You'll Never Know, Dear, How Much I Love You.

(This much.) I brought the world into being for you. Birthed from my words: sun and moon, sky and sea, planets and atoms. But you, beloved--you I formed with my breath. I called you by name. I gave you the beautiful kingdom I had created, and we walked together on its garden-woven ground.

(This much.) It broke my heart, the day you abandoned me. When you drank the poison that would cause all you touched to wither and warp, when I felt your spirit tear away from mine, I grieved as I had never grieved before, for I knew then that you were lost to me--but not forever, little one. I loved you too much to give you over to Death, in spite of your betrayal.

(This much.) I sent my son, spirit of my spirit, to the crumbling kingdom. He wrapped his spirit in flesh, and entered the binds of Time. The poison tried to enter him, but his spirit was too strong, for he was yet one with me. Because the poison could not enter his spirit, it stripped him of his flesh, and his blood ran down in thick rivers. But this was not the end. For my son sucked the poison of the broken kingdom into himself, and in that instant, my only son was torn from me; he cried, but I could not hear. We had never known such pain, and the sky turned black and the earth trembled with my sorrow, but we endured it, for you. That was the day of the greatest sacrifice. That was the day we snatched you back from Death.

(This much.) When my son had wrestled Death and returned to me, we sent our spirit back down to the bleeding kingdom. I searched for you, in the deepest crevices and farthest corners of the earth, that I might share this gift, this gift that would bring you back to me. I asked you to join me in the restoration of the kingdom. Though you rejected me again and again, living as though the poison still held you, I would not relent. You were my chosen one, your name written on the palm of my hand, and I longed to heal you.

(This much.) The day you came to me, I danced over you, so filled I was with joy. You put your hand in mine, just like it was at first, as if the poison had never come to you. But the memories of the poison yet cloud your mind, and sometimes you choose to live under the illusion of its power. You find it difficult to believe when I say you are lovely, when I tell you I have marked you with my spirit and made you new. But you are learning, and I am always giving you new reasons to help you believe.

(This much.) No matter where you wander, my love, I will find you. I will bring you safely home.

But Now My Eyes Have Seen.

One of my favorite moments in all of Scripture is undoubtedly Job's proclamation, spoken after a period of suffering greater than most of us will endure in a lifetime: My ears had heard of you, but now my eyes have seen you. 

We've heard a lot about God in this country. We have access to His written Word, and many commentaries on it besides, through books, sermons, music, and movies. Many of us were raised in church and memorized the answers that were fed to us, answers that addressed almost every question about God imaginable.

But there is a vast chasm of difference between an abstract concept and a tangible reality. You can research the Grand Canyon all day long--read detailed descriptions of it, look at pictures, videos--but to go there and see it for yourself is a completely new and profound experience that no amount of head-knowledge can ever give you. And I can assure you with the utmost confidence: what is true of the Grand Canyon is true of the Creator of the universe.

An encounter with God changes everything. In learning about Him, we pour all our energy into finding the "right answers." And when He doesn't work according to our understanding, when there are no answers to be found, we (like Job) become confused and disheartened.

But when we see God for who He is, when our knees bend under the weight of His glory, when we hear that quiet whisper of His voice--knowing all the answers doesn't matter anymore. Caught up in the midst of His Presence, we now not only know the truth, but can believe it. It is the place where faith is born.

It's going to be worth it in the end. Every struggle we endure, every sorrow we bear, every sacrifice we make. When we stand in the Presence of the King, all the rest will seem like so much dust, insignificant and soon swept away. Tears wiped from our face, eyes wide open. We will see like never before.

Baby, Sleep in Peace Tonight.

I've had trouble sleeping lately. More trouble than usual, that is. Exhausted all day, wide awake as soon as the lights go out. Staring up at ceiling, crying out, God, You said You grant sleep to those You love. Don't You love me?

(I tend to be overly dramatic when sleep-deprived; however, in my defense, the scripture my complaint was based upon is real--Psalm 127:2.)

But last night was different. Because last night, God spoke. In an instant, His murmur swept away the swift torrent of thoughts that constantly plague me, and I found myself in The Secret Place. Looking back, I can't fully decipher all the things He said to me; it was too much for me to grasp.

Still, part of it, I know, was a glimpse of the answer to my why. He said:

I love you--yes, even at what you perceive to be your lowest, when you feel that you are doing almost nothing of worth. This is a testimony to My promise--that I do not love you for the things you do, but for who you are--who I have made you to be. Your works are not your identity--My love is. You strive so hard to define yourself, to prove who you are, but your attempts are vain, all. You must let go--this image you desire to create. This is what I meant when I said you must lose yourself to find yourself. When you give up trying to make an identity, you will suddenly be free to discover it.

