Something big came up this week.
Honestly, "something big" has been coming up every week for most of 2014. I realized the other day that this year is nearly half over. And the thought bounced through my mind: "Well thank God it's almost done," as if a change of date will bring a change of circumstance. (Incidentally, it probably won't.) And the very next thought that popped up was, "Sweetheart, you asked for this. I'm working."
And that stopped me in my tracks.
This year-- this ridiculously hard, painful, confusing year-- is a direct answer to the prayer I whispered so many months ago. A prayer for the revival of my heart. A prayer for the recreation of the lukewarm life I was living. He answered, and my heart rebelled.
I have spent a lot of time wrestling with God and crying out to Him because of my circumstances. I have been discontent, impatient, afraid, and panicked. I have been convinced, at times, that God had surely turned His back to me. I have begged and begged for understanding, for clarity, and for closure. I have fought for acceptance, I have fought for love, and I have fought to be desired. Mostly, I think, the desire part. My heart longs to be desired, to be wanted. I feel it so deep in my gut, it hurts most of the time. Literally.
Well, all that effort has been 100% fruitless. All the fighting, all the trying, all the begging. Nothing has worked. Frankly, y'all, it's hella exhausting.
Two days ago, I sat in church. I love church, but I also hate it because I always end up crying. That's what happens when God does open heart surgery. There's not a lot to hold back the floodgates. I sat there, thinking about how undesirable I am and how alone I feel and how royally I seem to have screwed everything up. And then, we read this:
Some went out on the sea in ships;
they were merchants on the mighty waters.
24 They saw the works of the Lord,
his wonderful deeds in the deep.
25 For he spoke and stirred up a tempest
that lifted high the waves.
26 They mounted up to the heavens and went down to the depths;
in their peril their courage melted away.
27 They reeled and staggered like drunkards;
they were at their wits’ end.
28 Then they cried out to the Lord in their trouble,
and he brought them out of their distress.
29 He stilled the storm to a whisper;
the waves of the sea were hushed.
30 They were glad when it grew calm,
and he guided them to their desired haven.
31 Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love
and his wonderful deeds for mankind.
Psalm 107. A picture of how, sometimes, God puts you through hell to bring you even closer to Him.
And somewhere in the middle of Psalm 107, I heard this whisper:
"Precious girl, I want you. I desire you. Believe me, please."
And, okay, I burst into tears. Because God was telling me He wanted me. He actually really wants my heart so fiercely, He will push me to my limits, to the places where I feel I will absolutely not survive, in order that I will collapse into Him. I prayed for a heart-level recreation, and He is in the process of answering. He is stirring up that dang tempest for one reason: He wants me.
Let's take that in for a second. Because it applies to everyone, not just me.
God. Wants. Us. He wants me. He wants you. His desire is so great, the Being sitting at His right hand at this moment has holes in His hands and feet. And somehow I still sometimes don't believe it. But, y'all, there's even grace for that. God is relentlessly pursuing me, and actively showing me grace when I don't respond well to His pursuit. He does the same for you.
It is actually the most mind-blowing reality imaginable. And, the more I've thought about it, the more I realized God has actually spent a lot of time answering my prayers this year. Some of them in the exact way I wanted, some not so much. But He is most certainly listening.
Because He wants me.
So, listen, it's a process. I still feel like a certifiable lunatic 99.5% of the time. I still can't see where this is going or what the point is. But I am starting to see God's hand moving. I can trace where He has been, and marvel at the plan as it has unfolded thus far. Undeniably, He is gettin' shit done. (Is it okay to say shit in reference to God??)
2014 is half over. If I had it my way, the second half would be wildly different. Maybe it will be. Also maybe not. Regardless,
Let them give thanks to the Lord for his unfailing love and his wonderful deeds for mankind.
Tuesday, June 24, 2014
Wednesday, June 4, 2014
Why I'll probably visit Stockholm.
Today, I met Josephine.
Josephine left the coffee shop at the same time I did, and she asked me what there was to do and if I knew the number for the cab company. She had really cool high-waisted red pants and an accent. It was Swedish, which I never would have guessed, but she filled me in.
I offered to drive her to another coffee shop, since the one we were sitting outside of was about to close, and she agreed. More power to her, for consenting to get in the car with a total stranger. Although, let's face it, I'm not intimidating.
