Timshel

"and you have your choices and these are what make man great--his ladder to the stars."

I have never read East of Eden by John Steinbeck.
It was recommended to me by a friend who once told me it was her favorite book and it has held its place quite firmly on my bookshelf--yearning to be read, but the time has not yet come.
I have never read East of Eden, but I know that the word "timshel" is quite important in that story. In Hebrew the word "timshel" means "thou mayest".
What  beautiful sentiment.
If you have had a conversation with me of any substance you will know that Mumford and Sons is one of my absolute favorite bands. Their lyrics resonate within me unlike any other band (yes I said "any") I have ever heard. (I could probably write epically long expositions on what moves me in each and the following week it would change for me. There is just so much depth in their songs.)  While I lover every song I have heard from them there is something about the song Timshel--based on the usage of that word in Steinbeck's novel--that always resonates with me.
Earlier this week I was listening to a sermon from Renovatus Church on resurrection. Jonathan Martin--another name that often pops up in lengthy conversations with me--was opening his heart completely to his congregation about how difficult it is to truly die to oneself. How we struggle to hold on. "If given the option," Martin says, "I will always choose resuscitation over resurrection."
To die to oneself is difficult to truly believe that there is life in death is unbelievable and yet that truth is one of the core beliefs of Christianity. As I was listening to Martin speak and utterly pour his heart out I knew that I was right there with him. There are so many parts of myself that I keep back from God. I cling to them pridefully. I am the first to admit that I am a broken mess, but even that brokenness is a source of pride for me.
When the sermon ended I sat in stunned silence for a moment. Allowing the weight of what I had just heard wash over me. It was a message I needed, and once I was comfortable with the silence I turned on my Avett Brothers pandora station. As the music began I felt that ever familiar leap of joy in my heart that the opening chords to every Mumford and Sons song inspires within me.
This particular song was one that I had clung to quite desperately only a few years before when the intense darkness of life (and my most solid belief in the presence of a Devil) had over taken the spirit of two beautiful friends--causing them to take their own lives.
And as the song--Timshel--repeated those lines "You are not alone in this." I felt a strange amount of camaraderie with the world. Not just Christians or Whovians or Mumford and Sons lovers, but the entire world.
We all struggle with that darkness.
We all struggle to let go and allow ourselves to truly come alive.
We allow ourselves to hold ourselves back from the beauty that has been given to us.

I don't really have a point to this blog post. I have no wise words. I'm not smart enough to offer counsel because I am still trying to figure it out myself, but I can promise you, reader, that you are not alone in whatever struggle is imprisoning you right now.
I can promise you that in the darkest of moments God is still there...even if we do not seek him. Even if we do not believe.
(To paraphrase C.S. Lewis if a prisoner wrote the word darkness on the wall of his cell swearing that the sun did not exist would that cause the sun to stop shining?)
I can just leave you with that hope and know that in the reading of this my heart prays for your heart.
And asks you to pray for mine as well.

"As brothers we will stand and we'll hold your hand."

If you have a moment you should also check out the latest Renovatus Sermon here. It is the one entitled Resuscitation...or Resurrection :)

You're enough. You're enough. You're enough.

You are enough.

Those little words somehow they're changing us.

-Sleeping At Last, "You Are Enough"

Sometimes we go out searching for validation of self from other people.
We tweet, and Facebook, and Tumbl hoping someone will like what we’ve said and provide us with a small amount of “self-worth”.

What falls short in that mentality though is that we are looking for self-worth outside of our selves. We will never find it there. Ever. 

It has to begin from within and when that happens…when something clicks within our hearts that says, “Oh, who I am is enough. Who cares if that guy (or girl) doesn’t see or like me? Who cares if the world doesn’t notice that I exist? What matters is that I care and believe that I am pretty great as I am now and as I am going to be later.” 

I don’t think we hear that enough. Not from the world and certainly not from ourselves (or at least I know that I do not!) 

For me, personally, I know that true inner validation comes from God, and I believe that this is where the purest and most true validation comes from—that knowledge that the hands that created me cared and valued every piece of me—but I am also aware enough of the world to know that not everyone will see that. I also know that there is nothing I can say to convince you that what I believe is true. 

I don’t have the power within me to change your heart, but I do have a voice to say that you, my friend, are worth so much more than you give yourself credit.

I have a voice to say that I hope for a small moment you allow yourself to believe that you’re wonderful as you truly are at your heart and that you will come alive to that version of yourself and not accept what the world deems “worthy.” The world doesn’t know you. Only you know you. 

Please don’t accept less than that? And pray that I, too, will not forget because I am prone to doubt.

Coming Alive

A few years ago my best friend and I wandered around the streets of London seeking adventure. At the exact moment that this story takes place, actually, I believe we were looking for the perfect tea cup to take home to her mother, but adventure seemed to await around every corner that summer. We happened upon a cobble stoned courtyard full of life and color. In the midst of the revelry we saw a paneled chalkboard with three quotes. “Treat everyone the same because everyone is different.” and “To love is to trust someone into your translucence.” were both beautiful quotes, but the one in the middle was the one that struck me as the most important. As the one that made this moment worth remembering, 

“Don’t ask yourself what the world needs. Ask yourself what makes you come alive and then go do that because what the world needs is people who have come alive.”

People who have come alive.

This concept stuck with me for years—ingrained from that moment onto my heart—continually shining its beautiful face through decisions that I’d made and people that I'd met. At times I would repress it, thinking that it went against what I’d been taught, but then I would find it again in the loveliest of places and remember who I was. I’d only ever wanted to be truly alive.

A week ago I finished reading The Fountainhead by Ayn Rand. I’d heard of the book before, but never had a true interest in reading it until it was given to me as a gift. I lost myself in that world. I found Howard Roark to be bold and absolutely wonderful. I found Ellsworth Toohey to be the scum of the earth, but what I saw most was the bold resurgence of this concept.

“Come alive.” The book screamed at me. “Why hold back? It is okay to be ‘selfish’ if your ‘selfishness’ is something that makes you true to who you are. You cannot be anyone else and that is what makes you beautiful.”

(and I heard God whispering the same into my heart, "I've been trying to tell you this for so long. I made you as you. Not as anyone else. Find peace in that truth. Who you are is enough. I'll worry about the rest.")

I learned a lot of lessons from this book. I could write reviews and analyze the different things that I saw, but the thing I continually return to is the concept that floored me in London in that little cobblestoned courtyard.

Sometimes

Sometimes all it takes to make me smile is a little bit of sunshine and to hear "Beautiful Day" by U2 at random.

There is something about that song that always makes me happy. From the first note to the last I am riveted and it feels as though nothing can bring me down.

The power of music.

