Yesterday and today I've been a weepy mess. The level of tenderness feels foreign to me because I cannot see where exactly it is rooted which feels very challenging--it doesn't make 'sense'. And, I realized: it's grief. Driving yesterday, I remembered back to a time earlier in my life when I lost someone I cared about. Friends who surrounded me didn't understand my behavior (because it was odd) and they worried.
I remember walking to class with my friend, Autumn a few weeks after my friend died. As we walked up the hill by the University Center (UC to us), she expressed how everyone was concerned about me. She said, "Jess, we think that you might have an eating disorder..." I stopped in the sidewalk as we made the decent to the other side of the building and looked at her with a mixture of anger and compassion. "I don't have an eating disorder, Autumn... I'm just grieving. I know my behavior is strange and honestly, I haven't been able to see it very clearly until you shared those details. Thanks for that--I'm so grateful for the way you all care about me so much. I think this is just my way of coping with what just happened... I don't know how to do this..."Looking back on that season of my life, not much made sense. I walked through days often unaware of my behavior or why I felt the way I did. It was my first true experience with grief.
Monday night, I was grateful to get time with Lindsey. We got Slurpees and took a long walk, catching up on all of the recent details of this waiting process. It's interesting to hear and see how each of us have had to live by faith. It has been weighty and daily the reality feels heavier. I'm so proud of her for the way she's walking through this. She and Kevin have stewarded Sophie's life in a powerfully loving way. I'm blessed by their example (I know I've said it before, but it's just so true).
And, the tears have followed. It's so hard to see my friends in pain. It's a challenge to have once had such strong faith and belief about the way this story turns out and to yield to the understanding that I just don't know how it all turns out. I think there has been a delay in my emotions catching up to the depth of this situation. I've felt things throughout, of course, but this current place... Well, it's the really real. These are the moments when I look to the Lord and say, "Meet me. Press in. Show me what You see. Show me how You love." And I cry. A lot.
Please pray for all of us if you would. For Linds and Kevin. For sweet baby Sophie. For me and my friend, Julie. For the families and the other close friends who are walking daily in this process. We need your prayers today. We need to see the Lord today. We long to cling to His promises today.
Wednesday, August 28, 2013
Sunday, August 25, 2013
Waiting is Hard
We're on day 11 past Sophie's due date and I think we're all feeling it. We're wondering, "Lord, why the delay?" We trust His timing to be perfect. I was just thinking last night about all of the people who need to be present for this sweet baby's birth. Which doctors, nurses and other hospital staff are supposed to be present? Who are the people who need to be in the waiting room, those we're supposed to meet and encourage, while we await Sophie's arrival? He doesn't miss anything and so I trust these final preparations are underway so Sophie can come in His proper time.
But, I don't understand it still. My friends are tired and labor pains have been long (since the wee hours of yesterday morning) -- I include Kevin in this ("friends") because I know he's totally in it with Linds. It's really incredible to know that, actually. One dear friend is caring so well for another dear friend--both of them on this unexpected journey of faith in their life and marriage together. How kind is God to allow me to know them both and live life with them? How kind is God to show me devotion, faithfulness, belief and the beauty of wrestling through the questions as I've sat on the front row watching this story unfold? What a model of devotion they are to me. How kind is God to give all of us the gift of Sophie?
I lost it this morning. I started freaking out as I stood against the wall doing the exercise my chiropractor has asked me to do for my neck. I gripped the wall hoping it would hold me up. The tears fell and I told the Lord, "I just want to stuff these feelings away. I want to drown them out with activity and diversion. I don't want to feel what I'm feeling and wonder what I'm wondering..." I want to know what God knows right now, guys. I want to know the end of this story. He gently reminded me, "Trust Me. I'm good. I'm faithful." He invited me to press in.
I read the story of Solomon dedicating the Temple in I Kings 8. I read of his wholehearted devotion to God and the way the Lord received him. That story doesn't end well--Solomon eventually releases his faithful devotion to God. I want to be a person who embraces the Lord right where He has me. David did this... God didn't allow him to build the Temple, so what did he do? He set aside everything he could to ensure it would be fabulous when his son built it. He honored God even when God gave him a "No". His heart belonged to the Lord.
I guess the bottom line is this, I get to choose to believe the Lord today. Choose to believe what He says when He tells me He is faithful and true. When He shows me His perfect goodness and righteousness, I get to I bow in surrender and take joy in it. He is God. I am not.
Waiting is hard. As we've texted back and forth this morning, I'm encouraged to be in this with Linds and Julie, our other dearest friend. I'm thankful for the friendship we have and the way God has knit us together through so much life lived together. I'm thankful we can offer one another comedic relief and prayer and Scripture to uplift and encourage one another. I'm thankful to know they'd go to bat for me in the way we're standing in the gap with and for Linds right now. I wouldn't trade this season. And, whatever is to come, I won't trade that either.
So, we wait. We hope. We pray that even now, God is knitting together Sophie's skull and her brain inside of Lindsey. We trust the Author of Life to sustain these dear ones. To offer them hope. To invite them deeper into Himself. We ask Him to do the same in us.
But, I don't understand it still. My friends are tired and labor pains have been long (since the wee hours of yesterday morning) -- I include Kevin in this ("friends") because I know he's totally in it with Linds. It's really incredible to know that, actually. One dear friend is caring so well for another dear friend--both of them on this unexpected journey of faith in their life and marriage together. How kind is God to allow me to know them both and live life with them? How kind is God to show me devotion, faithfulness, belief and the beauty of wrestling through the questions as I've sat on the front row watching this story unfold? What a model of devotion they are to me. How kind is God to give all of us the gift of Sophie?
I lost it this morning. I started freaking out as I stood against the wall doing the exercise my chiropractor has asked me to do for my neck. I gripped the wall hoping it would hold me up. The tears fell and I told the Lord, "I just want to stuff these feelings away. I want to drown them out with activity and diversion. I don't want to feel what I'm feeling and wonder what I'm wondering..." I want to know what God knows right now, guys. I want to know the end of this story. He gently reminded me, "Trust Me. I'm good. I'm faithful." He invited me to press in.
I read the story of Solomon dedicating the Temple in I Kings 8. I read of his wholehearted devotion to God and the way the Lord received him. That story doesn't end well--Solomon eventually releases his faithful devotion to God. I want to be a person who embraces the Lord right where He has me. David did this... God didn't allow him to build the Temple, so what did he do? He set aside everything he could to ensure it would be fabulous when his son built it. He honored God even when God gave him a "No". His heart belonged to the Lord.
