"Pray for the Orphan Parts of Me..."

This morning I forgot it was Tuesday. I piddled around the house. Threw my hair into a messy bun.  Five bobby pins and three re-dos later, I was finally content with the amount of “messy” the bun contained. I took my sweet time getting ready and then looked at the clock that read 9:27.

Then I remembered it was a Tuesday.
I had a coffee date with a friend in three minutes.

I frantically threw things in a bag, grabbed a sweater, and headed out my squeaky back door. I ran in, flustered a bit, but she understood. I overcame my bagel craving and covered it up with too much coffee and had some great conversation. We talked of late nights and too much studying, of friends, of canoes and camping, of mice and men (ok, not mice and men). We spoke of the Lord, the hard parts, the comforting parts, the parts we still don’t understand.

The amazing thing is that the conversation I had with her three weeks ago, and the conversation we had today, were so different it makes me want to jump for joy. What the Lord can somehow show someone else, through a hot mess of a sinner like me, is baffling. My words are jumbled and I’m fairly certain only 68% of what I say about the Lord actually makes sense outside of my own head. But he uses the weak. That’s what I am most days. Just weak.

I asked her as we packed up our things and drank the last sips of our coffee, what I could pray for her about and she said to me this,

“you can pray for the orphan parts of me”

a few weeks ago, in our small group, we compared what an orphan acts like in comparison to a daughter of the King. Not so surprisingly, most of us had some orphan tendencies. We work hard to just be better. We punish ourselves. We sit in our guilt. We try to do it on our own. We don’t trust. We judge easily. We think we are just too weak to be used, too selfish, too messy.

The orphan parts of me. What a statement. What a hard thing to acknowledge.
But that is an echo of my hearts cry. Pray for the orphan parts of me. I am a daughter and the Lord loves me and will continually be chasing down my heart in order to show these orphan parts of me, how much of a daughter I really am.

Kindred Spirits

If I could sum up the end of this semester I would, but I can’t do that. Its impossible and a roller coaster that I don’t think I would make it out alive from. What I can tell you is how blessed I am with the community God has placed around me unexpectedly.

The kind of community that you hope for, but never actually expect to gain. The friends that you have withdrawals from if more than a day pass in between seeing each other (we are borderline pathetic). I’ve always wanted a group of friends like that; where I am challenged to share every bit of my heart and soul even if its painful, where we can struggle together, encourage each other, pray together, cry together, pee our pants laughing together, call each other out, and love unconditionally.

Over Christmas break I prayed for my community group, among many other things, but specifically that God would bring genuine girls to it for the next semester, that he would challenge us to be raw and honest and learn what it means to share and pray for each other. That first week, in walk Autumn, Emily, and Amy. Who, I thought, were possibly the coolest people I had ever seen. They were raw and genuine and best of all, the same kind of weird as me. I was eventually coaxed to Autumn and Emily’s apartment to study where Amy already camped out, which ended up being a vortex that you never want to leave. First it was Tuesday night studying, where we actually studied. (Friends who are quiet when there is studying happening is the biggest blessing ever). Then somewhere in between puzzle night, an abundance of Oreos, milk, popcorn, and Anne of Green Gables night, I realized… we are all kindred spirits. We are absolutely ridiculous together but never forget to pray together. They are the most unique, gifted, beautiful girls I’ve ever known.

There is Autumn, with her abundance of hospitality, and ability to make you feel so loved you feel like you are literally going to burst. She makes me appreciate small tidbits of history and Russia more than I did before. Especially Russia. And she always feeds me…

And then Emily, with her incredible creativity and quiet calm spirit that always makes you smile. Her art is inspiring and so is her sweet, sweet heart. She strives to do her very best in everything and has NO idea how beautiful she is. Also, we have the same nostrils, which just makes everything better…

and then there is Amy who cares SO deeply, you can feel it in your own heart before she even says anything to you. She is honest and can make you laugh really, really hard. She makes you look at nature in a new way just by talking about a tree. Plus she has the same appreciation/addiction to The Civil Wars, Grey’s Anatomy, and pizza as I do…

I love these girls. I believe the Lord has knit our hearts together. Wherever the Lord may take us… Chicago, Prague, Swamplands, or an African hut... I know He will sustain what He began. 

