Leaving Never-Never Land

It's amazing how much life can change you. I guess I should qualify that. Life only changes you when you let it.

I asked a long time ago for the Lord to have my heart, what I didn't know was I would have to have something to give for that to happen. If I kept pretending, living on the surface, refusing to take responsibility for my life, my heart, my decisions, if I kept living life hoping it would work, turn out, or just be okay, I was never going to have anything to give. If I never let the hard in with the bad, how can I truly love?

I was reading Philip Yancey today, my new obsession. He describes Jesus as being God's way of coming to earth to acquaint Himself with pain. God could have remained distant, unapproachable, never getting His hands dirty with the mess of our lives, but instead, He wrapped Himself in a shell of humanity, subjecting Himself to all sort of pain, physical and emotional to live life with us. The most we can do is the same. He didn't run from the hardness, the pain, the loss, the anger, the hurt, the joy, the love, the beauty, the humility, the family, the romance, the greatness of life as a human. He embraced it. He moved into it in choice, wisdom and reckless abandon. He faked nothing, grew into a man and gave His life away having no idea whether or not it would be returned. He died alone, broken, rejected by His best friends, God and country. He was subject to the same losses we are, the same ugly realities and still, never played Peter-Pan with Wendy. He said nothing for His own gain, but instead, lived life fully, completely, letting in all the joy and pain, accepting both with great appetite. He knew without hesitation that His Father was good, would provide and was always there. He knew when He needed it most that His Father would give a strength to handle the heartbreak that came with loving greatly. He welcomed it.

Because of it, I know how great His compassion is for me. I know how tender, accessible and empathetic He is to my own joys and sorrows, fears and courageous moments. The God Trinity let life on this earth change Him. He let being human humble Him. If I am to follow Him, imitate Him, than the least I can do is the same. When something hurts, I grieve, letting every part of that grief have it's way. If I have a moment of joy, I love it to the enth degree, not waiting for it to end, but instead knowing when it does, I will have Someone to catch me. I have nothing to fear, but the fear that would keep me suspended from real life.

If He did not fear this life, but chose it in awareness, and so, I know I can as well. He avoided nothing. Instead, in His infinite wisdom, He picked the most outrageous way to save me, blowing my mind by becoming a God-man to express to me how much He knows and accepts me. It's outstanding.

The older I've gotten, the more I've lived and experienced, the sadder I get when I realize, not everyone chooses to let life change them. Heartache, sorrow, joy, love, all of these things will have a profound effect on your soul when you let them in. So often in the avoidance of pain, we miss the good. We put an artificial smile on our faces, walking through life hoping no one sees how pretend the emotions are. Don't be sad, don't let things be bad, don't admit the hurt, or the greatness, because if we let it in, somethings won't stay and some will go and then what happens? We're our own little versions of sociopaths, trying to fake the right emotion at the right moment. Peter Pan stuck in Never-never Land making a million excuses for why we can't leave. We "grow up" by force since it's not socially acceptable to live at home past 30 and we have kids because we don't want to miss out on that party either.

Then someday we have to stop pretending. Something so wonderful, or so terrible happens and inherently we know, the pretense is going to fail. We feel the pressure building and the plexiglass starts to creek and crack. The world begins to move in slow motion as we watch everything happen as if it's someone else's life going by at rapid speeds. Then the breaks slam on, the glass shatters and all of the sudden we can't pretend everything is okay anymore. Either we have to pull in, accept and feel every part of the good, the bad and the ugly and it begins to change us, or we stay distant, cut off and separate, working oh so hard, to keep things okay. The way things have always been, the way they were, the way we thought they would always be doesn't satisfy anymore and we aren't as smart as we thought we were pretending at the game of life.

The scales fall off and the brightness of light burns. After a few minutes of adjusting to a new reality, gaining an orientation, finding the compass pointing north again, another hard realization hits.

I am no longer the person I used to be. I left Never-Never Land and I don't want to go back.

I turn around, look at past loves, past friends, past lives and realize with a sort of peaceful sadness, it can never be the same again, because I'm not the same. The joy, the tragedy, it changed me. For better or worse, I'm different now and I can't go back. I'm growing up and as I begin to understand the wisdom of letting the pain mingle with the joy, letting all of it blossom in my heart, I fear less and less. The ups and downs will come, the gains and the losses. I will have a lifetime of tragedy and triumph, but not one second of it is wasted in His sight, in His plan, or in His heart. All of it is meant to be apart of an amazing journey between He and I, and already, it's unfolding. I can't go on a journey, if I never leave home, so now, as I leave behind what used to be my comforts, joys, ease of life, I have no regrets. It's okay to let go, leaving behind what I thought I wanted, for what I know is of more value, a life lived fully invested.

Nothing will ever turn out the way I thought it should, it will never be as easy I had hoped and it will always require more than I think I have to give. I will have to change, grow, be stretched, give up my vision of how I thought things should be, and instead, let the journey be enough. Instead of waiting for the pain, anticipating the worst, setting myself up to fail, setting God up to be a disappointment, expecting things to go badly, or jumping the gun and getting out too fast when things get hard, I will do the opposite. Press in, expect God to always be there, anticipate the need to be stretched, walk forward in wonderment that the Lord will always blow my mind.

I'm at the tail end of a loss, but through out it, and more now than ever I am sure, confident and trusting that nothing, no nothing will separate me from His love, His care, His presence and His promises. I may never see a life of ease, perfection, comfort or just plain okayness, but I will walk forward in excitement of what He's doing next. I will push forward, throwing my heart at the foot of the cross, knowing I can trust a sacrifice that chose hardship and suffering to love me, rather than the ease of heaven.

Peter-Pan be damned. Life's way better when your not pretending.

Brand New Day

I've been obsessed with this stupid song lately. I say stupid because to some I know, it is not the most sophisticated of music, but it strikes a chord in me.

When the bottom of your world drops out from under you, there comes a moment (or maybe longer), when you think nothing will ever be right again. It's so hard to remember what it feels like to be joyful, happy, hopeful or even just not broken. The pain obscures sight and to even think on a different path, something better or healing feels like a betrayal to the loss.

Eventually, if handled properly, the pain begins to ebb. The sunshine breaks through and because all your heart can handle is a few brief seconds of joy, that joy is just enough to remember life before the pain. For a while, this interchange goes back and forth with the pain still outweighing, then one day you find yourself smiling a broken half-hearted smile, but still, it's there. Then it comes again, and again and again yet again.

For me, as I sat desperately at the foot of the cross, waiting for a drop of salvation to ease my disillusioned soul, I was fortunate enough to receive His comfort. As I did, I found a treasure worth smiling for, and the Presence I felt started to ease and bring a hope that instead of hurting, healed. This time, the promises weren't false, empty or short-lived. They were promises based on an unselfish heart worth trusting, and follow through.

So a few months after another tragedy, the bright rays of the Son, and the broken smiles outweigh the sadness. The pain has parted enough to see a hopeful future that is based not an incomplete dream, but instead, a secure knowledge of Who's I am.

So back to this silly song. The lyrics are as such:

Some kind of magic,

Happens late night.

When the moon smiles down at me

Bathes me in it's light

I fell asleep beneath you,

In the tall blades of grass.

When I woke the world was new,

And I never had to ask.

It's a brand new day,

The sun is shining,

It's a brand new day.

For the first time in such a long, long time,

I know, I'll be okay.

Most kind of stories,

Save the best part for last,

And most stories have a hero finds you make your past, the past.

You make your past the past.

It's a brand new day,

The sun is shining,

It's a brand new day.

For the first time in such a long, long time,

I know I'll be okay.

This cycle never ends,

We gotta fall, in order to mend.

It's a brand new day...

It's brand new day,

For the first time in such a long, long time,

I know, I'll be okay.

Everyone has a different reason why, at the end of a tragedy, they are happy to have come through it. For me, I'm happy, no ecstatic to know that I can trust my God to go through any journey with me and never, ever let me down. The nights were dark and still can be, and I hate the pain I went through. Sometimes I hate the distasteful distrust it left in my mouth as a bitter after-taste, but as I feel the Sonshine, I can't help but feel a gratitude grow just a little. I wouldn't know Him the way I do now, I wouldn't be who I am now, I wouldn't feel what I feel, or trust Him, or desire Him, or be as humbled as I am without it.

I've always wanted to be that woman that can rise above circumstances, that knows a deeper peace, that has a greater faith and trust, but now I know in a much deeper way, those things only come through the darkest hours. I'm not anywhere close to where I want to be, nor do I look forward to the circumstances I know I will need to encounter to get there, but I do know I can face those trials, those tragedies with a greater faith and trust that He will come through. Somehow, He will be with me to bandage, heal and comfort when I think all is lost. I will find myself unfaithful again, distrusting in my pain, but I know, He is always present, even in my infidelity. That brings a sort of peace to face anything knowing I won't be yanked from His hand, when I falter, He will be greater, when I question, He won't flinch.

Before, in the immaturity of life (which I still inhabit most of the time), I feared the feeling of joy, wondering when it would be snatched away again. When tragedy finally befell, it became proof of never being able to trust rather than understanding pain and sorrow as an inevitable part of this world, never determining the heart of God, but always giving a chance to reveal more of His tenderness. For a moment, as the skies break and hope streaks in fresh and new, I begin to realize, happiness, pain, prosperity and despair are transient moments in time, not truth. Truth is His heart, His life, His presence, His promise, His comfort, His love, His hope, His strength, His wisdom.

I will face many more trials, many more pains, many more losses. This doesn't make me cursed, terrible, rejected, or even somehow unblessed. It means I'm human, fragile, and subject to a world of harsh realities and grand beauties. But in every one of them, who I am, my heart, my spirit and my salvation, are tucked away, safe and sound, thriving in the hand of my Creator. I will always be okay.