I guess the bottom line is this, I get to choose to believe the Lord today. Choose to believe what He says when He tells me He is faithful and true. When He shows me His perfect goodness and righteousness, I get to I bow in surrender and take joy in it. He is God. I am not.
Waiting is hard. As we've texted back and forth this morning, I'm encouraged to be in this with Linds and Julie, our other dearest friend. I'm thankful for the friendship we have and the way God has knit us together through so much life lived together. I'm thankful we can offer one another comedic relief and prayer and Scripture to uplift and encourage one another. I'm thankful to know they'd go to bat for me in the way we're standing in the gap with and for Linds right now. I wouldn't trade this season. And, whatever is to come, I won't trade that either.
So, we wait. We hope. We pray that even now, God is knitting together Sophie's skull and her brain inside of Lindsey. We trust the Author of Life to sustain these dear ones. To offer them hope. To invite them deeper into Himself. We ask Him to do the same in us.
Sunday, August 18, 2013
Sophie
We're all waiting. We don't know what will happen in the next few days and yet, we continue to pray for complete healing. It would be a miracle. Sophia Kyla Dennis is precious to me, but I haven't met her face-to-face. She's the unborn baby of two of my dearest friends here in Orlando and her brain and skull haven't been developing as she's been growing inside of Lindsey. Her due date has come and gone. Now, we wait. We wait to see what God, the Author of Life, who always leads us into life will do. We trust Him. We petition Him. And, we wonder... Our questions are unanswered and new ones are constantly forming.
This season has been weighty and sweet. We've all taken deeper steps in our understanding of where our hope is placed. As our hope is in the Lord, we won't be disappointed even in the midst of grief. And, there has already been grief. We've been grieving the story we thought He was giving Lindsey and Kevin when we all found out they were expecting their first baby. We've been grieving a broken world which has been redeemed by Jesus and that which is not-yet whole, but is also presently whole because He purchased our freedom through His death on the cross and resurrection from the dead.
Yet, we also press in and grow in our understanding that what He purchased--our healing, our freedom, the true life He intended from the beginning--is offered to us now. We see the example of Jesus and the way He healed every person who came to Him. We see the Apostles and how even the cast of their shadow brought healing to someone. We know the most critical healing is our spiritual healing--no longer separated from God because of our sin, but made alive with Christ as God raised Him from the dead. We see and we wrestle. Our faith grows. Our dependence grows. Our longing for things to finally be set fully right grows.
And, we wait.
We love you, Sophie. We're so thankful for your life. You are precious to us. Come see us soon. We're so excited to meet you face-to-face. xo
(More on Sophie's story here)
This season has been weighty and sweet. We've all taken deeper steps in our understanding of where our hope is placed. As our hope is in the Lord, we won't be disappointed even in the midst of grief. And, there has already been grief. We've been grieving the story we thought He was giving Lindsey and Kevin when we all found out they were expecting their first baby. We've been grieving a broken world which has been redeemed by Jesus and that which is not-yet whole, but is also presently whole because He purchased our freedom through His death on the cross and resurrection from the dead.
Yet, we also press in and grow in our understanding that what He purchased--our healing, our freedom, the true life He intended from the beginning--is offered to us now. We see the example of Jesus and the way He healed every person who came to Him. We see the Apostles and how even the cast of their shadow brought healing to someone. We know the most critical healing is our spiritual healing--no longer separated from God because of our sin, but made alive with Christ as God raised Him from the dead. We see and we wrestle. Our faith grows. Our dependence grows. Our longing for things to finally be set fully right grows.
And, we wait.
We love you, Sophie. We're so thankful for your life. You are precious to us. Come see us soon. We're so excited to meet you face-to-face. xo
(More on Sophie's story here)
Monday, August 12, 2013
The Challenges of Peacemaking
I've been exposed a lot these past 18 months. Some of the things people have shared with others have been partial truths, while other things haven't been true at all. There has been damage caused in relationships as a result of people speaking out aspects of my 'story' to others. This week, I experienced another similar circumstance. This time, albeit I knew the intention lacked malice of any sort, the piece of my 'story' wasn't even from my story. I felt frustrated because I was 'outed' for something that wasn't true. I wondered about how the other person who was invited in to the conversation would view me (I'd only met the person one time). Encouragingly, I saw it--my desire to be seen a certain way. I could make different decisions on how to respond because I saw this. I'm thankful for the seeing.
In my life right now, I'm learning to be a peacemaker and it's painful. Up to this point, I think I'd describe myself as a peacekeeper. The distinction is key. I'm learning to lean in to conflict (whatever form it takes) in hopes of living life in a more honest way with people. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm not ashamed of who I am or how I feel or what I'm walking through. Because I know I'm loved, I can tell the truth. But, I'm not great at this peacemaker thing...
Even though it's true that I'm loved completely and can therefore walk unashamedly in my stuff, there was something in this circumstance which required mending. I needed to do what doesn't come naturally yet. I needed to be a peacemaker. Because, the truth is, this friend still shared my 'story' with someone else without my permission. They made a decision for me--it's okay to share this because 'we' want to have an open environment. They went further by defining the terms of what it meant to achieve this sort of framework: Everything I want to know about you needs to be on the table for everyone else to know about you. Even if what they shared was true (and perhaps more so if it had actually been the case), I would have felt as I did. You see, our stories are ours to tell and ours alone. Unless we grant someone permission to put us on display, a boundary is being crossed. It must be acknowledged because we take something from them: dignity.
The thing is, I've done this, too and I've meant well. But, I've made a decision for those people in those circumstances. I've taken their voices away from them and replaced them with my own. My hope is to continue to be a person who can be trusted with the stories of others. I have a long way to go in the process for sure. This circumstance helped me to see this even more clearly in my own life.
Honestly, I wish I would have launched in to the conversation differently with my friend tonight though. I have a regret about how I dived in so directly. I wish I would have said, "Hey, I know you probably didn't intend this, but here's how I experienced what happened..." Instead, I expressed what was hard and awkwardly walked through the conversation. I became defensive when I felt misunderstood about what was hard and when we didn't see eye to eye on why it was a big deal for me.