Sitting On the Floor, on a Tuesday that happens to be Valentines Day, I Pause and Reflect on Life and the Fact that I Might Be Crazy

Lately, I have been talking to myself in the car
and in my room
and in hallways
and on sidewalks
and in coffee shops where I forget that I’m not invisible

Its what I do when I have a lot on my plate,
and, currently, I have a thousand decisions to carry out,
really just a small handful, but they all just seem so daunting
so, on top of holding conversations with myself,
when I think too much, I drink too much coffee
and although I’d like to claim to have a high tolerance for it
I bounce off walls and start making strange noises
and the only person that understands me at that state is my roommate
and she is crazy too

Speaking of bounce, I am bouncing back from a week that had me feeling
close to the Lord and distant from him at the same time
But, In that I learned a large lesson:
obedience and patience are not my strong suit
and God will go to great lengths to teach them to me

Which, makes my heart feel crazy.
like its bouncing around inside my chest
fighting my flesh
and really excited for what God has in front of me
but at the same time unsure about his methods of getting me there
and not particularly a fan of his timing,
gosh, his perfect timing
that I NEVER seem to understand
until way after the fact.

So, I lay in my bed
and try to reason with Him,
the almighty God,
which IS crazy and ridiculous
and after about five minutes
He doesn’t necessarily tell me why He is working the way He is
but what He does tell me
is that He knows EVERYTHING
and I know Him
and that is more than enough
for today
for tomorrow
for eternity

and then I start thinking about eternity
with Him, no sin, no fighting flesh, no asking why
just peace, and joy, and worship face to face,
and my head gets dizzy
and the whole world turns upside down
and I can’t wrap my head around anything
and suddenly, my mind…

…goes crazy again
but, this time, its the good kind of crazy.

I Live on Church Property

There are good and bad things that come along with having the church parking lot as my back yard. For example, a bad thing is that on occasion the youth kids who have Sunday school in our living room decide to have donut hole wars. I’m sure they are fun in the moment, but when I find them a week later under my couch, its gets gross. A good thing though, is that I have keys. There is a sense of power that comes with the ability to unlock doors. But I don’t abuse it. I use it to escape.

I adore that where I live is a place that is rarely locked, where people come in and out, sleep on our couch, nap on our love sac, and leave notes on our fridge. Its community at its most abundant and I wouldn’t trade it, because I know that this proximity with people only lasts for a season. But It does mean, that when I want to really get alone with the Lord I have to search for a place, which makes it more of a journey, and a little bit more exciting. It’s like He and I have a secret date. I feel like a kid every time whispering to a classmate… “Ok, yeah… 3 o’ clock, don’t let anyone else follow… secret tree house. See you there!”

Yesterday was one of those days where I planned a time and place and looked forward to it all day. My loud, busy day grew still as coffee mugs clanked on the kitchen counter, bibles closed, and groups of laughing girls said goodbye and walked out my front and back door until they were all gone. I sat on one of the many couches in the living room and slumped down to stare at the ceiling and looked at my watch. 9:00. I had a date with God in an hour. I had a little food and took a shower and put on the comfiest pair of sweatpants that I don’t own (they are my roommates) stuck my hair in a very wet messy bun and threw on someone’s TOMS (I’m not sure what is mine in that house anymore). I snuck out of my room and there still wasn’t anyone in the house so I stuck my jacket on, grabbed keys, and went out our back door. It was cold so I walked quickly across the parking lot, making sure I didn’t see anyone and then walked up and slowly unlocked the sanctuary doors and opened them. It was dark inside except for the moonlight coming through the windows. It was so quiet that my thoughts were echoing of the walls. I walked up the middle isle and plopped down front and center. This was the moment I had been looking forward to all day. I took a deep breath in. Then we talked. Laughed. Were silent. Got serious. Smiled. I Asked. Thanked. Obeyed. Listened. And sat still. So still that I felt suspended in a single moment and a peace which transcends everything, filled through ever crevice of my lungs as I breathed deeply and praised him openly. I didn't know what time it was and I didn't even care. And then I got up and put my shoes back on, and He walked me all the way back to my bed. And it was the best date I’ve ever had.