It's a brand new day, and for the first time, in such a long, long time, I know, I'll be okay. In fact, I'll be better than okay, I'll be blessed.

Happy Birthday Lisa

Tomorrow is my sisters birthday. Well technically, it's in 19 minutes, but who's counting? I was thinking of her today; who and what she is and how she has and does impact my life.

A few weeks ago, my mother and I had taken a ride out to Vacaville to search out some items my sister wanted for Christmas. I found myself walking through muck and mud in 4 inch heals and designer jeans. We laughed as I gingerly and futility tried to not appear as much of a priss as I was. I picked through where to step, feeling my heals sink into the ground, watching as my mother pointed and laughed. My ineptness of the moment cracked us both up and I commented on how I felt like such a city-slicker and my sister was such a country-bumpkin. How did we both come from our mother?

Later I learned my sister did not much appreciate the derogatory term I had used, and much to my dismay, it hurt her feelings. And truth be told, I felt terrible. It was not in any way shape or form what I had meant, but none the less, the wording was terrible and inaccurate. For all my articulation, I fall woefully short on many occasions to use words that really convey what I am feeling.

See, in that moment, I felt my inadequacy and it made me laugh. My sister has this unique ability to move in and out of many extremes with a sort of ease and grace I never seem to be able to muster. She wears cowboy boots as easily as platforms, jeans as easily as a designer dress. Somehow she inhabits the mysterious quality of inhabiting every place, moment and action as though it was made for her. Where I fumble and stumble over a little dirt, she can streak her face with mud and look better than Garbo on her best day.

I remember being in awe of my sister. She was always a little larger than life. Everything seemed to expand when she walked into a room. Men fell over themselves while women were either in love or hate with her, never being able to stay in one long. Grace expressed in movement and ease, presence bigger than reality, everything stood still while she happened by. Never fully aware of the effect she had, she always assumed it was her looks that stopped traffic. Little did she know, it was always so much more. Heartfelt warmth, genuine love and concern for others. Intelligence sparkling in her drawing everyone in to conversation, while her mind and heart never stop working. All of these forces coming together in a ridiculous package that should not be as possible as it is. She fits anywhere, anytime, any place, and owns it. It was quite a shadow to grow up under. Undefinable and needing of no pretense, or silly attempts to chameleon her way into making people like or love her, the basic ingredients of who she is naturally produced a sort of unpracticed sophistication; fierce elegance in a tiny package. It still, to this day, is amazing to watch.

I grew up inherently knowing, but never really being able to appreciate this stunning exemplification of extremes of life, so instead I sought to mimic it in every way possible. I think I am safe to say, my useless fight with a little grime proves my point of her uniqueness and my very ordinary inability to adapt as easily. At times it frustrated me to no end. At other times I used her easy fame as any younger sibling would: to gain notoriety myself. "Oh, yeah I'm Lisa Angella's sister. Yeah, that Lisa Angella." But still, jealousy comes easy in younger siblings and I had my share. As I grew though and watched her live no easy life, a deep sense of respect spawned from a once immature jealousy. Who she is, was hard fought for, and thus, has no cheap after-taste. The gold she is will leave no green stain on a finger.

Never have I seen someone with more dignity under fire. Her pure heart and confidence somehow shielded her from ever really being aware of the sort of power of her presence and life. I almost view her move to the country as an inevitability; no confined space can restrain her long. Wide open places seem to be more fitting. Freedom in raw power as she races a horse down a fence, or walks along the canal that runs along her road. Grander visions of unrestrained beauty. No pretense, just life. A vulnerability that can't be restrained by fences and quarter acre yards. She needs to breathe and the world needs to breathe with her, thus, no congested city road can stand to hold her.

While I spend an hour getting ready for work, she slaps on her boots and walks out to feed her horses. I come home and trade the pumps for uggs taking off the layers, moving from makeup artist to homebody with a necessary determination, becoming an essentially different person; yet she moves from those same boots to slippers to flip-flops to leopard skin pumps, never shading to her surroundings, rather her surrounds shading to her. Where I struggle for my image, hers comes easily and carefree, unabashed and unashamed. Few in life ever attain this sort of easy confidence, but somehow, she was born with it.

I will always fade into the background just slightly when she walks in a room, still feeling that typical reverence to an older sister, but it doesn't chafe the way it used to. The older I have gotten, the more respect for her I gain, the more life the Lord puts under my belt, the more I realize, when something of magnitude and beauty comes my way, taking a back seat is an honor. I'm proud to be her younger sister, to be excited to point the world her direction and say "Isn't she amazing? Isn't she wonderful? Be forever changed by her grace and love and heart!" In a way, I'm still that annoying kid sister that followed her around all the time. And while following her, she has taught me how to wear myself as comfortably as she wears herself. I may not be as good at it as she is, but she has alway lead the way, a fearless elder sister, carving a path for a younger, less attuned youth to follow. I can go there since she has paved the way.

The same strength she possess to bail hay, she extends to her faith. The same desire for beauty that causes her soul to long seeps out of her pores and onto all who come near. Those sort of qualities rarely find their satisfaction in the conformation that is required of sky-scrapers and traffic lights, but rather in a world that she can fight to tame much the same way she tames a horse. Passion restrained, only by need.

I envy her, her place in the world. Her easy maneuverability, grace and confidence. I still struggle to discover my own, but her life gives me hope. Her ability to be undefined or constrained, while still charming the pants off anyone that meets her is a thing of mind-boggling proportions. Thank God she never went into politics... on the other-side.

Happy birthday sister. I can't tell you how proud I am to call you my older sister. You still hold the same majesty to me you did when we were kids. I still want to be your best friend and do all the things you do. I still want your approval and desire your pride. You have forever made me who I am, for better or worse and I hope that makes you proud. No diamond in the rough, you are a polished stone, presented to the world as a true treasure. Never hide yourself, but always know how naturally and easily you carry your true heart on your sleeve. It's a site to behold and am I truly honored I have a front row privileged seat as your sister. I adore you so much. I'd give you my candy-bar any day all over again.

Trust revamped

So much lately I've struggled with what it looks like to trust. Mine has been ironically and completely shattered in so many ways in the last year, how is trust not foolish when it seems make a fool?

Appearances are so deceiving. One minute someone is devoted, loving, caring, present and desirous... the next, running the opposite direction as fast as their feet will carry them. I left myself wide open. Hoodwinked, fooled, tricked and broken. I trusted and I was disappointed. I can't even begin to describe the crushing blow to the heart, mind and self-confidence... and that was just a human.

When it comes to God, the water gets even murkier. He calls to a trust, a faith, a belief that requires something beyond the norm. The desire to throw myself into His arms and let His peace chase away all my fears and anxieties is overpowering and glittering in its possibilities of freedom of soul and spirit, but something holds me back. Glaring scars, reminders of falling so hard on an unforgiving pavement of reality of circumstances holds my heart in check. As if I was waiting for a lover to fail me again, I secretly wait for Him to not come through. My doubt feels heretical and at the same time I am blame myself while being unable to solve it. Stuck between the hard spot and the rock of life and spirit, I wait quietly for my salvation. I believe, help my unbelief.

How do you know something is God? We want to attribute every good thing, allowing it to somehow bolster our already weak and tormented faith, but every disappointment is somehow excused away. I just didn't understand the will of God, right? Simple enough, too simple it would seem. Thomas Merton said "If you find God easily, maybe it isn't God you are finding." Does He need me to make excuses for Him? If He does, what's the point?

So I stand confused and wondering, where is the faith of the child I should posses, as well as the wisdom of a serpent and why should I be asking? What does it mean to trust You, yet again, I ask.

I finally met someone who thinks as deeply as me, only they are an avid agnostic. Life is more about biological development. God may or may not be real. We are all a cosmic sort of chaos and purposelessness. It's so hard for me to talk to them. Everyday I face these questions, but also face the deep, heart wrenching hunger that keeps me bent and on my knees. If none of this is real, more of a fool than ever am I, but I throw my lots in and stake my claim on the belief that what is written, what I have to know, what I have to believe is real. My alternative, where my existence is so small and so insignificant, that every bad thing that happens is purely a moment of chaos, its more faith than I can muster to go there.

My heart is set on a God that loves me. My head is wrapped in the knowledge of a more perfect being and my hope is centered on a relationship between myself and an infinite being. Circumstantially, my heart settles as I realize there are some things I will never explain, know or understand and because of that I am happy.

Still, the murky waters exist as I struggle with this faith and its expression. It's hard to know that something can be so fulfilling and so requiring at the same time. I'm satisfied. Broken, but satisfied. I'm hurting, but breathing and smiling. Happy, but melancholy. I will never make excuses, pacifications or justifications for who or what I am. I'm happy to be me. As awful and wonderful as I am. In that though, I realize, I take a risk. I refuse to settle and because of it, it may be a lonely road.

A little more jaded, a little more cautious and a little more cynical, I realize with my most recent loss, the standards are higher and higher. I won't be fooled again. Once shame on me, twice shame on everyone else in the world. And to be honest, if anything, it's my faith that raises that bar.

I can't settle for just any job, any boyfriend, any friend, any place in this life. It's all wrapped in and around my faith and somehow that makes life a little less easy to just choke down. I can't just go with the flow and hope everything turns out. I want the best of the best. A career that is about this God I love; a love that is about this God I know. I trusted everything to just turn out once and I have that scar to remember, now I'm stuck knowing all I can do is trust an invisible source and pray His promises are more true than they have seemed.

There's a song I listen to all the time. One of the lines says "I'm hanging on another day, just to see what You throw my way." I know the feeling. My trust is remaining in my weakened state of faith a fresh face in a crowd of the guilty. I make no excuses. I make no justifications. I believe because I believe, but my selfishness tells me to demand the fulfillment of the promises He makes easily and frequently.