And, I don't know where this friend and I will be in the future as a result of this conversation. That's extremely challenging for me... I want peace, but what it takes to arrive there at times feels more like war to me. I hate that feeling. Perhaps it's why 'Peacemaker' hasn't topped my list as most desired character quality. So tonight, I go to sleep with mixed emotions. I'm thankful for the way I'm finally using my voice. I only hope I learn to be a more loving, generous, compassionate person as I become a peacemaker.
In my life right now, I'm learning to be a peacemaker and it's painful. Up to this point, I think I'd describe myself as a peacekeeper. The distinction is key. I'm learning to lean in to conflict (whatever form it takes) in hopes of living life in a more honest way with people. I don't want to hide anymore. I'm not ashamed of who I am or how I feel or what I'm walking through. Because I know I'm loved, I can tell the truth. But, I'm not great at this peacemaker thing...
Even though it's true that I'm loved completely and can therefore walk unashamedly in my stuff, there was something in this circumstance which required mending. I needed to do what doesn't come naturally yet. I needed to be a peacemaker. Because, the truth is, this friend still shared my 'story' with someone else without my permission. They made a decision for me--it's okay to share this because 'we' want to have an open environment. They went further by defining the terms of what it meant to achieve this sort of framework: Everything I want to know about you needs to be on the table for everyone else to know about you. Even if what they shared was true (and perhaps more so if it had actually been the case), I would have felt as I did. You see, our stories are ours to tell and ours alone. Unless we grant someone permission to put us on display, a boundary is being crossed. It must be acknowledged because we take something from them: dignity.
The thing is, I've done this, too and I've meant well. But, I've made a decision for those people in those circumstances. I've taken their voices away from them and replaced them with my own. My hope is to continue to be a person who can be trusted with the stories of others. I have a long way to go in the process for sure. This circumstance helped me to see this even more clearly in my own life.
Honestly, I wish I would have launched in to the conversation differently with my friend tonight though. I have a regret about how I dived in so directly. I wish I would have said, "Hey, I know you probably didn't intend this, but here's how I experienced what happened..." Instead, I expressed what was hard and awkwardly walked through the conversation. I became defensive when I felt misunderstood about what was hard and when we didn't see eye to eye on why it was a big deal for me.
And, I don't know where this friend and I will be in the future as a result of this conversation. That's extremely challenging for me... I want peace, but what it takes to arrive there at times feels more like war to me. I hate that feeling. Perhaps it's why 'Peacemaker' hasn't topped my list as most desired character quality. So tonight, I go to sleep with mixed emotions. I'm thankful for the way I'm finally using my voice. I only hope I learn to be a more loving, generous, compassionate person as I become a peacemaker.
Thursday, August 08, 2013
In Quietness and Rest...
I've been tired this week. The sort of tired where my body says, "Stop! Why are you still in motion?" Needless to say, I felt so grateful to wake up this
morning without need to pull myself together to leave the house for an
appointment. I made an egg with veggies and some toast. I slowly drank
my coffee. Sitting down to read, I felt all over the place and finally
asked the Lord to bring stillness to me and show me something
meaningful. After, I came upon Psalm 93:
The Lord is king! He is robed in majesty.
Indeed, the Lord is robed in majesty and armed with strength.
The world stands firm
and cannot be shaken.
The Lord is king! He is robed in majesty.
Indeed, the Lord is robed in majesty and armed with strength.
The world stands firm
and cannot be shaken.
Your throne, O Lord, has stood from time immemorial.
You yourself are from the everlasting past.
You yourself are from the everlasting past.
The floods have risen up, O Lord.
The floods have roared like thunder;
the floods have lifted their pounding waves.
The floods have roared like thunder;
the floods have lifted their pounding waves.
But mightier than the violent raging of the seas,
mightier than the breakers on the shore—
the Lord above is mightier than these!
mightier than the breakers on the shore—
the Lord above is mightier than these!
Your royal laws cannot be changed.
Your reign, O Lord, is holy forever and ever.
Your reign, O Lord, is holy forever and ever.
The
house I'm living in right now has a lovely bit of open space behind it.
I sat here looking out on green fields warming in the wake of the
rising sun considering these words. It is such a comfort to know the
Lord. I'm thankful for the reminders in this particular Psalm because as
I remember who He is, I find rest.
I
sensed an opportunity to sit in the knowledge of His love for me. So I
asked Him, "Lord, would You show me how You love me today?" As I waited,
several different people and the related circumstances I'm walking
through with them came to mind. My eyes welled up with tears as I
thought about each. They weren't tears of sadness, but tears of release.
I realized the Lord was inviting me to hand the questions, the
frustrations and the outcomes to Him. I asked, "Lord, would You show me
how Your love touches these things and how I'm to respond knowing that
You love me perfectly and completely?"
In
the midst of the weariness, these are the sweetest moments I could ask
for with God. Learning to sit in the quiet to hear Him today made space
for the things going on in my heart to surface. It allowed a place for
me to understand how the Lord loves me and relates to me. We looked at
them together. In the process, He invited me to lift my eyes -- to see
what He sees. I saw His goodness and His love. And, as I remembered the truth of who He is, I found peace and strength at the start of this new day.
Friday, August 02, 2013
Your Love Never Fails
Life has been on the upswing lately. Really. Something has shifted and I'm looking at the world differently. I think it has a lot to do with love. Perhaps for the first time ever, I really know (like know in the bottom of my stomach down to the edges of my toes and back up again to the top of my head know-know) how the Lord loves me. He just does. It's simple. It's profound. I find rest here in His love.
So imagine my surprise as yesterday and today I'm walking around with some sadness. I mean, knowing how He loves me these days has made a significant impact on all the little and big things taking place inside of me and on the outside, too. But, then I started seeing this sadness there and I've been asking Him about it. Well, if I'm honest, at first I decided to ignore it, assuming it would pass. Then it was there again in the afternoon yesterday and last night as I drove home. I cried a little and asked Him why I was crying.
Today, I sat with my journal for a few minutes and wrote out three things I really want right now. The tears came again. I think I hit the sweet spot. (Or perhaps more appropriately, the tender spot.) I closed the pages sort-of quickly because I really don't want to cry today. I just want to enjoy this corner I've turned...sans the tears, you know? (Don't get me wrong--I'm all about the tears, but lately they've come from a place of peace or joy or understanding, not sadness...)
