Dear,

When will you stop this? Can't you see you're running in circles? You're moving quickly, very quickly. You think that motion is the key. But motion without direction is meaningless. You are a fish, flailing your silvered body in the sand. You're going nowhere.


Do you think my words are cruel, little one? Do you still not see? My hand is outstretched towards you. It has been there, from the day you were born into this dark world. Reaching. I want to take you to a beautiful place. I want to carry you to a quiet stream. I want to anoint you with the power to walk through death and not be afraid. 


This burden was always an easy one. I never asked you to take up your cross without My strength. Did you really believe you could do it without me? Did you really believe you could pay your own debt?


Child, can't you understand that My heart is breaking, a bleeding mess with love for you? If you would only believe the truth I have spoken to you. You would trust me wholeheartedly, then. You would realize that when I said that every single thing works out for the good of my people, I meant it. You wouldn't waste away with this fear and doubt anymore. All the things that tear you down now, they wouldn't even matter. 


Beloved, I am fighting for you. I will move heaven and earth to reach you. The greatest demons of Hell cannot stand in my way: depression, bitterness, anger, despair, guilt, fear, loneliness, confusion, deception, weariness, doubt--watch them cower, watch them tremble, watch them wither to ash in the raging fire of My passion for you, in the blazing light of My glorious Presence. Only take my hand. Take my hand and have faith.


The world you see is full of lies. There is a deeper reality, but the world cannot understand it. That reality is My love for you, and the promises that come with it--My wedding vows to you, a covenant I will never break. It is something you must simply believe, even when you can't see it, even when it seems impossible. Why? Because it is true. Truer than any emotions you experience, any circumstances you encounter, any logic you calculate. 


That pressure against your heart is My voice, calling you by name. This is my invitation to rest. This is my invitation to freedom. This is my invitation to life. 


Precious one, I am here. I will never leave you. I am holding out my hand. 

My Lover.

Maybe it's because I've never had a boyfriend, that this idea of God as Lover has a special place in my heart. I think most of us can admit that we all long for romance: to be desired, pursued, fought for, loved. And when we've never experienced it, or when we've experienced a romance gone sour, we tend to get cynical and bitter about it (or maybe that's just me). Sometimes, we even start to believe the lie that we're unlovable, that there's something fundamentally wrong with us that keeps us alone.

Well, there is something fundamentally wrong with us--all of us--but that's another story, one that started way back in the beginning. But that's not what keeps us alone.

Because there is Someone who desires you, pursues you, fights for you, loves you.

It used to make me uncomfortable, the idea of God as Lover. I could deal with God as master, God as friend, and God as Father. But lover is such an intimate--and let's face it, slightly awkward--term to be used for your relationship with the King of the universe.

But when we take a look at the Bible, it's impossible to escape it. Check this out:

"Therefore I am now going to allure [you]; I will lead you into the desert and speak tenderly to [you]...I will betroth you to me forever; I will betroth you in righteousness and justice, in love and compassion. I will betroth you faithfulness, and you will acknowledge the LORD." (Hosea 2:14, 19-20) 

If that's not romance, I don't know what is. God is proposing to us. And if you still don't believe me, read Song of Songs. Yes, it's a wonderful story about the way God designed marriage to work between a husband and wife here on Earth; but there are also tons of spiritual implications in there, vivid images that reveal so much about our relationship with Him.

The more I come to terms with the revelation of God as Lover (not that I'll ever fully comprehend it this side of heaven), the more incredible it becomes. Whenever I start to feel invisible, unlovable, ugly--God reminds me that He chose me. He paid the greatest price possible to win my heart. He calls me beautiful, beloved. He is in love with me.

