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2/6/2018 0 Comments made alivethere’s no need to dull our days
with half-heartedness & lukewarm living. i want my moments made alive by a warrior’s love that goes out of its way to threaten the lies that tell you you’re unseen & unloved. i want to tell you even louder, “the King sees you & what He sees is good” until you let it change the way you live, the way you love. i want to treasure today’s moments like they’re clustered diamonds & cradle their brilliance even closer during the hard days when i forget His grace & need to remind myself again just how wonderful it is to live today.
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1/25/2018 3 Comments on seeing a whole personwe are fragmented. all of us. we are made up of the bits of our memories & odd quirks & adventures & brutal regrets & dominating personality traits & stories & cruel biases & inside jokes & scarred pasts. i know, that’s not all we are or all we’re made of, but sometimes that’s all we see. we put these cold labels on each other in conversations behind closed doors & in the dark closets of our minds when we scroll through souls on a screen without even bothering to ask each other, “wait, what actually is your story?” we rob empathy of any opportunity when we stick our noses in the air & walk past faces in subjective silence. the truth is that we are so much more than anything any of us might ever see in each other & we need to make a valiant effort to try to see the whole person. we need to convince ourselves of this reality: we will always be learners of God, of each other & of ourselves. we need the humility to know we never know the whole story & that there’s more to discover in a person (& in ourselves) past what we’ve labeled them to be from a distance. instead of jumping to conclusions, i want to ask questions. instead of assuming, i want to listen. i want to be the kind of person that other people want to let into their hearts & their stories & in order to be that, i have to let other people in to see all my scattered fragments in their effort to know my whole person. i’ll start with this awkward introduction by telling you that i feel everything really deeply & even though i sometimes think it’s great to be sensitive & emotional, i’m pretty insecure about the way i think & feel & the people closest to me have this supernatural patience & grace they give me which (ironically) usually makes me get even more emotional when i think about it & even though i constantly feel a vicious pressure to prove myself & tell you that i’ve solved all the problems in my life, i’m really starting to enjoy the journey of living unfinished. a lot of times, we don’t let other people see the whole of us because of fear & shame & guilt & all those joy thieves. so what do we do? we hide. we stuff vulnerability in a dark drawer & swear to ourselves we’ll never open it again. not after we’ve been hurt like that. not after we gave our trust over only for it to be trampled under foot by someone who failed us in a gut-wrenching kind of way because that pain is real. but in so doing, i really think we lose more than we gain. i know there are seasons & i know there’s a time for everything because not only does the Bible tell me so, but my professor also told me that it’s OK to distance ourselves for awhile from what’s hurt us to give us time to heal. but i also know we were build for connection & we humans can sometimes be really, really horribly bad at it, but it’s also the way towards freedom. i think the loudest question in all of us is: “when you see me — like really see me — will you stay?” & i can’t answer that for every person because as unfinished people, sometimes the answer is, has been & will be, “no.” & nothing hurts more when “not good enough” comes in & punches you in the face & you just kinda sit there for awhile. but The Story, your story, my story, never ends without hope. on a God level, i know the question i’ve had for Jesus even though i rarely ask Him is: “will You keep coming after me? will You keep pursuing me? even after i treat You like this? even after i rip my hand out of Yours & say i’m gonna do it my way this time? will You still come after me?” i know His answer, even though i don’t always feel it & for those who are still unsure of what He’d say, i’m here to tell you that He will. we are whole because before we even knew His name, the cross took all our broken pieces in His scarred hands & told every single one of them that He's actually going to make them into something. He saw us: our whole person shattered in a filthy heap of all the million moments when we’d treasure ourselves above Him & told us that we belong. He saw us & in scandalous mercy & redemptive grace, He let His healing blood seep into the mess of our broken shards & its power actually began to weld them all together in the shape of a cross, in the sound of the loudest cry that shatters every fear of ever being made whole again when we hear: it is finished. so when we see others & when we see ourselves, i hope we seek to see more than just fragmented selves that are oddly proportioned, but i hope we seek the whole story always & seek each other as whole persons welded together by the blood of Jesus that shattered Himself so that we would know what it means to really live. 1/18/2018 2 Comments dancing through labored seasonssometimes the transitions into our seasons of life are gradual & other times they’re abrupt. my grand entrance into this season feels like a bit of both. in some ways i feel like i woke up in this season one morning & everything all of a sudden seemed to lack luster, & it was a bit cold, everything started numbing. & yet in other ways i feel like i should’ve seen this coming, watching my habits from the past few months playback in my mind on repeat & well, of course that got me here. there are hard seasons & there are soft seasons, & sometimes — most times — hard seasons accompany some warmth & oftentimes, the soft seasons aren’t void of some colder days. anyways, i hate sitting in the cold.
