the mind of God.

We have a promise that can put every fear of another’s judgment to death.

We do not have to live in that fear because our God is gracious and His promises are good.

One Thing You Can Do When You Want to Give More than Love

Wed, 13 Apr 2016 21:50:00 GMT

This is my gallery wall where I am collecting the faces of the people I love. I’ve been thinking on what keeps me loving them and what keeps them loving me.

There is a certain smallness in the knowing that the souls of the ones I love are out of my hands. Do you feel it too? It’s a gift isn’t it – to know our people and love them and hopefully to shed some bit of hope on their life with our own.

Sometimes it’s hard to be content there though, the hardest kind of contentment. Because I feel like I’m not enough – not enough for the people I love.

There is a beauty inside our people that we went to see flourish.

Lynne Lorentsen , a writer who’s words I love, said these words that have stuck with me. “We are all eternal souls. Every person you meet will live on long past their circumstances. If only for this life we have hope in Christ, we are of all people most to be pitied. ( I Cor 15:19 ) This is not all we are, life trapped in a jar, and I do not love people to gain worth. I love because people are full of worth. And worthful people will never go away.”

Those words touch the same place as words that were said at our churches missions conference. I think it was Vanessa who said the words that brought tears. She was talking about the bus driver who knocked on her door every week for years, the man God used to bring her back to Himself. “He loved me not for who I was or what I was, but for what God could make me.”

At the time, I really wanted for someone to tell me why I was crying like I was. But I think this is it. I think this is what keeps us loving our people through the good, bad and ugly – the knowing that God has made beauty inside them that wants to come out.

Maybe it’s why people love me through my ugly.

God has given it to me to be responsible for letting His beauty come out of me. That is the very thing He has given me to bear. Perhaps you could say that is my load. (“For each one shall bear his own load.” Gal. 6:5) Perhaps letting the beauty come through in all the good and bad I see in life is what I bear in the yolk with Christ. (Mt. 11:29-30)

And here is this other side of that verse that can feel small sometimes – each one bearing his own load. It speaks of “the responsibility each person has in those troubles…” (Reference) I am responsible for living through those troubles in Christ. And the people I love are responsible for bearing their own troubles in Christ.

And as if I know what’s best in this great big world, sometimes I say that’s not right. As if I’m God, I say I need to be bearing that person’s load too. But God knows better, and despite my big-headedness He still gives me this small part to play. “Bear one another’s burdens and so fulfill the law of Christ.” (Gal. 6:2) This speaks of “helping one another through troubles.” (Reference.) These are the things I can do and there is one thing in all of it that is key… Because I can be present with my people. I can pray. I can help meet their physical needs. But it’s when I do these things in faith that God uses them. Do I live and think from the faith that God is in control of their story? It is here in this faith that God’s grace pours out of me onto them. This is the part I am given to play and it is a beautiful gift.

I am not given to bear anyone’s load but my own and that is for the better. Because God has a better plan. Marsha said it in our ladies group last week… That the story might not turn out how I want it too, but I can trust that God writes better stories than me.

The best gift I can give to the people I love is to trust God with their story while I walk with them through their troubles. When I live from the faith of knowing their story is in His hands, the beauty God has made in me will come out as He intended – to do whatever He has for it to do in them.

Today may we love our people with the peace that God knows exactly what He’s doing with them. May we be thankful for the part we are given to play in their life. And may we rest in the One who can write this story so much better than we can.

For today may we find the place to sit with our people and be present with them in their troubles. And may we do it with a love that is propelled with faith in what God is doing with their life.

When God Paints Portraits Through People

Thu, 31 Mar 2016 15:25:00 GMT

Maybe God can paint portraits not just with a sunset, but with my personality too, when I let Him live through it.

There are those moments. Playing our part, we do it ever so carefully, and, if we really try, we can do it without our mistakes being noticed. Because, well, messing up feels uncomfortable, exposed, like I just showed people that I might not really know exactly what I’m doing.

I felt like that last week. I was in my little corner at the keyboard playing along with the guitars, our small group of friends singing worship with the band. I do it most every Wednesday night. And this particular night as I watched my fingers hit the keys, I thought on the little insecurities of this moment more than usual. I thought of the people who do this on a grander scale. In the church auditorium on Sundays, sometimes the distinct way a note is played can be used to stir my soul to my own need for God. In my own small way, I wanted to offer my playing that night to be used that way. I was trying to offer that, and it was coming out messy.

Playing with the band, I have two options. I can blend in and play the basic chords with no mistakes and very little notice, or I can venture with my fingertips up the keyboard and risk wrong notes. The first option is the safest. But the second option opens to the possibilities of bringing unique beauty to the hearers through my fingers. One option closes off an opportunity and the other opens to it.

There as I was playing that night, I was given this truth small and simple, a message delivered through my insecurity.

My life goes the same way.

My tendency is to try to stay safe from those insecurities. And, sometimes the little things seem even harder than the big things. I don’t know what that looks like for you. For me, as a girl who has often struggled with being very shy, it looks like being willing to play my little part in the conversation going on around me. That was where God spoke to my heart in that moment, telling me to be willing to offer myself as the person He made me to be.

It’s easy for me to sit and listen, to let my friends offer themselves to the conversation and hold myself back for fear of doing something I’ll regret. I can play the simple chords – nod in the right place, laugh when it gets funny, and say enough to get along. But what would happen if I let go a little and surrendered to let God come out of me, even if it be in something as small as adding my quirky perspective to the conversation or my simple thought that might give someone a laugh?

Maybe God can paint portraits not just with a sunset, but with my personality too – when I let Him live through it. Something happens when I open to those things. The people around me seem as if they were blessed in some small, mysterious way, as if maybe the spirit inside me communed with the spirit inside them and offered an unspoken joy to us both. Maybe there are secret passageways through small talk where a part of us runs through and blesses the other.

I know it happens. I see God shine through a friend’s personality when she says that thing that only she would say, and it stirs my soul to see my own need for the kind of freedom I just saw. She took the risk and said the quirky thing and the words didn’t have to be spiritual, to be used to bless my spirit.

These are the moments where freedom lives. This is where the mystery whispers hints into our lives and we find it true – Christ in you.

May we listen for the mystery in those moments we face today and freely allow God to live through the personality He gifted us with, even if it looks like a quirky comment to a friend.

For the One Who Feels Weak Coming into Easter

Thu, 24 Mar 2016 18:04:00 GMT

It was a Sunday morning this week, Palm Sunday. In another shy feeling moment, I said something that I meant to come across one way and I think it came across different. It was subtle enough that I didn’t feel it was important to correct, but more than that I wasn’t quite sure how I would correct it if I tried. I don’t even know now if I could even tell you what it was I said or was trying to say. I don’t even know if in the moment I could tell you how it came across wrong, and the person I was talking to probably didn’t even think anything of it. But in my mind that still struggles with this stuff, it bothered me because I felt misrepresented, or maybe misunderstood is the better word. Maybe I’m alone, but if I had to guess I’d say I wasn’t. Maybe these feelings sound familiar to someone.

For that moment, the truth was and is simply that God knew I would feel that way that morning, and He intended it for a specific purpose that within the next hour was becoming a little clear. Soon I was sitting in the church pew thinking more on that conversation than I might have otherwise because of the feelings that came with it. And thinking on the openness of the people I spoke with brought up all sorts of reminders of the bitter feelings I had chosen to listen to throughout my week.

Then within minutes, I was hearing the words of Mark 15 spoken from the pulpit. Jesus was hung on the cross between thieves.

“And those who passed by derided him, wagging their heads and saying, “Aha! You who would destroy the temple and rebuild it in three days, save yourself, and come down from the cross!” So also the chief priests with the scribes mocked him to one another, saying, “He saved others; He cannot save himself. Let the Christ, the King of Israel, come down now from the cross that we may see and believe.” Those who were crucified with him also reviled him.” (Mark 15:29-32)

And I connected with this story in ways I had never before. Misunderstood. Bitter. Those were the words on my mind as I began to hear this story. Those would be the feelings in my head were I on that cross. I knew that before, yes, but the shy feelings of my morning pressed me deeper into that.

These were the words of the passerbys, the priests, the scribes, the thieves at his side. And in Sunday school we had talked of His friends. Were their thoughts very similar? These were the ones who ran when He was arrested, the ones who felt hopeless after His death and doubted that He could ever rise again. The ones who asked him upon His rising if he had not heard of the death of Jesus who was a prophet, (Luke 24) as if a prophet was all He turned out to be and as if the person of Jesus was no more. Did they not believe Him though He had told them He would rise? Though they loved Him, did they give up on who He said He was when they saw Him hanging there, looking helpless? Did they think He was powerless to step off that cross?

And if I were the one on the cross I think my heart would burn with anger and bitter hatred towards these people. These are the very people I’m doing this for, and they won’t believe in who I am. And Him, though He was still in flesh, “tempted in every way, just as we are” (Heb. 4:15) He still surrendered every temptation to savor a bitter thought… surrendered it to the very One who’s forsaking He felt the most in that moment. “My God, My God, why have you forsaken me?” (Mark 15:34) To that same God: “Father, forgive them.” (Luke 23:34)

His words that surrendered his misunderstood moments to the Father, that focused on the Father instead of His image with people, this was His love in action. This was the love that kept Him on that cross.

And this same love is the love He gives to me with His rising. This is the love that rescues me from all my shy moments and sees the perfect love that Jesus won for me and you. This is the glory of holy week and this is the glory of Easter.

May we thank Him this holy week for the privilege to journey through our shy moments, our weaknesses, because they are beautiful gifts that He allows to press us deeper with each step into the gift of Easter.

“There was darkness over the whole land until the ninth hour. And at the ninth hour Jesus cried with a loud voice… And someone ran… saying, “Wait, let us see whether Elijah will come to take him down.” And Jesus uttered a loud cry and breathed his last. And the curtain of the temple was torn in two, from top to bottom. And when the centurion, who stood facing him, saw that in this way he breathed his last, he said, “Truly this man was the Son of God!””

This was His Love poured out in death. And today that Love is alive inside of all who believe it.

Story Share: When Love is a Journey

Mon, 21 Mar 2016 18:27:00 GMT

At the beginning of holy week, when we think on the One who chose to love us through the pain and hard moments, may we find little tastes of His struggle in our own small moments where we find love to be a journey. Because I think we all know how it is to struggle to love somebody, to want to make that choice, even when the choice hurts. And Jesus made that choice most fierce of all for us, enduring all the pain and unappreciated efforts to the farthest extreme in order to love us.

I’m enjoying Wendy’s post this morning about the people who you feel a little shy and unknowing about how to love. I’m feeling her feelings and seeing how my Jesus felt much the same on this holy week. Read Wendy’s post here.

Jesus, may we step into holy week reminded to slow and see you in every shy moment we face, because in Your pouring out of love, you have faced all the moments before us. May we let the journey of today press us deeper into the heart of Your cross. When we feel the long journey of love in our life, may we slow to see you pointing to the love you poured out there. To see the journey you took to get there and the blank responses you got along the way. To see the love You choose to step into every day of your life even though it didn’t feel good. To see You loving us through the awkward life you lived to be human like us and love us even in your human-ness. Be our grace to hold today in every moment of the journey.

When You Need a Rescue from Yourself

Thu, 17 Mar 2016 18:33:00 GMT

Last night, I was desperately longing for a rescue from my own self. Maybe you’re living there too. For me, it was two and I was waiting for bedtime. I was up with my girl who couldn’t sleep. I wanted sleep, and more than that I wanted time with my husband who’s been so busy trying to keep the bills paid. And I was having ugly, griping thoughts that I would rather you not hear. Ugly filled my mind. Then I thought about my thoughts and I felt yuck. Pitiful and messy. Hopeless wreck, that’s me. With eyes closed and to the tune of my girl’s cries that went on, I said the only thing my sleepy mind could think of that felt like a rescue from the ugly wife and mother that I saw inside this head: God is on the throne.

The ugly is there and I hate feeling ugly. Ugly is often what my mind looks like and I know it well.

“For I do not understand my own actions. For I do not do what I want, but I do the very thing I hate.” (Romans 7:15)

But this is the beginning of another reason to press deeper into what Jesus did for me. Because though I have broken God’s law yet again, this is the truth for me: “You also have died to the law through the body of Christ, so that you may belong to another, to him who has been raised from the dead, in order that we may bear fruit for God.” (Romans 7:4) When I gave myself to Jesus, I let myself die so that I wouldn’t have to belong to the ugly person I saw inside me. I died so I could belong to Another.

The ugly I see inside me is an ugly person I carry with me, but that person has already died with Jesus. And since that person is dead, she has no ownership of me. “Now if I do what I do not want, it is no longer I who do it, but sin that dwells within me.” (Romans 7:20) I hate the ugly me and I want to avoid her, but no matter how hard I try, I can’t live a day without seeing her.

That is why Jesus died. He is my rescue. He died so that this ugly person inside me could die. That ugly me will exist inside this body for all my time on earth, but the Romans killed her with Jesus on the cross. She lives inside me, but you know, she’s dead, and she has no say over me.

“Wretched man that I am! Who will deliver me from this body of death? Thanks be to God through Jesus Christ our Lord!” (Romans 7:24-25)

It’s a truth I’ve been given to enjoy this week, a gift God sneaked to me through a shot at the dentist. That shot that numbed my face on Wednesday, made my mouth look a bit crooked, with one cheek bigger than the other. I really think it looks better in the pictures than it did in real life. And while it felt a little funny seeing the looks I got from people that day, it was also something that was fun to take pictures of because I knew I would only look that way for a little while. Because I knew that while that was in fact, my face, it wasn’t really my face. If I just remembered what I really looked like, or more importantly, who I really was, then my two-sided face didn’t really feel embarrassing.

And God used that to press me further into the freeing truth of who I really am. This is what He did for me. Despite any ugliness I see in my life on this earth, holy is who I am because that is what He is. He is the one who owns me and that is the most beautiful rescue from that ugly, old, dead, sinful me.

Maybe you need to be rescued from yourself today too. I get it. The sinful you is downright ugly just like the sinful me and that’s the truth. May we live in faith to hold tight to our lifeline today, “having died to that which held us captive, so that we serve in the new way of the Spirit.” (Romans 7:6)

Rest into Jesus and rejoice in who you are. Because in Him, you are downright beautiful.

Story Share: When It’s Time to Shed Life’s Pressures

Tue, 15 Mar 2016 22:42:00 GMT

Maybe you feel wound up with the pressures of life today and need a safe place to shed all the things. If that’s you, I want to point you over to Niki Hardy’s post today where she shares some of her beautiful story and identifies with a lobster shedding its shell. Find her lobster post here. She’s fun to read and shares her cancer story and grace testimony at mystorymygod.com

Her explanation of the lobster’s life and invitation to “set your inner-lobster free” has been a sweet call for me to settle down into my Rock and Fortress and release my stress and insufficiency there in front of the ONe who has already taken them on Himself. Some of my favorite words from her post…

Jesus, make us willing to come to you when the pressures of life make us feel hopeless and lost. When we feel insufficient and small or overwhelmed and frustrated draw us to “hunker down under The Rock.” Make the safe fortress we find in You our first place to seek comfort in the stresses we face this week. Make us bold to shed our tough skin in front of the One who made us and knows us. In the name of Jesus, may we be quick to go there.

When the Options of Life are Overwhelming

Thu, 10 Mar 2016 19:24:00 GMT

Every day, we all face what can easily become an overwhelming number of options. Each of us can live this day so many different ways. One small decision can change the course of our day and the course of our lives. And that can get overwhelming fast. Sometimes I just want to shy away and escape the decision making for a little while, but that itself is a decision. All we can do to make good with the options in front of us is to simply rest into the Spirit of God and do the thing that seems good.

The questions come easy. What if I choose the wrong thing? What if I choose something that’s too big for me? What if I choose something that’s too small. And the ‘me’ is what messes me up – when I’m afraid something is too big, too small for me. The truth is that I’m a Child of God. The Spirit lives in and is able to live through me and, as such, nothing is too big or too small.

It’s a matter of seeing the one thing in front of me that seems good and recieving it. That is what Luke did when he wrote his gospel. He decided to write because “it seemed good.” (Luke 1:3) He began his writing, though perhaps it seems he felt both small and big about doing it.

Luke was taking up the task of writing down the life of Jesus as he knew it. He knew this had been done many times before so perhaps it felt a bit like a very small offering. Yet, some who had written had had closer contact to Jesus than he did. So perhaps it was easy for him to feel like he was trying to do something too big. Yet, writing these words down for Theophilus was what seemed good to do.

I don’t think Luke denied his feelings about writing. He admits his circumstances clearly here. But he worked through it and he recieved the Holy Spirit in him doing this thing that seemed good.

