Perseverance in disguise

I still remember the way the chair squealed slightly as she twisted toward me.  I remember the thinly veiled urgency in her voice as she looked at me with pleading eyes and asked me: ‘Where is He?!’

I remember the rasp of desperation in her tone and I remember feeling a moment of doubt.  It was one of the first times I realized that my churchey answers weren’t enough for the hurting and the broken.  My simple and shallow theology didn’t know what to do with a God who wasn’t showing up.Screen Shot 2014-05-25 at 7.51.57 PM

Consider Jesus

For the hurting, for the suffering, for those in pain today: consider Jesus.

Consider Him who was by His nature exempt from all suffering, who entered into flesh and pain and death so that He could look at you today and say ‘I know.’  Consider Him who had access to any means of deliverance, (which you and I would gladly take in our pain), and yet He walked steadily into a pain beyond any we will ever experience.  Consider your great High priest who has born your sorrows.

For the failures and the flawed, for those who feel the burden and weight of shame today: consider Jesus.

Places I cannot take you

I wish I could take you back there with me: kneeling on the floor in that studio as I listened to my friend defend the Gospel with a fierceness that I have rarely seen in her soft sweet spirit.

I wish I could explain to you how laughter blended with tears bubbled up as I spoke the deepest, most authentic words of my days, laying on the floor of a hotel and begging God to save the world.

Questions to consider

Every year, I walk through these questions at the end of a year and the start of a new year.  

It takes a while to answer ‘em.  They take prayer and thought.  But I love that they help me ‘consider my ways’ instead of just labeling highs and lows from 2013.  They help me make space to hear where God is leading me in the next year, instead of just making ‘resolutions’.  Nothing wrong with resolutions, but for me they usually involve trying to pull myself up by my boot straps and raise up false saviors, pinning my happiness and healthiness on my works and not God’s.

Waking Up

It happens so slowly.

It’s this tingling feeling that is so soft and subtle that you may not even notice it at first.  Or you ignore it, because maybe it’s just something you ate or an off day or a jolt of adrenaline.

But somehow, even just a shred of this ‘wakefulness’ is enough to take root in your veins. Even a scrap of it will latch on to you and lurk there, tugging on your heart, nagging at your mind.

I am learning me.  I’m learning about this hopeless romantic who is so desperately embarrassing to me.