Plans Over Breakfast

I find myself getting a little too vague in these blog posts. I enjoy being metaphoric, but I also want you to know I’m (fairly)normal. My everyday isn’t filled with deep thought. In fact, its mostly filled with self-created busyness. Like today, I regret to inform you that I’ve mostly just yelled/pleaded with my dog to stop barking at the wind. But this morning was enjoyable. I got the opportunity to have a last-minute planned breakfast with my sweet friend Breanne, whom I have not spent quality time with since our senior year in high school. We follow each other’s blog, which is practically the same as having an occasional phone call, so there weren’t too many major things to catch up on, it was just nice to talk about what the Lord is doing in each of us. We ate fruit and cinnamon rolls and talked about everything… dogs, cars, school, blogging, Jesus, the nations. The crazy part was realizing how old we are. Now, before the ‘over 30’ crowd reads that last sentence and rolls their eyes, we know we are young, but sitting across the table from my newly married friend, in her cute little house, with her big ole puppy, talking about projected college graduation dates, her telling me of grad school plans, and me telling her of my finally tangible plans to hopefully teach overseas or something was such a crazy thing compared to talking about soccer games, project graduation, and college choices in senior economics class four years ago.

The college graduation date that I never thought would come is just a few more semesters away. It’s a lot of time left, but it will fly like I won’t believe. And I know it.
Now if only I had some plans etched in stone. Which, I know is an impossible thing to ask for, and honestly not something I truly want, but sounds so good. I want to live a life worthy of the gospel wherever I am, but I’m finding myself way too wrapped up in the “wherever I am” part. I’m always waiting for the next step for life to really start. I get over that obstacle, work through the trial, jump into something new, get to the next place, expecting things to make sense… but then I realize I’m trying to make a home out of a journey. Like trying to trick myself into believing my car would make a comfortable living space. My entire life will be full of growing, changing, learning, and moving until I die, or Jesus comes back.

God isn’t one for comfortable and stationary. By stationary I mean motionless. The Lord doesn’t want me (or you) sitting in our faith. That doesn’t mean getting rid of your couch and moving to an African village, but it does mean allowing him to take your planner, to-do list, list of life goals, etc. and let Him cross-out a few things and write in some of His own. God also isn’t one for “jumping the gun” either. Yesterday alone, I talked to three different people with three different opportunities where I could ‘go and do’. Sometimes, (especially because I am 20, with no attachments, and the world in front of me) the word wait is one that I find especially hard to swallow.

Whichever problem you (or I) encounter, difficulty to stay or difficulty to go, obedience is required. There is a new Shane & Shane song that says it best. “If your presence goes I don’t want to stay, and if your presence stays I don’t want to go.”

Oh please, Oh please, let that always be my heart’s prayer.

an evening for two

I've enjoyed this much needed break.

I finally set aside some time for long dinner dates with the Lord,
the kind where you sit for hours talking,
and even decide to get dessert and coffee afterwards.
they were especially lovely evenings,

because I feel like all we did this semester was get fast food together.

routine

So, I run frequently.
Normally it’s somewhere around 5 days a week.

