birdsongs

There is something about waking up before daylight; something quieting, something hushed, something you lean in to listen to. Before the world yawns awake the dark stillness presses the light-lover in you to begin looking out windows or windshields for the hope of the day. The light cannot be seen but she is coming. The sounds are what you feel more than anything at first. The click of the kettle turning off. The squeaky last stair. A soft whispered "good morning."

And then the birdsong begins.

Alone in the dark, another beating feathered soul is bursting with the joy of this morning. She sings out aware of nothing else except the coming dawn. And my heart smiles at this delicate confidence that a new day is near and deserves to be welcomed. Good morning.

There is something about the mornings that make you listen to the birdsong. And I am reminded that darkness gives us eyes and ears to experience the gifts overlooked or overwhelmed by the sound of living. May I learn to always listen for the faithful little songs that are filled with the gentle melodies of God's goodness.

insights must lead us toward trust

"You have amazing insights."

If I was honest, I would say that this is perhaps the most common response to my blogging. It is a kind comment for sure, as are most comments here, and I am thankful and encouraged by each one. I do, however, sometimes wonder if being recognized for mere "insight" satisfies me too much. Yes, I do posses a weird capability for discovering something interesting from seemingly insignificant moments such as taking out the trash or driving down the interstate. The world is brimming with lessons and reflections of incredible truths. And that is mostly what I use this blog for; writing down the trivial, sometimes interesting insights I collect during the course of my existence. (And yes, those insights have been running dry around here lately, but please be patient with me.)

The thought of being appreciated for written insights used to hold a great deal of pleasure for me. Until I realized that creating a shiny museum of various and sundry "godly thoughts" wasn't really my God-given purpose in life. And that explosive revelation came from a now beloved author named Brennan Manning. About three months ago my eyes grazed these words that led to a complete renovation of my life and my faith. Manning begins the first chapter of his book Ruthless Trust with these words:

This book started writing itself with a remark from my spiritual director. "Brennan, you don't need any more insights into the faith," he observed. "You've got enough insights to last you three hundred years. The most urgent need in your life is to trust what you have received." [emphasis mine]

My eyes would move no further. Those words weren't only meant for Brennan Manning. They were meant for me. I felt the urgency of this conviction. My shallow appetite for the comfortable was exposed. I've filled this blog with over 300 "insightful" posts, but how well do I really trust what I've sometimes casually written? It is far easier to observe and discuss the beauty and intensity of the Christian faith rather than to recklessly cast myself, my dreams, my fears, my insecurities, my infatuation with safety onto an unflinching trust in Jesus Christ.

It is one thing to appreciate truth. It is quite another to trust it. "Insight" denotes an understanding of something. "Trust" tastes like responsibility and commitment. But understand, one is not wrong and the other right. Both are obviously needed for faith in God, as I am learning. Insight and trust nourish each other. By understanding truth in ways that are engaging and applicable, our trust in God should be fed. In turn, in our desperate quest to trust God, we gain a deeper and greater appreciation of what exactly we do or don't understand.

The challenge to actually trust God forced me to to deconstruct what I had spent my life constructing, to stop clutching what I was so afraid of losing, to question my personal investment in every word I had ever written or spoken about Jesus Christ and fearlessly ask myself if I trusted Him. (Manning)

That is the question I am forcing myself to answer. Am I content to observe and record my faith in Christ from a safe distance without risking personal investment in the truth that I share or claim to believe? More than ever before, I hope that I may humbly answer "no." It is worthless to make bold claims about God's goodness, His grace, His love, and His faithfulness without fearlessly offering my whole self on the altar of my assertions.

significance, failures, and sunday evenings

Yes, I know. You are shocked that there is a new post here, finally. You were beginning to think Kaysie had forgotten her Wordpress password or crashed her computer or something terrible like that, weren't you? Well nothing justifiable like that has happened to me (thank God), but I think I have neglected everyone long enough.

Truth is I've been pondering the significance of this little blog, yet again. Sometimes it can feel useless to keep mumbling away about observations and topics that are perhaps only important to myself, assuming others have and can say it better, and really not wanting to put forth enough effort to extract my opinion and spread it out here in a readable fashion. Excuses, excuses. Not really worth much, but it feels better to say all that out loud.