"I found a place where the sheep count humans..."

"We speak our minds, but it never hurts feelings"

-Cloud Cult "After the Car Crash

I've been growing a lot lately. Actually I am a bit astounded by the person I've become versus the person that I was just a month or two ago. It's like a light switch went off in my head and I heard God say, "You do know that I made you to be you, right?" Everything changes when you meet someone who sees you and says that who you are is enough. I think I've lived much of my life thinking I needed to be "better" but never really being able to figure out what "better" meant and so falling short of the goal. I've always just gone back to being me. Never realizing that who i was, exactly as I was, was enough. In a way it makes me think of one of my favorite moments in the Old Testament. Now this may be a totally botched analysis for the story, but when Hagar runs away from Sarai (Genesis 16:1-14) and encounters God in the Wilderness she refers to him as the God of seeing and to me it always seemed like something changed in Hagar at that moment—more than just having new faith. She is an entirely new person. I imagine her as more confident in her return. Will things be different for her when she returns? Doubtful, but she goes forth anyway knowin that she can take whatever comes her way. That has always resonated with me...the idea of being truly seen. I did not know that this was what drew me so firmly to God until I saw it in another person's eyes. The beauty of it all was that where one saw and found lacking God saw and simply loved. So like he sent Hagar back into the fray with a promise to always be with her, he did the same to me. 

(Side note: when Hagar later begins to doubt Gods promises again (Genesis 21:15-20) I find that equally beautiful because I know I would do the same! She's human, but God is big enough to take care of her—doubting heart and all.)

The point of all of this was just to say in making changes and I think this blog will reflect that. I've always loved writing. It helps me to clear my mind and to process the things my heart hasn't fully understood. Even if no one ever reads my words it is the process if writing that I just truly enjoy so I promise to write more, and I will write about everything that I love. Books, music, movies...the intricacies of life and people that I do not understand. I just want to write.

I used to love the song this post was named after. I haven't heard it in ages, but there is a line in it that says, "We found the answers in the last place we were looking and in the end all we want is the beginning." Two cliches beautifully placed together in a way that strangely describes what I feel.

So stay tuned, if you like, to a new kind of blog from me.

Random insights, if you will.

All is quiet on New Year's Day

I love new beginnings.

Perhaps it is my love for change that creates this feeling in me, but I always find myself excited when I stand on the precipice of a new day.

I know it is silly. To think that the start of a new month, week, or year could change the day before, but there seems to be something exciting about each new start.

When I look back at 2013 I have very few regrets. I could not say it was a happy year.

In fact, I find that there was an awful lot of bad surrounding me. When I look back at some of the biggest moments in my life they haven't exactly been pleasant, but I have learned a lot.

That friendship is always a two-way street. When it falls apart it is never just one person's fault, but it is also not always a bad thing. People drift. That is natural. We are always growing and changing into new people every day. As Alice said in her journey through Wonderland, "it's no use going back to yesterday, because I was a different person then." Rather than focusing on the negatives we should realize the beauty of the time that we had with them and move on. It's alright.


That time is the most important gift we can give. Taking the time for coffee or to just to give a hug and listen to some one in need--no matter how tired or busy you might find yourself--is always worth it because it makes a difference.


Writing is important. For me at least. The more I write the more that I learn about myself.


Love is nothing to be afraid of. Far more frightening than not being honest about ones feelings is the unknowing and each missed opportunity. Love is worth the risk.


And I think the most important thing that I learned last year was that God was not something that could fit into the boxes my mind creates. He's big enough for my mistakes, and it is perfectly fine for me to interact with him the way that I do. To love his people the way that I do. I am different from the people around me and that is alright. I don't have to see things the way that everyone else does in order to make sense of the world or of God. I am different for a reason and I intend to act accordingly from now on.


Good thing I have a new year to start with, huh?


I also love looking back on the books that shaped me through the year.
So here is my top list for 2013.

Books

The Book Thief by Mark Zusak

This was the first book in a long time to leave me shaken at the finish. I sat in my office staring out of the window at the end of my lunch break as marines and sailors walked by and wondered how they could continue on with their lives when such a momentous occasion had occurred in my life. I do not think it changed my view on the world, but it certainly is one of the best feelings and so worthy of being on the list.

“A DEFINITION NOT FOUND
IN THE DICTIONARY
Not leaving: an act of trust and love,
often deciphered by children”

------
I'll Be Seeing You by Suzanne Hayes and Loretta Nyhan
The story of two strangers writing to each other for comfort while their husbands are off fighting in WWII. It shows the power of a well-written letter and the honest friendship that written words can create. I definitely found a renewed love for writing letters so if you want to be my pen pal let me know ;) 

“When you put your whole heart in something you risk just that. Your whole heart. It's a high roller's type of gamble. I can tell by your letters that you love with your whole heart.”
-----

Walking to Martha's Vineyard by Franz Wright
This beautiful collection of poetry gave me a strength that words can barely express. It was not so much the words that were written, but the words that were annotated by another that made me feel as though the chaos in my head could have made sense to another had I only the opportunity to meet her. I am thankful for the way that only poetry can touch a heart.

I was still standing
on a norther corner.


Moonlit winter clouds the color of the desperation of wolves.


Proof
of Your existence? There is nothing
but.
-----

Prototype by Jonathan Martin
A reminder that I am loved in my brokenness. This was the first book to inspire me to not only write poetry myself, but to turn my musings into a song. The most beautiful thing about God is that he knows the depth of all that is a mess within me, but that doesn't hinder his love in the least. If that is not beautiful I am not sure what is.

"Because we are formed in the image of God, we are born with the capacity to dream, to imagine, to play, to create."
-----

The Count of Monte Cristo by Alexandre Dumas
I have always had a love for classic literature and at the time that I was reading this I was also making my way through Les Miserables (The only reason that book is not on the list is because I am not yet finished with it, but wow. Expect it on the 2014 list!) The juxtaposition of the two main characters--Jean Valjean (Les Mis) and Edmund Dantes (Monte Cristo) and their battles of faith fascinated me. I was riveted from beginning to end.

"...there is neither happiness nor unhappiness in this world; there is only the comparison of one state with another. Only a man who has felt ultimate despair is capable of feeling ultimate bliss...the sum of all human wisdom will be contained in these two words: Wait and hope.

-----

I hope your 2013 ended well and that your 2014 is even better!

Feel free to throw a few book recommendations my way and I leave you with a quote that is my motto for the year:

“

I hope that in this year to come, you make mistakes.

Because if you are making mistakes, then you are making new things, trying new things, learning, living, pushing yourself, changing yourself, changing your world. You’re doing things you’ve never done before, and more importantly, you’re Doing Something.

