The messy ones

(9-28-15) This was written (and never posted) at a time when I was at a completely different place in my journey. But it was valid. So I'm posting it...mostly unedited. I can see growth from where I was back then. There have been more lessons since then as well and more mistakes. And so more things to learn and apply. More allowing Love to come in and wash me up. I am more certain of His presence now. I don't run from it like I did at that time. But deeper faith is tested deeper. There's still messiness in me, believe me. And He is still loving me. And I'm still growing. 

(4-20-16) And still I didn't post it. :) More has changed in life since then and some things are much clearer now. God has also revealed more of how He has shaped my talents into something useful for a ministry and placed me in a position that fits like a glove. I love my job. I couldn't be happier with where God has me right now. This season is joyful. What lies ahead for me I do not know. But with each passing experience, fear's grip loosens and I find more freedom in His love. Perfect Love does indeed cast out fear. I'm still messy, and He's still loving me more clean each day. I hope you will let Him love you too.

~~~

Written April 17, 2014

Who I am has of course little consequence or worth accept that I am a child of the King. But perhaps a bit of background would help you understand what you read here in this place. And also, keep you from thinking that I have it together and am some saint. I am a real person. I struggle every bit as much as you. I hope and pray that I can be honest here in this place, not that you may pity me, or to speak of myself, but that you may see there is a merciful Savior and He loves the ugly, the broken, the messy ones.

Honestly, sometimes I'm not quite sure what to say about me. What of me should be known and what should not? I suppose everyone has them; corners of life they would like to hide. I have them. But often I wonder if like Mary Magdalene, the darkness of my soul could illuminate His love in brighter contrast. He saved a wretch like me.

To many I come off as outgoing. Others know the quiet side. A few know the real side. Life is big to me. Often confusing. At times overwhelming. In moments intensely beautiful. I have counted gifts of grace to one thousand and beyond. And I have shed as many tears. I am naturally a person of extremes. But the amazing thing? With all my courage and confusion, gratitude and grief, peace and perfectionism, faith and fear, togetherness and total chaos, highs and lows, success and mistakes...there is a Love constant and steady.

His love. Unconditional. Undestoryable. Wretch-embracing love. He's been talking to me about that this year. Love has been a confusing and touchy subject. Unexpectedly I was embarked on a journey. It continues. There were questions. Why is it hard to be loved? Why am I afraid? I do want it though. I do keep looking up, like a frightened child, to make sure He's still there. And He is. I'm learning to believe that, even when I can't see Him. I forget often still.

I am a perfectionist and idealist. I am 26 and still live at home. I have not finished even one year of college. I am often tempted to feel inferior. It is a choice I must make often to remember that God is in charge of my life. He knows what He is doing even if I do not. And even though it has been very unconventional, and not at all what my young dreams had in mind, and sometimes misunderstood by others, He can and will and is weaving every bit of it, even the dark threads, into a beautiful tapestry. He's not done with me yet.

We pour out our miseries

God just hears a melody

Beautiful the mess we are

The honest cries of breaking hearts

Are better than a Hallelujah sometimes

What do I know?

April 11, 2014

Sometimes I have more questions than answers. More thoughts than words. More tears than cheers. Sometimes I get scared. A lot. Not of my Jesus. Not of my God. But of me. I'm scared of me. So much spins around in this world. In my world. In my head. What do I know? Sometimes it feels like I'm walking and I'm blacking out. Going blind. I sit watching the moon at 11 o'clock at night. Holding on. Tears. Reciting His words. "A little while and you will not see me." But "I will never leave you nor forsake you." He promised. So even though I can't see Him, and it scares me sometimes, I close my eyes and see Him right beside me. Holding my hand... I'll be ok...

What do I know? A few things. A lot of confusing things. But one thing I think about often. 
God is Love. 

What does that mean? I'm not entirely sure. It's kind of big. But I have some really good friends. And a really nice mom and dad. And I think it means God's even better than them. I think I can take a deep breath and go to sleep. I can trust them. I can trust Him. I put myself in His invisible hands... I'll be ok... 

There are souls perplexed with doubt, burdened with infirmities, weak in faith, and unable to grasp the Unseen; but a friend whom they can see, coming to them in Christ’s stead, can be a connecting link to fasten their trembling faith upon Christ.

DA 297.2

After long silence...

It's been a long time. Nearly one year. I've wanted to write for a while. But I wasn't sure how to start again; kind of felt like I should say a formal 'hello again' first.

A blog. They're used for lots of things. Mine feels more like a journal. I don't know that I write for an audience. It feels more like I'm writing to someone. I see individuals. Nameless, faceless individuals.

My blog is a place for me. A place where I come to spill some of my cup running over. Other times it's a place where I come to drink. My soul is dry. Or hurting. And somehow in writing I am filled.