But a friend and I have been discussing significance and failure lately, and I couldn't help but connect what I was learning through our conversations with my opinion about this blog and my writings. Occasionally during the course of existing in this world, one begins to wonder, "Am I really making any difference? Does my life matter? Am I fulfilling my God-given purpose right now?" All great questions to ask, especially if you discover encouraging answers. But it seems to me that sometimes (oftentimes?) in my quest to find and achieve significance, my motivation gets tangled up in another web of questions and fears, like, "What is holding me back from running after what I believe God is calling me to do? What if I fail miserably? How can I make a difference when the task before me is so insurmountably huge and I am just one person, one voice, one life? And what if I fail miserably (wait, did I already say that?)?"

Again, all good questions that I know you've had before too. But for me, I believe it gets back to two things: truth and obedience. I painfully recognize that I am a sinner who fails much more often than I want to, but because of Jesus Christ and His redemption in my life I am moving forward and not backwards (1 Peter 1:18-19, Phil. 3:12-14). His opinion of me is immeasurably beyond what I deserve -- He loved me enough to die for me (John 3:16), He chose me as His eternal bride even though I was stained and immoral (Eph. 1:7-9, 5:25-27), He is working in me and through me every day, perfecting what He began until He comes back (Phil. 1:6). All that is truth. And in order to feel the kind of biblical significance that I should, I must believe what He says. This truth sets me free from my twisted opinions about myself and my significance.

Yet even when the truth is burning in my chest -- even when I believe what He says and I want to run this course with every ounce of passion I have -- there still lies another brick wall I always seem to slam into. Failure. Or rather, the fear of it. What if I did take that jump and go for what I think God wants me to do ... and then I failed? You know, hit the ground with a loud, painful thud. And everyone was watching. Suddenly taking that next step seems to be the most illogical, stupid thing I could ever imagine doing. And I'm paralyzed. Again.

Life in Christ really isn't about failure, however, it is about obedience. That makes a huge difference in my mind. Sometimes I become so fixated on the results (or the desired results) of my efforts that I loose sight of the purpose and motivation behind and beneath whatever I'm doing. God simply wants obedience. And if I follow Him into something and it "fails" or doesn't look like I wanted it to, if I was obedient, it really isn't a failure.

So with all that said, if I believe that God has called me to blog or write or speak or walk or share or collect red jelly beans (ok, so that last one was random), by all means I should cast the fear of failure behind me, believe who He is and what He says about me, and live in obedience to His Word. That's where I find my significance and purpose.

saturday mornings

I don't know what it is, but to me Saturdays are filled with such gracious possibility. They are a breath of clean air in a claustrophobic world. A patch of crayola blue sky on a cloudy day. Technically, Saturdays are simply another day to fill up the time breaks in your day planner with more of the same, but sometimes I think we need space, even if it is just in the morning, for breathing. And that is what I hope to make out of this moment. To relax near a hot cup of tea, my friends made of pages, and a moment with no agenda.

Enjoy your Saturday!

the greater need

“Whom have I in heaven but You? And besides You, I desire nothing on earth.” Psalms 73:25

Nothing else on earth should capture my attention or fulfill my desire like Jesus should. My restless soul is a draining oppression that is never satisfied. And if my life is patterned to follow this selfish course, my days are a waste and my heart is still discontent. Life centered on Christ is the path to joy – true, lasting joy – that is not affected by outward circumstances or inward feelings. Joy in Christ is passionate and satisfying.

Instead of praying for desires I think need to be met, I struggle and strive to focus on Him as my one true desire, my Fullness for every emptiness.

My mind goes back to an entry in my journal a few years ago about this same struggle:

As I quietly prayed in my heart this morning, I noticed a repetitive phrase entering my prayers above all else: “Lord, I desire…”

This is not to say that those desires were (are) wrong. Having more patience is a good desire. Strength for a friend is a good desire. A godly future husband is a good desire. But dependence on those desires is unhealthy and unbiblical for my heart. Even in my best attempts to have “focused prayer” on Jesus alone, my mind slowly wanders to the desires I want God to make happen.

I just desire so much...

Each day, my prayers are filled with what I perceive to be my greatest needs. I try to remind God of these needs, but He sees deeper into my heart than I do … and sees the greater need. My greatest needs are not what I think they are. My greatest need is Jesus: to experience Him, to know Him, to feel Him in every day. He is my all in all.

When Jesus becomes my first desire, all the other desires and needs I have fall into their rightful place; cast at the feet of Jesus. He becomes supreme in my heart, which is exactly where He needs to be. Earthy needs and desires dim in the light of His glory and grace. He alone meets my deepest and most desperate needs.

