Advent(ageous); carrying the wait of glory

I cannot recall a time of actively participating in the Advent season. Not on purpose, I have just had other things going on during "the busy holiday season."

But this year, the focus seems slower and I see this word surrounding me. Advent - what I have come to understand as a time that we wait in preparation of the birth of Christ.

We wait.

That is the season.

For me, this season is longer than the holidays and bigger than Christmas.

And I have never claimed to be good at waiting. I began to accept this as a character trait and gave into the impatience allowing it to drive my actions and reactions. But God has been gracious in (constantly) letting my patience stretch through the waiting. And just when I think I have it down, I wait again.

Within the waiting, I find myself becoming restless. I think this is partly because we have lost the beauty of waiting. We have become a culture so overstimulated that being without a filler of our time causes us to think something is wrong when it may be the most right place we could be. What makes this difficult is the unfamiliarity with the stillness; the uncomfortable or the struggle that becomes evident in that place.
Look at what you do when you are waiting in line at Starbucks, when you pump your gas, when you find yourself standing in the middle of an almost empty lobby. Reach for your phone? Check instagram? Start making dinner plans?

There is something lost in that moment besides time. That is what this season is calling forth. That time is precious and valuable, but not valued in that precarious moment.

What if we stopped?

And that was it. Just stopped.

What if we allowed our time to be broken in order to feel that gap of the wait? What if we shifted ourselves to be in a place positioned to see the coming of the Christ? What if we sought out the signs and wonders? What if we gave pause to consider the magnitude of the magnificence?

It is through compassionate love that Glory has already made the first move towards you and me; and it is through compassionate love that Glory continues to move towards you and me; and it is because of compassionate love that Glory will return for you and me.

The wait is weighty because the glory is glorious.

(If you would like a tool to help give pause during this season, try this free download of Good News of Great Joy, Daily Readings for Advent by John Piper. A lovely friend passed it on to me and I would love to pass it on to you.)

Tis the Season; the present of the present

It's that time of year when you hear one question on repeat: what do you want?
The answer has changed from year to year- toys, clothes, cooking utensils, money for missions...

As this question comes in due time, this year it has become more like a call to take an inventory of my life- what does it entail, what does it encompass, what is it that I want/what is missing?

In searching through these questions, I find myself looking at my haves and have nots: the tangible things in my life that surround me in daily use. The almost countless books stacked and waiting to be read, the 15 purses hanging in the back of my closet, the 23 different pairs of shoes for a number of occasions, the bobbles of jewelry displayed haphazardly, the pots and pans that sit in the cupboards, the mugs that hang and wait to be used, the six different towels folded neatly and tossed in the closet (really, I have six towels all to myself). Truth is, my haves list is embarrassingly lengthy.

In searching through these questions, I find myself looking at my content and discontent: the areas in my life that I give attention to daily. Truth is that I feel more discontent than ever. And it is not necessarily due to the stuff. There is actually nothing I can think of that would bring happiness (other than maybe a hot pink stand mixer, or some work that needs to be done on my jeep, or a new tattoo). It has more to do with where I give my attention. I find that I am constantly looking for the next step- so much so that I forget to see where I am standing. I take pictures and skim articles and glance through pictures without any of it really sinking in; as though because I have taken that picture or read through the article that moment is saved and I can come back to it when I have some free time- there is no need or purpose in the present other than to get me to the future. Thus, I am discontent with the present. It has become a task that will always be behind the future, thus behind where I want to be.

In searching through these questions, I find myself looking at my calling and my hang-ups: the passion that drives my commitments and the defensiveness I settle into. I am taking inventory of where I am in my life. I happen to be a huge fan of my life. It's times like this I give pause to recount the last year, to see the good the Lord has accomplished through the bad, the glory gained from the miserable places, the grace given in the moments of sharp hurt. Am I continuing to move towards that calling or have I settled for good enough for now?

This place of searching and seeking is a place of stillness and waiting- in the midst of the hustle and bustle of the holiday season. There are presents to buy, people to see, cookies to bake- and there are times to share with the people in my life.

So what do I want? I do not want to miss the present of the present, the wonder in the wait, the moments that matter.

The young and the restless

They say to write about what you know, which usually makes me feel like I shouldn't write anything. I would say I don't know very much, but I just may be on the way to being an expert in singleness.

I have seen several articles from people on being single. And they seem to mostly be written by single people in their early 20s or those who are now married looking back on their singleness.