And suddenly, it doesn't matter that I don't have a boyfriend. My value has already been determined. I already know that I am beautiful, that I am worth fighting for. That's the truth of the matter, no matter what the insecurities, or even our immediate circumstances, try to say. Because people will fail you, (attempt to) devalue you, mishandle your heart. Sometimes intentionally, sometimes through simple neglect or apathy. But no matter how close they are to you--friends, parents, husband or wife--they still don't see as God sees, they don't know as God knows. God sees and knows your whole heart, the deepest places, the broken places--and He declares you lovely.

"The king is enthralled by your beauty." -Psalms 45:11

It Makes Me Want to Dance.

It's remarkable, how greatly the little things can affect us. Today was the first day of complete, clear sunshine in over two weeks. Now, don't get me wrong--I'm all for rainy days. I love the sound raindrops make when they strike the window, watching them streak down and form intricate rivers. I especially love thunderstorms, subtle rumbles and surprise crashes, and those jagged fingers of white light, here and gone in an instant, but I know I'm not dreaming, I know this magic is real.

Still, after two weeks of gray-drenched skies, it was beginning to wear on me. Funny thing is, I didn't even realize it until I stepped outside today, into the cloudless blue. As I walked to various buildings on campus during the day, I simply marveled at how perfect the world was. Suddenly, all that mattered was drinking in the crisp January air, the bright sun offering just enough warmth to soothe the skin. It made me want to dance, spin around in circles and never stop. To stretch out on the grass and simply be. It made me happy to be alive.

But you know something? I don't think I would have felt that way if it hadn't been raining for the past two weeks. I don't think I would have appreciated it, reveled in it, quite as fully.

We tend to complain when things aren't going our way. We ask God why He allows us to suffer. We ask that He shield us from all pain. But it seems to me that it's those who have suffered the most who have the capacity to see and appreciate the beauty of life most deeply.

See, without bad days, I don't think we would truly understand what it means to have good ones. I know this isn't the only reason God allows us to experience pain, but I do believe it is one of them. My grandma once asked me, many years ago, what I thought the best feeling in the world was. I told her it was relief. Think about it--that split second after you are released from a great anxiety, fear, or pain--it's sheer happiness, pure ecstasy. But could we experience the latter without the former?

I guess what I'm trying to say in all this mess is: remember a better day is coming. Know that there is purpose in this pain, and release is coming for you. Don't settle for numbness, don't encase yourself behind a concrete wall. If you're drowning in the downpour, cling to the Savior's hand; soon the clouds will clear. If you're wasting away in the desert sun, stay beneath the shadow of your Father's wings; soon the rain will bring relief. Even if the words seem empty now, hang on to the truth behind them, and never let go.

A new day is coming, more beautiful than anything we could have imagined. And when that day dawns, when we make that crossing from brokenness to joy eternal, we will understand.

Be Who You Are.

I think life would be infinitely easier if we could get just one little truth inside our thick skulls: It's not about us.

Do you know how many hours a day I spend thinking about myself? I've never kept a record, but I'm sure I'd be rather ashamed if I saw it. Even when I'm talking to God, so often my words focus right back on me: "God, I'm not strong enough. God, I'm not worthy. God, I'm afraid. God, I need You."

Not that those are bad things to say, in and of themselves. But we get stuck there, with ourselves at the center of the universe, and we are falling apart, so we surmise the whole universe must be falling apart too, the weight of the world is crushing our shoulders and if we make one wrong move, the whole planet will explode into a million pieces.

Which, of course, is not true. Not even close. Life isn't about us. Even "our" life isn't about us. We're just a tiny paragraph in a much bigger story. So what if we're not strong enough? So what if we mess up? So what if someone judges us? It's not about us. Not about our strengths, or failures, or reputations.But we get so caught up in our own little individual lives, forgetting that we are part of a body, part of something huge and glorious. And with that mentality, it truly is the end of the world when something goes wrong.

That is why there is such freedom when we realize that life isn't about us. It means we can fall, because God will catch us every time. It means that things can go wrong, because God has a bigger plan. It means we can suffer, because God will turn it into something beautiful. It means we don't have to be strong, because we have a God who fights for us. It means we don't have to have everything figured out, because God knows what He's doing. It means we can rest, because our shoulders were never meant to carry the world.