“I have set the Lord continually before me; because He is at my right hand, I will not be shaken. Therefore my heart is glad and and my glory rejoices: my flesh will dwell securely.” Psalms 16:8-9

(repost)

a beauty that speaks of permanence

Perhaps I should begin with a disclaimer. None of the qualities I hope to describe below can be applied as easily as make-up and mascara. Because this kind of beauty deals with "the hidden person of the heart," simply touching up the physical won't cut it. We cannot live out the beauty of biblical womanhood apart from the sanctifying work of the gospel and the power of the Spirit. This is what sets us apart, makes us holy, and develops true beauty. The times that I have become frustrated with my lack of holy beauty is always a direct result of ignoring the ultimate source of imperishable beauty: Jesus Christ. Now, with that said...

Let's begin with a question. According to God, what defines a beautiful woman? Out of all the voices and pictures and opinions of what true beauty is, what does our Creator and Savior esteem as beautiful? In so many ways I deeply appreciate God's definition of beauty because mere physical attractiveness is obviously varying and perishable. Unlike our culture which has a "pattern" of what beauty encompasses, God's standard is less somatic and much more transcendent. Here it is, straight from His mouth:

Do not let your adorning be external—the braiding of hair and the putting on of gold jewelry, or the clothing you wear—but let your adorning be the hidden person of the heart with the imperishable beauty of a gentle and quiet spirit, which in God's sight is very precious. (1 Peter 3:3-4)

According to God, beauty shouldn't have a "best if used by" date on it. Nor should it be explained through external techniques. Beauty revolves around something you can't really see. It involves your attitude, your presence, your thoughts, and your standards -- and the manner in which you present them. In a world where women are respected for being assertive and dominating, God calls for gentleness in a woman. This is not a "pat on the head" kind of nature. It is entirely more than that -- and I love this definition.

According to the Greek, "gentleness" is a meekness toward God and a disposition of spirit in which we accept His dealings with us as good, and therefore without disputing or resisting. Gentleness is the opposite to self-assertiveness and self-interest. It stems from trust in God's goodness and control over the situation. The gentle person isn't occupied with self at all. This attitude is a work of the Holy Spirit, not of the human will (Gal 5:23).

Beauty is a quiet spirit. It does not demand attention or proclaim it's presence. It does not depend on a pretty face or skin tone to thrive. But by it's nature, beauty reflects the presence of God in a soul. If a woman is truly beautiful by God's standard, there is no denying that something is different about her. When held up to the glossy-faced models on magazine covers, the judge is left speechless because the two are opposites in value. It's like comparing a piece of paper to the ocean. One can almost be seen through, the other's depth cannot be calculated.

I want this permanent beauty. I want people to be drawn to what's behind my eyes instead of the clothes I wear or the structure of my face. Because whatever physical beauty I have, it will fade. If the object of my life is to glorify God (Matt. 5:16), then I pray my attitude, my trust in God, my submission to the Spirit, my disposition and gentleness points clearly to Jesus Christ. I want God and His sanctifying work to define the conclusion of beauty. As God perfects the spirit within me, the more I hope people stop looking at me and behold the beauty of God.

air-brushed charms

I awkwardly steered my overloaded shopping cart into a checkout aisle and patiently waited for the line to dissolve. Grocery shopping always exhausts me. Maybe it's because I wait until we are scrapping the cupboards for breadcrumbs before I head to the store, forcing me to create my own mini-Everest inside a shopping cart. (New Year's Resolution #317: get better at meal planning!) I leaned against the cart as I waited in hopes of catching a second wind when my eyes met the sleek, outspoken magazine covers glaring from their shelves.

Oh those glossy, air-brushed faces begged for me to look, admire, and compare. Their hair, skin, eyes, complexion, curves and clothing (or lack thereof) seeped with a perfection I obviously lack. And not only did they assault my vision with the silhouettes of modern attraction but they also tempted my reasoning with vain promises: "Loose 10lbs in just 10 days!", "Ways to look younger in minutes!", "The body he dreams of!", "Tame your tummy!" and much, much more disgusting propaganda. It was here amidst my innocent quest for carrots, sour cream, and dishwasher detergent that I realized, perhaps with more consciousness than I've had in a while, that our culture is entirely obsessed with superficial beauty. And it's slowly corrupting us.

Almost everyday we are forced to decide between valuing and gravitating toward worldly attractiveness versus a holy beauty. We obviously recognize what the world considers beautiful. Go to the mall and look at the mannequins or stop by your local convenient store and pick up a magazine. Or better yet, observe the confused and insecure young women speckled across our nation who find their identity and value by how closely they can imitate the women plastered across those magazine covers.