And I get that- there is usually a short window of opportunity to write about singleness because singleness is usually a season; a season that changes to marriage or a season being fresh out of college, new jobs (or searching), watching the facebook world around you explode in wedded bliss and babies. It feels like you are missing out on something, like you missed the plane/train/automobile/memo and that can make you feel less: less than adequate, less than enough, less wanted...

It feels very real and very deep- it can rock your core.

It did for me. I remember that place- it wasn't too long ago.

But I will say this, it gets easier. And not just in a way of resignation; if you let it, singleness can be a sweet time. I think an important distinction is that being single does not mean you are alone.

It does mean you may have to work harder for the system of community than those who are married/with kids. It also does not mean you need to no longer be in community with those who are married/with kids.

And I realize that I am writing about being single in my late 20s- ok, almost 30s. And there are many miles left to go before I could be considered a true expert in this field. But there is goodness to this time.  I see people wrestle with this so often- and I did/do too- I don't know if there is a way around that. It has been through the wrestling that perspective and wisdom were and are gained- not because I won that fight, but because I (finally) stopped fighting.


You know the advice that people love to give? "Stop looking for it and it will find you." They are usually referring to a relationship. And there is some truth to that- when you stop striving, you don't carry a desperation or need for attachment- it is attractive to be comfortable with who you are. However, I have found that when I stop looking for relationship, it frees me to realize I am already found. When I stop wrestling and striving, I am then able to see more clearly that God has been pursuing me. It has been the losing that has allowed me to realize the relationship worth having is readily available.

I was asked to record a video talking mostly to 9-12th grade girls about being single and the ways I seek God. After much deliberation, I am including it in this post. Mostly because much of the deliberation was centered on vanity- I do not like the beginning screen shot of my face- there, I said it. However, I want to share the content, the vocalization of what all I have learned in this sweet time of singleness, the realization that singleness is a fight worth losing because it is in the loss I see the beauty of the gift of time I have been able to know who God is...

When is enough, enough?

I love when the Lord answers my prayers in ways in such abundant ways it is really hard for even someone like me to miss.

As I have been honest with God- bringing my needs to him, sharing with him my heavy heart, listing out my frustrations, letting him hear my hurts, explaining my hopes and subsequent fears - he has been good in his responses taking care to not only let me "cry it out," but once I'm in a place where I have expelled all of that "stuff," he speaks in such tender ways it not only soothes my soul but quiets the whirlwind of crazy whipping around me.

This weekend and the last few days I have been enveloped in sweet community. I have been lifted in encouragement, covered in prayer, leaned on for friendship, allowed to rest in my own need of friendship, supported in honesty, held in love, directed in perspective, relieved in laughter, gifted with grace... I mean, the list could really just continue in simpler terms as well as the embellished.

These times of sweet community have offered much to think about in questions that stretch across differences and felt in hearts of women. Currently: What is right? What is best? What is enough?

We are pressed against - sometimes literally - by many needs: family, work, ministry, missions, the world, expectations, finances, grocery shopping, relationships, etc. And this is not even touching the perceived expectations we take on from places like Pinterest and facebook- rooted from a place of comparison.

So how do we choose the right thing? How do we know when we've reached not only the right decision, but when we have given enough? Enough money, time, resources to the right places?

Here's my perspective: maybe we are asking the wrong questions.

The world will never reach the point it has received enough of us or from us- the need is too great for us to satisfy.

Rather: am I seeking God?

In this moment- how do I see the Lord moving- in me, through me, around me? Can I allow him more space to work/move?

I don't think God is necessarily always expecting our answers to questions. But I think that's the point- I think it's the working out of the answer that allows/motivates us to come close to God, to practice faith, to build trust; and this enables us to continue to move forward and, as we go, as we work this out, we allow others to see God in those places- his grace and goodness, his relational qualities and his rightful reverence.

There's more to it than that

Having a vast understanding of the highs and lows of the emotional and psychological see-saw, I sometimes fear the spiritual highs. Spiritual highs are unsustainable and insupportable. I know what those look like and what they can lead to: emotional decisions based on temporary feelings. I don't want a spiritual high- I desire the spiritual growth. But I am finding the good in those moments and the need for those times; that release of restraint is refreshing. 

And as the see-saw swings, after a spiritual high, there is typically a clear struggle. As much as I used to fear the fall from the "mountain top" into the "valley," I have come to understand that it is through this movement that there an opportunity to allow what was felt to become real, which brings about possible spiritual growth.