I love this story of Luke because it resonates so deeply with the way I often feel about life. Things that feel small, like laundry and dishes and changing diapers – though they do indeed feel small, they are things God has given me to do. The Spirit can live big through my small rinsing of dishes. Things that feel big, like being responsible for little lives, like teaching, or being asked for advice – though they can feel too big for me, I can rest in the Spirit inside to do through me. Sometimes I don’t, but the truth still stands that I can.

Maybe the circumstances look a little different for you, but maybe you know those feelings all too well.

For today may we do as Luke did. May we be willing to admit the feelings and willing even then to do the thing that seems good for now, no matter how big or small it may be. Because if we have the Spirit inside us, nothing is too big, nothing too small for the glory of God to live through.

Story Share: Shame-Free in Weakness

Mon, 07 Mar 2016 21:21:00 GMT

Some of my favorite words from her post…

Those are powerful thoughts for our small-feeling moments. May we be willing to receive the love poured through another’s words.

For today, Jesus, give us grace to not be shamed by the reminder of your sacrifice, but impassioned by the love of it. May the wrong attitudes in our disruption bring us to your cross. To come boldly, knowing you’ve taken all the shame of this moment on Yourself and to press into the promise of You in us. May we confidently live this day knowing we are in You. You are our great Comfort and Strength for every shy-feeling moment the enemy tries to throw our way today.

“Blessed be the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, the Father of mercies and God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our affliction , so that we may be able to comfort those who are in any affliction, with the comfort with which we ourselves are comforted by God. For as we share abundantly in Christ’s sufferings, so through Christ we share abundantly in comfort too.” (2 Cor. 1:3-5)

When I Don’t Feel Like Opening my Bible

Thu, 03 Mar 2016 19:20:00 GMT

There was one night last week, I sat with my closed Bible in front of me and I stared. My heart didn’t feel open to receive what I would find. It didn’t feel open to prayer, to searching out God’s truth, to letting the Spirit live through. I wanted to feel open, but I didn’t. And I wanted someone to tell me how to open my heart.

I felt like a mess, a bad Christian, and I don’t remember if I did open that Bible or not. And more out of a last hope feeling I may have sent up a prayer that went something like, “help.”

The next morning was Tuesday, the day I go to the ladies Bible study group I’ve been joining this year. I was looking for something to hold onto that would help me open my heart. My small group leader was gone that day. It felt a little out of the normal routine. We were studying Revelation 15 and 16. We studied the wrath of God, and at the end of the passage, we looked at a verse that was just confusing to me.

“Behold, I am coming like a thief! Blessed is the one who stays awake, keeping his garments on, that he may not go about naked and be seen exposed.” (Rev. 16:15)

One lady mentioned being clothed with the armor of God, I think another might have mentioned daily faith. And, maybe it was something in what they said… I don’t remember exactly what it was, but I was intrigued.

So, when we went to listen to the lecture on our passage, that was the part I was eager to hear. And when Marsha spoke on that verse, her words filled me up. Or maybe it wasn’t just her words, but the way it felt when I heard them… the way the Spirit had worked through my guilty feelings to make my heart so ready to listen… the way those words spoke directly to the empty-feeling spot inside me.

She dumbed the verse down for me and said something along the lines of this…

Jesus’ coming will be unexpected. The point is to always be ready. It made me think of the way I feel when I’m eight months pregnant and want to be prepared in case the baby comes today. At that point, preparation is always on my mind. I don’t want to be caught off guard for that.

As Christians, we are blessed in keeping prepared for Jesus coming. She assured the fact that salvation is a guarantee. She just used a phrase that went something like, ‘don’t go to heaven smoking,’ like you barely made it out of the flames of hell. That idea of keeping prepared made me think of Jesus’ parable of the ten virgins when there were five who were prepared for the bridegroom, even in their sleep, and five who were not.

I remembered all the time of preparation that went into my wedding. And I felt the excitement of being a bride in preparation, the joy of the promise that I am Jesus’ bride. (Eph. 5:25-27; 2 Cor. 11:2) Being reminded of that promise made me want to prepare.

In being prepared, I am told to keep my garments on, to not be found exposed. And I remember those few minutes that felt like an eternity… waiting on those stairs in my wedding dress, with veil and slippers, hair and makeup done, waiting to be called out by my dad to come walk the aisle.

And this is what I’ve been struggling with, this keeping prepared for the wedding. Because I’ve lost sight of the excitement of what’s about to happen. I’ve forgotten that I don’t want to walk that aisle unprepared to be fully given to my Jesus, my Bridegroom.

I consider what my wedding gown is in this life, and I remember those words that were spoken in small group, armor of God, daily faith. I remember the book I read last year about prayer. And sometime that day I heard the verse about mustard seed faith.

“Truly I tell you, if you have faith as small as a mustard seed, you can say to this mountain, ‘Move from here to there,’ and it will move. Nothing will be impossible for you.” (Mt. 17:20)

If I have faith small as a mustard seed… Maybe I need simply to hold to that little bit of faith for this day and He will complete the wedding dress for me. If you have faith small as a mustard seed… nothing will be impossible for you. Not even having a heart that wants to receive what you find in you Bible. Faith is the gift offered to me today. My open heart is found here.

This is the wedding dress. May we keep it on.

Today may be the day we walk heaven’s aisle.

Story Share: For our Busy and Tired, and our Life in the Mirror

Mon, 29 Feb 2016 18:35:00 GMT

Today I’m excited to invite you to read a post by Wendy Munsell! I admire Wendy’s openness in sharing her story. This is for our busy and tired, our longing to explore the life we get glances of in the mirror… for the unexplored questions in the back of our minds, and the wanting to take the journey inside. Here are words from Wendy Munsell.

Read Wendy’s entire post here: How I Journeyed from Believing to Knowing.

For all of us taking up the challenge to bring all of these feelings to Jesus today…

Jesus, may we make room to reach inside the feelings and questions we meet today to find the gift You are giving us inside them. May we receive the gift to press deeper into who we are in You. Give us grace to find the life You’re giving us there, and grace to want that life so much that we can’t resist making space to come to you with the stuff inside us. May we reach deep into the life in the mirror. May we cease to be impressed with busy doing and enter today impressed with who You are. Amaze us with the simple truths about You. You are the God who equips us for today. In the name of Jesus, give grace to us to live there. Amen.

“I am the Lord, and there is no other, besides me there is no God; I equip you, though you do not know me, that people may know, from the rising of the sun and from the west, that there is none besides me; I am the Lord and there is no other.” – Isaiah 45:5-6

Blessings! And warm welcome to the story pile where you’ll find other stories like Wendy’s. I hope the pile can be a blessing to you!

Because the job you do right now is sacred

Tue, 16 Feb 2016 00:00:00 GMT

A couple weeks ago I was sitting in the doctor’s office. Holding my crying toddler, I was told she had double pneumonia and to take her straight to the hospital. And I am relatively new at parenting and when I hear words like that about my toddler I have no idea how to take it. And my mind did not hold to hope and I didn’t know how to respond and I went in and out of worry… worry that escalated when my seven month old woke up with a fever. I ended up caring for them both from home, one with pneumonia, one with bronchitis, nine days of fevers, two ER visits. Though I hear most parents go through similar things, and much more serious things in their parenting journey, it was a brand new experience for me to process. These were words written a couple days after our first ER visit when caring for them felt a bit glorious.

“Today I write from an overarching calm that has found a place, if but for these moments, to nestle deep into my soul. This week my girls are sick and I have worried too much and prayed not enough. This week I held my Amayah, weak and drowsy, while the IV gave her back the strength she needs to get well. This week I made the 4am WalMart run to get the medicine to lower Liesel’s temperature.

Today I was texting my husband a play-by-play of the events here at the house. From the comforting of the tears this morning, to Amayah crying till she fell asleep this afternoon, to Liesel spitting up, to warm baths and delirious words from my daughter… he got a play by play with pictures. And the girls fell asleep and I wonder why I felt the need to speak those things to him all day. And then I realized why and it felt so wonderful…

Partly, of course, I just wanted to let him know how they were doing, but there was something so energizing about what I was doing today.

Largely, I think I’m excited to let him know what’s going on, because what I’m doing feels so important.

Today my shirt is a spit-up catching, boogie-wiping, tear-soaking mess and it feels so sacred.”

And had my daughter not begun crying I think I was going on to say that maybe in the mess of comforting my two feverish ones through nine rounds of days and nights, I could feel the weight of something so meaningful. That right in the middle of those days, God delivered something that isn’t as easy for me to see in the every-day normal when what I do can feel so very small. It was a simple knowing that in order for these girls to get healthy someone had to care for them and keep track of their medicine and ensure their nourishment and I was the one to do that. It wasn’t that someone else couldn’t have done it for me, because they could have. It was just knowing that God had chosen to give me this task right here, right now. It was the sacred beauty of knowing the health of these little lives was laying in my hands. It was the art of rising to that call. There was a sacred beauty in my filthy shirt that day and the real beauty is that the same sacred call is given to me today. It’s not just the health of their bodies but the growth of their soul that is given to my charge. It may not sound as significant as shepherding a church as a pastor, or shepherding a community as a missionary, but I am indeed an under-shepherd to the true Shepherd. I am a shepherd to these two girls in my care. And though that might sound small, it is extraordinarily significant. These two souls in my care hold the greatest value to Jesus. For this day, these girls are the largest scope of my mission field and the task I am chosen to carry is infinitely glorious.

May we all feel the glory in it. We are all privileged with the mission of pointing souls to grace, wherever we may be. May we live out that calling with the greatest dignity in carrying Jesus’ victory, whether we carry it today to one thousand souls who hear the gospel preached from a pulpit or to one soul who sees the gospel preached in the way we match socks.

Writing Artistic Limits into Life

Fri, 15 Jan 2016 01:55:00 GMT

Today, I need to write if only because it gives my soul room to breathe, if only because it feels as necessary to my life as eating, as if Someone has programmed me that way. Because life can feel like such a balance and writing helps to release something inside me under the strain of it and to understand the strain itself. Because I want to be relational enough and responsible enough, with enough sincerity and enough integrity. I want to savor the moments with my girlies in this fleeting stage of their lives, and just when I’m really enjoying it, the fear creeps in that I’m falling behind on other aspects of life. That there’s other callings God has for me too and what if I miss them? Maybe I try to live more like a black and white graph than an artistic portrait. Because I am beautifully and wonderfully made, someone who God designed to live His own beauty through. And maybe what I need is not more time, but a simple focus to live into and some artistic limits placed around it to protect it from the things that try to make me feel bossed around… a conscious affirmation of the first things God has called me to this year and a commitment to move, even if it’s just one little baby step a day in the direction of the other things I feel I must move towards.

As someone who often feels pulled in different directions in the middle of wanting to fulfill my first calling for this season of life to be full time mommy to my little babies and wanting to fulfill the other things in life I feel called towards, I have let myself be pushed around by fear. And in the knowledge of that I have to change my complicated goals for the year to the simple: I want to dive all in and get my hair wet in my role as mommy. I want to do the things I’ve dreamed of, to teach them with passion and live fully there in the adventure with them. And for the other things I feel called towards I’m working on forming the habit of committing just a few short minutes a day to each of them, and being willing to rest them there. I long for the chunks of time to spend on those things but I never get anywhere because most days that just isn’t a reality for me. And it can feel like the things inside me (the callings, the talents, the desires, the avenues of service) where I think the Spirit inside of me needs to come out are at war with each other, bossing me around in the middle. And I believe that feeling is an alert to me to be intentional with the ways I choose to live Love.

This year I’m deciding to be intentional about my wife and mommy calling. Even though I have arrived here at a young age, it’s still true that I’ve spent years dreaming of being here and having the privilege to help my husband and teach my children. This is where I’ve wanted to be. I do have other callings in life, but I don’t have to be at war between callings. If I can just take one little baby step a day towards the other things and run head on in the main direction God is calling me, I don’t have to feel pushed around by these things. These are my goals for this year and being intentional about choosing a life focus feels so freeing.
Maybe you can relate to some aspect of this? Whether you’ve felt pushed around by your callings or not, may we be intentional about the ways we choose to live Love this year. May we choose those things that are most important and rebuke the fear that we’ll miss other callings. Those are the fears the enemy wants us to entertain. That’s how he messes with us and tries to get our focus off of the main thing God is trying to do with our lives. May we not get distracted with the ways we think the Spirit should be coming out of us and be bold to put the fears aside. May we strive to live Love just as Love wants to live in us. No more and no less.

Fear’s Rising Tide

Tue, 29 Dec 2015 04:55:00 GMT

Saturday night in Garland, TX, we huddled in closets and sent up prayers to the background music of thunder and pounding rain. Some felt laughter, some felt horror. Because when the reality strikes close and the wind tears into your city, with no mercy for the value of life, you feel the questions. It’s where horror lives. How do you claim peace when wind monsters can jump from the sky and claim life? You can feel the tide of hearts rising, the door opening for the entrance of fear, the suppression of love. Because whether you’ve been directly affected or not, when that kind of disaster comes to your city, its not natural to feel peace. The questions rise, and the rolling tide they send in seems impossible to stand against. But I am one who belongs and a voice inside whispers truth. I am not my own.

This feels so small, this tide that’s rising. I have not seen death’s face close by. But even in this, there’s a Spirit inside whispering truth. Victory’s been won over fear already. The tide rolling in has no power. The peace state of my soul has been branded safe for eternity’s time. Peace is not a question, not a distant hope. Peace is mine to claim, because death and destruction is a lie to one who belongs to Christ. He will not give more than is bearable to one who has the Spirit living inside. The threat of death is not true for me because I am His child and if I just hold on a little longer I’ll see the truth of peace unfold. It unfolds today in the nooks of my heart. Soon, very soon, it will unfold for all time.

Conversation with a Prayer Warrior

Sun, 13 Dec 2015 07:04:00 GMT

This is a book review on Priscilla Shirer’s book Fervent: A Woman’s Battle Plan to Serious, Specific and Strategic Prayer

Prayer. It’s not tangible by any means. It happens in your head. It’s a part of your thoughts. You can’t see it. You can’t measure it. You can’t grade yourself on it… Sometimes, in a mix of pride and guilt and hoping I can produce my own good, I’ve wanted too, but I miss the point… The point of being given the name of Jesus to pray in, the point of this constant grace that gives me the right to come bold to the Father with every privilege, every birthright, every tender part of being His very own child. This, this direct access to the Father, through Jesus, in the Spirit, is the weapon, the grace-given, grace-driven weapon, that can tackle the threat of anything the enemy throws my way.

I want to use it, but yet, I trivialize it. I set my prayer time, but when I fail at that I toss the prayer “time” and try to make it an on-going conversation throughout my day, but then I get busy and… oops.

I want to sit down with a real prayer warrior for a few hours and get all the inside scoop. I want to hear the ins and outs of how they’ve made this a habit, of what they’re prayer life looks like on a daily basis, to see the way that they pray. How do you find the words? What do you do when you’re so overwhelmed you can’t think of what to pray? How do you hold to your commitment to prayer when the day throws you all the curve balls? When babies kept you up all night and you can hardly think? When they woke up earlier than they were supposed to? When you slept through your alarm? When kids keep you on your toes all day? How do you make it work?

Priscilla Shirer’s book Fervent is like that conversation in book form. She sits down with you as a kind friend who knows victory, who enjoys the power of God’s presence and is willing to be used to help you enjoy it. She gives you the inside scoop. What she offers is not the only way to develop a strong prayer life, but it’s a powerful way. She’s honest and shows you her imperfections, but goes on in victory assuring you of victory. She hands you the tools you need to build a firm prayer strategy, the wisdom of experience to know how, and the most loving and graceful kick in the pants you’ll ever get to pursue habitual prayer as the lifeline it is.

Fervent has honestly become one of my very favorite books that I plan to turn to time and again. I feel like I’ve had a good long talk with a dear lady who cares for my soul. And in longing for me to access the mighty power God provides His children, she’s pleaded with me to identify the places where Satan has his targets drawn on my life and strengthen my prayer there… to know the importance of praying Scripture, in putting that into practice. Priscilla has guided me into the process of creating my own personal prayer strategy for each area the enemy tries hardest to get me. She’s helped me find the Scriptures and form the words I’ll need in the midst of temptation for the times I can’t think of what to pray, and she’s given me the prayer cue cards to mark up and post where I need them so I can’t forget to pray. I’ve been handed the excitement of meeting Priscilla’s own sweet, battle cry of prayer. I have no reason not to pray from the same victory that she does. Neither do you!

And whether you’ve read the book or not, may we pray boldly in all the victory that became ours the moment we received Christ’s gift. If you’re in Christ, you’ve been given all you need to be as fervent in prayer as anybody and that is a glorious truth!

House of Blessings

Thu, 26 Nov 2015 17:36:00 GMT

It isn’t hard to sit surrounded by all the blessings of your year and still pity your self for something or other. If blessings aren’t remembered, they’ll be forgotten as blessings. I need the Thanksgiving holiday to remind me to remember. Because I have an enemy who wants to blind me to how very greatly God has blessed me – who wants to turn the best blessings God gives into cause for me to sorrow.