So that’s my wish for you, and all of us, and my wish for myself. Make New Mistakes. Make glorious, amazing mistakes. Make mistakes nobody’s ever made before. Don’t freeze, don’t stop, don’t worry that it isn’t good enough, or it isn’t perfect, whatever it is: art, or love, or work or family or life.

Whatever it is you’re scared of doing, Do it.

Make your mistakes, next year and forever."

-Neil Gaiman

Throwing Rocks

Our world is broken. I see that everywhere I look, but most clearly within.

I think that I often take for granted the true depth of faith.

If I truly believed what I say I believe would I feel it quite so necessary to have an opinion on a million things that I have no control over? I listen to the perception that most of the world has of Christians and if I’m honest it breaks my heart.

The things that are said: Hypocrites, homophobes, money-hungry, judgmental, etc. These labels are put onto Christians, but what that really means is they are put onto Jesus.

Do we see that? Do we really see?

To carry the title of a Christian is to also carry the title of the one who is called the Christ, but none of these labels fit Jesus at all! When people hear the name of Jesus, I wonder what they think? These crimes we commit wearing his clothes are atrocious and unfair. It breaks my heart.

I have been slowly making my way through the book of Job for the past week or so. As I hear the accusations of each of Job’s friends I see myself. How often do we give advice and cast judgments without actually listening to the hearts of the broken—mind you are all broken so we should be highly attuned and empathetic to the brokenness in others. I think that we get so wrapped up in things that we want to change that we neglect to remember that change is truly beyond our control. There is nothing that I can say or do to change the heart of anyone I know, but what I can do is trust that in His time God will do so. When people ask me about things like homosexuality, abortion, murder, rape, etc…what is my response? Is it judgment towards the person or is it love? My personal opinions do not matter. They really don’t. I am in no position to have a stance on anything. Not in reality. I know so little of the world, but what I do know is that if you truly turn your heart to God that he will address every dark issue within your heart, and that I was called to share that Love with the world. To go out and tell everyone that there is someone who knows their deepest, darkest secrets and loves them anyway.

Look at the woman who was caught in adultery. The town wanted to kill her, but Jesus saw her brokenness and saved her—telling all who stood against her, so caught up in their own pride, that they were just as broken and could not judge. He healed her heart. (John 8:1-11)

Look at the woman at the well, seemingly outcast from society and yet Jesus came up to her and spoke to her out of love. She was forever changed. (John 4:1-42)

So I want to focus on love, only love, and trust God to do what he says he will do because I cannot. I am just as broken so I’m dropping my rocks.

A letter to an unbeliever

Dear ____,


I don’t want to talk about it any more. Our differences of faith. Not with words at least. I want my greatest apologetic to you to not be my quick wit and clever responses, but my love for you and those around me. I want you to see inside of my heart and to wonder how I love the way that I do—with a heavy load, but a light heart because I do not carry it alone. I want you to heap your heartaches upon me. I want to hear about your every problem and trust the wisdom of my God to guide my words to lighten your own load as well. I apologize for those who act under the guise of the church. Who swindle money, who care nothing for the poor and helpless of the world, who are so arrogantly concerned about themselves that they care nothing for the people upon whom they step to achieve the power they so desperately seek. I'm sorry for the way that they've hurt you. The way that they've hurt your family. I promise you, these actions do not align with the God that I follow. They commit crimes wearing his clothes, but they are not him. I want you to see that. I warn you now that I am no better. I’m really not. My spirit, however, does desire to good above all else. I am human and I stumble, I fail often, but I will never stop trying. I hope you see that. I will never stop loving you. So I don’t want to talk about it--not all of the time. I want you to see.

But when you want to talk, when the time for  questions does arise I’m here for that too, but don't actions speak a million times louder than words?

Love always,
India

Living intentionally

I was reading an email this morning from a group that I follow. 

The woman writing was talking about an evening she had with friends—intentionally sharing their brokenness, being vulnerable and drinking tea. 

They talked for hours.

 In the end she asked these questions: 

“Who are your people? With whom are you vulnerable enough to share your struggles and ask for prayer and accountability? With whom are you intentionally doing life?”

Funny word, intentionally. I wonder how often we do life intentionally? I feel as though more often than not we just happen through life and hope for the best. 

Do we intentionally make time for the people we truly care about? The people that help us feel alive and so more connected to God? Do we intentionally value each second knowing that we can never retrieve it?

I can honestly say I do not. 

For the past few months I have made feeble attempts to be more intentional about my friendships. Sending emails and letters 

(instead of facebook which I have seriously considered taking a real break from for a year or so...) taking time to chat with people who listen and understand, 

avoiding situations and unfortunately people who do not seem to view time and community in the way that I do

(not that their way is to be scoffed at, but there is something simple and beautiful about two people spending time together with similar views about that time and its importance.)

I have been trying to take more time to enjoy the things that I love. 

You know, those little things that remind you of who you are. 

I've been reading, knitting, spending more time outside. 

It's delightful what life is like when we take the time to intentionally live to see every moment as important and not something to be wasted.

I don't have an answer for what it looks like for you to live that way, but I do know that those simple questions made me want to approach life a bit more intentionally tomorrow. 

I am hoping I can say the same for the next day and every day after that, 

but I am fickle and the next day I might forget :)

Even if there is no Narnia...

I have always loved C.S. Lewis. Since childhood I have found myself drawn to the adventures of these Sons of Adam and Daughters of Eve transported into a world totally other. I started with The Lion, The Witch, and The Wardrobe and stand firmly behind that being the best order in which to read the books. One of my favorite moments was in the beginning when Lucy tries to explain to her siblings that Narnia is real. They doubt her, however, and think she must be mad. Upon speaking with the wise Professor he says, 

“Either your sister is telling lies, or she is mad, or she is telling the truth. You know she doesn’t tell lies and it is obvious that she is not mad. For the moment then and unless any further evidence turns up, we must assume that she is telling the truth.” (The Lion, the Witch, and the Wardrobe, Ch. 5)

Later in his book Mere Christianity Lewis makes a similar argument for Christ, but it was this initial statement about the validity of Narnia that brought my mind to that train of thought. I’d known that the person of Jesus was real, that many other religions had proclaimed his existence without stating his greater purpose. He was written about in history books and so the basic facts of Jesus’ life have been considered indisputable. To most of the world Jesus was a man who lived a life that is exemplary. He defied societal norms—despite his persecution—and died a humiliating and unjust life, but there had to be more to his story. Jesus could not simply be a “good guy”. Because he says it far more eloquently than I could I will allow Lewis’ words to speak my point.