Turning around, there was my Bible on the sofa. Picking myself up and placing it on my lap as I sat down again, I opened it and these words (underlined by yours truly) flew off the page, "I will lead blind Israel down a new path, guiding them along an unfamiliar way. I will brighten the darkness before them and smooth out the road ahead of them. Yes, I will indeed do these things; I will not forsake them. But those who trust in idols, who say, 'You are our gods', will be turned away in shame." Isaiah 42:6-17
Then, my eyes skipped to the page on the left and I read more underlined words: "He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. He will bring justice to all who have been wronged. He will not falter or lose heart until justice prevails throughout the earth." Isaiah 42:4
In the right-hand margin, I had written this... "He will lead me out of this..." 12.13.12
The Lord is so beautiful in the way He loves and provides for us. Reflecting on how this passage tells us about the coming Messiah, Jesus and goes on to celebrate God's goodness to His people, I cried for the third time since late last night. The truth is, He has walked me through a very painful wilderness season and I'm seeing it fade away into the distance behind me now. I've stepped into a new season, but I was reminded as I read these words today how even here, having been through all of that, there will be sadness. I really don't want to see that reality today. I want bubblegum and gumdrops and things that remind one to always be happy.
Yet, God in His goodness reminds me that my hope in Him is fruitful. If I put it in other things, 'idols' as the passage mentions, I'm going to be very, very disappointed. There are longings inside of me which provide me a unique opportunity: Will I move toward the Lord with them or move away? Will the longings and the lack I feel inside as they remain unfulfilled become my focus, or will I place my hope in Him?
If there's anything I've learned about longing in the past decade, it's simply how God desires to honor what He's put inside of me, but always in His way and His time. I must be faithful. I must move forward and steward the things in my heart I know are from Him. And, I must also wait. Waiting is hard. But He tells me how He's good. He won't crush me or my hope in this process. He won't give up on the good plans He has. He will bring justice to the places in my life where brokenness has wreaked havoc (and I've seen Him do just that these past eight months!). He won't forsake me. He never has. He doesn't fail.
So today, I'm choosing to feel this sadness. I picture myself cupping my hands together offering those three little (rather, one smallish, two rather enormous) items up to Him. I see Him smile and nod His head. How the Father delights in the way we choose to trust Him... I know I can do this now because He loves me. He loves me enough to tell me to rest and to wait as He brightens the darkness ahead of me, leading me on a smooth and unfamiliar path.
So imagine my surprise as yesterday and today I'm walking around with some sadness. I mean, knowing how He loves me these days has made a significant impact on all the little and big things taking place inside of me and on the outside, too. But, then I started seeing this sadness there and I've been asking Him about it. Well, if I'm honest, at first I decided to ignore it, assuming it would pass. Then it was there again in the afternoon yesterday and last night as I drove home. I cried a little and asked Him why I was crying.
Today, I sat with my journal for a few minutes and wrote out three things I really want right now. The tears came again. I think I hit the sweet spot. (Or perhaps more appropriately, the tender spot.) I closed the pages sort-of quickly because I really don't want to cry today. I just want to enjoy this corner I've turned...sans the tears, you know? (Don't get me wrong--I'm all about the tears, but lately they've come from a place of peace or joy or understanding, not sadness...)
Turning around, there was my Bible on the sofa. Picking myself up and placing it on my lap as I sat down again, I opened it and these words (underlined by yours truly) flew off the page, "I will lead blind Israel down a new path, guiding them along an unfamiliar way. I will brighten the darkness before them and smooth out the road ahead of them. Yes, I will indeed do these things; I will not forsake them. But those who trust in idols, who say, 'You are our gods', will be turned away in shame." Isaiah 42:6-17
Then, my eyes skipped to the page on the left and I read more underlined words: "He will not crush the weakest reed or put out a flickering candle. He will bring justice to all who have been wronged. He will not falter or lose heart until justice prevails throughout the earth." Isaiah 42:4
In the right-hand margin, I had written this... "He will lead me out of this..." 12.13.12
The Lord is so beautiful in the way He loves and provides for us. Reflecting on how this passage tells us about the coming Messiah, Jesus and goes on to celebrate God's goodness to His people, I cried for the third time since late last night. The truth is, He has walked me through a very painful wilderness season and I'm seeing it fade away into the distance behind me now. I've stepped into a new season, but I was reminded as I read these words today how even here, having been through all of that, there will be sadness. I really don't want to see that reality today. I want bubblegum and gumdrops and things that remind one to always be happy.
Yet, God in His goodness reminds me that my hope in Him is fruitful. If I put it in other things, 'idols' as the passage mentions, I'm going to be very, very disappointed. There are longings inside of me which provide me a unique opportunity: Will I move toward the Lord with them or move away? Will the longings and the lack I feel inside as they remain unfulfilled become my focus, or will I place my hope in Him?
If there's anything I've learned about longing in the past decade, it's simply how God desires to honor what He's put inside of me, but always in His way and His time. I must be faithful. I must move forward and steward the things in my heart I know are from Him. And, I must also wait. Waiting is hard. But He tells me how He's good. He won't crush me or my hope in this process. He won't give up on the good plans He has. He will bring justice to the places in my life where brokenness has wreaked havoc (and I've seen Him do just that these past eight months!). He won't forsake me. He never has. He doesn't fail.
So today, I'm choosing to feel this sadness. I picture myself cupping my hands together offering those three little (rather, one smallish, two rather enormous) items up to Him. I see Him smile and nod His head. How the Father delights in the way we choose to trust Him... I know I can do this now because He loves me. He loves me enough to tell me to rest and to wait as He brightens the darkness ahead of me, leading me on a smooth and unfamiliar path.
Wednesday, July 24, 2013
Make a Cup of Coffee
I woke up Friday morning and in the quiet first moments of the day, sensed the Lord saying, "You could take the next few days off..." I've been wanting to schedule a few consecutive days of rest, but each time I consulted my calendar, the time appeared to be at least two weeks away. But, He was right... I had no commitments over the weekend personally, if I took Sunday off and completed a few things Friday morning to free up the rest of the day, I could have 3.5 days! So, I did it.
Friday evening a friend joined me for a low-key evening in, complete with dinner and a movie. Saturday I stayed home again. I watched another movie and a few episodes of a favorite TV show. I mowed the lawn. I ran an errand. I think I napped? Sunday, I decided to go out of town overnight and booked a hotel on the Gulf Coast. Minus the adventure I created for myself by forgetting my purse (including cash, cards and identification) at home, two hours from where I'd just driven, it was a refreshing weekend. Who said grown-ups don't need their parents? Mine laughed with me and generously wired me money so I could eat more than the two granola bars, plum and four baby carrots I had remaining in my snack stash. Thanks Mom and Dad! (Not to mention, thanks to the kind people at the hotel who allowed me to check in...) I took a walk on the beach, ate Cuban food, spent time with the Lord, ate ice cream, laid out the next morning... In all, it was grand.