I don't expect anyone to listen. To read. I am nothing special as me. But I love Someone very special. And He's done a lot for me. I just want others to now that. I want to sing like a little bird perched high on a branch unaware of others passing by. I want to sing for Him. But my heart prays if anyone is listening it will make them want to know Him too.

This world is a hurting place. It's so hard to watch so many people hurt. But even more when they don't know or won't accept the healing my Friend offers. I want to tell them He loves them. And it's not Him who hurts them. He wants to heal them.

I've hurt too. Sometimes I wonder how much I should share of my journey. It's close to my heart. It's sacred. It's not something I want to lightly display for curious eyes. But I want so bad to tell what He's done. And for others to understand and see that what I say is not cliché. It's real. It's painfully real. It's gut wrenching sobs real. And it's overwhelmed by love real.

The silence between the previous post and this holds much. A story I would have written so differently. A story I many times feared was going to end tragically. But friend, never under estimate Grace. I never thought it would happen, but I can look into His eyes and say, "Thank you."

Oh how do I make you see? What words can I use to paint a picture of the face of Grace? Please look. Close your eyes. And look. Listen. Hear. Please....

So here begins a new chapter in this blog. May I be real. May I never make you think I have something you don't. We have the same Savior. And He is the only thing that makes us anything. I share not because I want to brag. No no. My only wish is for you, dear friend, to know His heart too. To come to the place where you can crawl in His lap. Be wrapped in His arms. In all your broken filthiness. And let Him love you. Oh what that would do!

I owe much of my experience to friends of Grace. Those who have prayed me through the darkness. Held me when I was afraid of His arms. Had faith for me when I had none. Told me again and again what He looked like when I couldn't see. Promised me I would rise again. Told me their stories and shared their healing with me. I just want to be that for somebody else. To speak in my voice His love, hope, forgiveness, patience, and grace and pray that someone needs to hear it in my language.

Welcome to...

              The healing place

Are they tears that stain the grass in the morning?
Betrayal of a night long and cold?
Why the sparkle when morning sun rises?
Can sorrow and anguish really beauty hold?
How much time to transform pain?
Can tears become diamonds of worth?
Is there no shortcut to life and freedom
without the pain and struggle of birth?

So loved

I am so loved.

I am so unworthy of this love.

Yet He loves me still.

I am not loved because I deserve it, but because He deserves to have what He shed His own blood to purchase and redeem. I am ransomed with the most precious of currency. The villain set the ransom as high as he could see. He had the opportunity to name his price for the souls of the Kings treasure, and he set his sights on the life of the Life Giver. Did he reckon that I would not be considered worth that infinite value? He reckoned wrong. For the Prince of the kings of the earth stepped forward and pledged to pay the ransom. Did he hope that in the attempt the Prince would fail and he would gain not only the life of the Prince but hold still the life of the treasure upon whom he could carry out his hellish plans? He hoped in vain. Though for a while he held Life in his death grip, through the darkest night when hope slept in cold stillness, his triumph was not to endure. For when the morning came, the Prince broke the chains and rose up from the bowels of the earth victor.

This world is filled with touching love stories. Grand tales of brave acts for treasured loves. But they are nothing. They do not begin to reach the height of the love of my Prince for me. I know me. I know the depths of this sinful heart. And He knows it even better. Yet He came after me anyway. And He does again and again. He calls me His treasure.

Treasure.

To think of myself as anything less...it would require pronouncing the one who fought to the death and poured out His very blood as payment for me, a liar. In the face of such love what can I say? I am speechless. I am broken. All I can do is let Him love me. And that is all He wants.

Let me love you. Let my love transform you. I see you not as you are, but as what my love can make you. You are mine. And I delight to call you such. I am not ashamed of you. You are my treasure. And I love you.

He calls me His own. And I may call Him mine. And He has gone, but He will return. His one desire, to have me with Him where He is. He counts the days. Days unknown. Anticipating the day. The day on which He will come to take me, His treasure...home.

Here He comes

Riding on a white horse

To pull me out from the midst of my enemy

My faithful one

Here He comes

To vanquish His enemies

Fighting with a fierce love

A love stronger than death

My true one

Soft in the stillness of night

Gentle and quiet

His voice assured me again

Child I’m not finished yet

Let your heart rest

I won’t let you slip through my fingers

He holds me

Oh He holds me so closely

I am His

And by His grace He is mine

No power can loosen His grip on me

I’m so tightly held by His mighty love

Here He comes

Riding on a white horse

To pull me out from the midst of my enemy

My faithful one

Here He comes

To vanquish His enemies

Fighting with a fierce love

A love stronger than death

My true one

*Here He Comes

By: Melissa Otto

Album: Blue Sky

Leaning Hard

The gravel squished into the soggy ground under my shoes. A grey sky reflected my heart, as my thoughts drifted with the clouds. It was raining. That part I was happy about and was relishing an umbrella-less Sabbath afternoon walk in the welcome drops. But I was lonely. I wanted to talk to a friend, and no one was available. I thought about the different places I knew some of them were.  Several friends were newly married or reveling in a blossoming relationship. I was all alone. 