These are the sweet blessings I sit surrounded by as I write this morning. These are the blessings of our year.

We moved into this house in March.

We shouldn’t be able to live here. Not this size house. Not with the income we’ve been getting. But well, God opened so many doors and generous hearts and this is where we are. And of course, we have the greatest neighbors. I never would have thought in the years I spent working for Mrs. Cahill, cleaning her house, that I would live in the house next door one day. Well, here we are.

When we moved into this house it looked big and empty and some days that was all I saw. I gave into the enemy’s lies trying to hide the blessing of it.

And as selfish as that was, God blessed even in my desire to make this house look more homey with furniture to fill it. He used the people in our lives.

This corner of the house was mostly all empty the first several months we lived here – except for the piano. And a book shelf. That couch has become our favorite couch to snuggle on and watch TV with the girls. David and Marlene were getting rid of it and thought of us. That green chair is my favorite and was Ms. Avery’s. She was looking for someone who could use and Mrs. Cahill sent her our way. She gave us Liesel’s dresser too. The TV and stand was from Andy. The table with the basket on it was one the Bouldin’s offered us – part of a whole set we got. We pulled in the rocking chair Uncle Tan made Amayah and the desk the Keese’s gave us a few months before we moved in and the piano doesn’t look lonely at all anymore (which, by the way, was given to us by my parents a few months before we moved here too). Even the end table and the lamp were gifts.

When we found out we were moving here, this brown couch was the only seating furniture we had. It was given to us by the Tusings. The matching chairs and the green table in the corner (you can see it better in the other pic above) were at the family farm we like to go from time to time and barely used. The bookshelf was given to us from my parents a while back. The coffee table was part of the set from the Bouldins. It adds so much to the room. The blue recliner was from the Richey’s (Nano’s favorite chair), as was the artwork framed in blue in the dining room.

I love our dining room. The table was my parents first dining table. And the beautiful armoir was something Granny was getting rid of.

The effort of turning this house into a home is a delight and good for my soul.

We are hugely blessed and sometimes I just need to write it all down where I can see how very blessed we are.

And the highlights of our year?

This year Nano got his new job, an enormous blessing. Another one where the enemy tries to blindside me. And another one where I could go on and on about the blessing it is and the amazing way God provided it.

And I’ll list one other blessing here.

Nano and I had been sharing a car which was a little inconvenient some times, but it wasn’t bad with him working from home. But it would have been a lot inconvenient with him starting a normal go-off-to-work-everyday job this month. The Tusings gave us this Jeep just a couple weeks before he started. They didn’t know he was about to start going to work. God has the best timing.

It feels crazy to list these things out, but there it is. How could we possibly be more blessed?

When I try to give Him thanks I don’t know where to start and anything I try to say feels so inadequate to really thank Him. But that’s the beauty of thanksgiving. I give Him thanks with Jesus’ name. It’s the name, the life, the person that He’s given me to be found in and as such every thanks of mine comes with the beauty that only Jesus could give it.

I’m grateful today that I can come boldly to thank Him with my silly, falling-short-in-themselves words of thanks. He hears those words and sees in them all the beauty of Jesus. For that I am thankful.

What I Learned in October

Tue, 03 Nov 2015 05:10:00 GMT

Emily P. Freeman is one of my very favorite bloggers. I check her page almost daily to see if I’ve missed anything. And at the end of every month, I read the new post in her What I Learned series, tell myself that’s such a great idea and I’m going to join in with the link up this time.. and I don’t. Well, I’m finally, actually joining in today. A little late, but yes. So, today I’m telling you what I learned in October – from the little silly things to my favorite October lessons. And I’m including some fun fall pics of my girlies!

I say sorry a lot. Your own kids are just the very best at showing you your own way of living life. My Amayah is two and a half and seems to be picking up on mine a bit. And this month she started saying sorry for the most random things. She drops her toy and says it. She trips, falls down and says it. So, we’re working on that. Together.

Halloween is not as easy as it looks. I had the best plans to have my Amayah be Dorothy this year. I found the cutest blue dress. We had a basket for her. “Doggy” who she sleeps with was going to be Toto. Come Halloween weekend, I got the dress on her and she hated it. Passionately. She yanked on the tutu and bit into the frills and the dress came off. No Dorothy. Didn’t want to make a big battle over that. We’ll try again next year.

I learned what memoir means. Maybe everyone else knows this, but I didn’t. This is so very valuable to me because I learned that the “book” I’ve been trying to write is, in fact, a memoir. In the words of Marion Roach Smith:

I like that. And it gives me so much clarity moving forward.

Write 31 days is not as achievable as I thought it was. At the beginning of the month, (when I had just started my own series to participate in Write 31 Days ) I read another writer’s confession: last year she only got to 22 days… I was sure I could do better than that. Wrong. My 31 Days series was in reality 17 days.

Taking up the challenge to write daily teaches you bunches about yourself. I realized how much good it does me to write every day. I also learned how sporadic my “me time” has often been and that if I’m going to try to commit to “being a writer” I need a plan to keep from letting writing override my priorities. It made me finally find a routine that helps me order my priorities right and allows me time for my own things too. One that’s not too hard to stick with… Of course, that’s the hardest part.

I learned a bit about battles. You can’t expect to get far in a battle if you don’t acknowledge the enemy or the way the enemy is attacking you. So just that. In a roundabout explanation of what I mean, God’s been trying to teach me this month to run to Him in repentance when I am not living from the boldness of Him in me. That I need desperately to hear moment by moment that my identity is in Him and I must find my confidence there. My identity is where the enemy seems to throw his darts the hardest and I must acknowledge that if I want to join in the battle to claim the victory Jesus has won over him.

So there’s what I learned. And the pictures were part of a sporadic photo shoot Luiz decided to do one evening last week and I just love them! Hope you enjoyed.

The Struggles of Life and the Real Enemy

Wed, 28 Oct 2015 19:38:00 GMT

Reading through Priscilla Shirer’s Fervent and this was all so needed this week. Because I’m tempted to blame hormones, or my season of life with babies, to blame sleepiness – my circumstances, and I miss what’s really happening.

When I’m tempted to blame hormones, when I’m tempted to look at how poorly I’ve handled my responsibilities today, and feel sorry for myself and look to those things as the reasons for my discouragement, may I let that be a red flag to me that I’m letting the liar pour his lies into my soul. He is the one telling me I’m not good enough when the Father has told me that as His child I am the righteousness of God in Christ Jesus. (2 Cor. 5:21)

Hormone shifts may be present. Nights may be sleepless. But the struggles in that are a distraction the enemy uses. He is the one pointing me to everything but Himself so I won’t recognize him for the condemning liar he is.

God give us grace to rebuke the lies poured upon us and take hold so eagerly to the abundance of truth You have given us to claim. Give grace to us to hold the Sword of the Spirit ready to fight off the lies thrown in our face today. (Eph. 6:17)

This is Day 28 in 31 Days of Listening

What do we pray for?

Wed, 28 Oct 2015 04:48:00 GMT

This morning, 6 something, I prayed what is my usual prayer at that time of day. God please let her sleep just one more hour… Baby Liesel has not been sleeping well this past week, and my days have been hazy and lazy. This is what many of my prayers have been looking like of late… it’s actually what I’ve uttered many a night for the past two and a half years… since I became a mommy.

That was my first prayer this morning, not long after which I dressed the girls, packed them in the car and headed off to Bible study. It was a good morning and it ended with a question. What do my prayers look like? How often do I pray for comfort and convenience and how often do I battle in prayer for faith in the midst of discomfort?

It’s a question I didn’t want to answer myself because I knew my own answer wouldn’t please God. But I don’t have to hide in shame. Jesus took my prayer record on the cross, and gave me His record with His risen life. He provides all I need to have the confidence to pray… Himself.

This is His battle call to me to go to war with my prayer, this is what He wants me to do. And as it was said today, who wouldn’t want to serve a God like this? He prepares the things in advance that He wants me to do, He motivates me and guides me along as I do them, and He promises rewards to me if I do them. That’s the God we’re asked to serve.

For all of His children, may we answer the call He gives. May we claim the risen life He has given us with our prayers. May His grace move us so much that we cannot resist taking up the battle to claim the victorious prayer life He says is ours, no matter how much the enemy wants to tell us it doesn’t belong to us. May we step into the life He’s prepared for us and so passionately desire to live a faithful life that our prayers look more like a battle against discouragement than a begging for comfort. May we live and pray in victory. So let it be.

By the way, DaySpring.com is celebrating all of the Write 31 Days readers who are supporting nearly 2,000 writers this October! To enter to win a $500 DaySpring shopping spree, just click on this link & follow the instructions. Good luck, and thanks for reading! You can enter through the 29th.

This is Day 27 in 31 Days of Listening

Constant Repentance

Tue, 20 Oct 2015 23:48:00 GMT

I try to hold onto time to feel good about me… and I do it all the wrong way and I end up feeling bad about me. Do you ever live there?

I like to think about God’s grace, but sometimes I go beyond thinking about Him as graceful. Let me explain.

This is the Revelation letter to the church of Sardis that we studied in Bible study this week:

“And to the angel of the church in Sardis write: ‘The words of him who has the seven spirits of God and the seven stars. “‘I know your works. You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead. Wake up, and strengthen what remains and is about to die, for I have not found your works complete in the sight of my God. Remember, then, what you received and heard. Keep it, and repent. If you will not wake up, I will come like a thief, and you will not know at what hour I will come against you.”

My God loves me so much that He will not tolerate my sin. He loves me so much that He asks me to repent, that He’s always open to my repentance.

The speaker’s words were convicting today. Constant repentance, she said . I want to live thinking that I don’t have anything to repent of right now, that, sure I’ve repented of things in my past, that I repent of things when things come up. I don’t want to think that I need to do it all the time. I want to hold on to time to feel good about me. .. and I forget that avoiding repentance will never allow me to feel good about me. When I live willing, eager, to bring my sin to Him, I have freedom to feel good about who I am in Him. (Phil. 3:9) “Put off your pride and insecurity and repent,” she said. Pride and insecurity? Are those really things that exist together? Maybe its true that it takes putting off both of those things in order to accept the fact that I need repentance. Grace. It calls me not to pride or to insecurity, but to confidence in the privilege His risen life gives me: to come to His throne constantly asking for the repentance I need.

May we live our lives putting off our insecurities to bring our sin into His presence. May we bring our pride to Him too and may our sin be so repulsive to us that we cannot delay repenting. Because if we really want to find joy in who we are, we can put off the pride and find ourselves in Jesus. May we repent with confidence in the grace and forgiveness of my God.

Day 20 in 31 Days of Listening

When I feel like I do it all wrong

Mon, 19 Oct 2015 20:47:00 GMT

Commit thy works unto the Lord , and thy thoughts shall be established. (Prov 16:3 KJV)

This is Proverbs 16:3 as I first learned it, a younger me. I read it from a heart wanting so much to learn how to establish my thoughts. I copied it down and chewed and chewed on it’s words. And I was confused. I wanted so much to learn more about what it looked like practically.

The last few weeks the words keeps rolling back through my mind trying to take a seat there. They show up when I make decisions that I regret, when I decide to go and end up wishing I would have stayed, when I hit publish and end up wishing I hadn’t, when I don’t say anything, and end up wishing I had. They show up, Spirit bidding listen to the secret, the secret to established thoughts and fruitful plans.

“Roll your works upon the Lord [commit and trust them wholly to Him; He will cause your thoughts to become agreeable to His will, and] so shall your plans be established and succeed.” Prov 16:3 AMPC

In practice, it’s true. When I commit it to the Lord before I take that step, I’m at peace and I am free to move on with my day. When I don’t, I am afraid – wondering what I could have changed, wondering if I should have done it at all. When I commit my steps to Him, He gives me confidence to live them knowing that He is the One living through me. When I don’t commit my steps I have fear.

Am I committing the decisions I am making right now? Am I bringing my plans to Him before I do them? Or am I living from my own fleshly wisdom in which I will never have true confidence?

May we take the next step of our day bringing it to the One who has the power to make our thoughts agreeable and our plans successful. May we confidently trust the One who tells us He is able to shine His light through our broken bodies.

This is Day 18 in 31 Days of Listening

That Scary Next Step

Sun, 18 Oct 2015 05:56:00 GMT

I’ve made one big step chasing a dream in my heart. Step taken, I look at how big the step in front of me is… I want to shrink. I want to ask myself why I ever took the first step to begin with. Is this really something I was made for? Was this the way I was supposed to go? Is it even possible for a person who struggles with insecurities like I do to travel this path? Is me doing this a joke?

The words of the day identified the fear in me so well…

“Fear says I’m going the wrong way. Doubt says I won’t find it at all. But hope? Hope says, Wait. It’s just a little farther. You are not alone and this is not just your idea.”

Emily P. Freeman talks about the art that comes out of us in a million little ways, the art of who God made us to be, the things God made us to do. She talks of traveling the paths to let that art come out of us.

“I am uncovering it, a piece at a time. The work is finished somewhere invisible. My task is to uncover it, to find it…”

She inspires me to trust that He already has the art waiting for me, to trust that He is the One putting the steps in front of me, that He is able to live through me to take the next step.

“I take hands filled with hope and ideas, clasp them together, muddy. Sometimes what comes out is a mess. Other times, it fits like velvet on skin. Somehow, the whole process is art but it doesn’t come from me. Not exactly, anyway.”

The mess of me must allow the art to come through and at the same time stand aside, because there is a greater Artist at work. The art that pours through this mess in me, might be most visible in the peeling back of that mess… Most gladly therefore, will I glory in these weaknesses, that the power of Christ may rest upon me. (2 Cor. 12:9)

May we rebuke the fear in every imperfection. May we let our own mess point us to the hope, to the One who has allowed every imperfection with the purpose of giving us the gift to live His art into the world.

This is Day 17 in 31 Days of Listening

Am I Listening?

Fri, 16 Oct 2015 20:00:00 GMT

My Bible study this morning spoke of Jesus as “him who has the sharp, two-edged sword,” (Rev. 2:12) and referenced Hebrews 4:12: “For the word of God is living and active, sharper than any two-edged sword, piercing to the division of soul and of spirit, of joints and of marrow, and discerning the thoughts and intentions of the heart.”

I thought over that for awhile. I took it too lightly and while I respected it’s truth I couldn’t figure out how it applied to me right now. Then, this afternoon, I opened the book I’m in the middle of, and it had this to say: “Stop trying so hard to read the Scriptures to look for answers but instead, let the Scriptures read you .” (Emily P. Freeman – A Million Little Ways) Coincidence? No.

Perhaps I’m meant to listen more to Him with the sharp two edged sword. I’ve named my October writing 31 Days of Listening, and perhaps I need to learn what it means to listen. Maybe I try to insert what I think He’s teaching me, or what I want to learn, into the words He gives, when listening looks like something quite different. I think that I’m the one, the one trying to read the Scriptures for answers without realizing that they are the Words that must read me.

May I hear His Words with surrender to what they have to teach me. May I come to Him dropping at His feet everything I want to hear. May I just surrender to be still and know He is God. He is the One with the sword who will hold out the truth I need in my present.

This is Day 16 in 31 Days of Listening

How Babies Might Hold the Biggest Secret to Life

Wed, 14 Oct 2015 18:40:00 GMT

Seeing Liesel express her needs is something so free and beautiful. She has a boldness to express herself that I do not.

I’ve been thinking on 1 Peter 2 this morning… “Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk…” It was part of Nano’s lesson in class a few weeks ago.

He taught on Matthew 15 and the lady who asked for the “crumbs” from Jesus. The application of that story never made more sense to me than it did after hearing Nano teach on it. I’ve been wanting to hold on to this thought and explore it more, the pleading for crumbs, the little things that Jesus gives and letting those little things work through our hearts as He creates a big picture of love in us one little piece at a time.

Longing for spiritual milk as a baby longs for milk, chasing after the crumbs we can get from the Lord… maybe it’s saying that there’s value in pouring over the simple pieces of truth we find, the simple steps of faith in front of us, the simple prayers and words of worship that we can give Him. This longing for milk… it’s connected to tasting the Lord’s goodness.

“Like newborn infants, long for the pure spiritual milk, that by it you may grow up into salvation – if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good.” (1 Peter 2:2-3) Maybe it’s in savoring the crumbs from Jesus that we taste His goodness the most.

“…if indeed you have tasted that the Lord is good. As you come to him, a living stone rejected by men but in the sight of God chosen and precious.” It’s in this, tasting His goodness… the more we taste how good God is, the more we know how valuable we are.

“You yourselves like living stones are being built up as a spiritual house, to be a holy priesthood, to offer spiritual sacrifices acceptable to God through Jesus Christ… you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light.” (Verse 5 and 9) When we taste His goodness and know ourselves to be valued, it is there that we offer acceptable sacrifices. It is there that we proclaim the excellencies of His grace, because it is there that we most know it ourselves.