I am a created being, but in that state, I know my dependency. Lord, have mercy on Your clay. I am only what I am created into. I only have the faith You give me to have, the hope You in part and the belief You extend. Where else am I to go? Have mercy, great mercy on me Hosanna.

Happy Birthday Lord

I'm sitting, staring out the window into a rainy Christmas Day. Every thing's a little different than I thought it would be. People have come and gone throughout this year, places and faces have changed. Tragedy and triumph have intermingled, bringing a sense of expectancy that seems to be more permanent than anything.

There are holes that still exist. Holes that haven't been filled, reasons yet to be explained. Love and pain swirl and whirl, coming into some sort of sick and twisted alignment. Both make sense, both exist and both remain and in that acceptance, my soul heaves a giant sigh. As if I've been waiting to exhale. The questions of whether or not the Great God I know can be enough, can show up in miraculous ways, if He is everything He promises to be and more, if He's reliable, trustworthy, good, true and right have begun to settle, become answered, giving the peace I always secretly hoped they would. The most important of which, can and will He heal, begin to be fulfilled and I watch myself come back to life slowly, methodically, gently and with a bit of beautiful melancholy.

Most of the time I am starkly aware of a Presence I have never known before. My greatest Source of healing has come from the greatest source of comfort I have ever known. As I was ripped, torn and broken, there was a heavenly compassion that rushed in, a bandage of gracious presence that enfolded and wrapped it's arms around me holding me together enough to continue living.

Another in the series of tragedies that my life has known, ripping away at bone, marrow and spirit, but this one somehow different. This one somehow purposed and therefore worse and more personal. I'm surprisingly not mad or angry though. It's as though He knew, He was prepared, knowing as He would render, the bandaging would have to be swift, powerful and complete.

I had no idea it was there, for a while I couldn't see, feel or know anything besides searing death and overwhelming pain, but as I dug in, as I breathed into it, as I let it have it's way, as I succumb to the death, raising fists to heaven, hell and the mirror, I waited. I waited for salvation, for some form of life to come from so much death for reasons, for explanations for a hope that wasn't transient and dependent on my own feeble attempts to create it. I needed substance. I needed resurrection power to come in and have it's way. I needed meaning, purpose, reality in this life of faith I live to come and be just what I needed it to be: real.

And it was.

Every moment I thought I was at the end of my rope, a felt a tender squeeze from an already present Lord. A word of encouragement from a friend. A verse I had never read quite that way before. A song that spoke so deeply to my broken heart it seemed to have been written by my hand rather than another. An inexplicable moment of great love and comfort from a place I can only describe as the Lover of My Soul. These small moments of Great Rescue, of unhindered presence and love have won me over. They have found their way into the deep, jaded, hurting, fearful, doubtful, angry, wounded, places and poured oil over them, gently speaking in a healing awareness that has stolen my heart and settled my spirit.

Even now, as I penned these great mysteries, in a sudden moment a burst of light cut through as the rain immediately stopped and a sunset that would bring a tear to Van Gogh's eye opened up. My dark room lit up like noon so instantly I had to get up and look out the window. I was stunned and romanced by this sky of fire and ice. I could fairly see His beauty being expressed onto the open atmosphere. My heart was dazzled and softened as I heard Him whisper He will create for me as He created this sunset. An overwhelming sense of worth and value broke into my bedraggled spirit as His desire to love me, to be near me, bless me and just talk with me enveloped me.

My fear, doubt, anger, hurt, depression, anxiety and infidelity create no sense of caution in Him. There are no reprisals for my forgetfulness of His amazing love and presence. There is no retribution for my failings, only the truth, reality and greatness of His love that covers my multitude of wounds, failings, fears, joys, loves, mixed motives, controlling tendencies and angry tantrums.

I have no right to be honored, to be loved by a God so great and grand, but I was created for relationship with Him and in that, I partake with a hunger and desperation I consider heavenly. I was created to be desperate and desperate I am while also knowing the satiation He brings. I am at once fulfilled and stirred, cursed to be in love with a God that I cannot see only in the everyday beauties and in the healed scars along the walls of my heart. He brings a smile to my face and a hope for my future. Grace must wound, once again.

I have received many messages in my life. I have been stolen from in the deepest ways imaginable, the ugliest scenarios and in the most cruel ways. But there has never been a more real message than the love, presence, experience, hope, reality and healing of Jesus. That is the most important, real, message in the world. My value is built in and from and around Him. No one can take that from me. Whether or not I am perfect and succeed or fail in the eyes of those around me, I can turn, look into His face, and ask "Who do you say I am? Tell me, are these things true?" He comes back and shows me a sunset and promises to create with me. He ignores the question knowing the most powerful answer is to leave them unacknowledged. Why answer a lie in the form of a question. Instead, He partakes in me, telling me if He values me, what else matters? Nothing. Nothing at all. If God is for me, who can be against me. I am loved and taken care of, pursued and passionately cared for. I am His pride and joy. That is enough. Enough for life, love, joy and peace. I am overjoyed and taken care of. Happy Birthday Lord. Happy Birthday and thank you for Your gift to me of You.

A Double Portion

I've watched another dream disappear, another desire be unsatisfied; an another almost hope, deferred and crushed. With violence and force, what I thought was a beautiful blessing, became another weapon, ripping at an already fragile heart. I cry out, "I thought this was my proof of Your love. I thought this was Your goodness for me, how did I lose it? Was it me, the world, or You that crushed my bones and broke my heart? How long with I receive a lesser portion?"

Back to start, square one, more broken, scorned, forgotten than ever. An orphan with their nose pressed against the window, breath fogging up the glass against the bitter cold. Someone looks out from the revelry happening inside. Their eyes meet mine, hope surges as they smile, then slowly shut the drapes. My head and heart fall, dejected yet again. I pray I may one day understand why I wasn't invited in. What's my great flaw, my great deformity?

As I turn to go, the door opens and I watch You, the Guest of Honor walk out. You don't invite me in, but join me in my walk home with me.

My lesser portion still hurts. My stolen heart still aches, but it's less lonely. I muse, how long will I stay here? How long will I be rejected, scorned, unlucky? When will my curse lift, my karma change, my talisman work?

You offer no easy answer, no promises that satisfy. The usuals aren't working, platitudes only bringing ironic pain as I believe them less and less. There is no word that will cure, no hope that will heal right now. There is no magic pill. Rejection and loss have a nasty way of seeming permanent and consuming. Some messages are just that powerful. Fighting them is futile.

So You don't. In Your infinite wisdom You know enough violence and rendering has occurred. Don't convince me, don't plead, argue, yell or patronize. Just walk me home. Just hold my hand as the tears silently stream. Just leave the party to sit as I belaboredly breath through another death, another loss, another wound.

You ask no hope, no faith, no great joy or display of wisdom from me. Somehow You would rather be with my depression than a hundred drunken fools. It's not the healthy that need a doctor.

You and I both know only time will show me who the victor really will be. You seem sure its You, I fear hoping for a happy ending. Seems more safe to settle for surety of disappointment. The current circumstance would appear to be p keeps my heart bleeding for more, back up Your version of truth.

You know I'm stuck between the power of the two messages. A reality of loss but a reality of blessing. In my lack of faith I ask You not to get my hopes up. Don't promise what You can't or won't deliver. My doubt doesn't seem to bother You. Well it bothers me. It doesn't fade You, but scares the hell out of me. I want a hope, a faith, a peace, but I can't seem to muster them. I'll just stay stuck if You don't mind.

As we sit outside in the misty, wet, cold night, we can both still hear the party raging inside. I look at You, tears in my eyes, angry confused, and lost. You pull me against You. I bury my head in Your neck as I cry harder, feeling every bitter emotion. Memories flash, waves of loss crushing, rolling, building momentum. I sob harder and harder, feeling my stomach roll with the pain, the rejection, the loss, the betrayal, all seeping from my pores, pain being pulled from my very bones and marrow. I find myself mumbling "No, no, no...." hoping if I deny it enough, the loss won't be real. I feel myself fight against a reality I can't control, don't understand and and feels so undeserved, unfair. I pound Your chest and rock, hating every second of my cursed existence, wondering what's the point of ever hoping for more.

"Don't ask me to have faith!" I yell. "Don't ask me to believe You want to bless! How can I?!"

As I begin to calm down, the emotions exhausting themselves and me, I still feel my stomach churn with hurt, stress and fear. After a few moments of letting me calm, I hear You take a breath, about to speak. I cringe instinctively.

I find myself surprised by Your words, neither comforting, nor painful. Truth is funny that way.

"Your not the first to come here. You're in good company. You have more faith than you know, right now is the proof. Hope will come, joy will come, understanding will come. Your bleeding, open, my enemy looks victorious. But we never stay in the grave, we don't know how. I'm proud of you."

I pause. You wait.

"This is what You meant when You said 'portion' isn't it? It's not the party, the celebration, the happiness. When You said 'portion' You meant right now, when I am ravaged by life and You choose to leave the festivities to join me, a disillusioned soul."

You look back at me, silent as that truth sinks in. You know there are still questions.

"Will it always be this way? Will we always be in survival mode?"

Without any condemnation, but infinite compassion, You simply ask back, "Would it matter right now?"

Immediately I know, no, it wouldn't. Not right now. However blessed I am tomorrow, today hurts. However good or bad yesterday was, this moments brings all the fear, the pain, the past into focus. You will be sovereign either way. But pain or joy, my portion will not change. My peace is decided, my heart solicited, even in its blind, hurting, ungracious state.

I may be rejected, cursed, scorned or unblessed, by my standards or the worlds standards, but my portion is mine. Nothing can take away the decision of the Guest of Honor to honor me. In my anger, hurt, depression, fear, doubt and hopelessness, He has come to comfort and mourn with me. He consoles and counsels me and simply waits for my heart to come home. My vision askew, my mind confused, my eyes blinded by tears, I am chosen and honored. His goal is eternal, my heart and soul for His. That's my unfailing portion.