So today I've been feeling the pressure again. It goes something like this... "Jessica, you need to get it together and make these things happen. You need to be more creative. You need to have a plan for where you're going and know how to get there... What are you going to tell people? Why would anyone follow you unless you have a comprehensive plan? You have to prove you're worth it to the team..." Once I acknowledged this voice in my head, I was able to recognize something... In the past few years, God has been teaching me a significant lesson and it goes like this: Be Still. Everything this voice was saying was encouraging the opposite. In fact, I felt panic rise. I wondered how badly I was failing. I wondered how disposable I would become if I couldn't get it together to be brilliant and perfect. What lies.
The truth is, God wants me to give every part of who I am to Him. The sweetest seasons these past few years have come as I've sat with Him and waited. I've asked questions. I've listened (often as I read His Word He begins speaking things to me from there about direction and ideas...). I've moved when He has indicated it is the time to begin. And the cool thing? There's been good fruit. Some days I can't see it well, but it's okay. As I'm walking with Jesus, fully giving myself to Him and enjoying Him, He does things I can't picture at the starting line. He exceeds my expectations of what I thought possible -- always. I need to see this, too. I need to remember because the way He works is very different than the way the world invites me to work.
The hard part? He gets the credit. Of course, that's actually wonderful... But, my pride struggles with it at times. If I'm honest, I still see myself wanting to build my own kingdom. I still see myself wanting to be thought of in a way where others respect me, want me around, see me as a vital part of the team because of what I contribute. That's where this "prove your worth" mentality comes in. When I forget that what He asks of me is to give myself to Him -- not just what I do, but every aspect of who I am -- so He can move in and through me, I live under this invisible pressure. He is not the source of this pressure. The thing is, I don't have to live there. It's totally my choice.
So today, instead of sitting under it, I heard the Lord. I heard Him tell me He loves me. I heard Him say He knows the steps. I heard Him say He has the ideas. And, I heard Him invite me to make a cup of coffee. So, I did. And, it's grand. It's so good to remember that He is God. It's so good to remember that He'll give me what I need to do what He wants me to do. It's so good to remember that my role is to listen and obey. (Oh, and don't forget enjoy!! He's absolutely wonderful and worth spending time with, you know?)
Wednesday, July 17, 2013
My Heart Is Here: Two Years Later
+copy.JPG)
The Lord took me in to the cavern of an old grief -- a relationship which meant the most to me out of all those I'd had in my life. My sadness was profound. I couldn't understand why, after all of those years, I had to go back to that particular story. I thought I'd grieved it fully, but my tears literally showered me with fresh understanding... It still wasn't finished in my heart. The drops were the largest I'd seen fly from my eyes and they came regularly. Daily, my belly felt the weight of my sadness, my loss.
Every time it rained, it seemed God pointed my eyes to the rainbow which followed as if to say, "See... Remember... My promises are true." Jesus, a man of sorrows, acquainted with deep grief became my companion in the midst of my struggle to believe God at His word. I looked at those rainbows which frequently appeared in my path and wept time and again. How could He mean it? What was this pain I was walking through again? Why rehash it now when the thing was long-dead?
Our staff conference started and for the first time ever, I found myself completely secure to sit alone. I made my way in to the arena on my schedule and found a quiet place on the floor where I could be with Him. At times, I'd find a friend to sit with, but more than not I found tremendous solace in being 'by myself' (in a room of 6,000...). I felt like I had a lot of questions for the Lord two years ago, yet I sat quietly in the enormous space longing to simply sit with Him. I didn't really know how to ask what I felt I wanted to ask.
He gave me a piece of understanding one day about steps forward--He wanted me to offer what I'd been given over the years to my church family. Little did I know in that moment... He was preparing the way for me to leave this family I'd belonged to since college. I savored the conference though. I breathed it in. I took note of my surroundings. I rested as I realized how small I was in such a big organization. I felt challenged by how big my heart had grown during the long season of service. It seemed the size and capability of my heart surpassed the enormity of this family and the work we did. The Lord had matured me, I realized. He had more for me. But mostly, I just knew He wanted to be with me and I wanted to be with Him. It was a beginning I didn't even know I was starting.
Two years later, I watch as friends from Orlando were hired, giving excellence to the event to honor Him and serve the staff. I watch online, not from my perch on the floor any longer. I watch from 1,545 United Airline miles away. I watch from my home which has become more of a home than I ever imagined it could be... The home there feeling more like a distant cousin these days. I watch as I transition from an extremely painful season in my new adventure to a season of hope and, I believe, breakthrough. I watch and part of me misses it. I belonged to it and it to me. Now, I'm an onlooker, an observer. It feels really, really strange. But then, I imagine if I was part of it still. That, I cannot imagine. My heart isn't there any longer (though my appreciation and love for it is significant).
My heart is here. I am walking in the thing He has for me and there's a fathomless beauty in this place. There's space to create and grow and change the world in ways I have yet to imagine. He has become my Home. The life He has called me to live is a gift. Still, I miss the old piece of it today. Perhaps these tears are for the loss of what I knew. There are so many unknowns here. So, so many. At times, it is the hardest challenge I face in the midst of days where I wonder what is best and how to respond and what is next on the horizon for these people and this place.
And tonight, I don't doubt the reality that I'm supposed to be here... I believe His promises in a way I didn't think I'd ever be able to again... And, I continue to wonder: How does this all turn out?
Friday, July 12, 2013
Good
Tonight my friends came over for dinner. The plan was to hang together and move forward on some things we learned at a conference together a few weeks back. The doorbell sounded (like fifteen times--he kept pressing the button) and I pranced down the stairs, greeting them with a smile through the glass doors between us.
Opening the door, I blocked the way in and said, "Well guys, I've decided that we must be good enough friends for me to wear my pajamas around you..." There I stood in my pj pants, a t-shirt and my hair up on top of my head. I looked wonderful. Promise. They smiled back and she said, "I brought my comfy clothes, too!!" Yes. Seriously, these are the types of friends I need in my life.