Becoming like babies and being willing to drink the milk, that is where we live most freely. Laura C. Robb talked on her blog this week about looking for something big when God is offering the small things right in front of us. And maybe this is what He needs me to hear today, that maybe the biggest secret to living free is in opening my hands to the crumbs from His table. Opening hands to the crumbs will look different with every moment and maybe for me now it looks like being willing to pray the simple prayers, and simple words of worship.

Maybe babies hold the biggest secret after all. They have the simplest, most child-like longings, yet they express themselves the most freely. Maybe when I am most like my little Liesel, maybe there I will be most confident to trust the Spirit living through me.

This is Day 14 in 31 Days of Listening

How God is Bold and Free to Shepherd His Children

Tue, 13 Oct 2015 19:25:00 GMT

Bible study fellowship today was on the Revelation letters to the churches. So needed. Studied Ephesus and Smyrna this week, on rekindling love and persevering in suffering.

The statement was made by the leader today: “Has your love for Jesus become secondary to what you do for Jesus?” (Marsha Holmes) I need to be asked this question every day.

It’s tempting to measure myself by the things I do, because my works are what I can see. Those are the tangible things. But I can’t measure my love and sometimes it’s hard to pursue something when it isn’t easy to see your progress. I obsess with seeing my own progress now, when in fact Jesus is offering rewards much greater and much more motivating than what I look for…

“To the one who conquers I will grant to eat of the tree of life, which is in the paradise of God.” (Rev. 2:7) It’s so wonderful to have a God who realizes how much I need reminders of the reward at the end of the race. He has compassion on my human need for extra encouragement. I’m so glad He’s not anything like me – I debate over whether I should offer my daughter an incentive because I don’t want to be seen as a bribing mother. But in His Word, He boldly tells me about the reward. It’s refreshing to be shepherded by a God who is free of all my human inconsistencies. He doesn’t debate over whether it would be too forward to remind me to love Him. He doesn’t hesitate to show Himself to me as the God I need in my moment. (Like Jesus introduced Himself differently to each of the seven churches. He knew exactly what each one of them needed from Him.) He comes to me offering exactly what my soul needs.

May we be reminded of the greatness of our God who Fathers us unhindered by all we are limited by. He finds me where I am, the God I need, and reminds me to rekindle the love for Him that my soul desperately longs to know.

This is Day 13 in 31 Days of Listening

Truth to hold in times we want to hide

Mon, 12 Oct 2015 20:41:00 GMT

Today I’m telling you how I am blessed by Aliza Latta’s blog post: A prayer for the timid and terrified

These words I read this morning express the feelings of my weekend so well.

Yesterday, at church I listened to words about guilt and sin that won’t leave, and I thought about my own fear, my own shy. Shy habits have been built into my thoughts with my repeated practice. Sometimes I look at the confident and wonder where they came from that they have so much freedom. But my Nano reminds me that confidence is something that is grown into, not something that people are born with.

Confidence can be grown into, because with repeated practice truth can renew shy habits. Aliza’s prayer reminds me of God’s truth.

Comfortable. It describes the place that provides the greatest ease.

When I chase shy, when I hide, this is God’s truth I have to hold: Though living in my shy fears might be the easiest place, easy is not what my soul longs for. When I choose easy, I am refusing to experience the beauty of what happens when I trust the Spirit moving through me.

May I listen to truth in the moments I’m tempted to fear and shy away. May I live confident in the joy that His presence in me brings.

This is Day 12 in 31 Days of Listening.

Words for Insecurities

Sat, 10 Oct 2015 04:33:00 GMT

I read this today. I so needed to hear it…

It made me want to read Romans eight. The Message paraphrase of this passage really is beautiful and I think it explains the Spirit in us so well.

I hadn’t read this whole passage in the Message before tonight. It makes me want to cry. It’s often that I forget the truth and look at myself. May my mistakes there be something to glory in though (2 Cor. 12:9-10). His grace is perfect in my weakness, even in this. May He use my weaknesses. And may I look to the One inside me, and let the Person He’s trying to be in me come out.

This is Day 9 in 31 Days of Listening

The Balancing Act

Fri, 09 Oct 2015 06:42:00 GMT

Yesterday was full and the writing I had planned didn’t happen. Yesterday, I was frustrated with the fullness of the day. I didn’t take time to hear the blessings. I was on a mind rant, a bad attitude, mad at anyone and everyone who ever said you could have an organized home and life with a newborn and a toddler in the house. In imaginary land, I was accusing them all because they had to be lying to me.

Today I’ve been thinking on Proverbs 31 and two blog posts that both sort of touched on yesterdays struggles and attitudes.

The first post put into words a little bit of the balance my soul longs for.

“A clean house might help your soul breathe, but a clean house doesn’t give you value.” The cleanliness of my house usually takes the back burner. When my house is clean, it’s usually always because I’ve neglected the people in my life and focused too much on clean. So, I tend to try to lean on that idea that a clean house doesn’t give me value, and prioritize everything else above clean, but sometimes I put it so low on the priority list that life feels out of balance. I forget that a clean house helps the soul of those who live in it. And I can’t figure out how to pull the great balancing act between relationships and responsibilities. Maybe this all speaks to more than just my house.

Proverbs 31… it’s such a perfect description of a woman. Certainly, the Proverbs woman doesn’t label housekeeping as a low priority, and keeps her house while managing to put the truest value on relationships. She looks to have it all together and it feels like an unattainable standard.

I read this today (another article) that helped it make better sense. Another lady who felt the same way about that passage…

I like her words. And maybe this is a piece of what He’s telling me. Simple things… knowing that wisdom takes time, trusting that He is providing the things I need to grow in wisdom, being earnest in prayer, asking for wisdom… maybe these things are my simple call for the present.

And tonight I read these words, that help me hear more.

Her words make me realize that I look too much at my own self. I think I’m the one who has to do it. I try to do the balancing act, looking at my own feet, looking at all the reason I could have to fear. I’m like Peter looking at the waves tossing at my feet.

I pray I live free, trusting He’s already done the balancing act for me. Knowing that while I can’t, He can. There I am free, and there, while I still can’t balance it myself, He can live it through me and that is the most beautiful thing I could ever ask for. May He live in me.

This is Day 8 in 31 Days of Listening

Almighty Jesus

Wed, 07 Oct 2015 04:42:00 GMT

When you mother babies, or do anything where quiet times are so very scarce, the little bits of truth you come across here and there, become so very treasured. It forces you to cling to the pieces of truth that do reach your ears and do what you can to unpack their meaning.

Today the truth that caught me the firmest, with my baby falling asleep in my arms, were the words telling me that Jesus is Almighty God, and the question asking if I believed that. Do I have faith in that truth?

Belief is a funny thing. I can place my belief in something once and for all and make eternal decisions about my soul. But just because I place my belief in something doesn’t mean I will always live like it’s true.

Jesus is God , I have placed my faith in that, but there are times that I don’t live like I believe it. Is there any truth more important than the fact that Jesus is God Almighty? Yet, I can be tempted to treat those words so simply as if there’s nothing profound in them, when in fact they tell me the most profound piece of knowledge there is.

Jesus is Almighty God. If I am believing in that truth in a day, in a moment, if I am living in the knowledge of how profound that is, how will the lens of faith that I look through dress my day?

This truth is the only truth that can take the most chaotic day, the most ordinary day, the saddest day and dress them in all the beauty of knowing He is Lord over it.

Jesus is God and He is Sovereign. May we take that up and hold to it so tightly that our moment is dressed in so much beauty that the brokenness of ourselves and all the world cannot darken the joy we find.

This is Day 6 in 31 Days of Listening

Hurdles to Free Living and the Strength that Makes them Small

Tue, 06 Oct 2015 05:21:00 GMT

Learning to confidently be who God made you to be is hard when you live in a world of people who are messed up just like you.

We do it to each other. We make it hard for each other to live freely when we assume the things we don’t know, when we lack communication, build invisible walls and forget that we are people who need each other.

Jesus experienced it. He knew the Pharisees thoughts assuming the worst about His words of forgiveness. (Matthew 9) He was judged, thought the worst of. He lived it for us, lived the life our soul deeply longs to be rid of. And He offers us His own life.

There is strength in knowing He lived the struggles we live, strength in knowing He has given us His own joy.

When all the cares of this body and this world weigh us down, we are given a hope in that. It’s simple, but it’s the deep truth we long for, the key that blows the door open and lets the Spirit shine through. For those burdened times and all the time, the joy of the Lord is our strength. (Neh. 8:10)

When I make that a part of me, the sin that stands to face me doesn’t look so big. When I take those words to heart, knowing the day is near, I can live in this glorious truth: His joy will soon shatter every evil thing and I will live with no hindrances to keep me from glorying in His goodness forever.

This is Day 5 in 31 Days of Listening

“Seek God, not just answers.”

Mon, 05 Oct 2015 04:32:00 GMT

“Seek God, not just answers.” – Bro. Robby

These were among my favorite words of the day. Bro. Robby was preaching on Psalm 27, and spoke these words in considering verses seven and eight:

My soul needs this question. In seeking answers to life, do I get wrapped up in the details and miss the most important thing? Maybe the Sunday school Kindergarten children have the best answer after all. Maybe the best answer to everything is simply Jesus.

In our soul’s deepest searching may we never cease to be astounded at the truest answer of God, Himself. May our questions bring us first to be still and rest in the simple knowledge that He is God. Psalm 46:10.

This is Day 4 in 31 Days of Listening

Freely Living the Story

Sun, 04 Oct 2015 04:33:00 GMT

Dear reader,

I’m really enjoying having you as a kind of accountability in my life right now. Knowing that you may be there reading this gives me an extra reminder to look for the blessings the Lord wants to give me. Having this place to share it makes me so excited to listen for the grace-giving words in my day. Thank you so much for reading, for letting me have a place to share grace.

Today God made grace large in my life in the words of Revelation 1:

I get concerned about doing all of it right… you know what I mean? I want to have my priorities straight. I want to do my Bible study right. I want to talk to God the right way. I want to live wife and mother right. And if I feel like I might not be doing it right, sometimes instead of bringing it to God and stepping into the next moment He has for me, I sit there on top of insufficiency and sink into all she wants to tell me.

But… Revelation tells me to hear and keep the things it tells me, (verse 3) to take them to heart as the NIV says. And maybe when I take something to heart, I make it a part of me where it starts to affect my thoughts and actions.

“Behold, he is coming with the clouds.”

When I make that a part of me, when I let my mind live there, I realize that my life, my story is perhaps like a sentence, or even a word, inside a much bigger story. I am privileged to be a part of the story, and I’m not insufficient if my life doesn’t tell the whole story. I wasn’t meant to tell the whole story.

I am an image bearer. (Gen. 1:27) I am a member of His body, (Eph. 5:30) but I am not His whole body. His church bears His image together, not separately.

Jesus came to free me from my sin. (verse 5) He makes me a priest to the Father. (verse 6) And as I make this a part of me, I am blessed. Because though I am broken, He gives me sacred purpose. But He makes me free inside that purpose… This is what freedom is: while on our own we are not enough, in Him we are safe from insufficiency.

Last night my daughter was nervous about staying in her room alone. When I told her that Jesus can make her safe, she held on to that word safe so tightly saying it again and again. We are people that crave safe, because that is what we were made for.

You, me… Son, Daughter of the King, let us live in the safety of knowing that He has made us His. Even though we mess up, He will never let us lessen the greatness of the story. He is coming and this story is bigger and better than our own lives. May we live freely in the piece of the story He gave us to play.

This is Day 3 in 31 Days of Listening

The Conflict of Boldness

Fri, 02 Oct 2015 18:52:00 GMT

Liz Curtis Higgs promotion of her new book, It’s Good to be Queen , caught my attention on twitter. She talked about boldness, and I think the reason it stood out was because I’ve been feeling funny about that word lately, and I haven’t been able to put my finger on the reason. So, of course, I had to watch her video about being bold.

When Liz spoke of her speaking encounter it struck me, that she found that out of 600 women she was speaking too, only 3 raised their hands admitting a desire to be bold. And I wonder if I would have raised my hand. Boldness can feel like such a tricky thing. And Liz’s words are helping me understand the conflict in my own heart.

Liz spoke of the two kinds of boldness. As a person saved by grace, I can live a boldness that comes from the Lord, but I can also live a boldness that comes from my own sinful flesh.

When Liz asked the women she spoke with why (as it seemed) they didn’t want to be bold, they gave answers saying they didn’t want to come across too forward. They didn’t want to make too much of themselves.

And I think as Liz spoke out on this, she identified a fear in my own heart. The reason it’s hard to live in the boldness of Jesus is because I’m afraid people will misunderstand my motives. I’m afraid that people will think I’m living out of the boldness of my own flesh.

It’s easy to justify living in this kind of fear because I can simply tell myself that I’m being humble, but often that’s not the truth at all, and in fact I’m living in fear of what Jesus put on my heart to do. Instead of being humble, I’m avoiding the risk of having people think that I’m not humble.

Perhaps the best ways that the boldness of Jesus will be lived out in me may come out with pieces of my own fleshly motives. And perhaps God is reminding me that the only way I can let His light come through me is by relying on Him in prayer and faith.

Today I’m challenged to live in prayer and listen to the Spirit. “For the Spirit God gave us does not make us timid, but gives us power, love and self-discipline.” (2 Tim. 1:7 NIV) Children of God, may we live in the boldness of the Spirit inside us, embracing the freedom that the Spirit provides from our own flesh. May we live boldness like We Are Found. (Phil. 3:9)

This is Day 2 in 31 Days of Listening

What does it mean to be blessed?

Fri, 02 Oct 2015 04:41:00 GMT

My soul needs to breathe in deep the blessings God gives, and my prayer is to keep my heart open this October in listening to the words that He uses to bless me with each day.

Breathing in deep the blessings, it was what I had on my mind when I read the question in the Bible study guide I was using this morning: “What does it mean to be blessed?”

This is what I found at Biblehub , (one of my favorite free resources) the Strong’s definition:

So, to be blessed is to be a person standing in the flow of God’s favors (the ways by which He makes grace large in our lives). We stand in that place as we receive faith in our moments.

Keith A. Butler gives good Scripture for this in a lesson on blessings :

Proverbs 10:6 says that “blessings are on the head of the righteous.”

And Psalm 5;12, “ For you bless the righteous, O Lord ; you cover him with favor as with a shield.”

Blessings belong to the righteous and Bishop Butler gives the reminder: “For our sake he made him to be sin who knew no sin, so that in him we might become the righteousness of God.” (2 Cor. 5:21)

Blessings belong to those who are the righteousness of God, to all who have accepted Jesus’ gift of salvation from sin and death. The blessings belong to me. If you’ve accepted that gift, the blessings belong to you.

And we may receive what rightly belongs to us simply by receiving the faith of this day.

Today I am reminded to step into this day knowing I am blessed, and to step into this moment knowing blessings await me.

This post is Day 1 in 31 Days of Listening

When Social Media Shows Us Our Own Hearts

Wed, 30 Sep 2015 16:39:00 GMT

I don’t know anyone who doesn’t appreciate a good word of affirmation. A kind word cheers up our hearts. (Prov 12:25) It adds to our health and to the sweetness of our soul. (Prov. 16:24) That’s why we like affirmation.

Maybe it’s part of what makes social media so widespread. It’s the place where we see affirmation in a physical way. And, of course, it’s a place where we see our appreciation for affirmation get twisted.

Facebook, Twitter, Instagram are such valuable tools for connecting with people. They’re powerful places from which to speak truth and love. And it’s also where the best of our hearts and the worst of our hearts can come out with the click of a button, a place where we meet face to face our own deep insides.

Social media is not evil. It just makes the evil inside us more apparent. And that can be dangerous but it can also be a good thing.

In online interactions, everything slows down, and we have a magnifying glass put over our own reactions to everything.

What would happen if real time interactions were slowed down to hours even days? How would you respond? What kind of emotions would you have and how would you let them affect you?

If you get no response when you put yourself out there, you are faced with your own response to that, except it didn’t happen in a hallway somewhere, it happened on the internet where everyone can see it.

Social media takes the emotions that we have in split seconds in normal interactions and lets us really see how we respond to those emotions were time to drastically slow down. It has a way of blowing up the ugly in our hearts where we can really see it.

It shows us the value we put on the affirmation of others, not to mention our own self-control with our time when we have a hundred distractions in front of us.

Online platforms bring us face to face with the sin in our own hearts. And we have a choice to make. We can ignore it, face it, or run.

We are given an opportunity to take the things we learn about our own hearts and bring them to the Savior who redeems those failures. He took that ugly on Himself just for us, and He offers us His perfect righteousness to claim over each and every ugly thing we see within our hearts.