The amazing grace and rescue is His choice and purpose to build my faith. As the walls of Jerusalem were built slowly, over time with setbacks and hardships, His patience, confidence and persistence build my walls. My lack of faith is no surprise, in fact it's the reason and purpose. Grace must wound and as I am wounded, I feel His grace through the pain. His intention and love are expressed as part of the purpose, building a deeper faith and understanding, a greater intimacy and a more real experience of my portion.

As I come full circle, still feeling deep, deep pain, I realize the walls are being built, my table is set my portion served and it is double. I am the miracle, the work of His hand, the party, and He is my faith, my hope, my heart and my reason when I have none. He wounds to bandage, tears to heal and crushes to build. He went to the party as the Guest of Honor to find me, knowing I would be rejected. He went to leave, to walk me home. No one else may know, but I do and once again, that is a double portion. This is what it looks like to roar, to be concerned and careful with my heart and to come capture it. This is what looks like to trust, to believe, to open and build intimacy. This is what it looks like to heal.

"And behold, a woman who had been suffering from a hemorrhage for twelve years, came up from behind Him and touched the fringe of His cloak; for she was saying to herself, 'If only I touch His garment, I shall get well (or be saved).'

But Jesus, turning and seeing her said, 'Daughter, take courage; Your faith has made you well.' And at once the woman was made well." - Matt 9:20-23

Sour Note

It seems everyday is one step forward, then two back. I'm hoping it only feels that way. I'm praying the truth is much different. I guess only time will tell.

As I continue to come down from the high of pain, the view is not what I expected. The landscape is much bleaker, much more devastating and scary. Terrible, I know.

When I last went to therapy, I asked her if I would be like this forever. Broken, jaded, hurt, angry and cynical. Would I ever return to the joyful, fearless version of myself? Or would I remain damaged, never knowing the freedom of complete and total redemption? Would I always be waiting on the platform, watching everyone else's train come through? She said there was never a way to know, but that I had choices along the way as well. It didn't help at all.

The thing I fear most is not being alone, I'm not lonely, ironically, I feel closer to my friends and family and the Lord, than I ever have. It's not being without him, I gotten this far, I'll live another day, and yet another and yet another. It's not worrying that I will never heal, I believe time and prayer will continue to soften the blow, someday bringing me back to smiling again. No, it's none of those. The biggest, most looming, worst fear I could ever know, is never loving anyone the way I loved him.

I walked into my house today, saw the Christmas tree my mom bought and broke down. Tears started streaming and I could barely get up the stairs. We used to spend Christmas together. I loved it. I always came home to him. We used to sit on my bed and talk for hours. I would run into his arms and he would pick me up and hold me so tight. We were inseparable. There was more passion, kismet, attraction, love, connection, chemistry and beauty between us than I still have yet to witness in any other couple. It just never had a chance to grow through honesty, work and hardship.

What I fear now is never feeling that again. I have yet to meet a man I could even imagine loving that much. No one has ever held my attention, my passion, my focus, no one have I ever admired, felt adored and so connected with. I hate to think it was all in my imagination, all false and full of ignorance and doubt, but according to him, that's the case. Apparently he was never really that sure, never really loved me that way and it was more real for me than for him. The trouble is, even if he is right and it was all just in my head, well I still have the long term effects of loving someone as deeply as I did him. He may be walking away comfortable, safe in the knowledge that we were never right for each other and we weren't meant to be, but I'm not. This was it for me, I was sold, and I used to think he was too. I guess I was fooled. I guess my heart was hoodwinked and I was completely unaware of the treachery at hand.

But now I am left with the wreckage, the remnants of the most beautiful love I have ever seen and I fear nothing will ever look the same again. It's almost like going to Trump palace and then having to move into a shanty. How do I ever make this home? Will I have to settle for a muted version of what I had? Or will I never be able to, thus doomed to a life as a cat lady, hoping for an illusive image of some love lost? Both seem probable, neither appetizing.

Everyone tells me to have faith, to believe that's not God's heart for me. I want so badly to believe them, but when you have been dealt the blows I have, when you have continuously watched good things die, eventually you stop hoping and cynicism seems more practical and less disappointing.

I guess this is where letting others have faith for me comes in. I'm not going to lie, I don't know what to believe. There's always an excuse, a reason why things don't work out, but eventually excuses and reasons mean so little as the pattern becomes the more prominent message.

I don't hold it against God. I've been down that road, He brought me back. I also know, however, He will not control people. So somehow, throws puts me back into the great open sea of subjectivity. He will not control people and their decisions, thus, people are able to hurt, kill and destroy. As this is true, the question becomes how can He ever bless me through a sort of love? So the love of my life decided he didn't love me anymore, God won't stop that. Does that mean there is a chance I will never meet someone that could possibly love me forever? I mean, He won't control people, so how can I trust that He will "bring" me someone? Is it a random sequence of events and coincidences? Or are the strategically done? And if they are strategically done, how is that any different than controlling someone? Is there a difference between determining an outcome, as in the case of Him wanting to prove Himself through the Ten Commandments, and stopping someone from making a stupid decision like letting an incredible love slip away? How are they different and what makes one more accessible to Him than the other?

Don't get me wrong, I would never have wanted him to stay with me if God was the only thing keeping him there. I would want it to be a choice. So maybe that's my answer. It's all about choices. That begs the question though: Why put me through it if He knew what would happen? I guess that's an easy one though. The trite, yet accurate answer of drawing me closer to Him comes to mind. It feels trifling though, somehow unfair.

At the end of it all, I'm going to be sincerely pissed if He let me love this much and lose this much only to never know love as good again. There could have been a million ways God could have revealed Himself to me, but it would be particularly cruel for him to use the method of great love lost to never redeem it. Maybe I could be happier without it, maybe that's supposed to be the miracle. Maybe I will be happier in life alone, serving Him without someone else. I guess that could be true. All I know is, I can never go back, never settle, never not know what it's like to have loved this much and that sucks.

Experience would tell me that end result is most likely. Nothing good ever lasts. How hopeless is that? How depressing? Well, trying being in my head. I can't even begin to describe how true it feels... and that scares me. It scares the hell out of me.

In John 10, Jesus says "I do not do the works of My Father, do not believe Me; but if I do them, though you do not believe Me, believe the works, that you may know and understand that the Father is in Me and I in the Father."

At some point I'm going to have to see a miracle... and a big one at that. And even more so, a permanent one. I'm going to need to see in expression the way He says He loves me. I'm going to need to see I'm not damaged goods, destined to a life of second rate living. Someday, He's going to have to raise part of me from the dead and it's going to have to stick. It's not a challenge, a test or even a threat. It's just simply one of those places where if He wants me to believe something different, He will have to show me different. I'm only as good as the messages I receive.

I hate ending on such a sour note, but then again, what else to I have to end on, as of right now?

Happy Birthday to Me

Well, the day I was dreading the most has come and gone. It's over. Another hurdle passed, another moment I feared completed. Funny, it's true what they say, "What doesn't kill you makes you stronger." I hate that saying. I hate that it's true.

I was talking with my mom and sister about what it means to be strong tonight. We were talking about how I have been walking through these last few months and what they meant to me. My sister said one of the most amazing things to me I have heard in a long time. She said, "No matter what, I have watched you walk into a more settled sense of yourself than I have ever seen before. You have embraced the pain, the heartache, the hurt and the rejection and it has made you more real, more authentic, more you, than you have ever been."

I cried. It was such a compliment, I couldn't handle it.

See, the truth is, I can't begin to describe the deep feelings of rejection I have been subjected to in these last few months, the pain, the loss, the deep grief. But to be honest, as I have walked into them, allowed them to be true, faced them, brought them in, not blamed others, but been honest with myself, allowed them to be real, powerful, to let them change me, correct me, speak to me, open my eyes and then take them to my Father and ask Him His opinion, I have settled. I've stopped running from who I am, who others are, what I want, what I love, what I can handle, what I can't handle, what I do want, what I don't want... all of it. It has spoken a level of truth to me I didn't know was true.

I am a messed up, scarred, deformed, beaten, angry, ugly, bitter, frustrated, judgmental, confused, doubtful, ignorant, blind, beautiful, hopeful, frightened, loving, loyal, real, blessed, miraculously saved, wife of the most Holy God of all Gods. I am unworthy and deserved at the same time. I am the discrepancy, the terribly wonderful image of a Lord that sought me and decided a life without me was no life at all, so He gave His life in desire to have me for eternity. It chased me when I ran. It's the most beautiful, graceful, loving romance I have ever known, and it's all mine.

When I am rejected, hurting, cast aside and betrayed, that message, that truth from sources on this earth, they aren't the last word. The last laugh is had by a truth far beyond my understanding. When I feel lost, out of place, too old, too fat, too intense, too emotional, too anything, He comes along and says, "You are my miracle. Your heart is a miracle to me. I'm too proud for words."

I hear it as I walk to escalators to work, as I set up stock, as I smile at my coworkers hoping they will know a better love, a better hope, a better message than they have been given. I hear Him say it as I miss the love of my life, as I walk away from someone that decided to not love me, I hear it as I put one foot in front of the other, fearing I will never know love again. I listen to His same voice as I get in my car, put on my ear phones and listen to the Song of all Songs as I worship on my way to and from work. I hear it as I hurt over lost friends, loved ones and time. I hold tight to it as I watch another year go by feeling older, more beat up and less ready for the rest of my life. I intently focus on it as I watch a young dad and his child holding hands down the street, feeling my heart constrict with desire, longing and missing. I hear Him call me His miracle as I choose to believe that my life has the value He has determined, knowing if I never know the desires of my heart, His have been met, I have done His will, I have loved Him, kept Him, trusted Him, hoped in Him, even when the light had been burned out, my path was dark and my life was gone. I chose to believe Him and that, that is enough.