We are so afraid to let go of our selfishness. So afraid of losing ourselves. But that's the trick, isn't it? We think we are losing ourselves, when we say "Take it all, God. My whole self. Use me for Your purposes." Until we actually reach that place of surrender, and suddenly we discover that for the first time, we can truly live as we were created to live; we can finally be who we are.

Dear God,

It's me again. I feel like I've run out of words today. Can't really think of what to say. This rainy afternoon only makes me want to nap.

I should start out by thanking You. We should always start with that, but I'm afraid we're not very good at it. Still, I want to thank You, because You've been giving me a lot of peace lately. Telling me things like, "It's going to be okay." I want You to know (even though You already do) that it helps. Sometimes I feel the gentlest weight when You say it, as if You are laying a hand on my head. I hope You are. I imagine it, at least. That helps, too.

I've discovered that the quiet moments aren't so bad. I thought they would be filled with emptiness, but they're all filled up with You. There are still so many distractions, but with the quiet, I often end up talking to You. And on the good days, even listening. It makes me realize You have a plan in all this. It makes me realize I don't have to be afraid.

There is something I'd like to ask, though. Would You to keep Enemy away? I accept many things as if they were a part of me, like loneliness, or depression, or anger. I think to myself this is just the way I am, this is just the way I am feeling today. And so I don't fight it, because how can you fight what you are? But I believe there are demons of loneliness, and depression, and anger, and I believe You gave us the power to send them away, if we'd just wake up and realize that those things that we are feeling are not from You. So I guess I'm not only asking for You to keep the demons away, but also that You would make me aware when they are near, and give me the faith to fight. Because I think sometimes we just endure the bad, when really You called us to fight it.

I guess I was wrong. I hadn't run out of words. But even when I do, that's okay. You don't need words to read our hearts, to hear our spirits. And when we do give You words, You read between them, through them, into them, down deep into the truth of the matter. It makes me glad. These words of mine seem so frail, so insubstantial. They never are enough.

No Doubt About It.

"And hope does not disappoint us, because God has poured out his love into our hearts by the Holy Spirit, whom he has given us," (Romans 5:5).

This verse was highlighted in my Bible. I've read it countless times. I mean, I've read it, but never really seen it. I think the trouble is, I also have the previous four verses highlighted, and by the time I get to this one, my mind is so full of other things--all those God-words like faith and rejoice and glory and sufferings that we tend to hurriedly glance over, downing the glass of milk so quickly we can't even remember what it tastes like--so full of these words my brain has sloppily connected into semi-cohesiveness, that by the time I reach verse five I am barely making any sense of the words at all.

Which would be fine and dandy, except for the one problem that occurs when you're not paying attention when God is speaking: I've been missing out on an incredible truth.

The reason I'm often so cautious about hoping, the reason my brain is bent toward cynicism, is I'm afraid of being disappointed. It sucks. When you build up all this excitement, practically bouncing off the walls in a failed effort to contain your joy, waiting with such eagerness and childlike expectation for that moment, that thing, that you just know is coming--and then it doesn't happen. Everything falls apart. That's when the disappointment comes, that great dark chasm that opens up and swallows the joy that makes not a peep before it vanishes into the black. And you feel foolish, so foolish for your belief that you never even stopped to question.

I hate that feeling. The disappointment, the foolishness, the way people look at you with pity bleeding out of their eyes. So mostly, I don't hope for great things. I tell myself I'm protecting my heart. I don't want to be hurt again; I just want to stay safe. And God told us to guard our hearts, right?

Only, He also gave us a promise. Right there in Scripture. And when I read it, when I read it and listen, I can hear Him saying, Hope does not disappoint you. Because you have My Spirit, My love. So go ahead and hope, beloved. Dream big dreams. Ask for the impossible. Believe in the ridiculous. Though the world may disappoint you again and again, though you may even disappoint yourself, don't give up. Trust in Me. You won't be disappointed.