I just feel grateful tonight. Grateful I have friends to cook for, people I can walk alongside in a process where we grow deeper with Jesus and take steps in to the things He calls us to, friends to laugh with and people who share the real thoughts that run through our brains. After they left, I felt too awake to go to sleep. So, I snuggled up on the sofa and watched another episode of Burn Notice on Netflix and thought about what it'd be like to be a spy. Good stuff. Good night. Good life.
Opening the door, I blocked the way in and said, "Well guys, I've decided that we must be good enough friends for me to wear my pajamas around you..." There I stood in my pj pants, a t-shirt and my hair up on top of my head. I looked wonderful. Promise. They smiled back and she said, "I brought my comfy clothes, too!!" Yes. Seriously, these are the types of friends I need in my life.
I just feel grateful tonight. Grateful I have friends to cook for, people I can walk alongside in a process where we grow deeper with Jesus and take steps in to the things He calls us to, friends to laugh with and people who share the real thoughts that run through our brains. After they left, I felt too awake to go to sleep. So, I snuggled up on the sofa and watched another episode of Burn Notice on Netflix and thought about what it'd be like to be a spy. Good stuff. Good night. Good life.
Sunday, July 07, 2013
What Holds Me Back
I've been thinking a lot this week about what it takes to step into the things I really want in life--things I'm called to, dreams I've dreamed, hopes I've held on to over all of the years. Regarding the book and the writing specifically, I've been reminded how I simply have to try. Sometimes the lack of 'try' is the only thing truly holding me back.
I have to continue to take time for it, allow myself the freedom to be creative and explore the truth through actual stories in my life, but I can also invent... In fact, the short I posted here the other day was an early attempt at the latter. It has been a challenge to write what I've learned through my own stories at times. I think part of it has to do with the need to step back into those moments and places--it's tough. I've experienced so much healing over the years and the writing requires me to go back to the hard stuff in depth. Line by line I've been retelling those stories that have been the source of so much wounding and so much shaping. There's the beauty though--the shaping. I've learned a lot. Yet, it's taxing to revisit it all.
I guess I've wondered how I move through it so I can finish the work. The idea of this feels daunting most days. I feel weary of the stories. I've lived them over and over again already... At the end of the day, I want to see it come together. So, I choose to press in and move forward. I don't want to give up on the bigger picture of where all of this is taking me. Of course, I don't see clearly where that is exactly, but there's the hope of it. There's always hope.
I found it encouraging to try exploring what I've learned from another angle. It's not the direction of the book, certainly, but I realized something important... There are so many people I've known over the years that I've learned from. I could write dozens of books by simply offering what I've noticed about each--mix and match their traits... Characters and books galore!! I felt bolstered as I understood this. It gave me a little push beyond my box. I needed it.
So, here's to trying.
I have to continue to take time for it, allow myself the freedom to be creative and explore the truth through actual stories in my life, but I can also invent... In fact, the short I posted here the other day was an early attempt at the latter. It has been a challenge to write what I've learned through my own stories at times. I think part of it has to do with the need to step back into those moments and places--it's tough. I've experienced so much healing over the years and the writing requires me to go back to the hard stuff in depth. Line by line I've been retelling those stories that have been the source of so much wounding and so much shaping. There's the beauty though--the shaping. I've learned a lot. Yet, it's taxing to revisit it all.
I guess I've wondered how I move through it so I can finish the work. The idea of this feels daunting most days. I feel weary of the stories. I've lived them over and over again already... At the end of the day, I want to see it come together. So, I choose to press in and move forward. I don't want to give up on the bigger picture of where all of this is taking me. Of course, I don't see clearly where that is exactly, but there's the hope of it. There's always hope.
I found it encouraging to try exploring what I've learned from another angle. It's not the direction of the book, certainly, but I realized something important... There are so many people I've known over the years that I've learned from. I could write dozens of books by simply offering what I've noticed about each--mix and match their traits... Characters and books galore!! I felt bolstered as I understood this. It gave me a little push beyond my box. I needed it.
So, here's to trying.
Sunday, June 30, 2013
A Short
"Maybe you need someone cynical, a woman who postures herself in a mix of hopefulness and hatred of the world." She thought of telling him, but regularly held her tongue allowing the words to sway back and forth on her brow. What did she know anyway? Closing her eyes, she imagined it though. The two of them together. The brilliant woman so wounded, finding strength in words and tightly laughing when she encountered those beneath her. And him, unaware, disciplined, engaging everyone he met with his warmth and ideas. What did she have to offer him anyway? The other woman was mysterious, withdrawn, confident. Comparatively, she felt like a school girl.
Sitting up, she forced her eyes open. She could write a book with all of the scenarios she dreamed up behind closed lids. She sighed and looked out the window. Sun. Again. Couldn't the weather cooperate long enough to coordinate with her mood? Her insides longed for grey, overcast skies. She considered the idea again. What if she actually uttered those words? Maybe he'd leave her. Maybe he'd stay. She was a tornado of complete hope and utter despair, but cynical she was not.
The bell rang, pulling her from the sudden stupor. Throwing on the over-sized robe, she rubbed her face, sighed again and headed for the door. Opening it, she saw no one -- though a freshly placed cardboard box blocked the stairs. It was large and fairly cumbersome. She crossed over it to pick it up from below. Now especially conscience of her appearance and the possibility of being seen by a neighbor, she awkwardly lifted the not-so-heavy box and quickly headed inside.
Managing to lift it onto the bar in the kitchen, she stared at it. Her name and address were listed in the "To" area, but curiously, her name and address were also listed in the "From" section. She had no memory of sending herself a package. Certainly she had not been thriving recently, but there's no way she would forget a detail like that.
Cautiously, she maneuvered a kitchen knife along the taped edges of the box. Pink packing peanuts spilled out onto the floor as she lifted the lid. Her hands swam through a sea of them, finally resting on a solid object. Pulling out a large paper-covered oval, she laid it aside digging through the peanuts once again. This time, she found a large manilla envelope and set it on the counter-top as well. Nothing remained in the box now.
Eagerly, she turned her attention first to the object. Unwrapping it, she discovered a mirror. Etched along the top edge was one simple word: Enough. Puzzled, she glanced at herself in it. The word rested above her sad face. She stared at herself now. Tears pricked from behind her lashes as she continued to glance from the word to her face. She noticed her emotions rising. Fearing they'd overtake her, she set the mirror down, reaching for the envelope. From inside, she pulled out a single sheet of crisp white paper. The hand-written message simply offered:
You are enough.