Maybe my sister is right, maybe I am more real than I have ever been, but that would only be for one reason: my reason for living is ever more real in me.

As this year passes, I grieve so deeply. It hurts so much. My self-esteem, my heart took hits right and left I wouldn't wish on my worst enemy, but still, I will worship. This last year has taught me that. From heights to depths, from hopes to crushes, from great joy to great loss, from the mountain to devastation I have seen in a short amount of time. Still though, I will worship.

I am not real. I am a figment of His imagination, here for a short moment, but my love my love will go on for eternity. My choices remain permanent when time passes like a mist. I am so old, yet so young and only in a breath will I know eternity with Him. Why waste another moment worrying? He is mine and I am His. That's enough for now.

Happy birthday to me if only to celebrate Him in my life. He will redeem, He will raise, He will bless, He will bring amazingness (if that's a word). My enemies will one day regret, my heart will one day be vindicated, my choices realized. Maybe not in this life, but in another. I will rejoice knowing that He purposed me, my life and my hopes in Him.

Into You I commit my spirit. I am Yours Father. I trust You. I worship You. You are good, You are true and You are mine. I worship You for You brought me to being. I may not want another year like this, but I know You will not give me a stone. I'm in awe of Your heart. I trust You Father. I trust You.... I trust You.... I trust You... thank You.

Water and Vinegar

For the last two months I have mourned deeply and fully. I have cried, paced, bargained, yelled, cried some more, thrown things, picked up the pieces, cried some more, written, read and watched a ton of TV. I avoided starting life, started life, then cried some more.

Slowly though, I've started to laugh again. Every once in a while it will sneak up on me. I'll make a joke, someone else will, or something funny will just happen and I will find myself breaking out in a genuine smile of enjoyment. The wound has been bandaged and the blood is starting flow again.

I've watched my world fall apart in the last few months. Love, friendship, career, all up in a puff of smoke, in what seemed like mere moments. Accepting that much loss is hard. Accepting that much pain is hard, but none of it has been without it's rewards.

When you first go through a devastation, people want to give you the platitudes that only help after the fact. There's a sort of crest and build to pain before the other side starts to become visible. When the break first happens, there is a sort of crescendoing of hurt. The denial has a way of keeping it at bay, but as that starts to break down, when the damn starts to leak and the pressure/reality starts to set in, the flooding of grief crushes. It overwhelms and absolutely kills, especially when a life and dream was attached to it. That's when people, as wonderful as they are, try so hard to help, but fall so short. All of the "You will be better for this" or the "You will learn so much about yourself" or even worse, "It was a blessing in disguise, he doesn't deserve you" sayings make you want to throttle anyone and everyone in sight. There is almost a visceral sort of reaction where you just want to tell that person that they are completely stupid and to help raise the average standard of intelligence in America, they should probably refrain from speaking ever again.

Thank God that fades. It takes a while, but it fades. As the apex of the pain starts to diminish, a clearer picture of what really happened gradually starts to take shape, and forgiveness settles in. It still hurts, so much so, but ever stupid thing anyone ever said starts to maybe make just a little bit of sense and those words usher in a lifesaving measure of peace. There are still no excuses, no good reasons, no real feelings of thankfulness, but faith becomes necessity, then life and somewhere in that transition, as trust builds between the faith Giver and the receiver, that peace moves into a love that builds on itself. The good desires of God's heart becomes the real reason for living and things start to fall into perspective.

I screwed up. We've established that, but no one person is responsible for anything. I may have screwed up in execution, but my heart was always the same: intimacy and growth. That wasn't met, for whatever reason. It hurts like hell, but I would rather be alone, than settle. I can't live life that way. It certainly opens up the possibility of never meeting anyone that can meet me there, but in the end, the Lord is enough. I would rather be alone and satisfied in the Lord than trying to make someone want to be with me that doesn't, or make myself want to be with someone that I'm not happy with. And to be honest, it's a lot easier to be single. No distractions, devastations, no ups and downs all of the time... and I'm okay with that.

The hard part is knowing I am making a conscious decision to walk away from pursuit of anything that isn't a direct path of God. As the grief starts to come to a close, the choices begin. As I have grown and changed from the experience, the options have as well. How am I really going to live this life, what am I really going to trust and who really am I going to put my trust in? All those stupid quips from people come back to haunt in a deep and real way. They were right, you do learn a lot about yourself from these torments... and yes, I will live.

Now though, I am left to try and piece together how to live in a kingdom I have really never known. As one has left my heart, Another has come in to rescue it, to revive and take claim. My allegiance to self, to the world and anything else has shifted, but with it, my whole world view. I find myself unsure of how to execute a life I am just now beginning to understand. If there is no real hope outside of a life with Jesus, which I firmly believe, than allowing Him to become bigger than anything else is the goal. I guess I couldn't be in a better place and time to start that.

Other than the family and friends I treasure, I have a blank pallet of a life and figuring out where to start is more intimidating than I thought it would be, especially alone. That's okay though. For once, I am starting at ground zero, nothing to lose, nothing to let hold me back and I can watch Him rebuild my life in His time, His way, in His kingdom. My new found servitude has brought a certain amount of peace I had yet to know until now. My varied and interesting background lends itself to finding the answer when I don't have one directly in front of me, but this time I am choosing to do something I have never done, not search.

I have a simple job, with simple requirements, simple needs, simple desires and simple hopes. Nothing complicated, overpowering or imposing. No dreams of grandeur, no day dreams of romance novel endings, no power-mongering tendencies to quash. Very simply, I have no desire other than to know, have, feel, experience, receive, give, pour out, learn, teach and express the Love of God. For my every breath to not feel belabored and full of anxiety, I repeat Scripture, remember His presence, feel His touch and breath deeply in the fullness of His hope and resurrecting powers. Down and dirty; I'm desperate and that's enough. Truthfully it's enough if only because He shows up and I want for nothing. I asked for love, rescue and Him and He came through. That's a dream come true.

So as I let my feet recover on my day off, I still back, read some, journal a lot and ask one simple question: what now? As I come down from my brutal last few months, I open up, let myself feel the hurt mingle with Your love. Water and vinegar, right? My great Savior, my great Lover.

Where to? What can I do for You? How would you like me to execute this life You have given me? If my life is a gift, I give it back, asking for just the fullness of knowing You are living it with me. My schedules been cleared, it seems my date book is empty from now until... forever. Got any ideas? I'm sure You do. Let me know when You want to drop one on me. I'll be worshipping until then. If I know nothing but You and Your love for the rest my life, if I spend the rest of my days worshipping with no greater ending, purpose, or hope, if I give my heart to You and all I ever really know is Your presence in return, that would be more than a gift, it would be perfection... and for once, not only do I think it, but I know it.

Game Player

My ex text me last night. It was nothing big, it was actually a really nice thought. Just a note telling me he was praying for me. A sort of "Hey, you were on my mind sort of thing... hope things are going well." I know he meant well, I know he was trying to be nice, but to me it was a knife to the gut. A quick and swift one-two punch when I was already down for the count.

I'm woman enough to admit to the myriad of emotional responses I had. At first I didn't want to respond. I wanted to ignore him the way he had me before, or say something mean and snide back. I wanted to shout and rail and ask him why he would contact me if he was the one walking away from me. Why torture me for his own pleasure? Why rub my nose in the loss, making it worse and worse, hoping for a second he would feel better, less guilty, less mean for walking away so cleanly after 2 1/2 years. Then as time wore on, the anger subsided and I wanted to text him back how much I missed him. I wanted to tell him how much I loved him, how I wanted nothing more than to make things work and to love him for the rest of my life. I wanted to cry and plead and beg. He wasn't a jerk and he knew it and I knew. I couldn't be mad. So, I did nothing.

I went to worship, I cried, I read Psalm 102, 119 and most anything else I could get my hands on. I wrote in my journal, then I set it aside and told God how good He was. I let go of everything again. I let myself know that God is sovereign, His hope is good and my trust was complete. I worshipped not caring what would happen, but instead just letting God be God.

Then I went home and did the only thing I knew to do. I wrote back thank you, that I was doing well and I was praying for him too. I decided to play no games. I decided to take no control, I decided to try to change nothing.

For me, anything besides perfect authenticity has become nothing short of a complete lie. I could fight for power, fight for my "rights" fight for closure, I could try and make him feel pain, feel guilt or even try and make him miss me. I could try and phrase every word, every phrase, every syllable, every placement of an exclamation point, wondering what they all mean, how he will interpret them, or what I should think or do.... but what would it change? What would it really do?

Playing games in life means there are other players. The worst part of grief is admitting the other person has exited the relationship. I could try and convince myself, others and even him he is still somehow tied to me, but it would change nothing, all it would do is keep me in a place where I can't move forward. It may be the most painful thing I can ever do, but admitting there is nothing I can do, setting it down and walking away is the most honest, real thing I can accomplish.

In that place, realizing there is no point to self-protection becomes clear. What harm is there is admitting how much I still love him, how much I still want to be with him when I know it will change nothing? Whether or not I admit to where I am at makes no difference in what is going to happen. What I do or do not say is not going to change his mind, change the future, or make this situation any better, but walking around pretending things don't hurt, don't rip me in two, don't make me want to crawl into a ball and cry isn't going to help either. Why play games when there is no game to play?

The Lord has never held back from me. He has never pushed and pulled, admitting to loving, then trying to protect Himself, wanting to be with me, then pulling back, hoping somehow it will change my mind. He is consistent, kind, honest and passionate for me. I may as well learn to exemplify that in my own life. If I love, I love, if I hurt, I hurt, if I cry I cry, if I'm depressed, I'm depressed. What's the difference? Trying to convince myself, others, or God of something else isn't going to make it any different.