“A man who was merely a man and said the sort of things that Jesus said would not be a great moral teacher. H would either be a lunatic—on a level with the man who says he is a poached egg—or else he would be the Devil of Hel. You must make your choice. Either this man was, and is, the Son of God; or else a madman or something worse. You can shut Him up for a fool, you can spit at Him and kill Him as a demon; or you can fall at His feet and call Him Lord and God. But let us not come with any patronizing nonsense about His being a great human teacher. He has not left that open to us. He did not intend to.”

So here is this man who defies human logic. He did exactly what God said he would do and the world hated him for it just as the Bible foretold. (Isaiah 53:7-12) 

For me, finding Jesus so indisputably true, believing the rest of the Bible just came naturally. You could not believe one without the other, and the world was far more beautiful because of it. Rather than seeing chaos and darkness, I saw order and light and no matter what arguments came my way they just could not hold a candle to what I knew to be truth. Funny, Narnia explained that as well. In The Silver Chair, Eustace, Jill, and Puddleglum are trapped in an underworld—called Underland. Clever, Lewis ;)—after attempting to rescue a prince of Narnia. In one of my favorite scenes the children and Puddleglum have found the prince and are planning to leave Narnia when the Witch—who appears to be a beautiful lady—throws a green powder onto the fire and begins playing an instrument. The combination of the two makes it “hard to think” and the witch begins to question them. She asks them to describe Narnia and with every explanation she attempts to convince them that it is all in their imagination. The sun she says is just an imaginative rendering of a bigger and better lamp than the one they have here. Aslan is nothing more than a bigger and better cat. Nothing is real. It is all a story they made up to feel better about the world. It is at that moment that Puddleglum—such an admirable literary character—says and does something profound. He—seeing the children and the prince falling under the witch’s enchantment—stamps his foot in the fire and says, 

“All you’ve been saying is quite right, I shouldn’t wonder. I’m a chap who always liked to know the worst and then put the best face I can on it. So I won’t deny any of what you said. But there’s one thing more to be said, even so. Suppose we have only dreamed, or made up, all those things—trees and grass and sun and moon and stars and Aslan himself. Suppose we have. Then all I can say is that, in that case the made up things seem a good deal more important than the real ones. Suppose this black pit of a kingdom of yours is the only world. Well, it strikes me as a pretty poor one. And that’s a funny thing when you come to think of it. We’re just babies making up a game, if you’re right. But four babies playing a game can make a play-world which licks your real world hollow. That’s why I’m going to stand by the play-world. I’m on Aslan’s side even if there isn’t any Aslan to lead it. I’m going to live as like a Narnian as I can even if there isn’t any Narnia. So, thanking you kindly for our supper, if these two gentleman and the young lady are ready, we’re leaving your court at once and setting out in the dark to spend our lives looking for Overland. Not that our lives will be very long, I should think; but that’s a small loss if the world’s as dull a place as you say.” (The Silver Chair, Ch. 12).

One of the more beautiful things about Puddleglum’s explanation is not that he rejects the witch’s reality, but that he is willing to go to great pains—even die—in pursuit of what he believes. Christianity is not easy. Christians have been persecuted for years. In reading Hebrews we see an entire list of people who-for faith-suffered and died. To the pleasure-seeking world there is nothing attractive about Christianity. It seems to be a religion of rules—and that is a topic for another day—why would anyone choose to follow it? Christianity is absolutely absurd…unless, of course, it’s true.

I recently heard it said that our purpose was to advance. That everything we did in life was just to get one step ahead. Even that simple thing seems exhausting and every worldview I have encountered, apart from Christ, drains me in a similar way. If our only purpose is to live and die then what is the point of all of the beautiful little things. Why do we marvel so much at a beautiful sunrise if beauty is all subjective? Why do our hearts drop when we see massive tragedies? Death is natural. Why do we not turn our heads like Billy Pilgrim and say, “So it goes”? Why do we continually seek contentment in things that never fulfill us? 

If that is what life is about I want no part of it and so like Puddleglum I will live my life as a Narnian—er..as a Christian—even if there is no Christ to follow because to me that world is the only one that makes sense.

Move with grace

Sometimes I allow people and situations to just wear me out.

Recently I have found my emotional cup at its peak and at those moments it seems life is most volatile and I am most prone to pride.

I was annoyed and so blinded to the truth.

I was hurt and so arrogant of my own wrongs.

Shamefully, I voiced these opinions to other friends who listened.

They supported my frustrations—as friends often do.  They offered advice. They told me to speak out. They told me to walk away. They told me a million things that I felt in my own heart—my prideful,deceitful heart.

They offered prayers and support—another things friends often do, but I found my frustrations only amplified rather than sated. They were loving me, but not in the way that I needed at the moment.

Without realizing it I began to pray. I was so tired of being…well, tired. I felt as though this battle I was fighting was one I had fought a million times and frankly I was just exhausted. (Isn’t it one of the most beautiful things to just find oneself praying, though? To be caught up in the middle of prayer and find that peace that only comes from a dependence on God?)

And once I had vented all that I wanted to say to God he offered me beautiful words of encouragement from the most unlikely of sources. I had recently sent a friend a few past blogs. One that spoke of my current frustrations—one that spoke of where I wanted my heart to be. This friend and I do not share the same faith, but his response encouraged me in a way that none other had. He told me he envied my ability to believe and that he felt my prayers were leading to something. He said he admired my strength and then ended his message with the last words his grandfather told him the day he died:

Move with grace, it’s just pain

And something changed in my heart at that moment—how I wish it were a forever change, but my heart is a mess and tends to stray—I found myself questioning things and sent them to another friend:

What if rather than allowing myself to become angry, I see every wrong done against me as an opportunity for prayer?

What if rather than seeking my own justice, I sought love trusting God to deliver justice where He sees fit and being content in that?

What if I allowed the doors of my heart to be opened and loved without fear?

What if I allowed God to guard what I am incapable of guarding and studied his word well enough to be close enough to know when to act and when to be silent?

I think the greatest problem I face at present is that somewhere down the line I became so afraid to love that I became vengeful and angry when I was wronged. I think that is the natural human response, but I think we are also called to something more.

Just my musings, but I think I am onto something better than the bitterness I so often allow to invade my thoughts and heart and when I am broken.

This most beautiful of hearts opened my eyes to the very things I had begun to consider in her response, that all was never as I saw it but that love really was at work. I just missed it—as I often do.

I listened in my office today to husbands complaining about wives and friends complaining about friends and I thought, “How quickly we choose to complain about everything rather than seeking love—seeking God first and letting him lead us to the best guidance for our hearts.

I pray with everything in me that I can execute this change that I can look past the things that frustrate me to the love that may be hidden within its layers. That I can see past my own pride and selfishness and find God’s grace and mercy and share that with those around me rather than my own bitterness and pains.