When you feel like a sorry excuse for a person meant to bear God’s image

Fri, 25 Sep 2015 06:05:00 GMT

I walk by this bush often on my walks with the girls. And I like it. Because the more I’ve seen it, the more I realize how much it shows me the way I often feel. I took this pic right after the rain so it was looking a bit more peppy that day, but it’s a scraggly bush, trying to hold out some bit of beauty for the world. Do you ever feel that way?
We are each gifted to release the beauty of God’s Love in our own way, and as we strive to allow that Love to come out, sometimes we may feel a bit exposed, because… Because others may not understand, others may misinterpret our motives, and because sometimes our own imperfection comes out too. Sometimes we see our imperfections and doubt whether we can give a beauty worth releasing.

It may feel that we stand as a sorry picture of the God whose image we were made to bear. And when we feel that way it can be tempting to shrink back, to stay away from the risky things that might expose us. But bearing that image is what we were made to do… it’s where we find our purpose.
The beauty is that we’re found in Jesus, and while we may feel like a scraggly bush at times, we can use those feelings as a path on which to press deeper into truth. Because the truth is that if we’re saved, if we’re found in Jesus, we’re not scraggly. Jesus who lived this life in our place and gifted His life for us, He let the beauty come out in full bloom. Jesus didn’t second guess Himself when He forgave the adultress, or when He rebuked the Pharisees, or when He publicly reached out to a man perched up in a tree. That is the life He gifted to us with His risen life. The scraggly us died on the tree because that is what He became when He died there. And He rose to give us His full bloom life.

Dear Christian, you are found in Him, and though you may feel it sometimes, you are not a sorry image bearer because your imperfect life is covered with His life. Even your imperfections are cracks through which His light will shine.
I heard the story from the pulpit Sunday. The lighthouse operator, he tried to save the oil to help his cities oil shortage, and darkened the light. But those in the water were lost without it, and he was told the words, ‘You were given oil for the purpose that the light would shine.’
There is beauty in the thought:

Dear me and you, dear one whose found in Him, It’s hard to shine a light when you know your imperfect, but know this: You weren’t meant to be the light. You are chosen for the sacred call of being the vessel that the light shines through. Your vessel has cracks, but your vessel is in Him, covered with His life. And when the light comes out through the unique vessel that you make in Him, it is a beautiful story that comes to us only through you. We need you.

I thank you for coming here today and I’d like to invite you to Kate’s page for the beloved Five-minute Friday . Blessings!

When your imperfections come calling…

Fri, 18 Sep 2015 05:48:00 GMT

Celebrate!

This is my letter to you, because it’s the letter I need to read, and I thought you might could use it too.

Dear brother, sister,

In the days when you pillow your head (and… here it all comes) when you self-criticize and doubt, see the cause to celebrate… YOU ARE FOUND!!! (Phil 3:8-9)

When you question your own motives and see all the flaws in your own self, listen for the celebration He speaks over you… All of this does not define YOU!

When it’s all you can do to find a place down inside from which to smile from, when taking another step feels impossible, awaken your senses to the deep down joy that cannot see defeat.

Because when you reach deep down you can feel it. There is a cause for celebration no matter where you are. Because no matter what the people out there, or that voice in your head tell you, no matter the failures the enemy threatens you with, that is not who YOU are.

You are a cause for the world to celebrate. Because in this whole messy world there is but one place real Love can be found. And YOU, you were created to be a window, a window through which sunbeams of His Love pour through and show all of us joy in a way we cannot see it anywhere else. Love was meant to pour uniquely in you through your imperfections.

Listen for the voice of celebration that sings deep down within you. The One who owns that voice, He is the defining One. Because after all, in all the story of discovering who you are, the answer really is that the definition of YOU is HIM! You were made to show us this special piece of Him. Take heart and find the joy in this! …I need you, we all need you to celebrate who YOU are and Live!

Kate’s site

The one simple thing that could make the greatest difference…

Tue, 15 Sep 2015 19:39:00 GMT

It’s easy to notice the negative isn’t it? Sometimes it feels like we’re just programmed that way, but of course we’re not. We’re made in the image of a God who makes all things good. We’re made to bear that image. Only since we fell from that image do we tend to see the negative most prominently, but the thing is that it doesn’t have to be that way. God gives grace to see through the dark into the light. Ann Voskamp speaks valuable words when she says it. “In a fallen world, how profound is it to see the cracks?… Brilliant people don’t deny the dark; they are the ones who never stop looking for His light in everything.”

I read a friend’s blogpost this Saturday and some things she said stirred up something in me, especially when she spoke of church unity and how Christians are to be known by our love. It stayed in my mind all weekend and it came up twice on Sunday. Nano’s lesson in class made me think of it, and it was the Scripture Bro. Robby preached on too. “By this all people will know that you are my disciples. If you have love one for another.” John 13:35

Known by our love… I have always thought of it in terms of love for the world, and of course we are to be known by that love, but the thought blessed me Sunday morning, that there is something special about our love for each other within our churches that shows Jesus. “If you have love one for another…”

Love… the greatest of these is love. And these people God used to point me to love this weekend have given me a gift. Even after their words have been spoken they’ve been teaching me a lesson that I needed to hear. All the things I think we all need, stand in the shadows of the greatness of love. Because maybe living your purpose in this world is mostly just about love, something that might look small and simple.

And what if we were not only willing to give love, but willing to receive it? What if we were willing to be deeply impacted by the love another person pours out through a lesson preached, a written word, an advice given? Maybe that will make the greatest difference.

They will see we are His church by our love. Cracks are everywhere because we’re all human people who mess up. And we’ll see the cracks. Sometimes, we are called to respond to the cracks or even distance ourselves from them. But maybe I need to know that if I look too hard at a crack I won’t notice what I can see through it. Maybe He wants to tell me that the greatest thing that I can do in my church, in the Christian groups that I am choosing to place myself in, is by going to my brothers and sisters, to my church, prepared… Prepared, not just to refrain from pointing out the cracks, but prepared to look between the cracks and be deeply moved, deeply blessed by the love people are pouring through them. Maybe being willing to be deeply blessed by another’s love so much that you are driven to share it is one of the greatest ways to spread love and make a deep difference.

I am a messed up person, but I was #BlessedAtChurch this week. I bet you were too! Here’s to receiving another’s love so much that it overflows out of us. Here’s to spreading some love!

Here is my friend’s blog post if you’d like to read it!

Imperfect Yes

Sun, 06 Sep 2015 06:13:00 GMT

This is a wall plaque that I started making over a year ago – a project I began, not in the house we lived in before this one, but in the apartment we were in before that. I kept the spot empty on the wall waiting for it, and it never got there. I stopped at the point of writing the words on it because I started thinking about how much I disliked my handwriting. I was afraid it would look too imperfect so I kept putting it off.

This week someone told me something that triggered my yes. They confessed to me, that they refrain from doing the things they should because of the fear that they won’t do it well. And God used their confession to bring the question to me: Do I refuse to do things, things that I was meant to do, because of the fear of doing it imperfectly? Yes. Yes, I do it in so many things.

I started listing them in my head, and in the middle of my day I thought of this plaque. I took the marker and scrolled the verse I love in the handwriting I’ve always thought looked as if it was written by a hand much younger and less experienced than my own. I was determined to write it out boldly anyway. I’ve lived so many no’s. This was to be a new firm yes, undeterred by my own imperfections. I finished it and read it back to myself.

He said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you for my strength is made perfect in weakness.” Most gladly therefore will I glory in my weaknesses that that that the power of Christ may rest upon me.

There it was: three ‘that’s in a row. I tried to figure out how to fix it, then I decided to leave it as is, and I hung it on the wall anyway. Because… it fits the verse and I suppose it’s an even better reminder this way. It’s my reminder to live the yes – not only despite my imperfections. It’s a reminder to live the yes firmly, and to glory in the imperfections of it, because, like the verse says, my weaknesses are where He shows His glory.

Imperfection is not my intention, but it will happen and the enemy may try to wave it in my face as a threat. But my God has given me the truth that exposes my enemy for the fake he is. The sword he waves at me is as good as a rubber toy. Not only are my imperfections not a threat, they are the very means through which God chooses to show His strength and glory. These threats of imperfection hold no weight because my God created me to be an image bearer, a vessel through which His glory shines greatest in an imperfect yes.

I’m linking up with Kate for five-minute Friday. Please give her a visit and enjoy some encouraging words about the word yes. http://katemotaung.com/2015/09/03/five-minute-friday-yes/

On Being Needy

Sun, 30 Aug 2015 05:17:00 GMT

Needy. We know it’s not healthy to carry our need, our burden, always in front of us, for our needs to be forefront in our thoughts, our words, our conversations. It’s an unhealthy extreme, but sometimes in trying to stand our distance from that extreme we live in another. Sometimes I live with the idea that I should refuse help when it’s offered, that when people offer help they probably don’t actually mean it, and that I should keep my real needs to myself. It’s not a healthy way to live.

I’ve lived that way with my Nano, too. A few weeks ago I was feeling bad for getting so much help from him with the girls and with housework when I feel like that’s my responsibility and I voiced that to him, and he told me something that’s been sitting on my heart ever since. He told me that when I say things like that it makes him feel like I don’t think of us as a team. He said that when I ask him not to help, I’m asking him to stop showing me love through service when he delights in loving me that way. He asked me to be more needy.

Needy… It caught my attention when he said it because needy is the word that has been on my mind since Liesel’s birth. It’s what He’s teaching me through Liesel, through my helpless baby who needs me.

When I’m at my lowest, being needy brings the sweetest refreshment. Because needy is the word we go through to get to God. Our need drives us to find a Savior. And daily, our need takes us to the only place we can find real refreshment… C. S. Lewis said it: “I pray because I can’t help myself. I pray because I’m helpless. I pray because the need flows out of me all the time- waking and sleeping. It doesn’t change God- it changes me.”

Need also produces friendship. I like to know that I can help someone through their needs, but often I’m not as willing to be helped myself. And when I find myself lonely could it be my own doing? Could it be me to proud to go to people with my real emotional needs?

Everyone wants to know their life has a purpose. Knowing that gives our life meaning, it gives us energy to live another day. But, when I refuse to let others help me, I refuse to let them fill a purpose where they had the eyes to see that they could be useful. Perhaps, sometimes, I refuse the blessings God is trying to give me through them.

When I refuse to believe people, refuse to believe that my brother’s and sisters in Christ really do want to help me, I’m refusing to think of us as a body. I’m refusing to trust. But we are a body and when I’m hurting the whole body hurts. They may not know why they are hurting, but because we are one, the hurt will be there for them too. No matter how much they want to help, the rest of the body may not know how to help the hurt, but how can I expect them to, if I don’t speak it.

So here’s to being needy, because sometimes we need that, sometimes the whole body needs me to be a bit needy. We need each other. We need Him. Here’s to admitting that and having the courage to live it.

To Bring Beauty to the World

Fri, 14 Aug 2015 21:35:00 GMT

The enemy battles to tell my soul that I have no purpose, but He who lives in me is greater and gives grace to speak purpose into me. He provides it through my motherhood, through my failing to keep my cool, failing to hold onto worth on my own. This new stage of life, this busier motherhood, the enemy has used to tempt me to question my purpose, but God’s grace is sufficient for my weakness. He provides the grace to use these feelings to root me deeper into the knowledge that I have a purpose that He meant to be fulfilled uniquely in me and by using my motherhood.

Mother, the enemy says that means I don’t do anything meaningful, that my life is on hold. But we all were created to bring beauty to the world at every stage of life… at every stage of life. And my purpose lies here. Because not only do I get the joy of fulfilling my own purpose, I am the mother of two little ones who put so much beauty into this world. I get to fill the purpose of giving voice to their purpose. It’s not just about the purpose they will one day have. They have purpose in the present, in these days of little, and I am here to let them know that, if not in the words they don’t yet understand, than in the looks and the smiles and the language that is spoken without words. And I am here to help let their purpose show. They have a monumental purpose in the world today and I get to help them voice it.

I am told to be like a child and they teach me. And, God, He gives Amayah and Liesel the purpose of showing me what that is.

Liesel, she shows me what it is to be dependent, to be a person with need, something my heart wants to fear. Because maybe living for Jesus looks more like a needing baby than I like to think.

Amayah, she talks to me in words she’s just learning and I get to hear in words the freshest perspective of life from a child. That’s a treasure. She learns in book what it is to remember and forget and what it is to be happy and sad and when Liesel cries, her words “Liesel sad. ‘Member her,” they are a valuable reminder to a mommy who longs to know she has a meaningful purpose. She teaches me that showing people we remember them spreads happiness and that that’s a beautiful purpose we’re all meant to fill.

Me, the young mother, I have this privilege to carry this purpose. I learn these lessons firsthand. The purpose of these two beautiful little ladies shows itself to me first and I get to carry that, like an interpreter who carries the words a missionary can’t say, I help them carry out their purpose. It’s just a part of who God made me to be.

Consider it Joy

Sun, 02 Aug 2015 04:04:00 GMT

Some days I struggle to find joy, but James 1:2 “Count it all joy when you meet trials of various kinds.” What better trials to have than ones that are filled with the adorable faces of my daughters and the tears and hugs that fill our days. Trials like the one last week when Amayah didn’t want to get dressed and she screamed and fought me with all she had and when I did get finally get her dressed she rammed her head against the wall in anger, which made her cry, then she ran to me for a hug…

It’s in the middle of those moments that I feel failure and I need wisdom and He promises that if I ask for it, He will give wisdom generously and without being disappointed in me for my lack of wisdom. – James 1:5

I can find joy because this is a beautiful part of the story that He’s using to grow me, like Joseph’s story. He’s using every part to make the big picture more beautiful. These words of James are my sword, to fight the devils lies in this battlefield of my home. This sword calls the trial joy and reminds me that the way these moments can make me feel is not the way my God sees me. I hold to my sword for fight, but it’s my God who will do the fighting. He is my Hope and Strength.

I am found in Him. When I feel useless, He says I’m useful. When I feel less than, He says He is able, through me, to be their mommy. When I feel overwhelmed and insufficient and failing, I can rest in the promise that I am beautiful and holy in His sight… I have the Spirit inside me. I can count the trial joy in experiencing faith with my God through faith lived out on this battlefield.

Hope

Sat, 11 Jul 2015 14:44:00 GMT

Hope… it’s the idea that sometimes feels like the help just out of reach. Sometimes I feel like I’m racing to hold on to hope, to keep up with her and sometimes I have to ask myself what the use is in trying any way.

Like the way I felt in the delivery room two weeks ago… I was trying to hold on, trying to stay calm. Birth the first time around really wasn’t bad, I didn’t give much place to panic. I stayed calm and they called me strong. Birth this time was different. I tried to hold on to the same calm, but the hurt got so bad I didn’t care anymore or even remember why I wanted so much to stay calm. So I let go. I let it all out. I screamed with every bit of energy I had and when the birth was over, my throat was sore.

The first few days with Liesel were so smooth and I was so happy and just when I was feeling proud for not letting the hormones get to me this time around, I looked at all the little fears and worries that I could concern myself with and they became monsters and I let go of everything I was trying to hold onto. Then the tears came.

And I pull myself up and I try again, to hang on to joy, to say no to fear. And yesterday I dwelt in the failure, in the sad truth that I couldn’t do it. And then, He invites me to remember, this truth that I keep forgetting. That, no, I can’t do it because I’m not meant to, but He who is my Strength can. I have to let go.

I try so hard to hold on to this false hope that sometimes I believe is more secure. Why do I keep having to let go? Because I’m trying to do it on my own. I’m trying to rest in my own strength instead of my Strength. He is my hope. I just can’t do this life myself, but praise God I have a hope. Someone else has already done it for me. The promise of the life He’s lived for me waits to be wholly mine in eternity.

“Therefore, preparing your minds for action, and being sober-minded, set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Jesus Christ.” -1 Peter 1:13

http://katemotaung.com/2015/07/09/five-minute-friday-hope/

Love’s Beautiful Mess

Thu, 02 Jul 2015 20:20:00 GMT

Almost a week since our new little Liesel was born. She’s my cuddle bug and she’s surprised us in how easy-going she seems to be. New life is beautiful. New life in her, new life in me.

I’m learning to rest in the new, in the fresh reminder to remember God’s benefits, (Psalm 103:2-3) to remember my newness in the newness of my daughter. She too is a precious gift who He points me to the Gospel with. For now, I look at the newness in her and remember it, she is new, and I am made new in my Jesus. The miracle of birth takes place in me as I experience the miracle of being found in my Jesus and the new creation He makes in me.

Learning to take my Nano’s advice to let the Lord be my shield. (Psalm 3) To be my shield against hormones and fears and doubts and all the senseless worries that want to fill my head. When I feel inadequate He is “my glory and the lifter of my head.”