these days i find myself awkwardly hardened by things that used to help thaw me & days that seem to run fluid into each other & i’m often at the end of my day under my covers & christmas lights dreading the night’s close, my blinds down, meaning i won’t get this day back & how well did i love today? i reach for my journal, but i only jot down questions i don’t feel like finding answers for because i’m scared what they’ll tell me, but i write them anyways because i think the first step towards discovery is always asking questions even when it hurts. but there are other days i catch myself caught in moments of curious fervor, when the invitation to learn & create does nothing less than enchant me. i love the feeling of coming across a poem that seems to ignite me & i have no real reason for it to & nothing to credit it to except for the fact that He sees me. there are other moments of random elation when i just have to smile at feeling the joy of telling a story slow & smooth & when the punchline brings us some sort of contagious laughter. i think it’s absurdly important to listen to one another. if we don’t, we might miss something too precious to pass by — like the incessant glow that lingers in the air after she speaks & his smile that stalls me in the in between. regardless of my season, i wanna be the kind of person who, when caught off guard, still says automatic, “come in, you know you’re always welcome.” the kind who knows one of the ingredients to thriving in seasons of change is to remain insanely curious. i wanna be the kind of person that is never in a rush to tidy things up on the inside before someone asks to catch-up because it can be pretty annoying to talk to a person who pretends she has everything figured out. i wanna dance through these seasons & all their days in between, even when i’m unaware of their constant progression. i wanna dance through the hard & soft seasons as God watches me from where He reigns & smiles because He knows He’s the author of the labored seasons, with all of their rhythms, & He knows i’m trying hard to believe that, rest in that. 1/5/2018 2 Comments growing less dormanti’m on a quest to live fully alive. at this point, i’m not even really sure if i know what i mean by that, all i know is i want to explore & exhaust its possibility in 2018.
january 1st has a notorious habit of shaking me a bit - yeah, another year has passed & i can feel the hands of my heart & mind scrambling to gather every piece of wisdom & knowledge & every memory & experience i’ve gained & encountered in the past year, so as to prove to the people around me that “yes i have grown this year & this is how...” just in case they ask. at the end of every year, it's like i need to compose a neat list of the strides i’ve made. at the end of this december, i opened up my journal to write. & as i scrawled down a half-hearted prayer to God, i realized i had nothing to give Him except more broken shards, more guilt that i was tired of lugging around, more anxiety that i felt had become like an annoying sibling i was tired of wrestling with. then i turned to the first page in that same journal i started at the beginning of 2017. it was the same kinda lines i was writing at the end of this december & i realized that maybe growth isn’t always what we’d imagine it’d feel like. it sure feels a lot less glamorous than i ever thought it would & it happens small & it happens slow & it happens when i feel like it’s really not happening at all because my brother told me that even when you admit you don’t feel like you’re growing, that’s growth. growth is a good desire - a really good one. & as for me, i’m growing jagged & straight, lopsided & lean, sideways & straightforward. this past year, fear made a coward out of me on backroads & in notebooks & silenced all my courage. i floundered in a sea of still maturing emotions & let its waves crash me, shake me, change me. i trusted too many voices, let them all pound me at once & discredited the joy found in the journey. i forgot what “journey” meant, what it entails, what it requires. this past year, i grew thankful for possibility & finally held onto opportunity. i dangled my feet off the edge & stopped apologizing for how i’m wired & let brave sprout on the dry parts of my heart. i looked forward & i looked back & i lived now & i loved in vulnerability & trusted i was loved in return, regardless. i let healing words soak into me like balm & worshipped under stars when i felt the most unworthy to be there & i let the gift of presence cherish me in my mess. i leapt & i listened & i learned that grace gives up on no one, giving me the most hope that His mercy goes to the greatest lengths for me & for you. i sat across the table from people who really care, really love & really know that God has this whole thing in the hollow of His scarred hands & He will not ever let us go. so here’s to 2018, in the quest to live fully alive & the pursuit of discovering all that it means. 12/2/2017 2 Comments wonder comprehendsthe other night, anxiety spent its time ransacking my mind & seizing any peace i had until my tears finally showed themselves. so i sat in the corner of my bed while she listened & loved me well & i thanked her & told her i just needed the space to break down in the hopes that it would help me break free.