I'm always tempted to try to contact my ex and tell him how much I still love him, how much I want to be with him, how it feels like there could be no one else, but I won't. Not because I'm trying to preserve some sort of pride, or some level of control, but for a completely different reason. I don't because he has said he wants to move on with his life, that he doesn't want to be with me, and I have to respect that. I don't contact him because it's best for me and for him. The best way I can love him is by choosing to walk away from him everyday, its by choosing to let him go by letting myself let go. It's by praying for the man that will be my husband, since he has chosen to not be. It's by not playing games, not keeping myself going back for more, it's by honoring mine and his heart by letting the Lord come in and fill the holes I feel so deeply. It's by believing that my trust in the Father is going to be honored, one way or another. It's by taking away the pressure on my ex and me and the Lord by saying I believe God is so good He can give me another that I will love just as much, that will love me just as much.

I will never lie, my ex is the one I want, he's the one I love. I can't imagine life with anyone else, but the fact that he can, the fact that he wants that, I have to believe the Lord is so good he won't let me stay here. I don't know how long it will take and maybe it will last until God brings me the man who will choose to be my husband, sealing that last bit of loss. Maybe it will be tomorrow miraculously, as overnight the grief disappears. Maybe it will be in a few months when the spring comes to wipe away the death of winter. I know it will get better and I will stop hurting as badly as I do now, and eventually I will see the light of a different day, the hope of another moment and maybe I will start to see the shadow of a different future, but until then, I won't play the game of not admitting to where I am at this moment because that's a game I can't play.

I won't try to control myself, other people, or the situation enough by being anything but kind in return for kindness, there's no point. There could be a million and a half reasons for why he text me when and what he did, but none of them matter. In the end, he was trying to be nice and though he fell short, his motives were the same. I would love to villainize him, believe I "ducked a bullet" as some say, or that he "doesn't deserve any response" as others would say. It would be easy and maybe make me feel better for a split second, but then as the reality sinks back in that everyday he wakes up and decides to not love me that day and I still wish, with every part of me that he did, the pain isn't going to go away. Telling myself he is a jerk and I'm not losing much isn't going to make me miss him less anymore, besides, I know, deep down, it's not true. He is trying to be a nice guy, and that's why I fell in love with him in the first place and that's what hurts so badly now. He's just trying to be nice and all it does is remind me again of how much I love him and how much I miss him and it hurts like hell. Playing a game to make myself feel better isn't going to help. It's not going to take away the memories, the dreams I have at night of him, the things I wish I'd done different, the hurt of feeling like half of me is gone.

Instead I stop playing the game, I sit in my room and I cry. I try to distract myself by imagining myself blond, I watch shows I know make me laugh and I read the Scriptures that bring comfort to my heart. I pray for healing, I go to work, I get through today hoping that when enough days are strung together and enough time has gone by, he will be less in my present and more in my past, more apart of a finished chapter rather than one I am still filling the pages of. I may hate it, I may wish it were different, I may want it to not be this way, but that's not going to change it and nothing I can do, say, or not do or not say is going to bring a different result. I let go and let God be God, worshipping Him when I just don't understand, when my soul hurts in ways I didn't know were possible, when I hate reality and need to know there is a God so big, so good, so great and so loving I can let go completely and trust, waiting for Him to bring about the spring. He hears me and plays no games with my heart. He is in control and I trust Him through my tears.

I cling to the promises of my Father and I put my head down, putting one foot in front of the other, not allowing myself to get sidetracked by hopeless daydreams and visions of grandeur. He will rebuild me, He will bring me what He wants, He will bless me, He already has, but playing games isn't going to bring it about any faster. I'm described as a servant, a child, a bride, a sister and a friend, but never, ever a player.

False Salvations

Yesterday I helped lead worship at church. I haven't done it in months. The night before I had another moment of hardship, but was lucky enough to have a friend talk me through with patience and kindness. He told me the faith I was showing in asking the questions I was asking was proof enough of my heart for the Lord and to relax. The next morning I got up, threw on a sweatshirt, my crappy jeans, threw my hair in a ponytail, refused to do my makeup and got to church. I spent the first two songs sitting on a stool, hunched over "worshipping." After a few songs a verse from Job entered my mind; "Though He slay me, I will hope in Him." I'm not going to lie, I felt afflicted, slayed and destroyed for no reason by the Lord. I was mad, hurt and frustrated, but something broke right then. I thought what if I decided to really believe He was good even now? What if I really threw myself at Him and worshipped even though I feel so broken?

So I did... and something beautiful happened. For the first time in my life, I worshipped recklessly. I stopped caring what was happening and I just worshipped. I stopped caring what was happening in my life, what people thought, what I wanted, what I thought I deserved, what mattered most, how I was wronged, why God was wrong and I was right and I just worshipped. I called Him good, I called Him great, I called Him mine... and I cried. I got off the stool, raised my hands and let the tears stream as I let myself love Him even when He was afflicting me. I let myself trust Him even when it felt He was untrustworthy and I let go of everything but just believing for a moment that whatever He was doing was right and good.

It was probably the best worship we have had at church in months. We decided to go longer than usual and just kept repeating over and over how good He was.

There are many things to find salvation in. So often I find mine in people or things. Whether its a friendship or a pint of Haagaen-Dazs peanut butter chocolate, for that moment, I am saved. There is something comforting my soul, making the day a little shorter and the night a little less cruel. Reality suspends and endorphins run freely bringing a momentary sense of goodwill. Then, when the crash eventually comes again, that temporary high has left me just that, high and dry.

For those of you that think this is something done only in the darkest hours, try again. Every thing that we do selfishly, whether its a shopping, watching TV, a sport or reading, when it becomes the escape, the momentary relief, it becomes a cheap substitute for salvation.

What is really interesting is when that momentary relief stops becoming enough. True affliction comes when there is no escape anymore. When nothing satisfies the bleeding and there is no end to the ache in sight. When finally, we are so broken that there is nothing that can staunch the flow. No amount of TV, reading, shopping, exercise or calorie counting eases the burdens of futility.

In Psalms, David describes this feeling when he says "My heart is blighted and withered like grass; I forget to eat my food. Because of my loud groaning I am reduced to skin and bones... For I eat ashes as my food and mingle my drink with tears because of your great wrath, for you have taken me up and thrown me aside." (Psalm 102:6&5, 9&10)

When this moment strikes, when there is nothing left to rescue, when the false salvations no longer work, when everything we reach for to bring a split second of relief falters and we are left groaning through clenched teeth, watching the life we were once given quickly turning to dust and ashes, we find the bottom of ourselves. The padded room becomes a very real possibility and every last hope is cast onto the only thing that can save, the only thing that holds any real hope of being more permanent than the pint of ice cream lying empty and unfulfilling next to me.

"In the course of my life he broke my strength; he cut short my days. So I said 'Do not take me away, O my God, in the midst of my days; your years go through all generations. In the beginning you laid the foundations of the earth, and the heavens are the work of your hands. They will perish, but you will remain; they will wear out like a garment. Like clothing you will change them and they will be discarded. But you remain the same and your years will never end.'" (Psalm 102: 23-27)

There is only one thing that is capable of saving and when I find the end of me, that is when I need Him most and finally recognize it. There is nothing that will satisfy and heal, there is no hope aside from Him.

If right now I could get everything I wanted and have the life I pictured, if everything was "set right" and I was handed back all of the things I thought would satisfy, I know, in a bittersweet way, it would not satisfy. It wouldn't fix, or redeem, or make my life worth living. There is no love, no relationship, no job, no home, no friend, no family, no community, no amount of money, no scenario, no weight loss, no pair of shoes, no car, no flavor of Dorito or degree on a wall that is going to bring a wholeness to my heart. That becomes so real, so apparent, so perfectly true when I find myself at the end of a rope I didn't know existed. I beg, pray and NEED a salvation that won't waste away with time, that won't chafe with mistakes, that won't wear off with the newness. I need a salvation that comes in and means a lifetime of hope, a lifetime of love and meaning and purpose outside of me and what I can produce. It is a salvation that is dependent on a perfect God that makes promises that won't let me down as others have.

Later, in Psalm 119, David says, "May your unfailing love come to me, O Lord, your salvation according to your promise... Do not snatch the word of truth from my mouth, for I have put my hope in your laws... It was good for me to be afflicted so that I might learn Your decrees.... May your unfailing love be my comfort according to the promise to your servant. Let your compassion come to me that I may live, for your law is my delight."

When a heart has been so rendered as to find nothing left but a need for sanity only found in the word of God, a desperation meets a great love and something breaks. A beautiful moment of peace settles in a place no one can see and a communication begins between a holy God and an unholy servant. A humbling realization that there will never be anything more real than this very relationship, that for ever I will be broken and wear the limp of wrestling and finding no hope in anything but a heavenly promise.

In that brokenness comes a fragile trust, a small growth of faith that will move a mountain. It's the faith that begins to acknowledge that worship, belief, hope and love come only when He rescues. Everything else has failed, but "don't snatch the word of truth from my mouth, because I have put my hope in your laws."

In this moment, I am putting my everything into who the Lord is and what He says is true, so Lord, honor my faith in You. The Lord knows so deeply how hard this faith life is. He doesn't ask for a faith that sees no rescue. If He has made a promise, it is a covenant and to break it is to cease being who He is. Since that is not possible, I lift my head and ask for an unfailing love, for a peace that passes understanding, for a salvation that isn't captured in a small box on this earth... and he comes through.