"I'm here," a voice gently said. 

"I know You are. I'm sorry... And I want You to be enough, God. But... there's just something about a real, live person." My thoughts continued down a familiar trail. When will I be ready for a special someone? When will he find me? Now, for the most part, I am a very happy single. However, I think the girl’s heart will understand when I say I still long for the day when I can share life with my husband. This is a God-given desire. But I must be alert to the temptation to let my heart pine after the fulfilling of that dream. And some days it's harder than others.

Just then I remembered a quote I'd read in a magazine while tidying up the house the week before. It was in an article complied of excerpts from Grandma Ellen's writings. "Let all the sisters feel that if they haven't a husband to lean upon, they will lean more heavily upon God."*

Lean more heavily... My thought clouds began to settle on that phrase. I have the once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to enjoy a closer relationship with God right now as a single girl than when I am married someday. I don't want to miss that privilege! I am His. And He is mine. What a thought! Isaiah 54:5 came to mind. "For thy Maker is thine husband; the LORD of hosts is His name." And it is my privilege to lean more heavily on Him during these years. 

But I must lean.

Suddenly the rain was a thousand voices whispering His love in my ears. The wind gently caressed my cheek. I slowed my pace, stopped, to just take in the scenery. Crouching on the side of the road, I studied the raindrops. What makes them linger there on the blades of grass like so many diamonds? There is a law set in place by my Maker that tells them to. I just stared, willing my eye to capture forever their simple yet matchless beauty. And all for me. For I was alone the only one to enjoy them.

The music in my pocket was aptly singing, "Your beauty shines, Your love surrounds..." It was true. I soaked up His love like the rain falling on my jacket. The loneliness took flight as the wings of a bird. 

Oh my Love, let me lean... And lean hard.

*The Upward Look p. 147

It hurts...

I don't want to believe it...

It's gone...four months. I'm not the only one with these feelings. But this isn't misery, so company doesn't help.

I thought I would cry all graduation weekend. But strangely I didn't shed a tear. They wouldn't come. Which is very surprising to anyone who really knows me. I cried a lot through the four months. In the beginning I thought I couldn't wait till it was over. I thought I would be glad to have all the work done and behind me. Oh...but now I would take a hundred quizzes and tests...just to be back there again.

The tears are finally coming...but now there's no room 9 or 7 to run to. There's no Mama Tammey. My bungee cord is stretched across 1501 miles. It was all too fast. I don't think any of us thought it would end like this. They tried to tell us, but we must not have been listening close enough.

So many memories...

As one friend who knows what I'm talking about put it..."We had bruised our knees together in prayer. We had blistered our feet together going door to door. We had stretched our poor brains together trying to understand the covenants, and why they even mattered anyway. We had spent countless hours that we should have been asleep trying to finish up our Daniel and Revelation papers. We had lived together. We had laughed together. We had been annoyed by eachother. We had been mad at eachother. We were family." We watched each other transform. We saw the struggles. We rejoiced in the victories. We shared everything. We did everything together. Every little thing had significance. Each spot on campus...the picnic tables, the swing, the rock, the bridge, the prayer garden, the loop, the office, the trails, the gravel pit, the stars... We wrestled through together. We won together. We broke through barriers and over came fear together. We talked late into the night together. We claimed the promises together. We watched God do miracles right in front of our eyes. We stood in wonder together at the amazing privilege we'd been given.

And now it's over. And we are hundreds of miles away.

Oh it hurts... Like I've never hurt before. Like something in the pit of your stomach that is wrenching it and twisting it. Apologies to any of you who are not melancholy. Bless your hearts. Most of you who read my blog probably won't understand at all what is going. But a few of you will... you will... and you may even mingle your tears with mine. Thanks for understanding. I've needed to get this out for a week, but I feared being told to buck up and deal with it.

But I can't anymore...so I have process it out loud. Let it go. And I'll thank those of you who will hold me close and let me just cry...and understand. Because you've been there.

If heavens joy is even half as intense as this pain... Ah, but it will be so much more. We will be together again. And the final touch will be put on our joy as we meet on those glassy shores to wake the song again. We'll see all those people we prayed for, cried for, worked for. We will be together again...someday. Meet me there, friend. And don't be late...please.

Please Jesus, we are so small. How are we gonna do this? But you said we could because you would help us. So here's my fives loaves and two fishes. Do with it as you will. I surrender. Take my fears and my inhibitions, all my burdens, my ambitions. You can use it all to feed them all.* And please, Jesus, keep us faithful. Please. We want to get this done soon. We want to be together again. Not in a class room. But sitting together at your feet. Please Jesus, come soon. 




*"Five Loaves and Two Fishes" by Corrinne May. Memory from our last all night prayer together.