// in this season, there’s big questions about future endeavors that demand ready answers & i’m not ready. & God’s really teaching me that contrary to our culture of instant gratification, most things happen really slowly. like growth & dreams & success & friendship & holiness & abundance. my faith that demands a fast pace needs to learn patience. i really really need to learn patience. or else i’ll fail to see how far He’s brought me, how faithful He’s kept me & how fearlessly He keeps moving me forward. i've learned His goodness is fierce in its intense devotion to each & every one of us. & in light of that truth, i want to find the beauty in the process & grace in the growth, even when it looks backwards. // so this is how i’ll try. i learned a simple phrase a few weeks ago that begged me for a new perspective. it was this: wonder comprehends. i think God is pleased when we live curiously: seeking wonder, seeking to understand & seeking for grace embodied. because as i pulled out of the parking lot of the grocery store, i saw a little girl peeking over the backseat while her brother loaded the bags in the trunk. i watched her smile stall him in a gracious moment. & i laughed when he abruptly broke the silence because of awe & pointed out the window at the cotton candy sky. & i held a two-year-old's tiny hand as he trudged up the stairs, his small legs & ambitious heart affirming the grace all around. & i heard my neighbor walk in the house & ask for the instructions for the dogs because this is how he's serving us this week & His abundant grace really is all around us if we would just pay attention. curiosity breeds joy because wonder comprehends. wonder understands grace. // one day at a time, we will breathe in His grace & we will take heart in slow growth & we will rejoice at every small triumph because the most brilliant glory is found in the most unlikely — like a baby born in the little town of bethlehem that came to bring us peace. the peace that’s been forever bought for those of us who with one voice declare: it is finished. 11/5/2017 0 Comments becomingthere’s no way around it: every day i am growing & every day i am changing & it’s downright uncomfortable. like God is making me into more - whatever that means - so in every moment, i’m morphing into “more,” that no one around me is fully familiar with.