A quick ride turned into a beer and talking about style, travel, Stockholm, Nashville, siblings, and our life plans. We talked about Swedish aristocracy and American politicians (personally, I'd trade the politicians for the aristocracy). I learned that the only reason Sweden has a royal family is because Napoleon gifted Sweden to one of his generals. Like, "Oh, you won that battle for me? Take this country. Thanks a mil." Josephine commented that young people in Stockholm spend a lot of time achieving a style that the young people of Nashville just kind of let happen naturally. And, apparently, within the last two years everyone in Stockholm has grown a beard. We talked about immigration and how Sweden really does have the best healthcare and education programs ever. Because they're free.
She told me about the parties that happen at Midsummer, the longest day of the year. Which, in Sweden, is actually a huge deal because the sun only sets for about two hours. All the girls dress in white and wear flower crowns, and everyone goes to the country for a picnic and games and dancing around a decorated pole. Then they lay out on the grass and watch the sun set, and rise again. It sounds magical, and I want to go someday.
We traded travel stories, and talked about the places we've been. She told me about the time her mom made her stay in Italy for two years. Forgotten memories of European adventures with my sister came vividly to mind and brought joy to my heart all over again. And I remembered the sweet contentment that comes only from being somewhere you don't belong.
Then we went to a symphony concert in the park, because why not? and talked about dance, music, and Mozart. In Canada, I now know, they make you practice an instrument while you're in school and you don't even get to pick which one. And Josephine's dad used to own a restaurant that played only Mozart in the background.
Josephine has a lot of knowledge, which she very generously shared with me. She shared some knowledge with me unconsciously, too. But I took notes. For instance, boldness (ie: talking to that ombre-haired girl with the iPhone) is almost always a good idea, because it can lead to a night at the symphony with a new friend. And traveling stretches the mind and makes it bigger, wiser, and more interesting. There is such richness to be discovered, if we will get outside of ourselves for a moment and look.
Yeah, that was the big one. Getting outside of myself. I have become very inwardly focused, very narrow-minded lately. It has caused great anxiety and fear and unnecessary angst. Tonight I was reminded how big the world is, and how small I am in it. Which could be depressing, except that it's not.
My troubles, which seem so big, are so very small on a global scale. There is much to enjoy, much to discover, much to make happen. And the beauty is that I can be a part of the enjoyment, the discovery and the doing by simply being, and seizing opportunity as it comes.
Josephine taught me a lot, but what she taught me mostly was to look up and out. Not in. To focus on my surroundings, not my circumstances.
And, hey, now I have a friend in Sweden.
Josephine left the coffee shop at the same time I did, and she asked me what there was to do and if I knew the number for the cab company. She had really cool high-waisted red pants and an accent. It was Swedish, which I never would have guessed, but she filled me in.
I offered to drive her to another coffee shop, since the one we were sitting outside of was about to close, and she agreed. More power to her, for consenting to get in the car with a total stranger. Although, let's face it, I'm not intimidating.
A quick ride turned into a beer and talking about style, travel, Stockholm, Nashville, siblings, and our life plans. We talked about Swedish aristocracy and American politicians (personally, I'd trade the politicians for the aristocracy). I learned that the only reason Sweden has a royal family is because Napoleon gifted Sweden to one of his generals. Like, "Oh, you won that battle for me? Take this country. Thanks a mil." Josephine commented that young people in Stockholm spend a lot of time achieving a style that the young people of Nashville just kind of let happen naturally. And, apparently, within the last two years everyone in Stockholm has grown a beard. We talked about immigration and how Sweden really does have the best healthcare and education programs ever. Because they're free.
She told me about the parties that happen at Midsummer, the longest day of the year. Which, in Sweden, is actually a huge deal because the sun only sets for about two hours. All the girls dress in white and wear flower crowns, and everyone goes to the country for a picnic and games and dancing around a decorated pole. Then they lay out on the grass and watch the sun set, and rise again. It sounds magical, and I want to go someday.
We traded travel stories, and talked about the places we've been. She told me about the time her mom made her stay in Italy for two years. Forgotten memories of European adventures with my sister came vividly to mind and brought joy to my heart all over again. And I remembered the sweet contentment that comes only from being somewhere you don't belong.