The Very Worst Parts of Me.

During my devotional time last night, I came across this statement: "The Father is looking into every corner of your heart at this very moment and is not discouraged about you." 

I started to cry.

Because I get discouraged about me. When I think about all my weaknesses, my fears and insecurities and cowardice and doubt and selfishness and pride and complacency, I am discouraged. When I remember the mistakes I've made, and seem doomed to continue to make, I am discouraged. When I see other people bringing the kingdom of Heaven down to Earth while I sit in a classroom taking notes about William Faulkner, I am discouraged. And when I am discouraged, I do not feel like a daughter of God; I feel like a black mark on His name. The miraculous life He has called me to seems forever out of reach.

But God is not discouraged about me. He looked into every corner of my heart. He saw the weaknesses, the mistakes, the faulty comparison of myself with others. He saw it all. He didn't turn a blind eye to it, didn't pretend it wasn't there. He saw those parts of me, the very worst parts of me. But He wasn't discouraged.

That was why I was crying, smiling through the tears, staring at the sentence as if to brand it to my soul. He saw what I thought was unlovable, and said He loved me anyway. He saw the things I hated myself for, and said He still had great plans for me. He saw what made me feel like giving up, and said He never would.

No, God's not discouraged. And do you know why? Because it's not about me. It's not about my flaws or failures.

It's about Him. It's about how big He is. And He's big enough to cover it all.

Back to School.

It can be rough, loving God in the midst of a culture of intellects. The academic world in general does not think much of the ignorant, indoctrinated Christian kids who stick out like sore thumbs in the postmodern age. And I say this as a student at a private, conservative college nestled in the Bible belt. If I can feel the condescension thickening the air whenever God is mentioned in the classroom, I'd rather not think about what some of my brothers and sisters are experiencing on other campuses.

To be fair, I'm sure a large portion of the animosity directed toward us is our own fault. If we were known for loving as Jesus loved instead of for our hypocrisy and judgment, what would the world have to complain about? Well, I'm sure they'd find something, since we've been duly warned that people will hate us for our faith (Matthew 10:22). But the point is, in many cases it is we Christians who have brought the bad name to Christianity. Just something to consider before we run around pointing fingers.

Still, there's something more going on here. And that something is the pride that comes when we make the mistake of thinking we're smart. Because "knowledge puffs up" (1 Corinthians 8:1). Empowered by learning new things and making new discoveries (which, by the way, are good things, in and of themselves), we begin to believe that we know all things, that we are entitled to all mysteries. This is especially true in the academic world, where knowledge is treasured and elevated even above the money and power that the rest of the world craves. And anyone who challenges this "standard knowledge"--for instance, by suggesting that there is an invisible God out there orchestrating the universe, or that some guy rose from the dead and floated up into the sky, promising to return--is either denounced as narrow-minded or patted on the head like a child and sent on his or her way.

Which is why I find it so comforting to read verses like: "For the foolishness of God is wiser than man's wisdom, and the weakness of God is stronger than man's strength...But God chose the foolish things of the world to shame the wise; God chose the weak things of the world to shame the strong," (1 Corinthians 1:25, 27). Yes, some of the stuff we believe is pretty ridiculous by the world's standards. Laughable, even. It defies logic, reality, sanity. But personally, I think that's what makes it so darn fun. :)

Careful, now. Don't fall into the trap. Christians can do this just as easily, perhaps even more so. We think we know it all. Every Biblical interpretation down pat, every truth uncovered. As a result, we refuse to listen to other people's opinions with an open mind and heart. But God has always been bigger than anything our finite minds can comprehend, and He's full of surprises. So pay attention; you just might learn something new.

Every Time You Walk into the Room, I am Changed.