& in this subtly extraordinary transformation that every child who’s ever crowned Him King gets to witness, i discard old habits & welcome new ones. i read articles from a diversity of perspectives & surrender myself to challenge & actually embrace it. i set goals & ask to be held accountable for them & learn to differentiate between hard work & trying my best. i pick up new hobbies & dust off the old ones on quiet saturday nights when the freedom to wholeheartedly pursue them & pursue Him through them recklessly overwhelms my creativity. this is the process of becoming more, of becoming new, of becoming who He has already declared us to be. “therefore, if anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. the old has passed away; behold, the new has come. all this is from God, who through Christ reconciled us to Himself… 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 corinthians 5:17-18, 21. He won’t let up until He has fully restored, totally transformed, & completely sanctified all of me. maybe that’s why i love fixer upper. turns out, joanna, chip & God are all in the business of relentless restoration. whether it’s a broken dream, a busted brick house, a dimming friendship, or dysfunctional floorboards, joanna said, “God loves every kind of restoration.” & yet with every reminder of restoration, with every verse that tells me He won’t stop until He’s finished, with every time i reflect on how far i’ve come, let me hear this the loudest: it is finished. may my prayer be: “remind me of the finished work. remind me of Your finished work. remind me that the Gospel isn’t the cross + evangelism, the cross + morning prayers, the cross + good behavior. remind me that my restoration doesn’t start & end with my doing. remind me that my habits aren’t what saves me. remind me that i’m always wearing the whitest gown & there’s nothing i can do to make Your love conditional.” "all fear just fears that we can end up somewhere beyond the good love of God's love, & we can never find ourselves anywhere beyond the love of God so there is nothing to ever fear in the whole wide world." a.v. the more i become His more, i understand just how vast His grace is. this has not only been a pursuit of the best, but a discovery of the worst parts of me. sure, i’d never claim to have “arrived” at perfection, but there are a handful of days i’ve impressed myself. & it only takes someone i deeply love to call out my pride & my hypocrisy to wake me up to how far i’ve yet to go & oh, the depths of love He has for me to still stay with me, never withholding His faithfulness from me. // in light of all these messy reflections, even though i’m changing, the essence of me remains unchanged. & yet, experiences are taking the liberty to chisel away at me & it’s uncomfortable & oftentimes confusing for the people around me because only i really know the heart work the Lord’s been actively pursuing behind closed doors & inside the pages of my moleskin notebook & on blank documents & unfamiliar passages & conversations where i literally feel my mind being stretched & i leave with the need to look outside as far as i can see & wonder what more is out there. so, yes, i want to run at 6am if for nothing else than the grand possibility of discovery & i want to be pushed further than what i think is my limit & i want to engage when i’d rather shut down & speak honestly & think deeply & laugh the loudest & hey, feel the freedom to maybe decide one day that i want to be the best in the world at something. & then actually do it. i want to hold my professor’s wisdom close when he tells me that if you haven’t struggled with the answer, it’s only an abstract idea. i want to celebrate & brainstorm & dream of a bucket list for this weekend & how i can love more fully. because every day, we are becoming. & that becoming is something beautiful. i don’t want to miss any of it. i want to love all of it. 10/22/2017 0 Comments seven a.m.His glorious monotony invites me in,
invites me to begin again every unwritten morning. & i’m content knowing i’m kept by His constance & every sunrise is evidence because today, He paints the sky again & i’m arrested by this mercy. // pay attention to beginnings & be brave enough to believe that this Creator has declared us new. 10/15/2017 1 Comment unfinished creatorsbehind my words there’s real frustration in all that i’m not & all that i want to be, but feel i can’t be. behind my words there’s always this restless tension - an impatient yearning to reach a standard of wholeness & perfection before i let anyone get too close. i want things figured out & i want all the answers & there’s a hideous pressure to have everything in life seamless. there’s brutal insecurity & a timid confidence that really wants to create, but is still learning to be sure of itself.
i did myself a favor & walked into an antique shop the other day with some friends. there were hundreds of random things that someone, at some point, claimed as treasure. someone’s hands felt the urge to create with keen attention what they believed resembled worth. the store was scattered with hundreds of brilliant ideas that were followed through by ambitious dreamers. a room full of royal blue teacups & poetry books & weathered chairs & proud jewels. a room full what he, what she, deemed beautiful. & as i walked around in silent marvel, i wanted to wake up the creativity that grew dormant in me. i felt the need to unleash the passion in me, instead of dulling it to stay safe. i’m tired of staying safe. i felt the urge to make art & invite others into it to discover His extravagance together. what would it look like to live in constant wonder? because when beauty breathes, i’m reminded that life is urgent & the cost of choosing to simply coast through is tragic. maybe the way He wired me wasn’t accidental. & maybe the wild way you dream is actually worth His attention because maybe they were His dreams for you before you ever even knew what it meant to really live. // i would argue that the world needs beautiful art. it needs creators & trainers & architects & photographers & business men & business women & poets & preachers & bankers & doctors & designers & teachers. & even though we’re all a bit unfinished, we create as we seek Him & trust that He’ll somehow use it to redeem the world. “…so we make lofty art :: see the presence of good art will unconsciously refine a community & poor art will do an incalculable harm.” propaganda :: lofty this all starts with delight. we’re led by delighting in Christ, delighting in the cross, delighting in being redeemed & delighting in all of who He is. & out of that sheer delight, we create beauty that draws others into the wonder of the Gospel. it’s delight in Him that leads us to all things lovely. because the One we delight in always gives His best when He creates & when He gives. still He gives His full attention to creation when only the stars are there to watch the wonder. still He gives the trees their leaves & birds their nest & sunflowers the freedom to grow & grow wildly. still He gives untainted mornings & unwasted moments on lone benches perched on the side of the road & a slow pace to the table because the mug is too full & random phone calls from sisters & soft smiles after long days & breakfast out & one way roads that He uses to remind you that there's only one way to live the most abundantly & it starts with Him & it's followed by giving grace & creating art & giving more. // so let’s create out of delight & never grow dull, but always discover & prove that adventure can be holy & love without limits & live all these Gospel moments in crazed abundance. 10/2/2017 1 Comment still learningit’s hard work: learning to be free.