When I hit the ground

Neither lost nor found

When I’m on my knees I’ll still believe

-Holland Road by Mumford & Sons

I Don't Believe You

"You're a disappointment."

"You'll never be loved."

"You'll never amount to more than this."

"You'll never achieve your dreams."

"You'll never be smart/pretty/good enough."

"You're not worth the time/energy."

Words hurt. Worse than words told by others are the lies we tell ourselves. These attacks on our spirits have the ability to crumble our very foundations and when we are at our lowest we not only believe them, we add to them and we attempt to make them become our very identity. When asked if I believe that spiritual warfare is real I can firmly say yes as I witness the increasing amount of suicide and self-harm in our nation. My own brother has fallen victim to that pain and it breaks my heart. I cannot say that I am immune. The lies I began with are all things that I have believed of myself. With a single glance or word I watch my own walls crumble around me. These lies are thrown at me daily and in their way they are the most obvious, but other lies follow us as well. A week ago I went to a concert and afterwards I was talking to the singer (Greg Holden) about wanting to move to India. He had recently visited and advised against it simply because of the poor conditions. "I want to go to help." I told him and he smiled. "We were fortunate enough to be born in the wealthy west, " he said. "It's our obligation to help those who weren't." He's right. We believe the lies that as long as we aren't causing more problems we aren't hurting those around us but our silence is just as painful as our words. By not acting we are making the choice to let others fall to the wayside. I watch as we claim to know love and to follow Christ, but when I see the way we treat each other, the way we treat ourselves--and I am not exempt from this. I am equally guilty--it has to break God's heart. We use words flippantly. We tell people they are not worth our time. We tell them by our actions if not by our actual words. We tell those who are starving that we cannot spare a few dollars or a few hours of our time because we would rather watch Netflix and drink that extra coffee at Starbucks. Is that really the story we want to tell? We rush through the beautiful moments of life to indulge in the very things that are truly meaningless. How often do we rush a hug with someone we love because we are running late? Or neglect to answer a phone call because we just cannot spare the second. I am tired of living my life this way, hurrying as the most amazing things pass me by. I have always been the person who took the time to read a book or marvel at a sunrise, but somewhere down the line I got distracted. I let life overwhelm me. I pray this changes. I pray today is a start of a new era in my life. Thank you God for taking the time to bring me back--to slow me down. Life is far too beautiful to rush through. It is too wonderful to not love the people around us. To not love this gift of a world we have been given. To become so blinded by ourselves and the lies that the world feeds to us that we miss the truths that God has whispered into our very souls.
If you had the time to read this...I pray you will take another few moments to just reflect on all of the beauty around you and to thank God for it because He is worthy of our praise.

We Won't Be Shaken

I am a very awkward person.

Some might disagree with that statement. I have heard in the past that I am less awkward than I think I am, but at my heart I know that I am quite awkward. Large social settings intimidate me. My self confidence is low enough that within a week of moving away from a place I immediately believe that everyone has forgotten me. I create grandiose scenarios in my head that leave me alone and afraid of the world and the people in it, but despite my shortcomings God gave me a personality that draws people--I have no idea how. If left to my own devices I would probably spend forever reading, knitting and finding random adventures to escape the monotony of life. God, however, pulls me out of my comfort zone and gives me incredible friendships, long conversations, and a desire to know people better, to love and care for them. Like David defeating Goliath or Daniel in the lions' den, God uses a foolish, awkward child to shame the wise. It's beautiful, really.

Tonight at church we changed things up. We did what was called a kind of "campfire" worship--we all gathered around in a circle and sang a few songs together. I loved it because for once I could truly see each member of the congretation. It didn't feel like I was worshipping "at" them, but truly with them. As we sang the chorus to the song "We Won't Be Shaken" I had a feeling of community. No. I did not know them all on a personal level and there was a good chance that I never would. I probably didn't agree with everything that they thought or felt. We probably viewed God in completely different ways--and we were probably all wrong as I tend to be when it comes to seeing God--but none of that mattered. What mattered was that in that moment we were all worshipping the same God. We were all together for one purpose and one purpose alone and I felt it. I felt included in a body that though broken was striving for perfection.

One of my favorite bands--if you read my blog you'll hear that thrown around a lot. I just love music so I have a lot of "favorites"--has an album called Campfire. In it they talk about the heart of worship and community and tonight that is what I felt for the first time in a long time. It made me see the church in a beautiful and simple way. A group of people just focusing not on each other or their own selfish desires, but on God at the center of their worship. The only one worthy of praise.

the beauty of church is that it champions unity while adamantly rejecting uniformity. While the “megachurch” models itself on the picture of God in His might, glory and holiness, the campfire model tries to reflect God in His incarnate form: something human, touchable, and humbly beautiful. -Rend Collective Experiment 

Heavenly Father,

Let me not get caught up in the show, but let my heart humbly seek you in all things. Let me worship you with a desperate abandon because without you I am nothing. Thank you for your bride to encourage me in my pursuit of you. We love you, Lord. Let us not forget that simple truth.

Amen 

roll away your stone

The other day I was driving to Chick Fil A for lunch whilst listening to a Jonathan Martin sermon called "The Absurdity of Grace" about the parable of the laborers in the vineyard and the prayers of the Pharisee and the tax collector. 

I'd heard these story so many times in the past. I thought I understood them. The last shall be first, don't be arrogant. That makes sense to me, but when I listened to Martin riff on the topic I realized there was a big thing that I was missing.

You see, we look at these parables--particularly when we grow up in the church--as stories that just reveal the way that we should act and view the world. We know deep down that they reveal God but I wonder if we actually find him there in all of his beauty and grace. At face value, this parable is not something that should make us feel good inside. It is something that should baffle us with how unfair it is. I think that is one of the most beautiful things about God. We think we have him figured out. We can quote Micah 6:8 and we smile as we try to live up to it, but do we even know what justice means? How can we do it? We think we know, but then I see parables like these that if acted out in front of us would seem wholly unfair. A man who lives a "righteous" life, giving what he has  and being disciplined, leaves unjustified while the man who extorts and steals is justified because he humbled himself in a moment of utter weakness. The laborers who work one hour are paid the same as the ones who worked all day. It would drive anyone mad so that leaves me to think that my own definition of what is "fair" needs a re-evaluation. Martin says in his sermon,  

"What makes God so much more glorious than us is not that he is so much more bright and shiny than we are--this abstract hazy thing called the glory of God. In Isaiah that famous verse that says, "His ways are higher than our ways and his thoughts are higher than our thoughts" comes directly after God telling his wayward sons and daughters that he will forgive their sins without any impunity. What is the point? The basis of the glory of God has always been his mercy...has always been his love. What makes him so glorious and what makes him so holy is not the fact that he shines on Sinai but that his love and his mercy and compassion are infinitely beyond any form of human comparison. It is a love that absolutely defies any capacity we have for reason. It doesn't makes sense!"