I don't wanna talk about You 
like You're not in the room; 
I want to look right at You, 
I want to sing right to You. 

These are perhaps some of my favorite lines from a worship song. It is a cry for the Presence of God, and a reminder that He is near when His people call to Him. He is not watching us through a window in the floor of heaven; He is in the very room.

There are a lot of worship songs that sing about God. Which is great--I love singing about the majesty, power, beauty, mercy, and goodness of my God. But what I love even more than singing songs about God is singing songs to Him. To look into His glorious face, to meet Him in that sacred place where everything else fades like a dream upon waking, and say to Him, with tears in my eyes and laughter in my smile, "God, You're beautiful to me."

That's why sometimes I change the wording of a worship song, or invent completely new lyrics for it altogether. Worship comes from the heart, not from singing the correct words or pitches. Worship should be a new song, every time, a different and intimate experience with our Father. We get stuck singing songs with lyrics and tunes that are all too-familiar to us, and we stop thinking about the incredibleness of the words we are saying. It becomes just another ritual, just another checklist in our Christian walk. And then we wonder why God feels so far away.

When we come together in worship, we have the opportunity to usher in the Presence of God. To curl up in His lap and sing to Him as He sings over us, to find the comfort and rest that He promises His children. Don't ever let that opportunity pass you by. Because there's nothing else like it in all the world.

Unbelievable, Impossible Lives.

What if we actually believed all the things we said we did?

...That to lose our life is to gain it (Matthew 10:34).

...That we can move mountains (Mark 11:22; Matthew 17:20).

...That if someone sues you, you should give them even more than what they are trying to take (Matthew 5:40).

...That when people insult us, it is cause for rejoicing (Matthew 5:11-12).

...That the presence of Jesus is the only thing we need (Luke 10:41).

...That to call anyone a "fool" (or "idiot", to use a more contemporary term) is to put yourself in danger of hell (Matthew 5:22).

...That we are called to be perfect (Matthew 5:48).

...That we have power through the Spirit to do even greater works than Jesus (John 14:12).

...That we have the authority to overcome all the power of the enemy (Luke 10:19).

...That many of the prophets and kings of the Old Testament (think Moses, or David) are jealous of us (Luke 10:24).

...That following Jesus will cost us our comfort (Matthew 8:20).

...That to love our parents or children more than Jesus is to be unworthy of Him (Matthew 10:37).

...That we have to give up everything we have to be His disciple (Luke 14:33).

And these are just a few tidbits taken from the Gospels, a tiny taste of the wonderful and terrifying promises God has given us as His children.

We have become so complacent with Christianity, we forget how absolutely radical it is. We go through the motions: pray, read our Bible, go to church. And the stories in our Bible, of giants crashing to the ground and seas splitting down the middle, have been recited to us so often, we completely miss how incredible they are. How incredible our God is. And how incredible is this life He has called us to, an unbelievable and impossible story--made believable and possible through Him.

My New Year's Dedication.

For God, Maker of the heavens and the earth and the very breath that fills my lungs on this day, January 1st, 2012. This year belongs to You. Every day, hour, second that You have given me, I return to You. You have my permission, Lord. No, not just my permission--I'm begging you, Father. To break me, mess me up, lead me wherever You will. Into happiness or suffering, laughter or tears, pleasure or pain. I am not asking for an easy year, not seeking a comfortable one. Yes, my flesh would like that; that is why a part of me is afraid to hand this year over. For although I know Your plans are beautiful, beautiful things rarely come with ease. But that is what I really want, Abba, deep in my Spirit. That is what I am asking for: a year of beautiful things. A year in which my life is wholly Yours, to twist and shape and set ablaze. Only, grant me the faith to trust You in the flames. Because whatever comes next, this year is for You. Anoint it with the oil of Your Presence, seal it with the blazing mark of Your holiness. And may this year be merely the beginning of many more wondrous things to come for the glory of Your Name.