His words, another piece to the puzzle. During this season of my life, God is teaching me how to be loved. For it is only in learning how to be loved, unreservedly and without condition, that we can learn how to truly love in that same way. If we feel we must somehow "earn" God's love, we will require others to earn ours. But this is not love at all; it is mere selfishness. And without love, all the rest--the faith that moves mountains, the tongue that speaks with the eloquence of angels--is empty.

When God had spoken these things, and I, as far as I could, understood them, He tucked a blanket of peace around me, such as I have not felt in what seems a long time. And I slept.

Ready? Set:

There. I have broken the blank of the page. The rest will come easier.

That's the most terrifying place, isn't it? The moment just before a beginning. All the uncertainty, foreboding, a vast space of emptiness that must be filled with your footsteps, and the end impossibly far off, and too many thoughts of what may-be flood the brain until you are drowning.

But once that first word is written, that first step taken, when living replaces imagining, the journey ahead suddenly seems more manageable. Your concentration turns from intangible, oppressive fears to the reality of  what is before you, and you discover (with some surprise) that you have just enough strength for this.

There will certainly be moments of doubt, of excruciating pain, and you will wish for nothing more than to curl up and sleep for the rest of eternity, shut your eyes against the vicious kaleidoscope of colors and noise and shards of light that bleed into your vision. But remember how far you have come, the page behind you strewn with letters, and what a wonderful story they will speak when you have reached the end. Remember this, and you will find yourself standing again, you will find yourself moving again.

In the beginning, however--that is the most difficult part. Ears straining for a gunshot that exists only in the mind. Eyes staring wide at the empty that screams impossible. There is no stopwatch; time is always ticking away. You cannot wait forever. Go.

My One & Only Political Post.

Though I am reluctant to come within one hundred miles of the realm of politics, I feel like the issue has reached a point of unavoidability in my heart. Facebook is exploding with passionate statuses, pictures, articles, and videos from both sides, a shouting match for the eyes that leaves my head spinning.

That being said, I'm not going to delve into any of the strictly-political issues here, because honestly, I don't follow politics. At all. I have a surface-level knowledge of what each political party stands for. I agree and disagree with certain aspects of both sides. And I don't think I will ever bring myself to choose a side, since when I do attempt to follow what's going on, everything I read and hear I consider suspect. Because, as a writer, I know how easy it is to twist words to accomplish your agenda. And in politics (as in life), there is always an agenda. Propaganda, plain and simple, and I don't trust it. 

What I am going to delve into, however, is a spiritual issue that is related to this sudden outpouring of political opinion. In the midst of this war, watching people tear at each other's throats hasn't made me want to join a cause and fight; it's made me incredibly sad. Because in fighting for our cause, whatever that might be, we have forgotten what is most important.

Honestly (and hey, maybe I'm wrong, but), I don't think God is going to be upset about whether we voted for Obama or Romney, or whether we chose not to vote at all. What I do think He is upset about is the way His people have conducted themselves during this election year--the way we speak out of anger and the need to be "right" rather than listening and communicating out of love, the way we instigate division through an "us vs. them" mentality, the way we use His name to bolster our own opinions and assumptions, the way we bash people with blanket statements instead of putting ourselves in their place and respecting them as fellow human beings--these are the things I believe truly break the heart of God.

If Jesus had come down to Earth in this moment of our history, would He be leading the charge for a political campaign? No. He said give to Caesar what is Caesar's, and give to God what is God's. The government can have our obedience, but our hearts should belong to God, not a political party. Because no matter how great you think this country is, how "pure" its founding and Constitution, the truth is, our government was built by people, and people are flawed. Yes, even our Founding Fathers. And if you put your hope in America, you will be disappointed, regardless of who sits in the White House.

I'm not saying it's wrong to fight for what you believe in. I'm not saying it's wrong to share your political opinions. What I am saying is: while you do, don't forget what's most important. Because I promise you, it's not who's going to win the election in November.

If we put half as much passion into loving God and serving others as many of us put into furthering the cause of our political preference, the world would be a very different place. I'd like to see that world. If we work together, maybe one day we can build it.

Relapse.

Even feathers feel like bricks these days--the slightest contrary motion enough to send me spinning suddenly out of control.

I attribute it to fickleness rather than hypocrisy. It is not that I say one thing and do another. It is that I say one thing in a moment of peace, and then in another moment, when some hitch in my thoughts or plans brings the pain flooding back in, I am saying something else. I am the doubter, bobbing on a storm-tossed sea. One step forward, two steps back--I spend hours struggling up the slime-encrusted pit, and in a split second, I have slipped back down to the very bottom.