The Gospel does not make sense. What Christ did for us is insane, and that is what makes it beautiful. Grace is not fair. Relient K has been saying that for years, and I knew it, but sometimes I forget. One of my favorite bands has a song called  The Cave and in it they say, "so come out of your cave walking on your hands and see the world hanging upside down you can understand dependence when you know the maker's land." We think we see the world as it really is, but by accepting the gospel we are essentially called to see the world completely upside down. Completely scandalized by the grace that was given to us. (There's a great article that goes far more in depth on the content behind these lyrics that you can check out here.)

I don't know. I often get these things wrong, but as I drove back to work I found myself just utterly amazed again by the gospel. When I began to slip back into reality Mumford and Sons sang back at me, "It seems that all my bridges have been burnt, but you say that's exactly how this grace thing works. It's not the long walk home that will change this heart, but the welcome I receive with a restart."

How often do I get caught up in my own righteousness (that is like filthy rags by the way. an utter mess.) but it is not the works that I do or the long walk that I take to return to my father begging his forgiveness that changes me. It's the open arms that race towards me as they eagerly awaited my return. In my life I play both the role of the prodigal who runs from her father for selfish reasons only to come back humbly on my knees and of the prideful son who remains and misses that the father has already given me everything and jealously watches the return of the prodigal thinking myself righteous because of what I have done. I am no better nor am I worse than any person I have met and I pray, I truly pray that when this euphoria of seeing God rightly--or as rightly as I can in this life--fades that he will continue to remind me that there really is nothing I can do except continually die to myself and awaken to his beautiful calling on my life.

Like Lazarus from the grave all I can do is rise when I hear my savior's voice calling me.

I will continue to roll away that stone until I am called finally home.

Not Yours

In the quiet we can process our emotions.
We can try to figure out the chaos of our minds. Mine is racing.
I yearn for quiet.
I recently had a chat with a friend that I could not stop thinking about.
She was at a marriage seminar and something that was said made her think of me.
The pastor was addressing the husbands, explaining to them the way that they should treat their wives,
"Remember, she's not yours, she's God's. Treat her as such."
On paper we would say we knew that.
We knew that the men and women we share our hearts with are children of God, but when we look at our interactions we would see that we drop the ball constantly.
I let my anger,
my pride,
even my fear get the best of me and I stumble.
I am rude and inconsiderate.
I act without thinking and I speak when I should be silent.
The statement she shared with me was one that I needed to hear.
It was as if God were gently reminding me of not only my place in his heart, but that I needed to take greater strides towards loving his creation,  in seeing them as they truly are meant to be seen.
To truly learn what it means to love my neighbor as myself.

Sometimes love speaks loudest in silence, in the quiet we can grow.

I'll kneel down wait for now...

"In our culture of constant access and nonstop media, nothing feels more like a curse from God than time in the wilderness. To be obscure, to be off the beaten path, to be in the wilderness feels like abandonment. It seems more like exile than vacation..."
-Jonathan Martin, Prototype

Sarai is barren.

She and Abraham are getting on in years and they still do not have children. God promised them descendants as numerous as the stars, but as time went on and no child came Sarai doubted. She sent her servant Hagar to be with Abraham and when Hagar became pregnant Sarai's pride and jealousy overcame her. She was cruel to Hagar and so Hagar fled.

She ran. A young woman alone in the wilderness. Pregnant, afraid.

But then something happened. She heard a voice calling to her. 

"Hagar, servant of Sarai, where have you come from and where are you going?"

"I'm fleeing!", she answers neither question.

 She doesn't know where she is going. She doesn't know where she's been. 

She's just running. (1)

So often in my life I feel as though I'm just running. The world is big. It scares me. I know God's promises to me, but like Sarai I doubt. I try to take matters into my own hands because in my eyes nothing is changing. 

Like Hagar I run and I don't know where I'm going because I don't even know where I've been and sometimes God tells me exactly what he tells Hagar.

"Go back." (2)

The last thing I want to hear. He sends me back to find myself, to find him. He sends me to the place where I feel I have nothing. It is so clear to me that the door is closed, but I am not God. I cannot see all things. He is the God of seeing. Who am I to question?

I listen and turn back.

 I want to run, but I don't because God's faithfulness, his love it draws me. Every fiber of my being yearns for him. I trust him when I am afraid simply because I know he is worthy to be trusted.
It is I who falters...never him.

The wilderness is scary. It is there that we are tempted because it is there that we are weakest, but in our weakness God is strong.  I literally have no where else to turn. I cannot trust myself to act because then I would never stop running so I listen. 

I trust. 

I wait.

It is no easy road before us, but God never promised that it would be. When Hagar is sent back to Sarai she is told that the child she will bare will be "a wild donkey of a man. His hand against everyone and everyone against him." (3) The task before her is not an easy one, but she has God. He is with her and she knows it. 

She listens. She turns back.

No matter the difficulties I face. The days when I would like nothing more than to curl up into a ball and cry with desperation or rage against the storms coming my way I close my eyes and I remember that I am not alone. God promised he would be with me...always.

Isn't that what truly matters? I cannot know the outcome of each situation and I'm not sure I want to know most of the time. I follow Christ by trusting him at his word, to be with me no matter where I go. So as I journey through the wilderness, knowing that the days will not be easy, I hold on anyway not because what awaits on the other side is beautiful but because the one that I follow is worthy.

(1) Genesis 16:1-8

(2) Genesis 16:9

(3) Genesis 16:10-13

I'll follow You with my heart

What if when I say, "I trust you, Lord."
I actually did it?
I said no matter what happens
If I can't find my way
If my dreams are lost
If my heart is broken
I'll trust you. I'll follow you.
What if rather than trying to "hear" God's will
(and ultimately just hearing my own and superimposing God onto it)
I read his word and trusted his promise to be with me?
What if rather than clinging so desperately to what I desired I actually let go
so he could open whatever doors he had for me?

What if when things seemed impossible
a world away
I trusted anyway because I serve a God who moves mountains?
who raises the dead
who heals the sick
the broken
the lost
who loves with a love that I can neither fathom nor hold
who is the only one worthy to be praised?

What if I accepted that I am so small
so insignificant
so utterly flawed and yet
so loved by the creator of the beautiful universe
the glorious sunrises and sunsets
the breathtaking mountains
and lived my life accordingly?

What if I followed God for no other reason than because he is worthy?
What if I truly took that leap?