Worldly beauty always flaunts itself -- so it's easy to spot. At it's core it is selfish and arrogant. "Just look at me" it demands. And with enough make-up, hairspray, designer clothes, and maybe even a little surgery (or at least a good editing software), you could attain to this fickle description of beauty. Yes, this paragon may turn a few heads, but their fascination will travel only as deep as your bronze-tinted foundation.

In the end, physical beauty (which is all the world seems to value) doesn't last. All the wrinkle cream, anti-age scrubs, and hair color in the world can't dilute the truth that physical beauty fades. "Charm is deceitful, beauty is vain..." (Prov. 31:30) But this is no cause for panic (so take a deep breath). God has an entirely different purpose and measure for beauty -- a beauty that speaks of permanence and holiness instead of shallowness and vanity.

(To be continued...)

in the residue of beginnings

I've been sitting here staring at this blinking cursor for about 15 minutes trying to think up something clever to blog about. I know I am probably making this more complicated than it should be (typical for me, you should know), but I struggle with beginning things sometimes. You might be the same way. It's like beginning a journal. That first page is so white and clean and perfect ... you almost don't want to mar it with black ink. Theoretically the rest of the journal hinges on that first page so I better make it good, I reason. But I guess if that intimidates me to never begin anything, something is wrong.

You see, I am stricken with a disease called perfectionism. And it's not as glamorous as it may sound. I consider it a plague, in fact. I can't see things without wincing at the potential failure. I am more likely to keep my hands to myself than reach out to see what it feels like. I content myself with staring through thick glass windows instead of trotting down the front porch steps to enjoy the rain or sunshine. Because, who knows? I might make a huge, terrible, unalterable mistake. (yes, that had a twinge of sarcasm in it...)

It seems naive in these little black words on the computer screen. But it gets bigger in my head. I'm tired of living life with this illusive raincloud staring over my shoulder. I was reading in the gospel of Matthew this morning and perused over some verses that are beginning to morph into an anthem for me.

"You are the light of the world. A city set on a hill cannot be hidden. Nor do people light a lamp and put it under a basket, but on a stand, and it gives light to all in the house. In the same way, let your light shine before others, so that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father who is in heaven." (Matt. 5:14-16)

After reading over these verses a couple of times to fight off the familiarity, I thought to myself, "Why are you living under a basket?" It may seem safer, but it's also stupid. And it will eventually suffocate you. God made you a light ... so shine. This could mean different things for different people. But a few things are core. One being our works. They are supposed to be good works that are obviously, but not blatantly (see Matthew 6:1), visible to the world. As God's workmanship (we are the light), we were created to walk in the good works which He prepared beforehand (Eph. 2:10). Figuring out what "works" He has prepared for me is where I trip myself up though. Again, this doesn't have to be complicated or confusing. I am finding that the simple, daily obedience to God's Word is what He desires.

The second principle is the glorification of our Father in heaven. It's really not about me or my works -- but about God. He is the ultimate objective here. My purpose on earth is to shine my light, but He is the reason and also the means of illumination. "For God, who said, “Let light shine out of darkness,” has shone in our hearts to give the light of the knowledge of the glory of God in the face of Jesus Christ." (2 Cor. 4:6) Any light that I reflect is produced by Jesus Christ who enlightened my heart with His grace and truth.

I think some of my perfectionistic fixation (wow, what a mouthful) is rooted in my pride. I want to appear a certain way to people. I want my report card to speak of success instead of failures. I want to get off the ground with no bumps or bruises. No dents in the paint, so to speak. I only want people to see me shine when I look perfect. Well, that is just never going to happen. And in the beauty of God's grace, that's ok.

the night before Christmas

So it's Christmas Eve. The tangled lights around the tree are casting a spell on my vision. Light seems to be glittering everywhere. Quietly I sit here on this fluffy sofa, almost in unbelief that Christmas is actually here. Where did all the weeks go that protected me from this special day? Christmas kinda crept up on me this year. I'm prepared according to cultural standards. My gifts are purchased, the house is clean and decorated, all the food is prepared, the family is here. Yet somehow it still doesn't feel like Christmas to me.

Which urges me to wonder ... what makes Christmas "Christmas"?

It could be nostalgic snapshots that roll though my mind: Watching my family talk and laugh among one another while I listen from a distance with a warm cup of tea in my hands. Younger siblings shrieking in delight as missed relatives pull into our driveway. Apple spiced candles burning on the fireplace mantel. The beautiful green wreath enclosing five candles representing the many wonders of our Savior's birth. The music of merry celebration. The thrilling sound of paper tearing followed by squeals or tears of joy. Christmas arouses memories filled with warmth, joy, and the smell of cinnamon.