Then we went to a symphony concert in the park, because why not? and talked about dance, music, and Mozart. In Canada, I now know, they make you practice an instrument while you're in school and you don't even get to pick which one. And Josephine's dad used to own a restaurant that played only Mozart in the background.
Josephine has a lot of knowledge, which she very generously shared with me. She shared some knowledge with me unconsciously, too. But I took notes. For instance, boldness (ie: talking to that ombre-haired girl with the iPhone) is almost always a good idea, because it can lead to a night at the symphony with a new friend. And traveling stretches the mind and makes it bigger, wiser, and more interesting. There is such richness to be discovered, if we will get outside of ourselves for a moment and look.
Yeah, that was the big one. Getting outside of myself. I have become very inwardly focused, very narrow-minded lately. It has caused great anxiety and fear and unnecessary angst. Tonight I was reminded how big the world is, and how small I am in it. Which could be depressing, except that it's not.
My troubles, which seem so big, are so very small on a global scale. There is much to enjoy, much to discover, much to make happen. And the beauty is that I can be a part of the enjoyment, the discovery and the doing by simply being, and seizing opportunity as it comes.
Josephine taught me a lot, but what she taught me mostly was to look up and out. Not in. To focus on my surroundings, not my circumstances.
And, hey, now I have a friend in Sweden.
Monday, May 19, 2014
It Is Well.
Growing up Southern Baptist gave me a hearty appreciation for hymns. Okay, yes, they can be kind of blah, but that's more due to tune, and the exuberance (or lack thereof) of the congregation. There is weightiness in the words of good old hymns that I think is often missing from contemporary worship music. Hymns give your brain something to chew on while your heart sings and you wave those hands in the air like you just don't care.
When I was a kid, I had an Adventures in Odessey tape about the hymn "It Is Well" and its origin. The story has stuck close to my heart ever since, and the song has become one of my favorites. It is a hymn full of persistent hope and soul-soothing peace. Were it set to some peppier music, it would seem like a super happy song.
My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Fact: it's not a happy song. A joyful song, I think yes, but not a happy one.
In 1873, Horatio Spafford, a Chicago-based lawyer, sent his family to England for vacation. He intended to join them days later, after wrapping up his business affairs in Chicago. So off they went, four little Spafford sisters and their mother, ready for a break from what had been a tumultuous few years in the States.
In the middle of the voyage, the streamboat crashed into another ship. All four Spafford girls lost their lives, and Horatio received a telegram from his wife that began with the words, "Saved alone".
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pain shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
On his frantic journey across the Atlantic to join his wife, Horatio wrote "It Is Well".
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Can you imagine? Seriously. Can you imagine writing those words in the face of such great pain? It takes a courageous heart to praise God in the midst of struggle. It is so easy to give up hope and give in to self-pity when circumstances don't make sense. Often I get frustrated because God feels very far away. There are moments of acute pain, and a general heaviness of heart that cannot be willed away.
Heartache is very real, and comes in a thousand different flavors.
It's part of the plan, I think. In the face of great hurt, Jesus steps up and says, "I'm here. I'm here, and you're going to be okay."
Horatio Spafford felt that voice, I'm sure, even as he cried over his daughters. He knew that at the end of the day, Christ is victorious. Utterly, totally, beautifully victorious. For that reason the hymn is full of great joy. But it's not the kind of joy that comes with sunshine and summer and smiles. It's the weighty kind of joy, the joy that comes from great, immovable hope. The kind of joy that has been refined in the fire. The kind of joy that makes you cry on a Sunday morning.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
And Lord haste the day, when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
When I was a kid, I had an Adventures in Odessey tape about the hymn "It Is Well" and its origin. The story has stuck close to my heart ever since, and the song has become one of my favorites. It is a hymn full of persistent hope and soul-soothing peace. Were it set to some peppier music, it would seem like a super happy song.
My sin, oh the bliss of this glorious thought!
My sin, not in part but the whole,
Is nailed to His cross, and I bear it no more,
Praise the Lord, praise the Lord, O my soul!
Fact: it's not a happy song. A joyful song, I think yes, but not a happy one.
In 1873, Horatio Spafford, a Chicago-based lawyer, sent his family to England for vacation. He intended to join them days later, after wrapping up his business affairs in Chicago. So off they went, four little Spafford sisters and their mother, ready for a break from what had been a tumultuous few years in the States.