Here I stand, Father.
At the edge of this precipice,
I don't know what is below
but I trust you

whatever the cost

whether it works out or not

I'll follow You

I'll follow You

I'll follow You with my heart

Greater things

As I was driving to work the other morning—listening to To Our God (Live) on Bethel’s For The Sake of the World album—I saw a church sign that read, “Nobody is beyond the reach of the gospel.” I often look at church signs as I pass them. Sometimes they quote scripture and I find that encouraging, sometimes they have cheesy one lines that make me laugh. Sometimes they are just ridiculous, but this morning for the first time I nearly stopped and turned around to read it again.

“Nobody is beyond the reach of the gospel.”

This is not a new revelation. Not something I had never heard before, but for some reason this one truth reached into my heart and tugged. Hard. My focus shifted to the music playing, “Up from the ashes Your love has brought us/ Out of darkness into light/Lifting our sorrows/Bearing our burdens healing our hearts.” I started to cry as I thought about the friend I had spent the previous evening with. We had spoken multiple times about God and he seemed quite resigned to the fact that we would never agree. I remembered looking across the table to him as he sent a text message to another friend. His dark eyelashes rested against his lightly freckled cheek and I found myself praying, “Father, soften his heart.” I prayed this prayer often when I was around him. This man who’d let me in and shared his heart with me was going through a lot in that moment. His roommate had pulled me aside and told me how thankful he was that I’d shown up that day. “He’s been a mess for the past week. I swear I hadn’t seen him smile until you came in the door.” My heart yearned for his burdens to be lifted, but I saw only darkness in his eyes. And I think a part of me had resigned myself to that permanency in him. What could I say? What could I do to make him see the truth of the gospel? I’d written to a friend earlier that I would continue to love him and all of the other friends in my life who had difficulty believing the truth of the gospel. I would love them in truth—which is the only way to love—and though I might lose friendships because of it I would continue to love. But was  I really doing that? My heart wanted to, but my mind kept thinking it was beyond me. I had resigned these people I loved to staying stagnant in their journey towards faith. My own faith was weak and as I drove to work I cried out to God for the strength to believe. To trust that he was working in their hearts even though I could see no evidence of change in their hearts. What a difficult moment for me to reach. The very thing I had been praying for in others was the very thing I lacked in myself. I think we often become stagnant in our faith. We attribute things to our own strength to do them neglecting to see that all that is done through us is not by our own volition, but by the strength of Christ in us. In his 2^nd letter to Timothy Paul says,

“Therefore do not be ashamed of the testimony about our Lord, nor of me his prisoner, but share in suffering for the gospel by the power of God, who saves us and called us to a holy calling, not because of our works but because of his own purpose and grace, which he gave us in Christ Jesus before the ages began.” (2 Timothy 1:8, emphasis added)

There really was nothing I could say or do to help him believe. To help any of them see what I saw, but there was much that Christ could and was doing. I needed to only believe. To believe in all that I could not see which was a hallmark of my faith anyway! But like the apostles I am dumb. I do not see. I do not hear. I miss the beauty of the gospel every day, but like a loving Father I am reminded sometimes gently, sometimes forcibly that without him I am nothing, and that though I do not always see it his plan for my life is greater and more beautiful than I can imagine.

So I began to pray with a new fervency. With a newly molded heart, believing in the power of Christ within me. The next time I saw my friend he was a bit upset. It was clear through our conversations that  something I had said struck a chord with him. He told me that he thought his own worldview was strong, but every time he spent time with me I uprooted him a bit and this time it took longer than usual to find his ground again. "I want to believe in what you say, but it is irrational." We talked for a bit and while no real change was made one thing became clear to me. 

God was moving.

For the first time he'd expressed a desire to know Christ more. An honest desire that had nothing to do with me and everything to do with his heart, and I felt God changing me. Speaking boldly about things that I knew nothing about. Giving answers, asking questions, and showing love in a beautiful way. When I left I found myself in tears again. God is good.

So here I stand a child broken before a God who loves in big ways. Who continually heals my broken heart. For the first time I did not feel an ardent desire to leave a place quickly. I accept that perhaps God's plan for me really was better than I'd imagined and I could see glimpses of that future.

I guess the whole point of this post was simply to remind you, reader, to simply trust. To humble yourself before God and to pray for the strength to believe in what he is doing. It might not be readily noticeable, but he really is working in each of our lives, weaving a tapestry of grace more beautiful than  our brains can comprehend.

in that moment of surrender

of vision over visibility

I did not notice the passers-by

and they did not notice me.

-Moment of Surrender by U2

When life weighs us down it is easy to think that God is missing. I mean, we know that he is always there, but sometimes it feels like he really is just up in the clouds somewhere looking down and not interacting. You think, "Why would God put me through this? Why would he leave me alone?" One of my absolute favorite books, The Scent of Water by Naomi Zacharias,  addresses this issue in the most beautiful of ways. Bear with me. I intended to only quote a portion, but I feel as though the entire thing is too beautiful to truly take a portion out. In this section, Naomi is visiting a family in Italy and the father is showing her how he makes wine.

"Giovanni motioned for me to lean close to a large plastic container filled with juice. If he wanted rose wine, the grape skins are removed in a few days. For luscious red, the skins remained a while longer to infuse their color into the juice.

“If the container is not strong, the wine will explode during the fermentation process,” he said. “This is why Jesus said, ‘Do not pour new wine into old wine skins.’ The old skin is a little bit worn; it cannot handle the force of fermentation, and it will break.”…After fermentation, lees—deposits of yeast—create sediment in the bottom of the vat of wine. Giovanni guided me over to another container and pointed to the distinct line along the bottom. “Now I must transfer the wine into a new container and leave the sediment behind. The sediment is a natural part of the process, but it is bitter. If it remains too long, it will not improve the flavor, but will make the wine bitter.” The lees will affect and enhance the flavor up to a certain point, so the kind of wine desired in production determines when wine is separated from the bitter sediment. And so, under the watchful eye of the contadino, the wine is transferred into a fresh container to preserve the flavor.

                When the skins are ultimately removed, they are not thrown away. “You think they are finished, that there is no more juice inside of them, but there is,” he explained. The skins are squeezed carefully again, this time by a press that knows the right shape and pressure, rendering more juice that will become wine.