Learning to Love two daughters together, that that’s messy, but to let it be messy because it’s beautiful… That was the theme of the Curious George movie I watched with Amayah the other night. Thankful for lessons learned even in the cute, silly ways… Loving both is messy because sometimes I have to give Liesel attention and Amayah doesn’t understand, and sometimes I give too much attention to one and not enough to the other and sometimes I just want time to slow down so I can enjoy them both better and there’s a million other worries along with that. But I can never know the beauty of Love without plunging into the beautiful mess of it. I want to give my Love fully, not cautiously, and living messy is the only way to do that. I want to enjoy these moments with my girls and that means just Loving and letting it all come out messy. And maybe Love is just that way all around… a beautiful mess.

Keeping Ready: Birth and Grace

Thu, 25 Jun 2015 23:32:00 GMT

Setting up the changing station, putting clean sheets in the bassinet, hanging curtains to block the light, I’m preparing our home for Liesel. It’s not the only way I’m preparing. I go to doctor’s appointments, try to put good protein in my diet, and take vitamins for her to care for her now, though I can’t hold her, can’t see her. It’s because I believe she’s alive and that I’ll hold her soon. I’m preparing myself to give birth to her… I read up on the birth process, and do my workouts to gain strength for labor. It’s because I’ll soon hold her and care for her physically that I wash these clothes and stack them neatly in the dresser and ensure the bottles and toys are clean and ready to use. These are just some of the ways I’ve been preparing for her, for the birth that I know is imminent. This preparation, it affects just about every aspect of my life right now and this is my reminder to hold on to. This is one way He’s pointing me to the Gospel again. Because when Bro. Robby asks how our lives are affected by the knowledge of His coming, this is where that question takes me. Because if the knowledge of my baby’s coming affects my life this much, how does the knowledge of my Savior’s coming affect me?

The car seat, the bassinet, the diaper changing station, the baby clothes and toys… I’m keeping it all clean and ready with my bag packed for the hospital stay. She could come any time and I’m putting forward the effort every day to be ready for her. And my Savior’s coming is imminent too and how am I keeping ready? Grace trains us to wait for the blessed hope of His appearing. (Titus 2:11-14) It trains us to wait ready, not quitting life, but being prepared, expectantly, eagerly waiting. I don’t stand at the door, bag in hand waiting for the labor pains to come so I know to go to the hospital. And the ten virgins in Christ’s parable (Mt. 25) took a nap while they were waiting for the bridegroom, but five of those virgins slept expectantly with the oil for their lamps on hand, ready to trim the wick of their lamp and go out to meet the bridegroom. Five of them were waiting, prepared even in sleep. And maybe the Titus passage gives me a better idea of what that kind of waiting looks like.

“For the grace of God has appeared, bringing salvation for all people, training us to renounce ungodliness and worldly passions, and to live self-controlled, upright, and godly lives in the present age, waiting for our blessed hope, the appearing of the glory of our great God and Savior Jesus Christ, who gave himself for us to redeem us from all lawlessness and to purify for himself a people for his own possession who are zealous for good works.” Titus 2:11-14

A life of waiting is marked by renouncing sin and striving after godliness, (Vs. 12) but it’s grace alone that trains us to live that way. (Vs. 11-12) Waiting ready is living in the light of grace. Grace is our lamp. We keep the oil always ready for the lamp of grace. We cling to the work our God has done, because it’s there that grace lights up our hearts, holding to the treasures of our moments that point to the grace of Jesus’ gift. Jesus who gave His life from the manger to the cross to become our life, the life that frees us from sin and makes us beautiful to be called His bride. That is the waiting, that is the lamp I daily keep ready. (Vs. 14)

_________________

Perplexed

Fri, 08 May 2015 05:05:00 GMT

Sometimes it’s the little failures in life that are the greatest burden. The perplexed mind stumbling around for an answer to how to deal with life does face a real struggle. Those perplexities can really be a deep pain to a soul, and it’s a difficult pain to deal with because often it’s a pain we deal with alone. Those who do hear the perplexities may not think of it as pain. And even the person struggling with it may refuse to accept it as pain in light of all the pain in the world around them. But none of that changes the real fact that it is pain.

Most normal days as a mommy are full of perplexities, a life that desperately wants an answer to anything from her child’s sleeping problems, to the afternoon temper tantrum, to knowing how and when to discipline and sometimes to simply finding time to just be and breathe and feel like a sane person. These are my daily struggles, my perplexed moments, my temptation to carry the weight of failure. They are moments that can drive me to tears and whether I want to admit it or not, those moments are often my biggest pain. Sometimes, though, I look at a world of people around me who are going through so much more and I feel shame for thinking of these moments – moments that every mom goes through – as painful. But, as my husband reminded me when I was talking to him about these struggles, the first step toward healing is admitting that there is a problem and that applies no matter how big or small the problem might seem.

Some friends and I have been reading through Emily Freeman’s Grace for the Good Girl together and this week my friend Jozette pointed out the beauty in this statement we read: “Do not compare your pain with others. The worst pain you will ever feel is your own. That does not mean you are selfish – that means you are human.” (Grace for the Good Girl, Ch 17) No matter how good our life may seem on the surface, we all have our own form of pain. Whatever that pain is, no matter how big or small we think it to be, it exists in our life for a purpose, to point to the Gift in some way, but how will we ever see the Gift through the struggle, if we never accept it as pain? Ann Voskamp says it this way, “Brilliant people don’t deny the dark; they are the ones who never stop looking for His light in everything.” – Ann Voskamp

I’m having to learn what it means to really accept my daily struggles as pain. It’s not that I’ve never thought of them as pain before, but that whenever I have, I shame myself for it. I feel like I’ve done something wrong in thinking of this daily occurrence as something that can really hurt, as if I’m giving it some sort of power over me by thinking that. But what does His Word say about the perplexities of life? “We are afflicted in every way, but not crushed; perplexed, but not driven to despair; persecuted, but not forsaken; struck down, but not destroyed; always carrying in the body the death of Jesus so that the life of Jesus may also be manifested in our bodies.” (2 Cor. 4:8-10)

Perplexed. The word used here is defined as “to be left wanting, to be embarrassed, to be in doubt, not to know which way to turn. to be at a loss with, one’s self, be in doubt; not to know how to decide or what to do, to be perplexed:” It’s listed right there in between afflictions and persecutions. Those perplexed moments, those moments that tempt us to rename ourselves failure, they really are a struggle and a real way that we carry in our bodies the death of Jesus. As Christians we do have pain in perplexities and it’s nothing to be ashamed of. We only do wrong in accepting the pain when we despair, when we give up all hope. But just as Jesus accepted the pain He went through and wasn’t ashamed of it, I can accept my struggles as pain as a way to identify with my Savior in making light of His life in the world. I can know my struggle as pain and there, I can find the Gift that it beautifully points to.

Loosen Up

Sun, 29 Mar 2015 03:51:00 GMT

Still needing to hear those words so much… “Be still and know that He is God.” I race my to-do list through my head, cling to it like it’s my lifeline, like somehow everything will fall apart if I forget something, if something doesn’t get done, if my girlie doesn’t take her nap. I sit to talk and try to listen, but I have to run it through my head again. I long for a break, yet when she sleeps and the quiet comes my head pounds with the list of the reading and writing and journaling that simply must be done before she wakes. And my quiet time becomes a rush, not a worship, and my writing becomes a consumer of my mind.

Being still is more than a still body.

And today, the book I’m reading tells me, “Loosen up, because the chains have been loosed, and laugh the laughter of the freed.” (Ann Voskamp, The Greatest Gift) It asks me what I can take more lightly.

And then I turn to where I left off in John and who do I find but Mary and Martha. And Martha is there serving and Mary is there bent over His feet. And the perfume she poured out could have been given to the poor, yes, but Jesus defends her with the words, “for the poor you always have with you…” (Jn. 12)

You always have them with you…

And that to-do list comes back to my mind and what do I always have with me? What have I been doing that I can do any old time? What have I been carrying heavy instead of being still, for bending over His feet, for loosening up and laughing with the free?

It’s so simple, so simple that it seems hard… Those were words I jotted down earlier this week, writing about the work of God in simply believing. And have I rushed so fast through this writing of words that I forget to take in what they say…

“Grace calls me to believe, calls me to the action of faith, calls me to the true work of God. John shows Jesus explaining that work. When the Savior was asked, “‘What must we do to be doing the works of God?’ Jesus answered them, ‘This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.’” (Jn 6:28-29) When asked how to do the works of God, of all the things Jesus could have said, He told them to believe… believe in him whom he has sent. It sounds so simple, so simple that it almost seems hard. Yet, believing is how we do the works of God.”

This. This is how I Love Him. Not by busying, but by believing. Believing in being still to know. When I take what I know and be still with it, be still with God, God works it into my believing and I have faith. Stillness. Not just reading my Bible, but being still with those Words, loosening up with my day, being light with my duties, and sometimes letting them go. And through faith, He can be through me, free to see grace and live laughter, bringing me to bend over feet that have walked this way before me.

http://katemotaung.com/2015/03/26/five-minute-friday-break-and-a-new-fmf-video-intro/

Replacing Shame

Thu, 12 Mar 2015 21:44:00 GMT

We’re all moved into our new house and life is starting to settle again. I’ve been thinking a lot the past few days, something I’ve been enjoying. I busied myself too much over the move. I didn’t take time alone with God really, I didn’t rest, I didn’t think about much of anything besides getting the house put together. And at the end of it all, even though the house was unpacked, my soul was empty and down from being so ignored. And I’ve been learning to rest again, or as Emily Freeman says, making space for my soul to breathe. And how my soul needs that space.

And in that rest He’s finding me. “Be still and know…” Because it says it there: “My God in his steadfast love will meet me.” (Psalm 59:10) And He does meet me. And as I come to meet my Jesus again, I see Him. I see this man who “wearied as he was from his journey was sitting beside the well,” and all the while “his disciples had gone into the city to buy food.” (Jn. 4:6-8) He was the man who sought rest when He was weary even when His friends were busy running errands. He took responsibility to give His soul the rest it needed even if it could’ve easily looked to others like He was just being lazy. Like when He took a nap on the boat while His disciples were busy running the ship. My Savior knows the souls need for rest. If Jesus Christ made a point of taking time to rest how must we all need rest.

And how good it is to know that. Because I’ve been struggling with bitter thoughts and then again in my soul’s empty state, I turn to hide from Him in shame, like I can’t go to Him in my mess, and then my bitter thoughts only grow. But He finds me with those precious words. “My God in His steadfast love will meet me.” (Ps. 59:10) And that sets upon my soul struggles a beautiful relief. I’ve felt lost on how to respond to my sin, and though I know He accepts me as righteous, my soul has not rested there, and I go back to the shame again. And I try to fight shame, but I’m not sure how to counter it. But there in Psalms He speaks to me the replacement for my shame. “Let not the downtrodden turn back in shame; let the poor and needy praise your name.” (Ps. 74:21) Rather than turning in shame, praise His name. Replace shame with praise.

When I have those bitter thoughts, He is there offering the grace for that moment and those thoughts can be my cue to turn to praising Him that He does, in fact, meet me in His Love, even when I’m coming from the place of failing.

He meets me as He met Adam and Eve when they hid in shame. When they did not remember that they were made in God’s image and tried to become like God in their own way. Emily Freeman points out that all of God’s children do the same when they sin – they don’t remember. (Grace for the Good Girl, Ch 10) We deny our identity when we sin and we deny it perhaps even more when we hide in shame. Because it is in shame that we believe that we are a failure when God has said we are righteous in Christ. He is my identity and that is what I can always praise Him for. That is the identity I have to speak into my soul and praise my God for when the shame starts to creep in. It is because of that identity that I can come boldly to the One who first came to me.

When the Fail Gives Sight to Love

Fri, 13 Feb 2015 23:39:00 GMT

Romans 11:32 “For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all.”

I love all the Romans 11 beauty of God’s plan in bringing mercy to Israel and the Gentiles through their very own disobedience, but when I read through it this time this verse caught my heart by surprise and wrapped big arms around it.

Because when you’ve seen the place of knowing the extent of a fail you’ve made, and your fail seems to have brought a world of trouble, its easy to fear that there’s no going back. There’s no seeing the world as good as it used to be again.

And it takes me back to church Sunday and the story of Achan in Joshua 7, and Achan and his family members were each stoned for Achan’s sin. It was the story that stirred up those same emotions, those same thoughts of fear. And I asked, how can it be anything but that place – no going back, no making things the way they used to be. And I see the place where he was stoned, stoned at the Valley of Achor, and that name stirs up something, thoughts of hope, but why? Because there the name is again in Hosea, the Valley of Achor.

“Therefore, behold, I will allure her, and bring her into the wilderness, and speak tenderly to her. And there I will give her her vineyards and make the Valley of Achor a door of hope.” (Hos. 2:14-15) And Achor means trouble, and that valley of trouble was a door, like an opportunity, for hope. And at the valley of trouble in Joshua the Lord turned from his burning anger. (Josh 7:26) And it was Israel taking the steps through the trouble that happened in that valley that opened the door for them to see new mercies from God and a new hope for the future. And instead of being the place of no more, the door was open to see the place of more beautiful.

Hosea and Gomer were there too, the real-life play of God’s relationship to His people. And Gomer’s valley of trouble was her unfaithfulness to her husband and that itself became her door of hope. And after all her unfaithfulness, she was given the joy of not just seeing someone who wanted to be her husband. She could look at him and see a man who Loved her even though she had proven above and beyond that she was so undeserving of his Love. She could look at a man whose Love was determined to stand through the storms of her sin. She could look at a God who Loved her so much that He hedged up the paths that she thought were satisfaction (Hos. 2:6) and brought her to the place where she could see the door of hope. (Hos. 2:14-15) It was God who brought her through the door so she could know the greatness of this mercy that she had never seen in this way, so she could know greater depth in the beauty of belonging.

The place after the fail doesn’t have to be the place of no more’s. Getting up from the fail does mean it will be different, but it can be different in a way that’s so much better. It’s an opportunity to see the place of saying, I’ve never seen it all so beautiful before. Not that we had never failed before, but that sometimes it takes harder falls for us to deeply know that we have failed and how much we truly stand in need of mercy. “For God has consigned all to disobedience, that he may have mercy on all.” We can never receive the beauty of mercy without going through the valley of failing. Each time God allows us to fail, He is giving us a grace, a gift that’s undeserved, because the fail itself was a door to see Love in a whole new way.

Thank you for reading today. I’d love for you to give Kate a visit at the Five-minute Friday community: http://katemotaung.com/2015/02/12/five-minute-friday-when/

The grace of wait

Wed, 04 Feb 2015 05:18:00 GMT

The summer break, the graduation, the first date, the wedding day, the first house, the baby’s birth, beautiful things that come with a waiting period. And it seems like the days won’t go fast enough, and I want to pass the waiting by. And each time the day comes, and the wait is over, the thing so sought after points back to the beauty, the value of the time spent waiting. Waiting days are glory days too. Because the beauty can always be traced to the wait.

And that most beautiful of all, the wait for the Christ. The longing of souls to know God’s promised day, to be set free from slaving after law. When this world breathed out the great sigh, the relief that meant rest, joy, Love. It’s the great wait of our world, the long hope, that makes that sigh the most beautiful sound. And the story comes, the Gospel, and it points us always back to the wait, the wait that was all along a part of the story.

Wait is itself a grace that gives us the blessing, the ability, to see the wonder of grace. The wait our spirit went through before our soul knew salvation personally, the wait to see each measure of grace He gives, each gift He gives, is another grace He is giving. And we are blessed to know the grace in the long expectancy, looking for the grace He still has in store. Wait is grace, God pouring a glorious story on our lives, a story that we are given the grace to share, grace that gives even flesh the chance to be a light for His glory.

All children of God see that wait for which the whole creation now groans. (Rm 8:22) “And not only the creation, but we ourselves, who have the firstfruits of the Spirit, groan inwardly as we wait eagerly for adoption as sons, the redemption of our bodies. For in this hope we were saved, Now hope that is seen is not hope. For who hopes for what he sees? But if we hope for what we do not see, we wait for it with patience.” (Rm 8:23-25) Here in the patient rest, the sure hope we wait for, we are free to know the grace. Though the redemption of our bodies will be much better, we have this joy to experience the grace and patience He gives in Loving His children who still exist inside fallible flesh. And in living this life that is all a wait, we are shown the beauty of the truth that to live this life of wait is Christ. (Phil 1:21)

Linking up to Kate and the rest of the blogs at Five-Minute Friday here: http://katemotaung.com/2015/01/29/five-minute-friday-wait/

Tell Your Story

Mon, 26 Jan 2015 06:44:00 GMT

Sometimes, I make little of my life and my testimony because I feel like I’m not all that important. And I’m viewing grace the wrong way. As much as I might say I believe in God’s grace I’m not living by faith in it. Because when I don’t share my story, out of my own feelings of inadequacy, I’m acting as if the work of grace in my life were my own, when it’s all His. Making much of His work of grace in me is making much of Him.