In the middle of the voyage, the streamboat crashed into another ship. All four Spafford girls lost their lives, and Horatio received a telegram from his wife that began with the words, "Saved alone".
For me, be it Christ, be it Christ hence to live:
If Jordan above me shall roll,
No pain shall be mine, for in death as in life
Thou wilt whisper Thy peace to my soul.
On his frantic journey across the Atlantic to join his wife, Horatio wrote "It Is Well".
When peace, like a river, attendeth my way,
When sorrows like sea billows roll;
Whatever my lot, Thou hast taught me to say,
It is well, it is well with my soul.
Can you imagine? Seriously. Can you imagine writing those words in the face of such great pain? It takes a courageous heart to praise God in the midst of struggle. It is so easy to give up hope and give in to self-pity when circumstances don't make sense. Often I get frustrated because God feels very far away. There are moments of acute pain, and a general heaviness of heart that cannot be willed away.
Heartache is very real, and comes in a thousand different flavors.
It's part of the plan, I think. In the face of great hurt, Jesus steps up and says, "I'm here. I'm here, and you're going to be okay."
Horatio Spafford felt that voice, I'm sure, even as he cried over his daughters. He knew that at the end of the day, Christ is victorious. Utterly, totally, beautifully victorious. For that reason the hymn is full of great joy. But it's not the kind of joy that comes with sunshine and summer and smiles. It's the weighty kind of joy, the joy that comes from great, immovable hope. The kind of joy that has been refined in the fire. The kind of joy that makes you cry on a Sunday morning.
Though Satan should buffet, though trials should come,
Let this blest assurance control,
That Christ hath regarded my helpless estate,
And hath shed His own blood for my soul.
And Lord haste the day, when the faith shall be sight,
The clouds be rolled back as a scroll;
The trump shall resound, and the Lord shall descend,
Even so, it is well with my soul.
Monday, April 28, 2014
How God is like a sunrise.
I've noticed lately that when I pray for the ability to trust the Lord, He doesn't shower magical trust fairy dust on my head.
He gives me opportunities to trust Him.
As it turns out, trust is hard. One thing I've learned in the last few months is that love is a choice. I'm beginning to realize that trust is a choice, too. I may not feel like God has things under control, but I have to choose to believe Him when He says "Do not fear, for I am with you."
Okay here's the deal, I'm a total control freak (the first step is admitting it, right?). I don't like to give up control, and when I do, it's a big deal. Trust is a sort of giving up of control, I think. It is saying "Yep, I believe you can take care of X, Y or Z so I will put my confidence in you in this situation." In the context of relationships, trust can be h-a-r-d. Because a thing that's true about relationships is that there is always, always conflict. Let downs. Hurt. When that happens, trust is lost. For someone who does not trust easily to begin with, those let downs hit hard. Like, horrible-knot-in-your-stomach-for-days hard. It becomes more difficult to trust again, and hiding in a cave sounds like a solid life choice.
Then there's God. You know, the creator of the universe and the pursuer of my heart. I think sometimes I expect Him to let me down in the same way I've been let down by people. I fight hard for control of my circumstances, because I'm so afraid He will do something I don't like. Somehow, my heart convinces itself that God isn't for me. Somehow, I believe the lie that He doesn't care.
Lately, though, I've been hearing these whisper: "Great is His love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever." "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding."
Faithful. God is forever faithful. He displays his faithfulness all over the Bible. Seriously, it's like His favorite thing to do. David writes about it all the time.
"GREAT is your love, higher than the heavens; your faithfulness reaches the skies."
It seems, too, that faithfulness is always connected to love. God loves us immeasurably, therefore He will be faithful. Because of love, He began a good work in each of us, and He will be faithful to see it through. There is no better place to put my trust than in the tender hands of a God whose faithfulness stretches all the way to the sky. My head knows that. It's just common sense. And, hey, it's easy for my heart to believe it, too, when the sun is shining and I'm dancing on the mountaintop. It's a lot harder on a dreary Monday when rain pours down.
Yet, even on Monday, He is faithful.
Even when I'm feeling very #foreveralone, He is faithful.
Even as my trust wavers, He is faithful.