But also I wonder what made the first Christmas special. I don't think it induced the same vanilla-coated memories I associated with this holiday. It probably felt like an ordinary day. Forget Christmas spirit and red ribbons. Life was closing in from every corner. Demands, dust, and danger were the decorations of Mary and Joseph's first Christmas. They were far from family, home, and comfort. But God was near. So near in fact, they could stroke His face with their fingers.

My point is ... whether we feel "Christmasy" or not ... Jesus is near. He invaded life in the form of a helpless, tender baby, and grew up to become our sacrificial substitute -- ultimately changing the world and eternity forever. He didn't wait until everyone was gathered around the tree with fidgety anticipation. He came on a silent night, but it was a holy night. He came so we could be near God. And that nearness is what I love about Christmas. Family, gifts, cocoa, and Christmas lights do make me happy. But it is the quiet, thankful moments I cherish the most. Thank You, Jesus, for coming so I could be near You, especially on Christmas ... and the night before.

silent fears that aren't so silent

Sometimes I feel as if I am standing on the edge of something great, something awesome, something absolutely terrifying. Teetering between taking one step back toward the safety of the familiar or one step into the unwritten future, I am calculating the cost of both. History can be comforting and confining. I struggle to move away from what I know, yet I silently yearn for the unvoiced melodies to be discovered by taking a step into what is uncomfortably new. The choice watches me as a wake, sighs when I sleep, whispers as I venture about my day. Don't be afraid if the door is opening. Walk on.

It's amazing to me how much our daily choices reflect what we are afraid of. If it is unknown, different, or frightening we automatically choose the safest route away from what we are silently afraid of. Oftentimes we don't even recognize it. Maybe we blame our safe choices on our "personalities"... you know, I just don't like "change" or "the unknown". Well -- newsflash -- no one really likes change. It's uncomfortable. It feels weird. It makes us change when sometimes we really don't want to. So perhaps technically we could all use that excuse. It's in all of our personalities to make the safe choice, to do what is comfortable, to try our best to keep things just the way they are.

But sometimes God is calling to us over the cliff. It's part of growing. We must take a deep breath. We must take the jump. We must change. In our hearts we know this is the truth and we know it's very good. But yet that queasy stab of fear grouts our feet to the floor. Maybe if we don't move at all He will stop pushing. Nope. Because of the cure of fear: love.

What we are afraid of will dictate -- unless we trust something greater than fear. "There is no fear in love, but perfect love casts out fear. For fear has to do with punishment, and whoever fears has not been perfected in love." (1 John 4:18) Perfect love talks louder than fear. How? Through inserting a foundation firm enough to walk on, deep enough to trust, loud enough to hear, and constant enough to follow. If someone is waiting on the other side of your fears with a grip on your heart stronger than you first assumed, well that just might change everything. In fact, it does.

it's a perfect day

And here I am again -- the bad blogger - seeking to redeem lost time and posts with a fresh hello. There is just no time for blogging anymore! I have still managed to maintain a healthy personal journal, but my blogging so easily gets shoved aside on my way to getting things done. All that to say -- hello, I'm still here, I know you thought you would never see another post from me, but I thought I would shock you.

In other news, autumn is soooo close! As I write this post, my windows are open allowing the soothing sounds of crunchy leaves and wind to set the mood. It's a perfect day. Autumn is the most wonderful season ... in my personal opinion. :)

Lately I have been thinking about knowing Christ, in particular from the perspective of Paul who penned the verses "Indeed, I count everything as loss because of the surpassing worth of knowing Christ Jesus my Lord. For his sake I have suffered the loss of all things and count them as rubbish, in order that I may gain Christ." (Phil 3:8) I know I have blogged again and again about these verses, but, I mean, this attitude is incredible! But my great sorrow is that I don't possess this attitude most of the time. I get distracted, complacent, and comfortable in my progress as a believer -- instead of running hard after Jesus. But, the motivation for pursuing Christ is clearly seeing the great, surpassing value of knowing Him. I want this vision. I want a greater taste of the mind-blowing value of knowing this Savior.

vision of a sunset

I stare
at a sunset.

last moment of daytime beauty
before her last breath is taken
and she sinks beneath the tree line.

my world is tinted in gold
rays of yellow kiss the silence around me.

as a mother lowers herself to look
into her child's face
i look the sunset straight in the eyes
with no fear.

the pace of dusk is haunting
mesmerizing
captivating.

colors shoot like fireworks out of her smile
the sky is polluted
with whispering glory.