So, then, if I am small enough to see my life as His, small enough to place the faith of my moments in His grace, my memories of how God has changed me, will not seem small to me because of how much more I think He’s done in someone else’s life or because of how unimportant I feel or because I don’t want to bother people with these details of my life. Rather, this remembering will cause me to be enraptured in praise to Him, because for no reason, but His Love, He has chosen to work in my life to change me in crazy and wonderful ways when if He hadn’t I would still be stuck in the rut that I was and blind to the grace He wanted to show me. And how can I not share something as beautiful as that?

I think God paints the most beautiful portraits of His glory on the canvas of people. Because as beautiful as a sunset or the wonders of the galaxy, these cannot match the beauty of God’s grace poured on a person’s life. This portrait is harder to see than the sunset. It requires looking through dirty windows because we’re all framed in flesh. But when we take the time to look past the dirt, God does miracles. Because we are Loved by a God who reaches through dirty windows to touch one life with the beauty of another.

I want to write and tell you my story because I’m a canvas for God’s beauty and I want to hear yours because you are too. Please do tell and we can all try our best for now to be content looking through dirty windows.

The stories of our lives are beautiful simply because they’re God’s stories written in us. We all tell them imperfectly because our versions of the story are written by us, people with flesh, but these are our testimonies. And God uses testimonies. He draws from your story, from my story and He makes more beauty in other stories. Let’s share the beauty and not let the fact that we share it imperfectly keep us from boasting in the beauty our God has made.

This Day: Sharing the Unplanned

Fri, 23 Jan 2015 06:21:00 GMT

This day. Here in Sachse, it was wet and cold, the day spent indoors with the books and the blocks, coloring pages and mommy chases. And afternoon rest brought unexpected, the new friend of the day who talks of grandbabies, printers, coat zippers. And I share this day outside of the normal circle of family, simple talk as we work. And simple talk touches a soul. And two souls working together do each other good. Some kind of soul nourishment, a sort of fresh outlook on life because we saw it in some tiny fraction through the window they look through. And it looked different and interesting and we saw some of the beauty they see.

I shared this piece of my day with this lady, but all in all how very many people in this world I share the same sun with. And I go about another day, another week without sharing some simple talk, some unplanned part of my day with one of them. I don’t look to be blessed by the beauty they see, because I’m not looking for beauty anyway. After all, if one word can stand as the essence of beauty its Love. And if anyone in this world can see Love its a child of God. The cashier at the store, the writer of that article, the postman, if I see before them the Love I’ve been shown, Love covers all my criticisms and my shy fears, and simple soul talk will not be something I have to remind myself to do. It will be the natural and joyous search of my soul for the beauty that God has placed into each and every one of these people. Loving a world of people is an exciting opportunity to a soul who looks at that world through the lens of the Love and the grace they’ve received.

http://katemotaung.com/2015/01/22/five-minute-friday-share/

When God’s Love is Hard to See

Tue, 06 Jan 2015 06:18:00 GMT

I finish up Judges wondering why. (Judges 19-21) I see the traveling man and wife, the group from Benjamin’s tribe who wanted to rape that man, and the man who offered them his wife to rape instead. I see the wife raped and abused, dying on the doorstep and the man who didn’t bother to find his wife there until the next morning. I see the war done in vengeance for that crime with no blame to the man who saw no need to protect his wife. I see the tens of thousands of Israelites that died in that war before it was finally won, and the 25,000 + Benjaminites and their families that died for the crime of a few. I see the virgins from Jabesh-gilead whose entire tribe and families were killed, so they could be given, whether they liked it or not, to be wives to the Benjaminites who were left alive. And I see the daughters of Shiloh who were kidnapped for the same purpose. I read it all and I am bothered. Because, really, its hard to read that, especially in God’s own Word, about God’s own people Israel, and see the God of this story as a God of Love. And I finish my reading talking to God in frustration, asking Him why this would happen, why this would be in His Word, and how this applies to my life at all?

And He bids me slow down and chew on these words of His a little longer. And maybe it’s partly for the bother I feel over not being able to see God’s Love easily that God had me read this now. Maybe He wanted me to feel that bother to prompt me to go searching for what the Bible says is the only proof I’ll ever need of God’s Love. Because that is what it made me do. To look through the lens of the truth I’m given in the rest of Scripture. To know that He is a just God as the story attests when He commands the Israelites to war with Benjamin. He is just and sovereign, but He is also Love itself. (1 Jn 4:16) He Loves the world and He cares for its individuals. Just as He sees the sparrow (Mt. 10:29-31) and just as He saw the mother of the people who would become the enemy of His own people, (Gen. 16:13) He saw with Love and cared for each person involved in this story. He cared deeply for that woman dying on the doorstep, for the virgins taken from their families, and for the uncaring husband. And, even though, in that story I do not see them experiencing God’s Love, because of the words of 1 John, I know that each one of them was promised the only true proof of God’s Love whether they accepted it or not.

From the bother I felt over this story, these words in 1 John that I’ve read time and time again speak volumes:

“ In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him. In this is love, not that we have loved God but that he loved us and sent his Son to be the propitiation for our sins.”

“By this we know that we abide in him and he in us, because he has given us of his Spirit. And we have seen and testify that the Father has sent his Son to be the Savior of the world. Whoever confesses that Jesus is the Son of God, God abides in him, and he in God. So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us. God is love, and whoever abides in love abides in God, and God abides in him. By this is love perfected with us, so that we may have confidence for the day of judgment, because as he is so also are we in this world.” (1 Jn 4:9-10, 13-17)

God’s Love may not be shown to us in the circumstances we experience in life, but the circumstances we go through have nothing to do with the one true demonstration of God’s Love. The only proof necessary for us to have surety in God’s Love is the truth in 1 John 4:9:

“In this the love of God was made manifest among us, that God sent his only Son into the world, so that we might live through him.”

It was through this one thing that God did all He needed to show us He truly Loved us, through sending His Son to give us life. He showed me that truth when He died for me, and He showed those Old Testament people that truth in His promise from the beginning (Gen. 3:15) that the Savior was coming. If I can cling to this truth that He died so I could live than nothing else matters. This alone fills life with Love.

“So we have come to know and to believe the love that God has for us.” (1 Jn. 4:16) I am given all I need to rest here: He Loves me. And every life, no matter how sinful, no matter how battered, has been extended welcome by the God of Love who offered us grace and life.

http://katemotaung.com/2015/01/08/five-minute-friday-welcome-and-a-video/

When Christmas Preparations are still Unfamiliar

Sat, 13 Dec 2014 21:44:00 GMT

This will be my fourth Christmas since graduating high school, my third since getting married, my second since becoming a mommy. All the talk about the hustle and bustle of Christmas is still so unfamiliar to me.

The Christmas decorations we’ve collected in our couple years of marriage took up a small corner of the china cabinet. It took a few minutes to put them out and I enjoyed each one. We were so excited to get our Christmas tree last year. It folds out easy. I love to watch Amayah play with the bells we hang on it.

We like to make gifts and will probably do our December 23rd run to buy the last gifts. I have two gifts ready, and some homemade gift ideas I’m excited to put together.

I will probably make a couple dishes to take to Christmas parties. I have a replacement idea for Christmas cookies that I can’t wait to make.

We may make a short trip to Oklahoma, but besides that we’ll stay in town.

Christmas preparations still are so enjoyable. And that’s probably because I don’t have many responsibilities, and I’m young, and the preparations are still new and fun to me.

And the hustle bustle talk from every which way seems out of place, and sometimes I wonder if I’m missing something.

But thinking on that makes me stop and see the opportunity I have here in life where Christmas easily seems so much more of a joy than a hustle. I have more time to celebrate the Savior and anticipate the season. Time to enjoy His gift, enjoy my family and savor the memories.

And there is where my preparations are undone, and I find that I am still focusing on the doing. And maybe my busy doing isn’t that Christmas bustle, but a different doing. Still I need that hustle bustle talk.

I do, and I like my doing and I like to think about how I’m doing it for Him. And I become focused on it and again I lose sight of the main thing.

Tchividjian’s statement turned me inside out when I first heard it. He talked about the danger in training our children “to obsess more over their feats for Jesus than over Jesus’ feats for them.” (From the forward to Give Them Grace, by Elise Fitzpatrick) I had thought it a good thing when my feats for Jesus are what I want to focus on the most. But I poured more of myself into my good thing than into the best thing, that of gratefully receiving, celebrating His gift. And I still tend too.

And God knew how I needed all those reminders that I named out of place, to point me to the gift, to tell me to lay more aside of the giving that I feel so important and just treasure the gift.

To the God who Gives Story

Sat, 29 Nov 2014 20:57:00 GMT

Sometimes, regardless of how wonderful my life really is, I struggle so to find the motivation to try to dwell as anything other than overwhelmed, confused, lost as to how to do life. But even then, You give story. You create life in me that is used to point to true glory, and I am made a useful piece of Your big story. Because You form the world’s story with the pen of Your grace, a story that had no right to be. Your fingers trace each piece to create the people who never would’ve known life and the beauty You create, without the grace you give. Your grace gives us being and privilege to experience the power of a God who upholds the galaxies with the word of His power. And You give each one out of the billions their own unique story, their own unique way to experience You. Your grace gives orchestration to the stories within the stories within this story of the world. You have planned each note we play and oversee the beauty of it all to display Your glory perfectly and all in grace, grace that makes art, and allows me to be part of it all. Gracefully, lovingly, You’ve weaved us into Your plan to make us a part of Your glory. And here in a confused moment of my story, where You are making yourself the hope and stay to a soul that has none of its own inspiration to hope, I stand blessed, blessed to be here and live this word of the story that is at the mercy of the pen of Your grace. Because even if everything else confuses me, I can hold to the knowledge that this moment I’m living has a purpose in the story to point in some way to You.

http://katemotaung.com/2014/11/27/five-minute-friday-give/

Step into the Canvas

Sat, 22 Nov 2014 06:07:00 GMT

Taking much longer than five minutes just to think of how to start this post. Notice is the word of the day at Five Minute Friday. And I am somewhat at a loss to write anything about this as my own because I’ve been so inspired by fellow bloggers today to think on the things God has left in my life to notice. I will simply be sharing thoughts that originated with others today. So, the things God has given today to be noticed:

To notice the way He’s placed glimpses of His beauty in every part of my day, like all the birds swirling outside my kitchen window today.

To notice the people He uses to touch my soul, to etch His story of grace into my life and leave me never the same.

To notice the opportunities He gives to paint the world with the Love that lives in me. He uses the little things.

To notice the ways He’s left for me to live His beauty in my every day, to leave pieces of His beauty in the world around me.

To notice the way He pours grace into my daily life, painting portraits of His Love with every day of my story.

To notice the one Gospel gift He wants most for me to notice, that its grandeur goes so much farther than the day of my salvation, that each moment is an opportunity to step into the canvas of His graceful masterpiece to experience the depths of that gracious Gospel story.

And quoting one I’ve been so inspired by today, to notice "how He manages it all, with grace and steadiness.“ To notice who He really is, in spite of all I am.

(I was quoting Katie Reid who’s sweet blog you can read here: http://www.echoesofmyheart.com/tww-blog/the-notice-five-minute-friday-prompt )

One more quote to close out. I Love Emily Freeman’s book concept and I’ve never even read it. Art references in this post are inspired by her, and this final thought is hers: To notice ” the art in a quiet word, a hot dinner, a made bed, a grace-filled glance, and a million other ways of experiencing God in the world through the simple human acts of listening, waiting, creating, and showing up.“

(Give her book a look. It’s on my wishlist! Read about it here: http://www.chattingatthesky.com/a-million-little-ways/ )

So here’s to noticing, to noticing the grace-handiwork of the God who made me, to seeing Him in the handiwork He graces to be made through me. To stepping full into His canvas of grace.

And, please, consider yourself invited to speak with some sisters and be refreshed at the Five-Minute Friday community…

http://katemotaung.com/2014/11/20/five-minute-friday-notice/

Stillness in Chaos

Fri, 14 Nov 2014 21:57:00 GMT

Joining with the group to give my Five-minute Friday write on the word still.

“Be still, and know that I am God.” Psalm 46:10

Stillness. When life is busy. Stillness. When life is full of baby cuddles, kissing boo-boos, fixing lunches, chicken pot pie on the carpet, laundry piles, baby dolls, temper tantrums, Dr. Seuss books, doctor’s appointments, tears, kisses, love, laughter and new life that plants smiles and excitement that won’t go away, and I can’t be still, not now.

But I hear it again, my need to be still, to still my soul even when I must keep going. Stillness can not always come with silence, not to a mother, not to many who face endless demands. Because I so often wait for the silence to be still and just know He is God over this day and moment and all it holds. But He bids not to wait, to find soul-stillness even in the middle of the sleepy, teary girly falling with the chicken on the carpet.

Because the sin that arises in my heart in that moment can only be used against me if I hold onto it, which I will always do, unless I find stillness in the chaos to know He is and give it to Him.

And when she was tiny I lost it because I just didn’t think I could do stillness without silence and aloneness, and I waited and waited and I was drained for time with the Savior, and as much as I could try, I was drained for the energy to be a mommy who saw her little one with true joy that can only come from the Spirit.

And I want so much to learn stillness in chaos. To enjoy my girly with the joy that only comes from stillness. And I’m enjoying her more every day. And I’m so grateful to hold a newborn of my own again soon. Because I want the chance again to go through that stage of life, holding a newborn of my own, with a soul that is still in the chaos of it all. I’m sure I’ll have many bad moments again, with soul and joy not still to know, but I want so badly this chance to look into the face of my own tiny baby again, from eyes that are first set on the Spirit that gives true joy in such a marvelous time of life.

Please visit the Five-minute Friday community at http://katemotaung.com/2014/11/13/five-minute-friday-still/

To Turn the Pages

Fri, 07 Nov 2014 06:14:00 GMT

Five Minute Friday

To turn its pages, to read its words, to know they contain pure truth that can change me, draw me close to the One who exists outside of limitations, of time, or gravity, of space, and failures, who exists outside of all this I am limited by and gives meaning to my being. He goes beyond it all and I am His. And this, my connection to the thoughts of His heart, His words to reach my soul, and yet I do what I do? I see the indifference in my heart that is spoken foul in His Word, and do anything to avoid admitting fault. I make compromise between my ideas and the authority of the Word He so carefully gifted. And in doing so, I’ve thrown His precious gift on the floor to stomp it under foot because I’ve not just made compromise with the authority of these pages, I’ve said no to their power, no to the power of the Word, the One who’s cross I stand at the foot of, where my being lives in the flow of grace.

This is my Word: Pepper Choplin

Paraphrasing Isaiah 55:10-12

Uncertainty and the Call of Grace

Sat, 01 Nov 2014 04:27:00 GMT

Five-Minutes:

Go…

Leaving with uncertainty, uncertainty that can hurt. Simply not having something real and true to hold onto can leave so much room for fear. And I give into fear and am reminded that I am a mess who renounced the secure hope He offers for my feeble fears, turned my back on Him to entertain my worries. And He reminds me that I stand before Him again though all unworthy, I’m made worthy. He already bore the temptation of fears just like this, and performed the righteousness that I needed to go on my record for this time. He’s already destroyed the dominion of these fears, and simply because of knowing this, His grace and mercy in this, how is it possible for me to choose fear if I abide in the knowledge that a God of such Love has called me to live in such great grace.

Therefore he had to be made like his brothers in every respect, so that he might become a merciful and faithful high priest in the service of God, to make propitiation for the sins of the people. For because he himself has suffered when tempted, he is able to help those who are being tempted. – Hebrews 2:17-18

How can we who died to sin still live in it? Do you not know that all of us who have been baptized into Christ Jesus were baptized into his death? We were buried therefore with him by baptism into death, in order that, just as Christ was raised from the dead by the glory of the Father, we too might walk in newness of life. – Romans 6:2-4

Please read more of these precious blogs at the Five-minute Friday community:

http://katemotaung.com/2014/10/30/five-minute-friday-and-a-giveaway-day-31-leave/

Fri, 31 Oct 2014 16:06:00 GMT

My girlie – Not too excited about halloween… She’s still a cutie though.

The Dare to Expose and Embrace the Sinner (even when it hurts)

Fri, 24 Oct 2014 19:58:00 GMT

Five-Minute Friday…

I’ve come across it so many times this week… concerning my walk with God… concerning my parenting…

“Before we can embrace grace, we have to embrace sin. Not celebrate it or wallow in it, just own up to it – so we can accept the forgiveness we desperately need.” – Liz Curtis Higgs

Embrace sin… such a shocking statement, and maybe embrace isn’t exactly the word, yet it gives a good feel for what He seems to be daring me to do when I come across these verses and quotes again and again.

“Now the law came in to increase the trespass, but where sin increased, grace abounded all the more, so that, as sin reigned in death, grace also might reign through righteousness leading to eternal life through Jesus Christ our Lord. ” – Rm. 5:20-21

Law = increased sin.