Hosea writes that God is as sure as the rising of the sun, or rain in the spring. I've been alive over 8,400 days, and every one of those days, the sun has risen. If God is as sure a thing as the sunrise, I think everything is good. So when God asks, "Do you trust me?", my answer is yes.
Even through my doubts, yes.
Even when it's hard, yes.
Even when it rains, yes.
He is forever faithful.
He gives me opportunities to trust Him.
As it turns out, trust is hard. One thing I've learned in the last few months is that love is a choice. I'm beginning to realize that trust is a choice, too. I may not feel like God has things under control, but I have to choose to believe Him when He says "Do not fear, for I am with you."
Okay here's the deal, I'm a total control freak (the first step is admitting it, right?). I don't like to give up control, and when I do, it's a big deal. Trust is a sort of giving up of control, I think. It is saying "Yep, I believe you can take care of X, Y or Z so I will put my confidence in you in this situation." In the context of relationships, trust can be h-a-r-d. Because a thing that's true about relationships is that there is always, always conflict. Let downs. Hurt. When that happens, trust is lost. For someone who does not trust easily to begin with, those let downs hit hard. Like, horrible-knot-in-your-stomach-for-days hard. It becomes more difficult to trust again, and hiding in a cave sounds like a solid life choice.
Then there's God. You know, the creator of the universe and the pursuer of my heart. I think sometimes I expect Him to let me down in the same way I've been let down by people. I fight hard for control of my circumstances, because I'm so afraid He will do something I don't like. Somehow, my heart convinces itself that God isn't for me. Somehow, I believe the lie that He doesn't care.
Lately, though, I've been hearing these whisper: "Great is His love toward us, and the faithfulness of the Lord endures forever." "Trust in the Lord with all your heart, and lean not on your own understanding."
Faithful. God is forever faithful. He displays his faithfulness all over the Bible. Seriously, it's like His favorite thing to do. David writes about it all the time.
"GREAT is your love, higher than the heavens; your faithfulness reaches the skies."
It seems, too, that faithfulness is always connected to love. God loves us immeasurably, therefore He will be faithful. Because of love, He began a good work in each of us, and He will be faithful to see it through. There is no better place to put my trust than in the tender hands of a God whose faithfulness stretches all the way to the sky. My head knows that. It's just common sense. And, hey, it's easy for my heart to believe it, too, when the sun is shining and I'm dancing on the mountaintop. It's a lot harder on a dreary Monday when rain pours down.
Yet, even on Monday, He is faithful.
Even when I'm feeling very #foreveralone, He is faithful.
Even as my trust wavers, He is faithful.
Hosea writes that God is as sure as the rising of the sun, or rain in the spring. I've been alive over 8,400 days, and every one of those days, the sun has risen. If God is as sure a thing as the sunrise, I think everything is good. So when God asks, "Do you trust me?", my answer is yes.
Even through my doubts, yes.
Even when it's hard, yes.
Even when it rains, yes.
He is forever faithful.
Wednesday, April 9, 2014
Happy One Year Nash-iversary!!
Three hundred and sixty-five days ago today, I woke up in my new Nashville home for the very first time. It was cloudier April 9 than the one I am currently enjoying, a little overcast and rainy. But I was in love. Because my big adventure was beginning.
All I can say is, what a year. What blessing, what bounty, what trial, what sorrow, what joy. The Lord has been nothing but faithful, dropping in my lap a job, community, relationship, and continually teaching me what it means to trust His heart for me and His excellent plan.
Every time I thought I had hit a dead end, a door opened for new and lovely things.
It's worth noting, too, the totally on-point timing of the move. Any sooner (which is what I had been gunning for) or later, and moments would have been missed, people passed by. But, friends, divine orchestration is a real thing and it's SUPER.
So, here's a recap. Top ten moments of Nashville, Year One:
1) Lining up two (TWO) very fancy barista interviews with top-notch shops within my first two weeks in the city. (Did my barista ego good, as well as my bank account.)
2) Seeing one of my top favorite music dudes, Gabe Dixon, in concert. One of those "HOLY SMOKES I live in Music City when did my life get so cool?" moments.
3) Hosting a delightful Thanksgiving gathering, and for the first time ever not missing being home on a holiday. Because Nashville felt like home.
4) All concerts in general, but specifically Rites of Spring and Live in the Green. Both so full of Nashville pride, joy and fun.