// as i write this, every part of my heart that i’ve kept covered so long under the veneer of perfection and together-ness for the sake of looking pretty is cringing at being brought into the light, where really nothing is hidden. exposure can be costly, but i think the cost of staying silent & neatly packaging all my mess is greater. i’m still learning. brene brown said that “vulnerability is the birthplace of connection… if it doesn’t feel vulnerable, the sharing is probably not constructive.” so, here’s my effort at building connection with other hearts that - like mine - struggle & strive to rise higher to become grace-givers & peace-makers & world-changers. // learning to be free. maybe i’m making it harder than it has to be, but these brutal chains that demand an exhausting performance before they unshackle themselves have rusted for years around my hands that were made to serve freely & my feet made to soak richly in seas of crimson. i settled for a cheap gospel that proved no gospel at all when i tasted the bitterness in my pride. in it, left alone & unsustained. my good behavior just was never enough to save me. i knew that then, & i know that now, but still the lies creep in & tell me that i have to earn it, & there’s a part of me that wants to earn it because receiving love from Him - or from anyone for that matter - when you feel nothing more than unworthy is just uncomfortable & humiliating. & i’m yearning to fly on wings woven in heaven’s throne room by gracious Hands, while angels gaze at their grandeur. Hands that have softly & sufficiently dug in my dirt to uproot all that’s unlovely, sin burrowed deep in my own morality that bared its ugly face at the foot of the cross - sure of its worth - yet still not enough. & i’m longing for all my anxious thoughts to dissolve into the most beautiful, most simple single thought, for me - for all of us fighting reckless for peace of mind: it is finished. it’s over - there’s nothing left for Him to punish in me. in you. & when we know this is not simply a shadow of the truth but truth itself, we can believe that surely “you are heaven’s handmade calligraphy… the rightful heir to not just a kingdom, but a universe & you have your daddy’s eyes” (propaganda / it’s complicated). learning to be free is the revelation that comes when she tells me that it's actually better not to be cookie-cutter & it's better to rejoice in another's world & be ok when i’m not the center of it. it’s the relief that sweeps over me like a mighty wave when i realize i haven't arrived yet, but i’m getting there because there's still time & there's always grace enough for us here, so maybe the most productive thing i can do today is just be. learning to be free is a consistent reminder that He doesn’t need me, but He wants me & that’s the most beautiful because instead of operating under enormous pressure to perform, I get to discover Him & live like there’s a King who’s actually after the reckless & the wretched, the lost & all the confused lovers. learning to be free is colorful & breathtaking, stunning & overwhelming. & in Christ, freedom’s mine & it’s yours. // i’m learning more what it means to live free as He continues His work in my messy heart & so i keep stumbling towards the cross & seek to live life beneath it & try to see others through it because the only way i’ll fly on wings woven by His gracious hands is believing He is who He says He is & this isn’t over yet. i am free & if you believe this, then you are free & that means we can pursue Him & love others in fearless freedom & wild passion. 9/28/2017 0 Comments beauty in the smallesti’ve loved with expectations. i really think that it’s the most gruesome form of “love.”