Increased sin = abounding grace.

And, of course, my sin is not something to celebrate or even to dwell in pity over. It’s something to rebuke, to put off, to turn from in pursuit of God. But, I think He’s telling me that there’s more to it than that. Perhaps I should look the other way in a sense. Because where sin increased, grace abounded. He’s daring me to learn how to embrace the fact that I’m a sinner in need of Him without lessening the battle against the sin.

And not just in my walk with Him. I have to embrace the sinner in all…

“Parents sometimes give children a keepable standard… This non-biblical counsel drives children away from the cross. It doesn’t take grace from God to [keep this standard]… When you fail to hold out God’s standard, you rob your children of the mercy of the gospel.” – Tedd Tripp

And how often I give my girl a keepable standard.

Living in grace involves embracing not only the sinner in me, but embracing the sinner in those around me. I have to be willing to hold truth high enough that it exposes the people around me, especially my daughter as a sinner in need of God’s grace, even when it hurts. I’m taking the dare to learn how to live that out.

Please visit Kate and the rest of the #FMFparty at http://katemotaung.com/2014/10/23/five-minute-friday-and-a-giveaway-day-24-dare/

As Long As He Lives

Fri, 17 Oct 2014 20:35:00 GMT

Word prompt: long

As long as my flesh lived I was bound, bound to that which stirred up my passion. I grew the fruit of death. I was slave to law, slave to death. All my love was given to the evil one, and I was unlikeable in every part of my being, disapproved in every way. As long as my flesh lived…

But the Son, the Son took this torn and soiled flesh that I bore and cloaked Himself in it to enter the Father’s presence. The destiny I had been doomed with became the Son’s. Instead of walking into the presence of the One I’ve always wanted the Love of, in complete shame, being disapproved in every nook and cranny of my being, not having anything likable in my own self, my flesh was humbly taken by the Son and my wicked passions earned the shame He bore instead. There before the Father, his head hung low, because cloaked in my flesh, it was as good as fact that the Son had given His Love away to the evil one.

You walked into His presence with everything unlikeable in me and endured the death in your body of my own flesh. You faced death and I was rid of everything unlikeable, but without anything likable. No longer unworthy, I was still not worthy. But then You arose, and in Your new life, You brought with You what would also be mine – the life You had earned with every second of Your life on earth. You earned all worth before the Father and brought from the grave that worth for me. You cover me with Your life and the Father sees me likable in every way. I will dance before you and boldly let you see my every part because you find favor in it all. As long as the Son lives, new life is mine. I praise You for I am made worthy, because You are worthy.

As long as He lives…

Please visit the five-minute Friday page!

http://katemotaung.com/2014/10/16/five-minute-friday-and-a-giveaway-day-17-long/

BLESSINGS: baby fussies and a sister who makes them look beautiful

Thu, 16 Oct 2014 02:18:00 GMT

I’ve had this post on my mind for over two weeks now. It was a Monday. I was trying to get lunch cooked. Amayah was fussy, more fussy than usual. It seems like Mondays just happen that way for whatever reason. Like I often do I was blaming myself. Amayah seemed to be fussier at home around me than she was around anyone else. I felt like I was failing at motherhood. My sweet sister-in-law took Amayah to play in the yard so I could cook in peace. I cried over whatever it was I was cooking. I plated the food and Elisa, Amayah and I all sat down to lunch and Elisa poured sweet words into my soul that tore away the tough outer layer of Amayah’s tears to show me the beautiful story her fuss told. She told me how she still today pours out her troubles to her mother because she knows of all people her mother will care. She reminded me how soldiers, tough men in their last dying moments have cried for their mothers. She told me that Amayah was pouring out her complaints to me more than anyone because there was a bond between her and I that she didn’t have with anyone else, that perhaps she fussed around me more because she felt that close to me. She made her fusses look like a cry of love, a cry of, Mama, I know you care and I need to pour out my troubles to you. And we put the dishes in the sink and I changed her diaper and she cried and I strained to see beyond the surface and it did look beautiful and I gave thanks for the bond we share, though it may come even in fuss.

And tonight I laid her down for the night and she cried and threw her arms around my neck, and though, I wanted to let her know it was time for her to go to bed, I stayed there for a couple minutes to feel her cheek against mine and wipe her tears, because those tears held beauty. I’m thankful for my precious blessing that day, God using Elisa to bear the words that spoke the wonder into my ugly, and exposed the beauty in my girl’s fuss.

Care

Fri, 10 Oct 2014 04:45:00 GMT

Go!

She cares for her daughter. She brings her life in pain, holds her through the night, cleans the mess again. She gives her sleep, her time, her life, to see all her needs met.

She cares for her granddaughter. She spends the day on that swing. She give her the bottle, burps her again and watches her fall asleep.

She is cared for. She finds body feeble. Hands, legs that once gave all to care for the baby, now must learn a new life. They will rest and depend on the care from that baby, and be cared for, as it has been all along, by the One who carried her through each part.

The story will go on and may hold a timeless truth. Maybe that place where life starts to close holds the key to living alive. Because maybe the rest and dependence on the care of Another was the most important thing all along.

Stop. To be honest I had to get some writing inspiration from my hubby on this one. I enjoyed the write!

I’m linking up with the five-minute Friday host here.

http://katemotaung.com/2014/10/09/five-minute-friday-and-a-giveaway-day-10-care/

Please give her a visit!

New: Babies, Moments, Mercies…

Fri, 03 Oct 2014 06:04:00 GMT

My first Five-minute Friday post! The weekly gathering of so many women accepting the challenge to write a five minute blogpost on the given word of the week. How fun!

Word prompt: new

Go!

Tears flowed, I pushed and in an instant she was in my arms. Emotions rushed, and more tears flowed for another reason. I will never remember a feeling so well. Tiny hands, tiny feet, new skin laid on mine. My heart beat so fast, I shook hard with wonder. There was new life laid here before me. I had no words, only eyes wide open to take in this moment and squeeze every drop out of it, to keep it safe and secure in my memory.

This was new. This is how new must be treasured.

How often have I had eyes half open to new, when new, as she was new, is everywhere. This day, this moment is new because His mercies are laid before me new.

Heart beat hard in wonder, eyes be filled with awe at the present, because as her life there was new, His mercies now are new for my unworthy moments to each be made worthy.

Stop.

Pursue Love

Sun, 28 Sep 2014 05:26:00 GMT

“Pursue Love…” – 1 Cor. 14:1

People are valuable. I am learning so slowly – Love. It is not something that comes by itself. Love does not come naturally. Love is a pursuit. Pursue Love. If I am going to Love my God, if I am going to Love my husband, my daughter, my family, Love those who I am one with in this, the body of Christ, Love a world of people who are starved close to death for want of the Savior… If I am going to Love them, how am I pursuing this Love? How, in fact, do you pursue Love? You pursue God because He is Love. You abide in Him, in His Spirit, and the Love-fruit of the Spirit will be borne in you. You depend on God. You ask diligently for His Love to live in you. And a few months ago I would have stopped there because I’ve tried before to put Love on my tree by acting Loving, but was Love really there in that or was I going after a reputation? I had ceased trying to put Love on my tree, and began a striving to rest in the One who is Love. Love cannot exist in truth without resting in the One Source of Love. Resting, depending on Him is essential. But this is what He is slowly working on my heart to grasp. Dependence and discipline are not enemies. They go hand and hand. I am commanded to abide, depend and rest and I am commanded to “Put on love…” (Col 3:14) The Holy Spirit does not do Love for me. He gives grace that enables the fruit of Love to be put on my life. I am the one commanded to put on Love. I am the one commanded to pursue Love, though I can do it only in His energy, only because He gives me that desire. When Paul spoke of the way he pursued his service for God he explained his dependence and striving effort saying, “For this I toil, struggling with all his energy that he powerfully works within me.” I believe Love is to be pursued this same way. If I depend on Him, I will toil forward in all of Christ’s energy to pursue Love. I will depend on His Love to shine through me and toil with every ounce of grace I’ve been given to put it on, not for the way I look, but for the sake of the Love He’s shown me. I’ve been greatly pursued. As I realize that fact, what can I do, what would I want to do, but give Him thanks with a life that greatly pursues, too?

Love covers sin.

Tue, 19 Aug 2014 21:07:00 GMT

Thu, 17 Jul 2014 04:17:00 GMT

Emily Freeman on Letting Go of the Try-Hard Life. So excited to find out about the resources she offers. Emily is what she calls, a recovering good girl out to embrace life as a grace dweller. She talks about her struggles with insecurity and journey to rediscover God’s grace. I can relate to her in so many ways. Enjoy…

https://www.youtube.com/

Oxygen – gifted life

Tue, 15 Jul 2014 22:00:00 GMT

I am a mother, and only a mother fully knows all the joy, hardship, love, weight and terror that that word can carry. A word that means so many things. A mother is a giver of life. She gives the gift of herself away in so many pieces, in so many ways. Mother is the oxygen to a soul that needs her every minute. As if an oxygen tank that was rolled beside a person had a mind of its own, because thats what mothers do. They stay alongside this little person nearly all day and sometimes do little else besides just be the source for them, and sometimes in the monotony of it all, in the loss of getting to just be you, to breathe in oxygen on your own, its so easy to forget how important you are. Its so easy to forget what a grand role you play in life. Even though, the person may never look to the oxygen tank for what they are, the oxygen tank must remember their worth and know that as their sacrifice is in accordance with God’s will (1 Peter 4) they are living the gospel, even though it may not seem like it. Even though despite all the love you give your children, even though you gift your life to them, they continue to kick and fight, mother must remember that she is their source and is living out the good news, because though it cannot compare, and is only such a very small parallel, she is living out her life for her children, as Jesus lived out His life for her and she is bearing them testimony to that simply by her life. In the sacrifice of every minute she is identifying with Jesus in His life, and He is beautiying her through it all to make her a more presentable bride for Himself, with each diaper change, each kick in the rocking chair, He is sanctifying her every part, lovingly setting her apart to be His. With each sacrificing moment I give as a mother, He gives a much greater sacrifice. He gave His life in every part, every way I have not sacrificed despite all mother means. He suffered all for me. Mother is a constant reminder of what He did and in a very small way a constant opportunity to identify with Christ and live His Gospel in this sacred calling of motherhood.

“For this light, momentary affliction is preparing for us an eternal weight of glory beyond all comparison.” – 2 Cor. 4:17

Losing my step

Wed, 09 Jul 2014 20:23:00 GMT

Night was long, baby slept, baby woke, repeat, repeat, repeat. Forget the alarm clock then, but baby woke way too early. Lazy start to today. Restart button. Diaper changed, baby fed, husband kissed, somewhat quiet time, breakfast served, husband fed, meals planned, diaper changed, errands run, groceries bought, feeling accomplished, but the bed is still not made. Laundry washed, lunch cooked, husband, baby fed. Diaper changed, baby rocked, baby napping. Dishes rinsed, toys picked up, apartment straightened, two sentences of my book written and baby woke too early. Clothes to dry, next on to do list? Those decorating- on-a- budget projects that started months ago are still sitting.

But baby is upset, and hasn’t had much attention from me today, and there inside that little girls body is a soul that will last forever that I’m responsible for, a responsibility that trumps everything else on my to do list. But she’s fussy and if I play with her now will that just enforce bad habits? But if I leave her to cry will she feel abandoned? Will she think I don’t love her? Will that affect her in the long run? Well, I really have no idea, but I know I’m responsible for loving her so I sit and play with baby, bed still unmade, projects still waiting and try to figure out why I can’t get the hang of this mommy dance that still seems so new sometimes. This dance that I repeat again and again and again, but that tries to throw in a new step every day. Will I ever know what the answer is for how to respond to her in these every day situations? Will I ever get this dance down? But maybe getting the dance down isn’t the point…

Maybe the point is finding grace in every step, learning to give my every step to Him. Maybe it’s realizing that He’s already danced the dance of life perfectly and that He did it for me. If I seek Him, He will be faithful to guide me and sometimes I won’t seek Him and I will lose my step. But sometimes its in those moments when I lose my step that I see the Gospel more clearly. I can try my best to dance, to dance in Him, but even when I mess up, I can still enjoy the dance and come bold to the One who danced it perfectly, because that’s the Gospel. I never have to live guilty. Not because He’s accepted my imperfect dance, but because He’s accepted the Son’s perfect dance as mine. I don’t have to bear all the responsibility for the weight of raising this soul. He’s in my yoke with me and as I rely on Him, He will push the yoke for me. And with Him here, I can enjoy this dance and even when my sight comes off of Him and I lose my step, I can dance on boldly before Him pouring out my every need, trusting that He’ll work out my failures for good… even when the bed is still unmade.

How to Plan Neglect: Saying No to Good Things So We Can Say Yes to the Best

Wed, 09 Jul 2014 03:23:00 GMT

How to Plan Neglect: Saying No to Good Things So We Can Say Yes to the Best

(Click the title above to see the post.)

Such a good post! For the times when you’re overwhelmed by all the good things you think you should be doing, these are some wonderful words of truth that I needed to hear.

“When Mary was sitting at Jesus’ feet soaking Him in, and Martha was mad because Mary wasn’t doing what she wanted, Jesus said to Martha, "only a few things are necessary, really only one; Mary has chosen the better portion, which shall not be taken from her” (Luke 10:42)

The Blessing of Insecurities

Mon, 07 Jul 2014 05:55:00 GMT

Hello dear friends! Yesterday marked two years since my first blogpost on this site. Two years of writing here has been so life giving for me. Thank you so much for reading! You give purpose to this space. So, in honor of that, I wanted to revamp and share once again the first post I wrote on the blessing of insecurities. Love you all!

“But he said to me, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” Therefore I will boast all the more gladly of my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may rest upon me. For the sake of Christ, then, I am content with weaknesses, insults, hardships, persecutions, and calamities. For when I am weak, then I am strong.” (2 Cor. 12:9-10)

Sitting in a pew in the corner of the auditorium I strained to try to make out his words. David Ring had cerebral palsy. He told of the struggle his life had been, but he stood in front of us and identified his handicap as his thorn in the flesh, his weakness, that would make God’s grace shine through even more. I’ll always remember that service. I had walked into that room feeling weighed down by my insecurities. I had felt like they held me back. I saw them as my limitations. But that was the day I first realized that my insecurities do not have to limit me. They are a blessing of grace. If this man with cerebral palsy could have such an impact standing in front of so many people trying so hard to get his words out than I could have an impact too, not only despite being shy, but because of it. I was in a whole new world to realize that there’s a world of people out there who struggle with feelings of inadequacy too and I just like David Ring am in a position to have an influence that no one else in the world has. Because of my weaknesses, because of my position, I can have a unique opportunity to make an impact. The fact that I sometimes feel insecure does not make me useless. Insecure moments have been divinely allowed in my life to make me useful.

Found in Him I am, and that is where my identity lies, but when my mind isn’t set on Him, I always go to my safety zone where I don’t have to risk rejection, where I believe I can hold to some worth, and forget that all my worth is only in Him. I do think that my insecure moments are gifts that He allows in my life because it only makes His grace more apparent.

Insecurities are a reminder. When I start to become proud in my accomplishments, my mind comes off of Him and onto me and there, focused on me, I will always struggle with being shy, with fearing rejection. Insecure feelings always bring me back to earth and remind me again that, mind set on me, I will find no true worth. Insecurities help me remember that.

Insecurities are a memorial, a memorial of me without Him. I struggle sometimes to share my insecurities, to fear that I will be rejected if only in someone’s mind. But because of that struggle, His grace shows through and I am found in beautiful grace. In the insecure moments, I have that memorial of life without grace and it reminds me to turn to Him to give thanks.

Insecurities are a connection, a connection to a world that wants desperately to find a place. I know those feelings. My shy moments give me a peek into the hearts of those around me who can’t see Truth. Those moments give me compassion because I understand those feelings of worthlessness. Yet, I have found worth in Christ, and I can testify to that. My insecurities connect me to a lost world that needs Jesus.

Insecurities are an invitation. And I am given this freedom: I can respond to them in fear and refuse the invitation, or I can respond to them in faith and receive it. Sometimes I am shy still. I choose the fear and I am swayed by opinions. But (Mt. 22:16) Jesus lived unswayed by opinions in my place. He fulfilled the perfect response to insecurities because I never could. He has given me grace in taking my identity of shy away forever with His own death, and allowing me to live the risen life with a new identity of righteous and victorious. It is faith in this grace that can guide me along to live in that truth. His wonderful grace has covered my imperfect response. He has given me grace for the insecurities, yet the insecurities, themselves, are an invitation to His grace.

It is in weakness that His power is made perfect, and marvelously, He uses the weakness of my insecurities to glorify Himself. His grace is sufficient for my weakness and I can boast in that. Because the Holy Spirit uses imperfect people and not only does He use them, He uses their imperfections. And if He uses imperfections then praise be! He has a lot to use in me.