5) Making friends at the 12 South Farmer's Market, who I am genuinely excited to see again this summer.
6) A certain evening at the end of August, when I was given a very nice mug.
7) The three-hour aquatic expedition of the Harpeth River, which was a true test of endurance and floating ability.
8) Finding the beautiful family that is my church community. Not a single moment, obviously, but many little ones that have become a vital part of the Nashville story thus far.
9) The first time one of my all time favorite music dudes came into my coffee shop and I made his americano while I FREAKED OUT A LITTLE BIT INSIDE. (Now he's a regular and I'm way casual about it. Whatevs.)
10) Slow dancing to a four-piece band in the gardens of Cheekwood on a beautiful fall night.
Nashville, you are a gem. I'm glad to be here and ready for more.
Monday, March 31, 2014
Defining Success.
These last few weeks have been a roller coaster, emotionally
and spiritually. I laughed out loud when, in the midst of a meltdown, I read my
own words from January about wanting God to shake my life up. Well, shake it up
He has. And, I can confidently say, praise Him for it!
I learned something big this week. It is a game changer. A
lightbulb. An epiphany.
I won’t say it is profound—I’m sure I’m not the first one to
come up with it. In fact, I know I’m not. But it certainly is having a profound
impact on my simple little life.
Here’s the deal.
For a long time, I have had two definitions of success:
1) Be married with lots of babies.
2) Have a (very bohemian theatre major version of a) career job.
1) Be married with lots of babies.
2) Have a (very bohemian theatre major version of a) career job.
In short, my definition of success was to have life together.
If you had asked me to define success, these are not the answers I would have
given you, but upon much reflection and sorting things out, it is obvious this
is how my mind was subconsciously working.
I wasn’t necessarily gunning for both of those things to
happen for me, but I definitely needed one or the other to be true in order to
feel I had succeeded at life. I would have been content to marry a cute boy and
raise a family with him, and I would have been equally content to have a
fabulous non-profit, creative, exciting artsy job that would make everyone
around me ooooh and ahhhh.
In the last year, both of those life goals looked like they
were beginning to unfold. I approached one with reckless abandon, and the other
with much trepidation and a lot of baggage. As it became clear that one goal
was not going to pan out the way I wanted it to, I began to cling all the more
fiercely to the other. And then, quite suddenly, I was left empty handed. Both of my avenues for success were shut
down.
You can imagine the frustration, hurt and confusion my
prideful, competitive heart was feeling. I was angry. But more than angry, I
was heartbroken. In fact, it is safe to say the heartbreak was masked by the
anger. I was sad, lonely, and hurt, feeling like a failure because I felt those
things, and my reaction was to get mad about it. Geez, emotions are a vicious
cycle.
Throughout all of this roller coaster, I kept crying out to
God. Why, oh why, was He letting me feel this way? There was nowhere to run
from the problem I was facing, it was literally in front of my face daily.
Every confrontation dissolved me to tears. I hated feeling out of control and
weak. I couldn’t fix the mess I found
myself in. That, to me, was the pinnacle of failure.
It was in the middle of all that mess I realized how I had
been defining success, and how that was feeding into my panic. So, mentally, I
got to a point of recognizing that defining success by my marital or job status
was probably wrong. And success wasn’t a lack of emotion and being a stone cold
fox all the time, because that is totally unrealistic. But I still didn’t know
what success was.
But then, oh but then, after many tears and many prayers and
much wrestling, the question was answered. It came like a whisper, and stilled
my soul.
Success is not the absence of fear or weakness. Rather,
success is leaning hard into the unfailing power and love of Christ in the face
of failure and weakness.
Each moment of struggle, the daily doubts and fears, are,
every one of them, opportunities for me to cry out to the Lord and for Him to
answer. It is not my job to fix anything. It is not my job to have an
Instagram-perfect life. My success is measured in how readily and how fully I
turn to Jesus in the midst of trouble and say “Help me!”
And help me He will.
So if I have learned anything, it is that I have been
successful indeed. Successful in hitting rock bottom, and admitting it, and
begging for grace. Which, of course, I am swiftly granted. Because that is how
God works. His power is most evident when I am in my weakest moment.