I get asked if I enjoy it, and I say yes, but truly it’s quite complicated.
When I start a long run, I begin by anticipating this thing my ankles do right when I get going--its like they give out for a second and its painful, but it happens quickly and passes, then I am good for another ten minutes. Somewhere in the middle of the second mile I want to stop very badly, but instead I suck it up and finish, then I keep going anywhere from 3 to 5 miles and everything is pretty steady, including the pain, but it feels good. Then about 15 yards from my stopping point, things get rough. I just want to die a little, but instead, I sprint. I book it until I’m breathing so hard I could give Darth Vader a run for his money.

I usually run around the track of the football stadium at night. I have gone to one game in the past two years, so I figure I should visit it often during its off-season to let it know I still care. Plus, there are always ultimate Frisbee players out as well, which makes me feel safer at night.

So, back to the last sprint.
When I finish I know you are supposed to walk or “cool-down”
Well, whatever. I just collapse.

And here is the part I love.
I lie there staring at the stars.
I’m in this state of exhaustion/euphoria right before the endorphins kick in and when I stare upwards, if I focus my eyes the right way, it feels like I am balancing the night sky on the tip of my nose. As if I have to be careful how hard I breathe otherwise things might slip off balance.

This is the moment I find God so frustratingly close I can hardly stand it.
So close, in fact, that I feel like we are having an invisible staring contest.
So close that I don’t find it ridiculous to ask him to give me a quick tour of space
and even promise that I would keep it a secret.
So close that I don’t have much to say so I just sigh and hope he understands it
So close that I am able to see for a split second the shortness of the 80 years or so I have on this earth and beg for it to go quickly or for Him to come back sooner.

Then the moment passes and I get distracted by being able to see my own breath
and get too cold to lie there any longer,
look at my watch and tell myself its late
So, I get up slowly and jog back home.
and do the same thing the next day

and no matter how many times that moment happens
there is nothing that feels routine about it.

Lately, I live my life

through window light
eating cereal
in running shoes
timing miles
disciplined
paying attention
enjoying classes
writing lesson plans
feeling secretly nervous
laughing at myself
learning how to live with other people
learning to listen to wordless conversations
praying fervently
staring at beautiful spots of light
trying to explain it
traveling on weekends
riding a bicycle
drinking coffee
reading in quantities equivalent to the amount of coffee I drink
getting lost in books and mourning the end of them
staring at my dust covered journal
reattaching my bible cover several times a week
daydreaming
nightdreaming
waking up early
taking walks
turning off lights
asking questions
receiving answers
on pinterest
looking through a lens
pretending I know what I’m doing
sifting through memories
watching things turn black and white
watching things develop

Awkward Sleepover Situations

So, I recently moved into a house with two other girls.

Katy and Caitie. (Yeah, I know, life gets confusing)

Caitie decided to paint her room, and to do such, she had to take everything out and at night she would take my roommate Katy's bed while Katy slept in mine with me. I've always had my own full sized bed, so I wasn't exactly used to someone else in it. Over the course of the week, I took note of all of the things that would happen in the course of the night. And these are just a few of the common situations I woke up to, or found myself in.

Lets start off with a classic.

Some people have no sense of spatial relationships and really struggle to sleep in a position that is normal to everyone else. They start out straight, but then somehow subconsciously move into a diagonal position, leaving you the option of having a hand in your face and your feet touching theirs, or curling up into the tiny triangle left for you on the bed. I chose the triangle.

and then there is...

I'm pretty sure this happens to everyone. I always face outward when I sleep and for some reason there is a magnetic pull to the middle of the bed. And if there happens to be someone else there. Well, this happens. Sometimes you can inch away before the other person wakes up, but if you wake up simultaneously, it can get awkward.

also, closely related to the butt touch...

Yeah.. Waking up because you can feel the breath of the other person hitting your face. Not ok.

and this is my personal favorite.

I was always the last to fall asleep at sleepovers growing up. I'm that girl who turned off the movie in the end because I was the last one awake. I always could figure out who snored, or drooled, or... sleep talked. My favorite is trying to carry on conversations with the person.