My heart is laid to rest. I can breathe free knowing He is near. I will wake up tomorrow and the hurricane of life will still have torn everything to shreds. I will drive the same car, wear the same shoes, have the same body and still have lost the love of my life, but one thing I will have, the most irreplaceable thing I could have: a reservoir of faith that is a gift from heaven above. I will still cry, I will still hurt for a while. Everything isn't "fixed" or redeemed, but my heart, my heart is safe. I have hidden Him in my heart and I for once, nothing needs to be righted. He has proved Himself faithful and that is enough. When I have thrown my fits, accused Him of cruelty, begged for forgiveness, then done it again, He has remained, loving me in ways I didn't even know. He has built a faith in me that I didn't ask for, a hope I don't deserve and a peace I desperately needed. I may not have the luxuries of life, I may still have my moments of fear and frustration, but my heart is beginning to breathe in a way I hadn't know was possible.

I don't know how He is going to bring me out of this place, I just know He is. I don't know how He is going to rescue me, but I know He will. Psalm 102 later says: "You will arise and have compassion on Zion, for it is time to show favor to her; the appointed time has come. For her stones are dear to your servants; her very dust moves them to pity."

He has already started His Great Rescue, His great romance, His great salvation. I don't know where it will take me. I don't know when I will meet the man who will choose to be my husband, I don't know when that place of wounding will be healed. I don't know when I will find the job, or ministry He wants for me. I don't even know where to begin looking. I don't know when I will get to have the babies I want, I keep feeling the heartache of it deeply. All I know is that if I ask for bread He's not going to give me a stone and I can trust Him. My heart is safely in His hands, even as it has broken and I know He has a plan I can't even imagine. I know it begins now, today even as I worship alone, quiet in my room, waiting for Him to come in and touch my heart again. It starts as I give my every last part of myself to Him looking for His salvation rather than a false one that will tarnish with time. I know it starts as I watch myself become more and more broken by Him and softer and more compassionate on His people. I know it starts as I end and that's enough for now.

Defenses

I have spent a lifetime creating and maintaining a defense system that worked fairly well. A whole system of thinking, of being, of viewing others that kept me safe. This was good, this was bad, this was in between. I liked this, I didn't like this, I wanted this, I didn't want this. This person needed to be this way or it meant they weren't what they should be. I needed to be a certain way, or it meant I wasn't what I should be. Categories for people, places and things. Black and white, everything under a heading, making sense of the chaos. The bad was because I was bad, the good was because I was good. If you were good you were rewarded by me, if you were bad, you were punished by me, all in a thousand little subtle and not so subtle ways. Everything was packaged neatly, presented with care and precision.

Then in one fell swoop, or maybe a series of swoops, everything changes. Something bad, or good happens with no explanation, no warning, no real reason. Promises are broken good behavior no longer earns the gold star and there is nothing left to hang my hat on for understanding, dissection or order to the chaos. Nothing works anymore. I don't work anymore. The play by play to guarantee an outcome has failed and left me more broken than before. No longer do the same rules apply. In fact, no rules apply.

Everything I judged the world, myself and others by disappears in one maddening moment. How is it all possible? How do you make sense of this chaos, this terror in the night? Job says: "Look at me and be astonished, and put your hand over your mouth. Even when I remember I am disturbed, and horror takes hold of my flesh. Why do the wicked still live, continue on and also become very powerful? Their descendants are established with them in their sight, and their offspring before their eyes, their houses are safe from fear, neither is the rod of God on them." (Job 21:5-9)

Job had been faithful. He had made sacrifices for himself, for his children, for things he couldn't even think of. He held to the path, he obeyed. He feels the injustice deeply in his soul. Nothing was making sense. Where were the promises? Everything was in a deep chaos, a deep loss he couldn't comprehend. Tossed back and forth from one torment to the next. "I have not departed from the command of his lips; I have treasured the words of His mouth more than my necessary food. But He is unique and who can turn Him? And what His soul desires, that He does." (Job 23:13&14)

Job lost everything for no apparent reason. If it had just been his children, there would have been no deviation from understanding that the wicked are dealt with justly. If had just been his wealth, praising God would be easy in the pain, at least his sacrifices for himself and his sons. If had just been his health, well he had lived a long life and still, there would have been comfort. But everything, every last thing is taken from him. He loses his family, his wealth, this health and his stature in the community. He had been blessed by God, where is the wisdom of somehow taking away everything from a faithful man? It would seem odd by the Lord to not bless a man who so rightly deserved to be blessed among men. Isn't that what God looks like?

His way of understanding the world, God and himself is gone. There seems to be no justice. He can no longer rely on the fruit of his faithfulness. He can no longer trust the action of sacrifices offered. God has left the box of the understandable and that, that is the most painful of all. "As I was in the prime of my days, when the friendship of God was over my tent; when the Almighty was yet with me, and my children were around me; when my steps were bathed in butter and the rock poured out for me streams of oil!" (Job 29:4-6) "I cry out to You for help, but You do not answer me; I stand up and You turn Your attention against me. You have become cruel to me; with the might of Your hand You persecute me. You life me up to the wind and caused me to ride; and you dissolve me in a storm.... When I expected good, then evil came; when I wanted for the light, then darkness came. I am seething within and cannot relax; days of affliction confront me." (Job 30:20-22, 26&27)

He makes no excuses for himself, or for the Lord. This is the way it is. It's more than Job can bear. No longer can he understand God. God has become cruel in His treatment of Job. There is nothing else to say, nothing else to comprehend. Where can he go from here? He makes no attempt to blaspheme God, to call Him wrong, or bad, but he calls God dangerous. Being a human and completely out of control of his own life breaks him down to a level of nothing but dirt and pain. There is nothing no where left to turn, no solace from his pain. He can't blame others, himself; every defense mechanism was gone. God was God and Job was not. That reality, in the moment of more pain than I can comprehend brought him to a depth of himself, a depth of reality, he had no idea existed. His friends argue with him consistently telling him to humble himself, that there must be something wrong he did. They tell Job God is righteous and deals with men according their actions and even though the wicked prosper, their actions go on the their children. Job scoffs at them and has no time for wasted, trite answers.

Later, after God Himself speaks to Job and his friends out of the storm, in a most surprising turn of events, the Lord speaks to the friends and says "My wrath is kindled against you and against your two friends because you have not spoken of me right as My servant Job has."

God affirms the chaotic, terribleness Job has considered God with. He isn't angered with Job, He's angered with his friends. It wasn't Job's hurt, bitterness, confusion, or even his accusations of God being unjust that brings about a wrath. It's the small mindedness of Job's friends. As Job raises a fist in fury and desperate pain and longing, he is still more righteous than his friends. Job understands that if he is to attribute the blessings of his life to the Lord, than he has to attribute the pain and suffering as well. Logic is logic in Job's mind and either God is completely sovereign, encompassing ALL, or he is controllable based on a few formulaic actions of man, and those very actions have failed Job. He refuses, out of deep place of intimacy with the Lord to fight out, to wrestle, to understand. He won't settle for cheap platitudes and faulty faith. He has known the Lord this far, it's all or nothing.

It's a pure heart that Job approaches God with. Holding nothing back, ignoring no impure motive, raising every question, frustration, desire and complain to God, he beckons the Lord to come and contend with him. He wants to believe, this is his moment of crying out "I believe, help my unbelief!" He won't settle... because he can't. In that, his whole world is turned upside down. His whole belief system is shattered. Then God speaks out of a storm. Not in a whisper as with Moses, but a storm. Violent, loud and infinitely strong, he ravages Job's soul from top to bottom, with no explanation. What He does give, is honor. It's more than just chaos, it's intimacy. It's purpose and hope. It's a chance for Job to be broken, to know the meaning of true intimacy, friendship and love with the Lord. It's a moment for more than just a religion, but a fearful knowledge of the most high God. It's a perfect storm. God takes Himself out of the box, but doesn't stop there, He stakes Himself out of the box, to bring Himself back to Job.

God was honored by Job's hurt, frustration and accusations. It's not a relationship if the other's actions don't have an affect. It's only those we truly love that we have to fight through the terrible circumstances with. It's only those that we bring deep into our hearts that are worth fighting to not just stay on the surface with. Job's friends lived on the surface. Their god was controllable and understandable. Job's wasn't. Job's was frightening and unpredictable and amazing and sovereign and in control rather than being controlled. That was the God Job wanted to know. That was the God Job accused and confronted. That's a friendship. Letting everything slide, never wrestling to understand to cry out in pain when the other hurts you, never risking the answer, by never asking the questions of the other, that is not intimacy, that's false love. It's through love that God responds to Job. If there was no love, there would be no need for Him to speak back to Job. It's out of relationship that the Lord loves Job enough to answer his desperate pleas.

I can no longer keep God in the same box Job's friends tried. He is His the Lord and He is One. There is nothing I can do to understand Him, but I can beg and plead to. I can ask Him, out of the desperation of a heart wanting to have a stronger, bigger and more powerful faith to make Himself known. I can fight and wrestle the hurts, pains and struggles to the ground, watching my defenses fall with them. If I can no longer judge myself based on what blessings I may or may not receive, than there is no one that is more or less good or bad than I. No one is more or less blessed and by that loved than I. There is no black and white, no points rewards system with the Lord. My defenses fall as I break under the weight of my own religion. As I split open and everything tumbles out, my impure thoughts mix with my faithfulness creating a mess I can't decipher. I'm selfish, yet desiring of God. I am prideful, yet humbled to the core. I am ashamed, yet set free. As I see this more and more, I realize with a force, I cannot create a system of understanding. I was saved in my ugliest moments and if that's true, than the greatest blessing I can know came at a time I didn't even want it. This unpredictable God has a heart for me and even though He is terrifying, He is desiring relationship, intimacy and good for me. His heart is not for fear, but for love. If that's true, than openly stating my case to Him, begging for mercy and understanding is neither right nor wrong, but just part of my relationship with Him. It's part of His treasuring me. He desires the fight, then the surrender, the same as I do. My mixed motives of selfishly wanting the things that make me happy while still wanting to serve an ineffable God collide and He laughs. "Just keep talking with Me. Just keep opening up. Hide nothing. I'm not going anywhere." Again my defenses fall as I realize His heart is good and incomprehensible again. I see everyone around me in the same boat, frustratingly trying to search for the same understanding. Afraid of the same torrent, having nothing to fall back on, hoping they will escape harm if they stay on the surface. My heart opens even more to every person that has hurt, or loved me. It's a hard journey we all face and as I try again and again to walk in the person He made me, I fall in love more and more with Him and His creation. I know myself better, Him better and pray I stay soft, vulnerable and humble enough to never stop seeking Him and loving Him better through others everyday. If I'm lucky enough to know this relationship, this loving back and forth with the Creator of the world, than no matter what I do or do not receive, I am already blessed. I may not have heard Him from a storm, but I heard Him through His word, His loving presence and the faithful, beautiful voices of His body. I only hope to pass on the same blessings.