___________________
"And He has said to me, 'My grace is sufficient for you, for power is perfected in weakness.' Most gladly, therefore, I will rather boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ may dwell in me. Therefore I am well content with weaknesses, with insults, with distresses, with persecutions, with difficulties, for Christ’s sake; for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Wednesday, March 19, 2014
Springing forward.
My favorite thing about the arrival of spring is the sense of great adventure that it brings, riding in on a sweet breeze.
Do you know the feeling I'm talking about? The sun starts to shine longer (I see you, daylight savings time) and birds start chirping in the morning again. The earth awakens and begins to play. Spring has arrived every year for the entire near-quarter century I've been alive, yet it still feels like a miracle every. single. time. Coincidence? I really don't think so. I count it on the list of ways God satisfies our hearts and lets us marvel.
Spring is a season for doing. Not checking off a list or drudging along at work, but doing great and wonderful things. (Like, but not limited to, painting the house and watching tulips bloom.)
This particular spring also happens to coincide with a season of big change for me. Which, honestly, is perfect. That sense of adventure in the air parallels with and is encouraging my explorer's heart. It's reeeeally hard to feel defeated or afraid in the face of adjustment when the weather is so perfect. The options feel as infinite as the blue sky. And infinitely wonderful.
I've been roving around Nashville looking for inspiration, and have not been disappointed. Hands down, my favorite thing about this city is the way it fosters creative hearts. For whatever reason, passionate people are able to make their wildest ideas realities here. From vintage peach trucks to Nash-inspired t-shirts to music. People of Nashville get it done.
I've decided I want to learn from the brilliant, creative minds I find myself surrounded by. I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up, so why not try a little bit of everything? Look at me, talking like I haven't a care in the world. Haaaaaaha. Don't get me wrong, it's a vaguely terrifying reality, having next to no direction. Sometimes I'm like JESUS TAKE THE WHEEEEEL. At the same time it's way fun. The door is wide open for every kind of shenanigan.
This is the plan:
1) Keep a running list of what I know makes my heart smile, for reference.
2) Find cool people who are doing cool things (even if they aren't on my list) and join them.
3) Learn how to make cool things happen from aforementioned cool people.
4) Do my own cool things.
It's time to work hard, play hard, and figure life out. You're only twenty-three once, right? I have a grin on my face just daydreaming about it.
Spring is upon us, friends, and adventure is calling.
Do you know the feeling I'm talking about? The sun starts to shine longer (I see you, daylight savings time) and birds start chirping in the morning again. The earth awakens and begins to play. Spring has arrived every year for the entire near-quarter century I've been alive, yet it still feels like a miracle every. single. time. Coincidence? I really don't think so. I count it on the list of ways God satisfies our hearts and lets us marvel.
Spring is a season for doing. Not checking off a list or drudging along at work, but doing great and wonderful things. (Like, but not limited to, painting the house and watching tulips bloom.)
This particular spring also happens to coincide with a season of big change for me. Which, honestly, is perfect. That sense of adventure in the air parallels with and is encouraging my explorer's heart. It's reeeeally hard to feel defeated or afraid in the face of adjustment when the weather is so perfect. The options feel as infinite as the blue sky. And infinitely wonderful.
I've been roving around Nashville looking for inspiration, and have not been disappointed. Hands down, my favorite thing about this city is the way it fosters creative hearts. For whatever reason, passionate people are able to make their wildest ideas realities here. From vintage peach trucks to Nash-inspired t-shirts to music. People of Nashville get it done.
I've decided I want to learn from the brilliant, creative minds I find myself surrounded by. I have no clue what I want to be when I grow up, so why not try a little bit of everything? Look at me, talking like I haven't a care in the world. Haaaaaaha. Don't get me wrong, it's a vaguely terrifying reality, having next to no direction. Sometimes I'm like JESUS TAKE THE WHEEEEEL. At the same time it's way fun. The door is wide open for every kind of shenanigan.
This is the plan:
1) Keep a running list of what I know makes my heart smile, for reference.
2) Find cool people who are doing cool things (even if they aren't on my list) and join them.
3) Learn how to make cool things happen from aforementioned cool people.
4) Do my own cool things.
It's time to work hard, play hard, and figure life out. You're only twenty-three once, right? I have a grin on my face just daydreaming about it.
Spring is upon us, friends, and adventure is calling.
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