I stare
at a sunset.

her call comes to us every evening
tugging at our sleeves

tonight our eyes met
I could not look away.

wonder floods my vision
sending echoes of clarity
into every sacred place beneath my skin.

listen to her wordless sermon.

loneliness is not the doom
or patient torment of existence.

through her voice
i hear the pulses of a heart
far greater than my own.

this moment
this beauty
is a fraction of the glory of God.

and I stare
at a sunset.

and life moves on

You know that life is moving faster than you can keep up with when you carry around your day planner instead of a good book. My semester has begun and it is time to bid summer a tender farewell. But I am kinda ready for new seasons. That delightful autumny nip is in the air -- and I am ready to welcome this season.

Last Thursday was my birthday. 22 years old. Such milestones make me look back and remember past seasons with gratefulness. I told my Mom the other day, "I look back and see that I have come a long way ... but I still have so far to go." That's ok. The journey offers many joys and sorrows, hard lessons and abiding love, sweet memories and hope for the future. It's a good life.

Yesterday on my walk I noticed a delicate leaf slightly painted with scarlet and gold, and I remembered back to the post I wrote around this time last year about rushing the seasons. I went back and re-read it this morning. It still rings true. Yet, maybe (hopefully) I have grown in patience. I am strangely restful and hopeful right now. God promises to complete the work He has started in me (Phil. 1:6) and He promises that I will reap a harvest if I do not loose heart (Gal. 6:9). And I believe Him.

a long-lost update

Honestly, I am surprised to know that people still read this blog, or at least that is what my stats tell me. I kinda want to offer some sort of apology but I think I have already done that a few posts ago ... time seems to skip by without my noticing. I was shocked to learn that today is August 1st. I mean, it's August! I was actually really excited, because it means autumn is almost here. Yes, dear readers, I still possess my strange but happy obsession with fall and all things related. I noticed today that there is a young maple tree in our backyard that has already began to flush crimson. Unbelievable. I feel like I am still living in June or something, but my calender tells me it is August. Strange.

Lots has been going on around here -- nothing especially exciting, but I have been keeping myself busy. But busyness can become a curse if I am not careful. It is so easy to hide behind it. I don't make time to think or pray or write or be -- because life is moving faster than I am able to keep up with. Being aware of such a thing has made me look for applications to help me slow down and discern what, why, where, and how I am doing on my journey with Christ and others. I have found journaling to be the perfect exercise.

Making myself sit down and put thoughts to paper is a challenge. Some days are easier than others, but when I do journal I feel much more coherent. I bought a book the other day called Creative Journal Writing, and thus far have truly enjoyed it (I am still in the early pages, so I cannot vouch for future content as to recommend it). I find that the more frequent and honest my journal entries, the more fruitful my mental and spiritual activity becomes. So I thought I would pose the question to you few faithful readers out there -- what do you think about busyness? Are there ways you have found to cope, eliminate, or deal with it? And do any of you find journaling a helpful antidote for life?

words in my bones

"So you want to be a writer?" I often ask myself.

Yeah. I think so.

It’s a weird decision because it is actually not a decision. Writing is something I cannot help but do. It is like a birthmark never to be removed, like a fire in my bones. When I write it is absolutely satisfying and terrifying all in the same instance. But I want to do it. I feel called to do it. And that pushes me to continue even when each word is a tangled web of thorns I must unravel to procure beauty.

From a very early age I remember loving journals. Books filled with lined, empty pages craving to be filled with the curious and perhaps creative scribbles of an ink pen. I wanted to fill them, but not with just anything. I wanted the words to be good and edifying. I remember visiting my older brother’s college when I was in first grade. As I walked down the halls of the study areas, I watched as hundreds of people shuffled back and forth with stacks of books and papers as they read and wrote with purpose -- and I recall the feeling I had as I observed them: I want to do this too.

Various movies and books also inspired this desire. Characters from beloved stories like Jo March in Little Women, Anne of Green Gables, and any character who simply desired to write from their soul in hopes of changing the world, absolutely inspired me. And they still do.

That same childhood impulse rises again whenever I walk into a Barnes and Nobles bookstore. The smell. The items. The paper. The atmosphere. It all permeates of the writing life that I desire to be a part of. And maybe I will one day. Maybe…

Action is Required.

I was listening to someone talk about Christians the other day. Unfortunately the conclusion of the discussion ended with this thought: Christians are so apathetic.

We love the Word, we love hearing awesome speakers, we love getting together to discuss what we learn -- but we lack the motivation to do anything as a result of truth. This is why Jesus' words concluding the Sermon on the Mount were so powerful to me. Not only does Jesus demand that we hear His Word, but that we must act on what we have heard.