It is through these human experiences- the heartaches- that I experience God. To deny that I feel affected is not only an act of pretentious piety, but it is to deny the opportunity to experience God- of his presence and promise. If I never needed, I would not understand my insatiable need of Him. Not just his safekeeping and provision, but of Himself. If I never struggled, I would not understand his grace. If I never hurt, I would not know what it is to be comforted. It is in my need that I see him move.

Since coming back from Austria, I have been asking the Lord what to do. My heart was open and ready to take a giant leap… somewhere. I just needed the where and when. 

His answer? Wait. 

Of course. 

In my waiting, I asked God what he wanted me to do. 

His answer? Wait. 

Of course. 

In my waiting- which looked a lot like striving- I desired a platform.
But God desires me to have a purpose.

In an effort to share with and effect others, I was not letting it affect me.

So it was not until I stopped that I realized how much I have wanted the answer to my prayers for guidance to result in me staying where I am.

This morning, my heart hurt as it began to break at the realization that I am holding back from God. That I am choosing to hold on to places, times, hopes of the here.  There is a hurt felt when you realize all that you have come to love can be left; and that is real and that is ok. But it is not an excuse to be immovable. Avoiding the pain is not the goal of this life. And I would like to think I have learned not to be stubborn with the Lord- that I have learned to be movable before my entire life crumbles, again-  but I have desired the settling thus settling for a lesser god than God would desire for me.

Reading through Psalm 27, Matthew Henry commented:

The safety of believers however is not in the walls of the temple, but in the God of the temple and their comfort in communion with him.

As I am walking this out, that is my desire. Not the words, not the feeling; it is in the communion with him- as I step out trusting he is with me in each step. 

Is there a reason you are feeling restless??

Because God is so big and I am so small

There’s a lot of space between there
And I am the one on limited time and resources

How do you handle a God like mine?
A God so… full and fulfilling.
He doesn’t fit in my small life yet he asks me to come along with him- he doesn’t ask to be fit into my life.

So there is the challenge: how does my small life step into his big plans?

Is there a balance- or is the idea of “balance” just a source and sort of safety I have chosen to hide behind? Can I be expended, can I be used up– have I been the one resisting God’s design to use me to the fullest?

Why so restless?

How do you handle plans bigger than you can fathom? Bigger than what makes sense? That is a huge weight! These kinds of questions make my heart and lungs race. And resistance to that idea comes (naturally) in the forms of distraction, rebuttal, procrastination, straight up NO, all in hopes of a return to the normalcy that once was.

But my heart has been separated- feeling the fullness- there’s no way to un-feel or un-see that.

In my desire to get going, moving towards the bigger life, I find myself very short with myself and others- I want to get to the point and get going. I have noticed that anyone trying to talk with me- have a conversation- with any amount of detail has been cut short by my desire to jump to the point and keep going. I am amazed at the grace extended to me in these conversations. Did I not learn anything in the last few weeks, months, years? God is not calling me to a task, he is calling me to a relationship and it is a relationship that extends out towards others. I need to give attention to finer details of life; there is something delicately essential there.

So there is a huge weight to this wait. There is importance in this place and there is something bigger coming. I don’t know how to be here and wait for there. These are the kinds of times that drive me crazy- one foot in and one foot out. I am here. I am now. I am willing to be there. I am waiting to be then.

I was recently reminded, “the promise is in the process.” Meaning that as I go, God is working to fulfill the promise/vision given. Without the process, there is no promise. So there is importance in the now. There is importance in the present.

At this point, the questions are much more What and When rather than How and Why. As I wait and seek those answers, my heart is overwhelmed to tears thinking about how much I do not want to get bogged down in the insignificant.

At what cost?

I find myself constantly feeling as though I am on the outside looking in. Participating but not really a part. Present but not included.

I don't fit.

I find myself  becoming edgy in my exhaustion. Feeling the emptiness of being spent.

And I ask: why? What compels me to stay here? What keeps me in this place of murky solidarity that has flares of mimicked connection?

That in the solidarity I am not alone. That God can use me here. That I am most useful when I am weakest. That not feeling included keeps me sensitive to the needs of others who feel the same. Not being a part reminds me who I am relying on and Who I rely on.

At what cost?

At all cost.

I think God is sometimes nonsensical

What do you do when your routine of expectations has been interrupted And you have space to see the desires that have lain in wait And you see those desires more clearly and feel them more sharply How do you handle that much freedom, hope, excitement?

Since returning from Austria, that space has been uncomfortable.