Look often.
Remember.
Now the tears came freely. In her over-sized robe, she crumpled to the floor. She was overcome.
Sitting up, she forced her eyes open. She could write a book with all of the scenarios she dreamed up behind closed lids. She sighed and looked out the window. Sun. Again. Couldn't the weather cooperate long enough to coordinate with her mood? Her insides longed for grey, overcast skies. She considered the idea again. What if she actually uttered those words? Maybe he'd leave her. Maybe he'd stay. She was a tornado of complete hope and utter despair, but cynical she was not.
The bell rang, pulling her from the sudden stupor. Throwing on the over-sized robe, she rubbed her face, sighed again and headed for the door. Opening it, she saw no one -- though a freshly placed cardboard box blocked the stairs. It was large and fairly cumbersome. She crossed over it to pick it up from below. Now especially conscience of her appearance and the possibility of being seen by a neighbor, she awkwardly lifted the not-so-heavy box and quickly headed inside.
Managing to lift it onto the bar in the kitchen, she stared at it. Her name and address were listed in the "To" area, but curiously, her name and address were also listed in the "From" section. She had no memory of sending herself a package. Certainly she had not been thriving recently, but there's no way she would forget a detail like that.
Cautiously, she maneuvered a kitchen knife along the taped edges of the box. Pink packing peanuts spilled out onto the floor as she lifted the lid. Her hands swam through a sea of them, finally resting on a solid object. Pulling out a large paper-covered oval, she laid it aside digging through the peanuts once again. This time, she found a large manilla envelope and set it on the counter-top as well. Nothing remained in the box now.
Eagerly, she turned her attention first to the object. Unwrapping it, she discovered a mirror. Etched along the top edge was one simple word: Enough. Puzzled, she glanced at herself in it. The word rested above her sad face. She stared at herself now. Tears pricked from behind her lashes as she continued to glance from the word to her face. She noticed her emotions rising. Fearing they'd overtake her, she set the mirror down, reaching for the envelope. From inside, she pulled out a single sheet of crisp white paper. The hand-written message simply offered:
You are enough.
Look often.
Remember.
Now the tears came freely. In her over-sized robe, she crumpled to the floor. She was overcome.
Thursday, June 20, 2013
Leading Well
Shifting gears a bit tonight... I'm taking a few days out of my 'regularly scheduled' life to participate in a conference. It's the first event I've been to in almost two years--hard to believe! My old life kept me in conference mode on a frequent basis. At any rate, I spent six hours in a room with mostly strangers. We jumped from a dialogue about change to conflict resolution to gossip and more. And I'm sitting here now with my head spinning...
It's amazing how difficult it is to lead and how simple it is all at once. The things we worked through in six hours tackle the root issue of so many experiences I've had this past year in the church planting arena. I can't wait to see what's in store for tomorrow. There were two things that stood out above all else today...
One
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."
--African Proverb
It's so easy to want to go alone. We see where we're going and can strike out, unhindered, on what seems a very clear path. Trouble is, there isn't anyone there to really enjoy the journey. At some point, even if other people follow after us, we'll likely want to keep moving and they might not be able or ready to do so... What then? Do we keep splitting? Do we keep leaving people behind because we want to get where we're going fast?
Two
Gossip: When someone says something negative about someone who is not part of the problem or part of the solution.
Gut buster! I mean, seriously... When I consider these months and months in my new world, how many conversations have I been a part of or even instigated (gasp!) where GOSSIP was the main course on the menu?! What if we all made a personal rule not to do it? Not to hear it?
When someone comes to us, what if we did what I learned tonight...
Ask:
Are you coming to me to gossip?
Are you coming to me for counsel?
If it's the latter, he told us how he literally gives the person a deadline by which they need to go talk to the person in question OR he tells them that if they don't do so within that time frame, he'll reach out to that person to help in the reconciliation process. What in the world? So simple. SO hard. So, so good.
Imagine the change though... Actually dealing with our issues. Being honest and vulnerable. Inviting others to do the same. Beautiful.
More soon. We're starting at 8 AM sharp so this girl has to get some beauty sleep...
It's amazing how difficult it is to lead and how simple it is all at once. The things we worked through in six hours tackle the root issue of so many experiences I've had this past year in the church planting arena. I can't wait to see what's in store for tomorrow. There were two things that stood out above all else today...
One
"If you want to go fast, go alone. If you want to go far, go together."
--African Proverb
It's so easy to want to go alone. We see where we're going and can strike out, unhindered, on what seems a very clear path. Trouble is, there isn't anyone there to really enjoy the journey. At some point, even if other people follow after us, we'll likely want to keep moving and they might not be able or ready to do so... What then? Do we keep splitting? Do we keep leaving people behind because we want to get where we're going fast?
Two
Gossip: When someone says something negative about someone who is not part of the problem or part of the solution.
Gut buster! I mean, seriously... When I consider these months and months in my new world, how many conversations have I been a part of or even instigated (gasp!) where GOSSIP was the main course on the menu?! What if we all made a personal rule not to do it? Not to hear it?
When someone comes to us, what if we did what I learned tonight...
Ask:
Are you coming to me to gossip?
Are you coming to me for counsel?
If it's the latter, he told us how he literally gives the person a deadline by which they need to go talk to the person in question OR he tells them that if they don't do so within that time frame, he'll reach out to that person to help in the reconciliation process. What in the world? So simple. SO hard. So, so good.
Imagine the change though... Actually dealing with our issues. Being honest and vulnerable. Inviting others to do the same. Beautiful.
More soon. We're starting at 8 AM sharp so this girl has to get some beauty sleep...
Sunday, June 16, 2013
Him
He made an astute observation, "The Gospel is so incredibly dear to you because of what you've experienced in your life..." Perhaps for the first time, I saw it, too. A million thoughts entered my mind all at once and I teared. "I don't know if I've ever seen it that way, " I responded (at least in my head--I don't know if the words actually came out).
Thinking about it later, the reality sunk in more deeply. The Father's love for me has changed everything. He is the only One who has fully understood, walked with me in every aspect of my life and poured out love in a way I haven't been able to experience and receive from other people. The Gospel is precious to me because He is precious to me.
How did He become precious? Through years and years of disappointments. Through wounds. Through unmet longings and postponed desires. The junk of life has illuminated the treasure of the cross, the beauty of His sacrificial love, the wonder of His goodness and faithfulness to me.