"Therefore everyone who hears these words of Mine and acts on them, may be compared to a wise man who built his house on the rock. And the rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and yet it did not fall, for it had been founded on the rock. Everyone who hears these words of Mine and does not act on them, will be like a foolish man who built his house on the sand. The rain fell, and the floods came, and the winds blew and slammed against that house; and it fell--and great was its fall." (Matt. 7:24-27 NASB)

If we would only follow our Master's example. He did not recline in heaven watching as we drifted further and further into destruction. He acted. He stepped into our story -- He became our story -- and changed the world forever. His action should motivate us to act on His words.

Why don't we act? I can only speak for myself: I hear His words -- and they are good -- but the action (or lack thereof) silently proves that either I don't believe Him to be true, or that I value my own opinion and complacently more than His demands. Both options are sinful -- and the result, as Jesus said, is destruction.

"But be doers of the word, and not hearers only, deceiving yourselves. For if anyone is a hearer of the word and not a doer, he is like a man who looks intently at his natural face in a mirror. For he looks at himself and goes away and at once forgets what he was like. But the one who looks into the perfect law, the law of liberty, and perseveres, being no hearer who forgets but a doer who acts, he will be blessed in his doing." (James 1:22-25 ESV)

So ... what action is God requiring you to take? What has He spoken to you? Have you heard His words and failed to move? Are you adding to the library of knowledge and failing to exercise application? These are the questions I ask myself today.

let's see if I can turn this into a blog post...

Have I forgotten how to write? You might assume I have seeing that the blog posts have been rather scarce lately. Honestly I have tried to get together several posts but nothing seems to be flowing correctly. Just for the record, I am working on finishing some posts answering the questions you all asked a few weeks ago, but that too is under lagging construction. Just so you know that I haven't fallen off the planet (or blogosphere), I am sending out an "I am alive, but my pen stopped moving" post.

In other news, I am preparing to head to summer camp until late next week serving as a counselor to about +15 teenagers. I am excited/nervous about that -- I have been working on the study everyone will be going through and it is incredible to say the least. I pray God uses me in ways that only He can in these camper's lives. So, if no new posts pop out next week I have a better excuse than what I am attempting to offer right now. If you wouldn't mind praying for me I would be SO GRATEFUL. This is going to be an intense week of study/mentoring/exercise.

I shall close with a few scraps of poetry I have been playing with. Hope everyone is enjoying their summer!

Your words are the deepest channel
constant and strong
soothing famished roots and broken souls.

When I plunge deeper
You are deeper still, faithfully restoring
perfect strength and living hope.

When I grow shallow and my soil turns to dust
You send water from the heavens
and revive my weakened trust.

You are near, always deeper
than my mind could ever plummet.
You are below me, all around me
a song that can't escape my head.

love the bird, dear

This morning brought a thump
upon my window
I peered out to see a bird
fallen from his flight
crumbled, broken, shaking in fear,
limp from impact, his feathers askew.

My heart retreated for protection,
never to love a dying creature.
For pain can only be gained, this I know.
Chided by the Lord at my frigid heart,
I heard strong whispers, "Love the bird, dear, love the bird..."
Why? For what profit? It is dead for sure...

"If you never love the dying--
you shall never love at all"

Sisters and mother gathered to the window.
I wanted to shelter them for despair,
"I think he is gone, don't look for long."
Mom said a prayer, "Jesus heal this poor bird,"
and I stood from afar and scoffed,
"The bird is dead -- don't waste a prayer."

Minutes inched by, the bird began blinking--
we all stared in wonderment.
I walked outside and nudged him with a branch...
Up and away he flew into a crayola blue sky
healed and alive -- living to fly again.
My heart smarted from conviction:

If I never love the dying--
I shall never love at all.

Capriciousness and Camomile

(This is a follow-up to my questions post from a dew days ago. I have decided to break  some of the questions into individual posts for space and clarity.)

Kit (echoed by Jen and Camille) asked: "How in the world do we as women deal with our crazy up and down emotions, particularly from a Biblical perspective? Have you had experiences like this, and what did you do? And what tea did you drink while you were doing it? :) "

To begin, yes, I do struggle with my emotions. And hopefully I am learning to handle them better through God's grace and truth, though I am by no means an expert. I only know that the goal of my life is "to walk in a manner worthy of the Lord, fully pleasing to him, bearing fruit in every good work and increasing in the knowledge of God." (Col. 1:10) Applying this to my emotional life has helped shape a backbone into a somewhat varied and unstable issue.