This is the part where words seem empty. Even the true ones. Because sometimes, the knowledge that God is with me, that He is my strength in times of weakness, that He makes everything beautiful in its time--along with a thousand other good and marvelous promises that are engraved on my heart--all seem incredibly distant, as I shiver in the dark, coated in mud, angry and sick of the feeble and failed attempts at escape that brought me right back to the place where I swore I would never return.

What, then? When feelings turn against you and words fail to comfort?

It begins with standing. Lodging your foot into the dirt, hands gripping rock or root, and you take a step upwards, head tilted toward light. Maybe you will fall again, but don't you dare look down. Not even a glance. You might not have the strength to believe right now, but you do have the strength to live this next moment--it has been given to you, your manna from heaven. So live it. Don't give up until you taste blue sky.

After the Fall.

Confession: I've been prideful. I used to think to myself, I'll never become one of those jaded, miserable people who go on about how their college years were the best of their life, and how everything else afterward is all downhill, and on and on and on.

In the four months that have passed since graduation, it is alarming how quickly I became that person.

Working hard, being friendly, talking to God, and doing my best to look for the good in everything had gotten me through life fairly smoothly until that point; I guess, deep down in that piece of my subconscious that is still as naive as a newborn babe, I imagined that if I simply continued doing all the "right" things, my future would be handed to me on a silver platter. After all, I was willing to put in the effort, and I had God on my side, right?

Problem is, that piece of my subconscious neglected to remember that God is far more concerned with my ultimate good than He is with my immediate happiness. And that ultimate good means dealing with my pride, along with a host of other issues that have latched onto my heart and sap my spirit, issues that have been developing for years, stitching themselves into the fabric of my being. As can be imagined, the process of their removal is inevitably a painful one.

But as much as this sucks, I have been learning. And though God has remained silent through much of it, I know that He has been with me, and will not leave me. With each day that passes, more of my self-confidence drains away, granting me the opportunity to place my confidence in Him.

I haven't given up. I still refuse to believe my best years are behind me, even on the days when my sarcasm emerges and my words say otherwise. Whatever the struggles ahead, I will continue to look for the beautiful. There is a purpose for every season. These things, I pray I will always be naive enough to believe.

Dear God,

Sometimes I wish we could get a pass on a day. Today feels pretty lousy, so I'll just skip it and move on to tomorrow, You know? Haha. But I know that's not the way You work. You prefer to take a day that seems lousy and turn it into something beautiful, just to show how awesome You are. So, here. I'm handing this day over to You. Even at my best, there's not much I can do with it on my own--and today is definitely not my best. So take it out of my hands and do with it what You will. Keep me trusting You for a positive outcome, regardless of how I might feel. Keep my attitude in check. My focus on You. Because with You, Daddy, every day is a good day.

The Whole World, We Strive to Gain.

Be careful with your promises. When you say at any cost, it may just cost you everything. That is the price that love demands.

But when you love, the stripping of yourself feels much less like sacrifice. The pain sears white-hot, smears of darkness across your vision--still, in love, it seems an easy burden to bear. What we love makes us, breaks us, and it is the depths of our belief in its value that decide whether we will hold on until the end or turn away and curse it as false.

There are many false loves, we spend ourselves upon. For how many things in life are worth the price of your soul?

Just one. The great tragedy is, how we curse it as false and walk away.

These Lives, Measured in Moments.

This moment will not last forever. If it is a beautiful moment, cherish it. If it is a painful moment, take heart--another blink, another breath, will turn the darkness into dawn. Do not grieve the moment that slips away, or fear the moment that is to come. For every grief and  fear means another moment gone.

To remember is to regret and to imagine is to fear, but to live--that is not such a terrible thing.

There, do you see? Already, this moment, folding into another. Let go, and let the current take you. It will bring you safely to tomorrow. You will reach it just in time.

The Verge of Beautiful.

This land is flat, and naked. Riddled with a thousand fissures, branching out like roots, tangled and deep. Dust rises with every step, the dissipated bodies of too many souls. Now clinging to my skin, desperate to be alive again. Now seeping into my lungs, jealous of my breath.

This desert goes on for miles. But the horizon shimmers, dances at the edge of my vision. It is my dream, my hope, my promise. The reason behind each step. Trick of the eyes, the sun cackles, but I keep on walking. From overhead, the sky stares, that lidless blue eye. It will not weep over me.

This body is so heavy. I want to curl into my shadow and disappear. I want to diminish into dust and float away upon the breeze. I want to dig down into the heart of the earth and bury my body there. I want, I want, I want. I am always wanting.

This is the verge. I cannot see the other side. I only hear whispers, but I am still confident. I will see, I will see, I will see. (That day, my words, will echo: my ears had heard, but now my eyes have seen...) The goodness. In the land (this land) of the living.