Try it.

and then last, but definitely not least

No sense of spatial awareness asleep AND awake. Sometimes they are subtle, inching towards you slowly... other times they are completely shameless and carelessly grab your arm and cuddle it like a teddy bear. Thats the approach my roommate likes to take, as shown above.

Eventually the room got painted everyone went back to normal (and to their own beds) but I must say, it made for an entertaining week.

simple

I haven't written in quite some time. Mainly from lack of time, but also from lack of event. But, alas, there have been changes.

I have recently moved into a house with two other girls. Its yellow. and its a completely new concept for me to live with friends. The place still feels somewhere in between familiar and home. It leans towards one or the other depending on the time of day. Overall, life feels simple. I tend to overcomplicate times of simplicity. I assume that I don't have the ability to just be still. I am so used to dealing with waves of challenges that I go in search of them. They make for some very witty and metaphoric blog material. but today I will accept it. I am still and simple.

...My biggest problem is agreeing with my roommate on a color to paint the bathroom

...It may take a while.

Oh. here are my roommates.

We soaked our tired summer feet laughing and discussing shampoo and nose rings.

temporary insomnia

It is an untimely hour for me to be awake.

I've become less of a night owl over the past few months.

I've tried to pretend like I still am a few times and I always pay for it later.

but here I am, at 2:32am, wide awake.

I tried sleeping, but I couldn't get comfortable.

I turned in to at least twenty different positions

before giving into one that still didn't feel right.

then I started thinking too much.

the words, thoughts, and pictures of my mind started to press in on my eyelids.

everything felt way too close, I stiffened and felt as though I needed breathing room.

is it possible for your brain to become claustrophobic?

I thought I was going to be crushed by own consciousness, so I quickly opened my eyes.

I could breathe easy again

my medium sized room felt like a huge open field

dark with the moon coming in through the blinds.

I didn't want to shut my eyes again.

So, here I am, at 2:41, wide awake.

I guess this is what I get for reading fiction before bed.

Oh, its July.

If it were not for the fourth, I wouldn't have realized another month has passed.

I live in overnight bags and fall asleep reading books

I'm attached to my backpack, and almost always 5 minutes late for countless coffee dates.

I get up early for staff meetings, and stay up late planning for bible studies

I eat cereal out of mugs on the drive to work, and then sometimes cereal again for a late dinner.

I spend just about all my time with high school students, or married people with toddlers.

I honestly enjoy every minute of it. It gets hectic, and sometimes I feel like I run around kind of mindlessly, but I love where I am at. I am learning more than I have time to realize. I assume that most of it will click sometime in October.

The best way I can describe it is like driving.

Taking mindless right turns on some form of auto-pilot

I find myself halfway down the highway and I don't even remember going up the on-ramp.

In the same way, I am finally letting the Lord take me where I am going

My focus has shifted from tracking mileage to appreciating the landscape

Focusing on Christ rather than worrying about the details of the journey.

I am enjoying July.

Flashback

This morning I listened to Brooke Fraser. I wore out her album last year. I practically had it on repeat all last summer. It always reminds me of my trip to Africa. I am really missing those kids today. Sweet Matthew was always singing, so I made him sing on camera for me.

8 Newly Discovered or Desired things

1. Grapefruits. I have half of one every morning for breakfast nowadays.

2. Pinterest. Its addicting.

3. Kitchenaid Mixer. Never in my life have I desired a kitchen appliance, until now.

4. Polaroids. I just bought film for my camera. I can't wait to use it.

5. Acrylic Ink. My new friend paints with it. I'm going to be a copy cat.

6. Freestanding bathtubs. Someday, I want one in my house.

7. Mexican Firebushes. My host family just planted some in the backyard. BEAUTIFUL.

8. Baby Pandas. I really want one. Really.

a civil war

I woke up a few mornings ago to find that I had fallen asleep with the lamp on.