But let me quickly address a common false assumption among many truth-loving Christians regarding emotions. First of all, emotions are not evil. I have been guilty of such a judgment. Somewhere in my quest to honor God with my emotions I confused emotions with sin. We cannot fall into this trap. Emotions are created by God and can be used to glorify and enhance our love for Him. If we think that by snuffing or ignoring the existence of emotions is pleasing God, we have grossly missed the mark and discolored a fundamental distinction between humans and the rest of creation. So rather than disdaining our emotions, we must learn how to properly and biblically facilitate them.

Let's start at ground level. God made us. He made emotions. So obviously He can direct us in the right course on how to handle them. Emotions are not the truth, but they can align with (or contradict) the truth. The key is to create (or rather discover in Scripture) a bold, unwavering line in which we can examine our emotions to see if they align to God's standard. We should never act on or build upon a shifty foundation, and our emotions are capricious and make horrible footings. We need something stronger and immovable as our foundation -- we need the Word of God to consent or condemn the changing colors of our feelings.

All this sounds good and most of us know this, but how do we practically apply this to those, to borrow Anne of Green Gables' term, "depths of despair" days? I see it like this: Last year I had a thriving jasmine vine whose sole desire was to spread it's branches onto anything and everything it could reach. I bought a wooden trellis to give it some healthy direction instead of growing into high traffic areas on the back deck and getting torn or smashed, but it seemed like I had to re-position it back onto the trellis every morning because overnight it would get out of shape again.

We are exactly like that jasmine. Situations, irritations, people and hormones bend us out of shape and we lash out with purely emotional voltage. We wrap ourselves around unhealthy objects or follow unsafe patterns fed by our emotions that harm the people around us and ourselves, not to mention we sadden the heart of our Father God. Re-shaping our attitudes and feelings in accordance with God's Word (our solid trellis) is the only comfort and hope for the emotional soul.

SO ... the first point is to know what the Word says about how we are to feel; we are to be "increasing in the knowledge of God." Here are a few samples to refute or reaffirm disparate emotions.

• When feeling anxious, “Do not be anxious about anything, but in everything with prayer and supplication with thanksgiving let your requests be made known to God.” Philippians 4:6


• When feeling afraid, “When I am afraid, I put my trust in You.” Psalms 56:3


• When feeling uncertain, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask God, who gives generously to all without reproach, and it will be given him.” James 1:5


• When feeling depressed, “From the end of the earth I call to You when my heart is faint. Lead me to the rock that is higher than I, for You have been my refuge.” Psalms 61:2-3


• When feeling alone, “For He has said, “I will never leave you or forsake you.” Hebrews 13:5


• When feeling stressed, “Come to Me, all who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Matthew 11:28


• When feeling unloved, “But God demonstrates His own love towards us in that, while we were yet sinners, Christ died for us.” Romans 5:8

Secondly, don't be afraid to ask God for grace in times of need. Hebrews 4:15-16 assures us, "For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin. Let us then with confidence draw near to the throne of grace, that we may receive mercy and find grace to help in time of need." Unlike ourselves, God's emotions are holy and stable -- so we are never going to catch Him in a "bad moment." He is sympathetic and merciful to the asking, needy heart. In my worst moments of emotional caos, one of the greatest aids is to stop, even if it is for a moment, and humbly ask God for grace. Taking a moment to assess the damage, define the cause, repent of failings, and welcome grace is the remedy for those crazy up and down emotions that we all expereince. And while we're at it, a good cup of camomile tea is defnitely a saving grace.

traveling stories

This morning I am waking up in a dimly lit hotel room (due to a spur of the moment family trip) where I am enjoying the freedom of this moment. My electric tea kettle just clicked off (folks, never leave your tea kettle behind) and now the pleasant and familiar aroma of black tea fills my little corner of the room. Pulling back the curtains allows the sunshine to breathe through the window and awakes my slumbering siblings. Good morning.

Traveling is always reflective for me. It influences me see in the third person, as if I am the narrator of a traveling story. It's a good chance to simply observe the surroundings without actually engaging in them, to watch people without having to know or fix every detail of their lives (as if that is possible).

But coming and going can also leave a person disconnected. And strangely I believe that is what most people feel even living in their own stories. We are just fraying humans searching for a common thread to connect us to something valuable and important. This is the tapestry of the world. If one could find the missing seam maybe our stories would make sense.

"The people who were sitting in darkness saw a great Light, and those who were sitting in the land and the shadow of death, upon them a Light dawned." (Matt. 4:16) "In Him was life, and the life was the Light of men. The Light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it. There was the true Light which coming into the world, enlightens every man." (John 1:4-5, 9)

Only in His story do our stories make sense.