                “In the book of Philippians, Paul says that every knee will bow and every tongue will confess. How can it be so? There are many people who, if you say to them, ‘ You are created by God to bring glory to him’—they will say it isn’t so. They don’t believe. They will not give him any glory. And it seems there is nothing we can do. But they are like these skins. If you squeeze them with your hands nothing will come out. It seems finished. But when faced with the Creator they will spring forth with rich juice because they are made in his image; they cannot help but reflect his image. Like this, every knee will bow and every tongue will confess that Jesus Christ is Lord.”…I found it purposeful that the sediment was there at all., that bitter yeast was necessary for fermentation, and that it serve a purpose for a time. Without the knowledge of the process necessary to achieve flavor, an amateur would mistakenly conclude that a bitter taste should be removed immediately or avoided all together. But this wasn't the case. The sediment was part of a necessary process, and the wine was not immediately relieved of its bitterness by the contadino. The process required the careful eye of one who knew when enough time had gone by, when the presence of sediment no longer served to enhance but would instead destroy—but one who also knew enough to risk the presence and potential of something bitter, for its proportion made the flavor true. And within its truth lay the texture and richness that was the very character of wine itself, the difference between a good wine and one that is legendary.

                I have been thinking about my life quite a bit lately, the parts that I wish were not there, the places that still ache. While I do not believe that God caused the harsh things to happen, I do  think he allowed them. The bitter thus far has been potent, and at times it seemed to threaten to ruin the flavor all together. At times I thought it was ruined. Perhaps, like a contadino, God’s watchful eye was on me, and he allowed that which was painfully bitter to infuse something purposeful. Somehow, believing that he would have intervened and said, “Enough,” if it was going to destroy me—or that perhaps he did do that—seemed comforting.

                I am not in a place where I can say I am grateful for all that has happened. Given the choice I still wish very much that it could have been different, that there had been another way to have learned the lessons. I struggle to accept the life that is mine because it is not the story that I wanted. And not a day goes by that I don’t notice it still hurts inside.

                But I can say that if I had to choose between who I was before and who I am now, without being able to alter the path of events, I would pick the now, even with all that it carries. Life was simpler before; I didn't carry some of the same sensitivities, and there weren't the same relational land mines another could unknowingly step into. But now I see the world with perspective; I view people through vastly different lenses and recognize beauty in things that once escaped my notice. God seems more mysterious—sometimes mysteriously confusing, absent, and maddening. But always mysteriously true. If I am honest, life is more complicated, but undeniably richer.

                The truth is, I didn't really like the taste of the wine that had not endured a process. It didn't taste bad. It was just…forgettable. I can tell you what it lacked more than I can articulate what it contained. It lacked fullness and substance and something that made you savor the very essence of a sip even as it trickled down your throat. I tasted the wine that was a deep shade of burgundy velvet—the wine that had undergone the process of fermentation in which sediment had formed and been filtered and skins had fully infused their color, the wine that had accepted the gift of time until it was ready to be tasted—and it was a sip of the extraordinary. Given the choice, I would opt for a life that is extraordinary over a life that is simple. Perhaps I was not meant to be a simple girl."

I'd read this book before a few times, and though I found this chapter to be quite beautiful, underlining a few portions of it, the true impact did not hit me until I realized how much in my own life I had tried to remove the bitterness, to fight with God, and create my own way rather than trusting than trusting the process. 

It's not easy to admit that you're wrong. Pride rears it's ugly head and belittles you a bit, but I think admitting our failures often reminds us of how much we are constantly in need of a savior. We can't do this life alone. For the past few months I have been praying fervently to God and for the first time in ages I felt him respond with full certainty. I told him the desires of my heart and he asked me to trust him, to be still and wait on him. to guard my heart, and to not be afraid.

 He reminded me of these things constantly. I would smile and nod and say, "I got it God I understand."

But did I? Really? 

I still expected things to go the way I'd planned. I needed to be in control and I did not even realize I was holding so tightly until a friend shared his own testimony and I saw the similarities. We knew that we should trust God, we had quite a bit of head knowledge, but our hearts weren't there. I was fighting against the very things I had prayed for.

More importantly, I also just feel like more than anything God is asking me to allow him to work through the bitterness in my life. There is a purpose. I am not done yet. He keeps asking me to wait and trust him and I know that I should, but I am not doing it. So I’m  stepping aside trusting that God will point me in the direction he wants me go. I am confident that he will make that clear when my time comes and in the meantime I will struggle with patience and trust, setting fear aside.

I’m excited about all that he is doing in my life right now even if I don’t always like it because I know in the end the outcome will be more beautiful than I can imagine...even if that is not in this life.

-----------------------------------------

Click here to purchase a copy of The Scent of Water. I highly recommend it!

Listen to the Mustn'ts

When I was a child I loved Shel Silverstein--If I'm being honest I still love him. 

One of my favorite poems was called "Listen to the Mustn'ts". It told me to look beyond what I was told to the truth within. Funny that this is something we teach to children, and yet are so easily coerced into doing the opposite. 

Little half truths and twisted lies lead us astray. Pull us from our belovedness in Christ. When Satan speaks we know he is telling lies, and yet we listen.We allow those things to shape our being rather than the truth of God's love. 

"He doesn't like you because you aren't pretty, smart, brave, sane...insert thing here...enough" 

"She doesn't want to be your friend because....",

"You aren't important." 

"You are alone."

Lies!

The lies we are told play on our insecurities, making us feel less than we are and worst of all they encourage us seek our identity in fruitless things. In our social or marital status, in our things (or lack thereof). We sit, and we mope, and with that little lie planted in our heads we create an entire universe to live in where we are the center. These lies all corrupt our pride in some way and as C.S. Lewis said so eloquently, "...the essential vice, the utmost evil, is Pride. Unchastity, anger, greed, drunkenness, and all that, are mere flea bites in comparison: it was through Pride that the devil became the devil: Pride leads to every other vice: it is the complete anti-God state of mind.” -Mere Christianity

Pride kills. 

It creeps in seemingly unnoticed as it corrupts our hearts, turning us more towards ourselves and further from the God who loves and created us. Even, or perhaps especially, when we wallow in self pity we are victims of pride. We are told that we are not unaware of the devil's schemes and that he prowls like a roaring lion 

(I love that image. Lions are silent when they hunt, but the Devil is so prideful that he roars--making his presence known--as he attacks. Wow.)

and yet we still fail, and will continue to do so until that glorious day when death and evil are defeated.

If I sound overly preachy, friends, I do not apologize. This truth it haunts me. In my own life I am so often a victim of these schemes. 

I fight and I fall. 

I fight and I fall. 

I fight and I fall.

It seems a never-ending cycle. 

And you might feel the same, but I promise you friend, a brighter day is coming.

Don't listen to that voice telling you that you are not worthy.

You were worth dying for.

Listen to the Mustn'ts

by Shel Silverstein 

Listen to the MUSTN'TS, child,

      Listen to the DON'TS

      Listen to the SHOULDN'TS

The IMPOSSIBLES, the WONT'S

      Listen to the NEVER HAVES

Then listen close to me-

      Anything can happen, child,

ANYTHING can be