On rare occasions I decide to rest my eyes with a book in hand and thus is the result.

I also love to leave the blinds open.

So as I opened my eyes I found myself between two different types of light

conflicting elements hitting different shoulders.

at war it seemed, with myself as the unclaimed territory; the bed the battlefield.

I feel as though my heart is at war also.

maybe not war, that seems too intense,

but rather at odds.

pulling in different directions.

holding multiple opinions.

toying with ideas that are purposed similarly

but in fact are worlds different.

much like sunlight and tungsten.

I can see the light from both sides.

but things begin to blend in the middle.

how do you separate light from light?

I assume just pray for the Spirit to bring clarity.

Watching Dust Settle

my creativity seems to be at a halt, so this is mainly going to be straight experience. If you are lucky, I will throw in a metaphor or two.

I am in a half full Starbucks in the middle of Kingwood, Texas.
In a little less than an hour, I will head over to church and start setting up.

I feel caught up for the first time in give or take six months.
I am not procrastinating with schoolwork
I am not suppressing feelings
I’m not impatiently waiting to get to the next place.

I am here.
Settled, not just physically, but overall.
the irony is that of all of the places I will live this year,
this will be the most temporary.

I feel that I am at a standstill.
watching all this dust that has been kicked up float in clouds back to the ground.
most of it I kicked up myself.
out of surprise, anxiety, and my tendency to jump the gun.
and unfortunately, sometimes out of straight rebellion.
Now that the picture is a bit clearer
I’m reevaluating some of my actions.

Yesterday I was at a cookout.
There was a two year old there.
Very sweet little boy.
He was eager to swim.
Naturally, his parents kept a close eye on him and frequently reminded him that he was not to go towards the pool until Daddy was there to get in with him.
As we were all sitting and eating,
after a few denied pleas to get in the pool
he squirmed from his moms lap and made a b-line for the water.
his little feet had barely hit the water before his dad scooped him up.
His dad informed him that he was to sit in timeout with mom for a while.
In agony, he waited for what seemed to him eternity,
he cried and got angry, he tried to squirm out again.
Then came time for the daddy talk.
Although I do not know the content of this conversation,
I watched it from afar and contemplated on similar conversations.

This dad loves his son dearly.
dearly enough to keep him as far away from getting hurt as humanly possible.
deep enough to keep him safe even when the son is angry and doesn’t understand.
enough to take time to discipline him.
and despite misbehavior, that I’m sure is happens everyday,
(as with all toddlers)
Dad loves him.
Dad provides for him.
Dad even gives beyond need and blesses the son with what he wants.

God and I have a similar relationship.
as I cannonball into forbidden water,
God continues to provide.

and as the ripples smooth
and as I get older
the more it makes absolutely no sense to me why he would do this.
the more I wonder why he isn’t taking everything away.
the more I hate my own sin
the more I am in awe of unconditional love.
the more I come to the conclusion that there is no conclusion that will make sense to my finite mind.

as much as I would like to squirm out of my fathers lap,
out of shame and guilt,

it is impossible to escape from the love that I am wrapped in.

dust settles around me.
and the mess blows somewhere east.
If I sit here long enough,
He will eventually show me what He intends for me,
I just need to be still enough to see it.

in the midst

When I think back on things
I usually catch glimpses of in betweens.
where my mind had the time and space
to capture moments and store them for later
as reference points.

in between classes, in transit, often hurry
catching details: leaves, squirrels, purple shirts
walking, sometimes running, upstairs and downstairs,
and getting turned around in a building I should know by now.
Time filled with reminders, library books,
and to-do lists on the palm of my hand

in between lines of scripture
in the turn of pages and the smoothing of creases
where a pause became unexpected, but much needed stillness
in the throws of flesh and spirit,
with fatigue and hunger for a God
whom I know I should have listened to more often.