No regrets?

Faith is not faith when it isn't necessary. Hope is not hope when we have what we want.

I used to hear someone I knew say there was no point to regretting anything. Decisions are decisions, we can't change the past, so just move on. Attractive option. It's seductive in it's deceptive truth. How easy, how right it seems to move quickly to leave the past in the past and not turn around. Keep a straight and narrow path, sweep the pain, the hurt, the sin the lessons under the rug and move forward. Don't look down, don't look the right or the left, just keep moving forward. Let the tide of life pull you along until you can no longer see the shoreline, swept out to the next opportunity, the next moment that brings me nothing but pleasure and peace. Everything in between in just holding my breath until the right moment to exhale. Life's too short right?

I would love to be able to live life that way and envy those that do. How sweet it must be to never have to look back, take stock and take responsibility for the next decision, for the next moment, for the path they choose. The path would be so much easier. I would never have to feel the pain of loss, the regret of mistakes the haunting's of watching my actions have reactions and consequences. I would never have to feel rejection, knowing there was no point to anything besides finding the next happy moment. Eat and drink and be merry, for tomorrow we die, right? A life lived on the surface, moving down the lazy river of today. Accountability is moot point, life easily moving in and out of rhythm, nothing really ever mattering enough to sacrifice for, to change for, to believe in. But then again, nothing really to lose, nothing really to fail at.

I wish I had that luxury. Somewhere in the cosmic tying together of the knots in my brain, God forgot to give me the "easy come, easy go" gene.

Every morning I wake up, stare across the wall at the verses I have painted there; Romans 8:38&39, For I am convinced that neither death nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor things present nor things to come nor powers nor height nor depth nor any other created thing shall be able to separate us from the love of God which is in Christ Jesus our Lord. Isaiah 49:14-16, But Zion said, "The Lord has forsaken me, and the Lord has forgotten me." "Can a woman forget her nursing child, and have no compassion the son of her womb? Even these may forget, but I will not forget you. Behold, I have inscribed you on the palms of my hands; your walls are ever before me." Hosea 6:1-3, Come, let us return to the Lord. For He has forn us, but He will bandage us. He will revive us after two days; He will raise us up on the third day that we may live before Him. So let us know, let us press on to know the Lord. His going forth is as certain as the dawn; And He will come to us like rain; like the spring rain watering the earth. \ Psalms 91:14-16, "Because he loves me," says the Lord, "I will rescue him; I will protect him, for he acknowledges my name. He will call upon me and I will answer him; I will be with him in trouble. I will deliver him and honor him. With long life will I satisfy him and show him my salvation." There is also a quote from Brennen Manning: "The dogged fidelity of Jesus in the face of our indifference to his affection and our own rampant ingratitude for his faithfulness - he is always faithful for he cannot disown his own self - is a mystery of such mind-bending magnitude that the intellect buckles and theology bows in its presence. Humbly acknowledging our limitations, we are driven to the fervent prayer, 'Lord I do believe! Help my lack of trust!'"

These verses, this sort of love, this sort of faithfulness, sacrifice and affection begs a reaction. It calls me to a place where I can't be satisfied letting life happen. I am called to account because of a love I did not ask for, yet found it's way to me. The very breath I am given asks me what am I going to do with this knowledge, this awareness I have. I wish I had the option of blindly turning an eye and walking away, letting indifference reign supreme, turning off the floodgates of emotions that bring me the same joy as they do the deep pain. I wish I could ease off the handle, walking away from that which I can't change, that which I regret, or even that which I miss, the opportunities missed, the love lost, the mistakes made.

But if I were able, if I could choose to do that so easily, how would I ever change? How would I ever grow, learn and develop into a person of character? If my heart can't break over my actions, over the actions of others, if I can't feel the pain I have caused, or the pain caused me, why would I ever need a Savior, a Redeemer, or even to just stop doing stupid things? Where would intimacy be? Where would hope, faith or love be?

I don't love for my sake, I don't have faith for my sake and I don't hope foolishly. I do these things because they are true. I choose them everyday because they are what life means. If I give them up, if I for a moment believe that the world is based soley on me and making myself happy, than there is no purpose. There is no reason to be anything besides selfish every moment, except when it suits me to be any sort of good and then it becomes another game of manipulation with every person I meet. How good to have to be to maintain your love, your acceptance, your good faith? How long will you believe the game I play?

That's why rejection hurts so much, isn't? It's someone I love telling me they don't believe me anymore. They don't want what I'm selling, and who could blame them? Most of the time we are choosing to love for the purely selfish reason of getting in return. And when that stops working, well then, why not just walk away? If what I am in the middle of, be it a friendship, a love relationship, a job, a community, stops offering me what I came looking for, than walking away is a good answer. No regrets, no need to have any.

This great love story though, this great cosmic truth stops that logic cold. No longer do I get to live for myself. No longer does it get to be about the injustices handed my way. I have to make choices, I am accountable now... I'm aware. A whole new level is reached. Down past the superficial, I have to make a choice, who am I going to serve?

If I make the choice to serve Him, admitting to every wound, every hurt I have, acknowledging the sin of my own hands, the evil I can bring, becomes paramount. The heart is now engaged and I no longer have the escape hatch of walking away... because of His faithfulness, I will never know rest until I have fought my demons. Nothing stays buried long and everything that is hidden will be brought to light. I have to stop, turn around, see the consequences of mine and others actions and fall to my knees begging for a forgiveness that covers a multitude of sins. Now, now I have to have faith. Not because faith has come easy, but because it's the only other option to insanity.

Everyday the sun will rise, the moon will fall and the earth will spin again. Life will happen, babies will be born, someone will die, somewhere. It's inevitable. And I could sit here, living in my parents home, letting life happen to me, watching and waiting for the next good thing to come along and ride the wave until another comes along. How is that honoring Him though? I can't honor the love the Lord has shown me, without engaging my heart. I can't love Him in return if I shut myself down to everything besides happiness, peace and comfort. I can't grow if I run from the regrets of my actions, the regrets of others actions. I can't love Him, trust Him, know Him if I am not honest with Him, with myself and with others, acknowledging at once the pain of my mistakes the pain of the mistakes of others in my life. I can't forgive without being forgiven and I can't forgive without opening myself up to the forgiveness that is needed when someone has hurt me. Starting there though, usually means feeling and that is hard. It's feeling the loneliness of rejection when my actions deserved it. It means feeling the pain of the rejection, deciding to forgive myself and others, desiring to change, to grow, to learn to try again. I can't run from every relationship and sabotage them when they get hard because I'm afraid, I can't run from making mistakes, from the inevitable pain that will come when I fail, or someone fails me. No one leaves this life unscathed or unmarred. No one leaves this life without scathing or marring someone else. A wounded heart is able to see it, understand it, break for it and be cleansed of it.

Artificial happiness is no happiness at all, it's numbness with a smile. It's apathy with a Bible in hand. It will only lead to less and less of a heart, slowly eaten away by pain unacknowledged in a wake of destruction, leaving others wounded behind. That's not the call, that's not the hope. That's the easy deception of a smart enemy.

Thomas Wilder said "In Love's service, only wounded soldiers can serve." On the battle-field, in the kingdom, or in our relationships, if I don't admit to what is happening in my heart, it can never be open to others and if I don't open it to the Lord and others, I am unsalty salt, or a lamp under the bed. I have lost my reason, my purpose and my place in His body. I have lost myself and He has lost me.

Faith is believing He is there, hope is knowing what I'm going through now has a purpose. Faith says I believe you, hope says I trust you. Once I do that with Him, once I reach an open intimacy with Him, I can now be cleansed, sealed and healed enough to share that same intimacy with others. The beauty is, in that moment because I have received the love I need so much, when I share with others, when I am open with them, it is no longer about getting my jollies off at them thinking I am something special, it can now be about truly loving them, even when they spit on me. It's no longer about my mask, that's gone, now it's about His face, not any of mine. Now I get to be counted as one of the soldiers on the battlefield, living out the orders of the commander, trusting He sees a larger battle plan. I can be openly sacrificed knowing I have a healer, knowing my wounds have a purpose beyond just my suffering. I can sacrifice the idol of my own need and lose myself into a will larger than mine. I can let myself die knowing with every last breath, I breath Someone else. Every time my heart breaks, it is another moment to turn, see His face, know His love, be taken back in, then sent back out knowing how to love another better.

It all starts in me though, with my wounds, with my heart, with my hurts, my sins, my regrets. I don't get the luxury of blinders to my own backyard. I only get the blinders when I am following orders. Faith and hope are for what we can't see, but wisdom is for what we can see. I am responsible for what I can control, me. The rest is faith and hope dedicated in trust to the sacrifice that at once woke me from my sleep and now calls me to account.