// loving with expectations is like gutting sacrifice of its strength, leaving it limping in self-pity & cynicism. loving with expectations is like sapping service of its ability to freely give in quiet. // i think part of what makes love so beautiful is its soft strength that so desires to sacrifice in small moments. ann voskamp writes, ”love is so large that it has to live in the holiness of very small moments of sacrifice.” not only do we display beauty in the small moments when we choose to love well, but His love is so large that it has to live in the holiness of small moments that are abundant with so much beauty. so, this is how i will enjoy my life: i will enjoy my life by enjoying the small moments in each of my days. His large love was in the beautiful way she premeditated acts of kindness to start her morning. it was in the way his curious smile spread automatic as he held his tea. it was in the way she smiled brave & braced herself for a new week. eyes open to small moments in my day, every day, that are absurdly abundant with beauty is how i’ll enjoy my life deeply & find Him richly. yes — beauty was in gentle soul-reminders, inked on scrap paper. beauty was abundant in him carrying my bag, my plate, and my insecurities, cradling them all in sacrifice. beauty was steadfast in her listening ear as we walked together after class & i watched compassion swell in her eyes. beauty was gracious in small conversations & cheek kisses & numerous compliments & eyes that seek deeper & courageous validations & grins that tell-all & catch-up calls & a professor's empathy & un-rushed steps forward & a sister's reminder that who you are is dearly loved & deeply missed. & all this beauty stirs my heart to worship a more beautiful King because choosing to see all the loud beauty blaring in all our days is choosing to see Jesus even when the stars hide & night is raging, & that’s when He’s adored. after all, “it takes strength to enjoy the world” (liturgy of the ordinary 136). C.S. Lewis wrote, “one must walk before one can run… [we] shall not be able to adore God on the highest occasions if we have learned no habit of doing so on the lowest. at best, our faith and reason will tell us that he is adorable but we shall not have found him so” (138). i will find Him so in pouring chilled apple cider, in taking the lid off my chai tea just to look at its color, in catching her smile flash at the ground before she walks away, in more cinnamon buns, in hand-washing clothes in the sink, in cleansing a dirty plate, & in burning a pumpkin spice candle. i will find Him by pulling over on the side of a dirt road to celebrate an unsung waterfall, constant in its rush, & in the mountains, stiff & still. & in a wednesday morning chapel when a girl tells us what her mom would always say: “it’s ok. it’s ok that you're broken, you still have lots of love to give to the world.” & when her laugh echoes in the kitchen & i scrub the burnt muffin tin & wonder at the daily grace in the freedom He gives us to create — lavishly & imperfectly — i will find Him. this whole journey is a dare to find beauty. it’s a divine romance, a breathtaking allegiance, & a brave surrender. so, today, i'll dance with Him and i'll be in awe when i see His creativity in the smallest moments — like when he wants me to pull over to do a handstand on the side of the road next to the flowers & when she puts a note in my car door that reminds me to get my eyes up — & when i see the extravagance of creation, i'll know that's only a hint of who He is. I want to challenge myself to live with eyes wide open to the hundreds of small moments throughout that day that are bursting with brave beauty. because if all of these small moments are large enough to make my pulse quicken & take my breath away, how much more beautiful must He be? // instead of loving with expectations, i want to see His love so large in the small moments so absurdly abundant with stunning beauty, & see it as a reminder that because this is how He loves me freely, i will do the same: love freely & maybe, in some way, my one life can emulate ann voskamp’s words: "i am what i love & i will love you like Jesus, because of Jesus, through the strength of Jesus. i will love when i'm not loved back. i will love when i'm hurt & disappointed & betrayed & inconvenienced & rejected. i simply will love, no expectations, no conditions, no demands. love is not always an agreement with someone, but it is always a sacrifice for someone.” // loving without expectations looks like giving & building, creating & always celebrating, believing his best & pursuing her success. may i always remember that i am unexpectedly loved without expectations & when i forget, may the cross always remind me. |
AuthorWrite something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview. Archives
October 2020
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