In between places
with maps and hand written directions
204, 59, 69, 20
where the sun rose and set on Hawaiian seat covers
where I sang loudly and cried occasionally
because sometimes travel felt more like home.

In the middle of afternoons
between meal schedules I never could follow
where time was judged by the light through windows
where coffee was welcomed
where moments of tension didn’t quite match the scenery.
Holding chapstick, car keys, and sometimes my breath
waiting on a chance meeting, or lunch date, but wanting a nap

In those few hours where days overlap
where 1am felt more like 13pm
where conversations were longer
beckoned by moonlight, rolling through stoplights.
and laughs with silly, tired, friends were deeper,
because everything was funny and no one knew why.

And here again I approach another
this may be it,
I’m almost certain.

Another time in the middle of then and now:
missing people who haven’t left
loving ideas that haven’t quite developed
dreading struggles not yet identified
placing objects where other objects still lie
reclaiming territory piece by piece

my heart is making a leap towards Summer,
ripping away from a Spring that I don’t even remember,
because I spent so much of its time deciphering a long Autumn.

because this is my life
continually split into thirds
little room to breath or remember
but, alas, I move on

I collect these moments
and pocket them for later.

Too bad it doesn't work like this...

Standing on the Edge of Something Large

So I’ve just embarked on a new year of my life.
It’s making me more contemplative, obviously.
I spent the last seconds of being nineteen doing laundry and having a conversation about noncommittal socks (those things never want to stay together).
I think part of getting older is that every mundane task suddenly has life application.
Birthday weekend was wonderful. No real agenda. That’s my favorite.

Sunday I decided to take a Sabbath.
I slept in late, then woke up and spent a long time in scripture
I read through the end of Matthew
Passover, Betrayal, Arrest, Denial, Crucifixion, Death, Burial, Resurrection
suddenly, nothing else mattered.
I was heavy, but in a humbled way, not a painful way.
When aware of something so large, everything else seems so trivial.
It’s like trying to stand on the edge of the Grand Canyon,
then boast about the pain and joy of your year.
You just aren’t going to do that.
You are going to stand there in awe of what’s in front of you.

When I’m so fully aware of the cross
The only appropriate response is to be still
I find it so frustrating that this does not happen as often as it should.
Because as a believer I become so issue driven.
Let me explain.
I have this consuming desire to fix my problems;
a desire to become disciplined.
a desire to over-spiritualize answers
a desire to overcome everything

And over time I’ve made myself believe that I’m caught in this huge catch-22:
I can’t gain Christ without discipline
I can’t gain discipline without Christ.

BUT reality is that the first line of the statement above is not true.
there is no need to gain what I already fully have.

I’m just now seeing that this is just some kind of twisted legalism I’ve held myself under.
I have taken my eyes off of the objective evidence of God's love for me.
There is no level of performance or perfection I have to reach to be accepted by the Lord
The only way sin, fear, and doubt, lose their power,
is when JESUS becomes more lovely than the thought of overcoming the sin, fear, and doubt

I claim this incredible freedom of the Cross,
but still am in bondage trying (on my own accord)
to unravel my mess and make myself presentable to the Lord.
Now does that make any sense?
No. Because CHRIST is the only reason God can even look in my direction.
I am covered.

So rather than pursue discipline for Christ.
Its time to pursue Christ.
there is a massive difference.

Self Portrait

A time, a place, a state of heart,
an ever fleeting work of art.
I love, I lose, I fall apart,
You pick up pieces; recapture, restart.

Desire to stay, desire to go,
But still, desire, I hardly know.
So torn between the things I claim,
The things that I want; such a selfish game.

Within this flesh I lie awake,
But dead to it, yearning, I wait.
I am at home; home I am not
A relative term (that’s what I’ve been taught).

Use me, love me, and know me still
Despite what I want, I do want your will.
While I am here, here I am yours
So today, it is you I will choose to adore.