He has never abandoned me. He has never belittled me. He has never ignored me. He has never forgotten me. He has always given me dignity. He has always loved me. He has always cheered me on. He has always forgiven me. He has always told me the truth--and put my shame away from me. He has been merciful. He has been kind. He has been beyond generous. He has never failed.
Sitting quietly at the desk, I turned from the computer screen to witness the morning through the windows. I listened to a song I posted here months ago (Beautiful, by Phil Wickham). He sings, "When we arrive at Eternity's shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we'll sing... You're beautiful." Before I knew it, tears fell. I sat here thinking, "And isn't that JUST it..." Hope. All of this leads me into the beauty of who He is. I get to rest there for eternity--in perfect relationship. Living IN the fullness of the promise. Really, truly, completely ALIVE.
This Kingdom, this Gospel is precious because He is precious. I can lay everything down if it means I get Him. And, if the longings in my heart don't ever come to pass in the way I hoped, I still don't lose. I consider it a bargain. I've gotten the best part.
Thinking about it later, the reality sunk in more deeply. The Father's love for me has changed everything. He is the only One who has fully understood, walked with me in every aspect of my life and poured out love in a way I haven't been able to experience and receive from other people. The Gospel is precious to me because He is precious to me.
How did He become precious? Through years and years of disappointments. Through wounds. Through unmet longings and postponed desires. The junk of life has illuminated the treasure of the cross, the beauty of His sacrificial love, the wonder of His goodness and faithfulness to me.
He has never abandoned me. He has never belittled me. He has never ignored me. He has never forgotten me. He has always given me dignity. He has always loved me. He has always cheered me on. He has always forgiven me. He has always told me the truth--and put my shame away from me. He has been merciful. He has been kind. He has been beyond generous. He has never failed.
Sitting quietly at the desk, I turned from the computer screen to witness the morning through the windows. I listened to a song I posted here months ago (Beautiful, by Phil Wickham). He sings, "When we arrive at Eternity's shore, where death is just a memory and tears are no more, we'll enter in as the wedding bells ring, Your bride will come together and we'll sing... You're beautiful." Before I knew it, tears fell. I sat here thinking, "And isn't that JUST it..." Hope. All of this leads me into the beauty of who He is. I get to rest there for eternity--in perfect relationship. Living IN the fullness of the promise. Really, truly, completely ALIVE.
This Kingdom, this Gospel is precious because He is precious. I can lay everything down if it means I get Him. And, if the longings in my heart don't ever come to pass in the way I hoped, I still don't lose. I consider it a bargain. I've gotten the best part.
Saturday, June 15, 2013
There
It towers in the distance
once I belonged to it
now a simple, striking monument
warm with white
reflecting sun and moon
whispering of days gone by
stirring my vision onward
Grounded atop old marsh fields
it sits patiently there for me now
a poignant placard encased in beauty
above, the sky proclaims, "Bigger"
in soft, bold characters
tender with confidence
I hardly notice in daylight
flying by into this or that
the stars shine and the moon rises
lights glisten in the distance
I see it then
standing in a brood delightful
my eyes shift from here to there
There my calling beckons
Here I lose my sight
"Lift your eyes; yes, remember..."
Look upon it, see
A promise, privilege, gift
It slumbers while I dream awake
my emotions fill the vast expanse of sky
one by one, I tuck each consideration away
pondering Glory in my heart
holding this memory stone in my gaze.
once I belonged to it
now a simple, striking monument
warm with white
reflecting sun and moon
whispering of days gone by
stirring my vision onward
Grounded atop old marsh fields
it sits patiently there for me now
a poignant placard encased in beauty
above, the sky proclaims, "Bigger"
in soft, bold characters
tender with confidence
I hardly notice in daylight
flying by into this or that
the stars shine and the moon rises
lights glisten in the distance
I see it then
standing in a brood delightful
my eyes shift from here to there
There my calling beckons
Here I lose my sight
"Lift your eyes; yes, remember..."
Look upon it, see
A promise, privilege, gift
It slumbers while I dream awake
my emotions fill the vast expanse of sky
one by one, I tuck each consideration away
pondering Glory in my heart
holding this memory stone in my gaze.
Thursday, June 06, 2013
Rejoice
The sky is grey and the rain has come today with more consistency. A tropical storm makes its way along the landscape of Florida and we're better for it. People tell me we need it. I don't understand this completely. Growing up in Colorado, you knew when you needed the rain. The earth cracked and wildfires charred fields and mountains. Here, everything looks lush, thriving and green. But the reservoirs of water in retention ponds diminish--apparently this is a 'tell'. How appropriate a picture. Things on the outside don't always reflect the need. Inside, we might diminish while outwardly, to the untrained eye, all appears well.
I'm seeking to live my life in a way where what's going on inside shows on the outside. There's a beauty in not being able to hide the drought, the need. A few weeks ago a man spoke a word over me, "Don't mistake the wilderness for anything else..." This wilderness season has been harsh. I've been unable to avoid the heat of the sun and the cracks seem the most prominent feature on the soil of my heart. My margin for any additional challenge or input is pencil-line thin. I've been exposed time and again. Tears have been close companions.
But today, as I witness the torrents of water falling from the vast expanse of grey sky, I picture all of this water running over and filling these gaps. I understand the way my soul is soaking up every ounce and I feel hope rise--the word "rejoice" takes position over me like a banner. I think it's an invitation. Sweet, cleansing rain. Wash away these months of pain. Remind my soul of what it's gained. Intimacy with my Savior.
I'm seeking to live my life in a way where what's going on inside shows on the outside. There's a beauty in not being able to hide the drought, the need. A few weeks ago a man spoke a word over me, "Don't mistake the wilderness for anything else..." This wilderness season has been harsh. I've been unable to avoid the heat of the sun and the cracks seem the most prominent feature on the soil of my heart. My margin for any additional challenge or input is pencil-line thin. I've been exposed time and again. Tears have been close companions.
But today, as I witness the torrents of water falling from the vast expanse of grey sky, I picture all of this water running over and filling these gaps. I understand the way my soul is soaking up every ounce and I feel hope rise--the word "rejoice" takes position over me like a banner. I think it's an invitation. Sweet, cleansing rain. Wash away these months of pain. Remind my soul of what it's gained. Intimacy with my Savior.
"You meant evil against me, but God meant it for good." Genesis 50:20
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)