I've thought, maybe I'm wrong- maybe those desires are false and it's just a side-effect of a big trip or culture shock. My reaction has been to fill that space quickly – drown it in “reality” through work or commitments or entertainment that remind me that I have a life to live.

I want so desperately to feel life. Not the over-saturated life filled with such busyness that leaves me feeling ceaselessly tired. I want to feel alive- full of life that leaves me the kind of tired that brings true rest; the kind of tired that comes after such a deep fulfillment that there is rest in the rejuvenation that comes with the work.

I hesitate to act on any of this for fear that it is a momentary emotional reaction to a temporary change. But what if? What if this is the space I need to make a decision I didn't know I needed to make.

I try my best to communicate clearly so please hear me on this: I have no reason to leave where I am. I have nothing to run from and nothing to run to. I am actually very happy exactly where I am. I returned to my job and was surprised how much I like it- how blessed I am to do what I do. I returned to an office of truly amazing women whom I have grown to admire, appreciate and love. I returned to a home that is exactly that- a home, not just a place I live. I have come back to the community that is growing and a church that is being built and projects I am involved in that bring so much life to my soul.
I have been and continue to be surrounded and filled with a peace that has been my companion in a richer way than I have experienced in a while. I feel freedom to make decisions and choices- to move in some way. At this point, the questions are vague and the answers are blurry. But I am asking and I am seeking.

And in the midst of this, as I have dreamed and thought and prayed and sought clarity and truth and guidance, I began to remember so much of the reasons I stay. To these concerns, I heard the Lord respond tenderly:

Can you trust me with this? Can you trust me to take care of the women, of your loans, of your friends, of your family?

God is sometimes nonsensical; which drives my practicality crazy. But, sometimes, that is the best place to find God.

The aftermath of returning home

What is missions? What is ministry?

That was a question I posed to the director of our Global Outreach (missions department) at church almost two years ago when I was finally ready to admit that missions is where my heart is; but what is it?

I grew up in the church and on mission trips. In my mind, missions trips were blurbs of ministry- a lot of hard work to meet a need. During that time, you do more than you typically would in a week's time- you give more, you complain less, you work together with people you may not usually work with, you swallow your pride a little easier, you work hard and sleep less.

In my head, I had separated missions and ministry and life. Missions became what you went out to do on purpose to "reach the lost" - those outside the church. Ministry became what you do while working within the church- aka, everything else church-related, such as Sunday School, Wednesday night programs, special programs, etc. Life was everything else remaining: school, extra curricular activities, family life, friends, etc.

However, I don't think this is true. I think life is meant to be for ministry and missions is the outpouring of this choice. I have tried for years to compartmentalize these areas for concern over the amount of work required to live this way- it's a lot to pursue a different way of life than what I am naturally inclined towards. I am selfish. I like my time and energies to be at my disposal instead of constantly being used and exercised.

But it is in the places I let go of my concerns and my time and energies that I am most refreshed and alive. These are the places I find myself at home. I think this is because I am living in a different way- depending on God more and moving towards him instead of my own ideas of what I think will be fulfilling.

I think this is one reason this return has been the best and most difficult. I am leaving a small time of community and ministry in it's most concentrated form. I am returning to a place of routine - which I love - but a life of requirement in different ways. I have to get up and go to work. I have to make sure the dishes and laundry are done. I have to pull my weight as a co-worker, a roommate, a friend, a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a church member, and missions team leader. I begin to see my time and energies become fractioned off into these roles. In this place, it is easier to complain and feel my selfish wants and let them become my motivation for behavior instead of humility and desire for God to be glorified. I am back to commitments and requirements of my time. And none of this is bad. None of these areas, roles, places are bad. My life was meant to be a ministry to others- ministering to their needs. I can minister at work, at home, in all of these roles. I can rely on God for all of this, just like on a mission trip. And that's what this is, this life is a mission trip.

So I am becoming less concerned about the terminology used and more concerned about each moment God has called me to, led me to, met me in; each place of ministry to others.

The Beauty and Burden of Going Solo

I was asked on the flight over to Austria where I would go if I could go live anywhere- where does my heart long to be? I couldn't answer that question at the time; I could live just about anywhere. However, as soon as we landed, I knew the answer- I felt the answer: Europe. I love it here. The way of life, the sights, the smells...

There is much I could write about and much I hope to in the near future. However, what I cannot seem to shake is a phrase used by a woman on staff here as we were beginning our orientation. She began explaining the way to interact with those from other cultures. She stated that, especially as a solo woman, it is important to allow the other person to initiate what kind of greeting is appropriate. 

Later, as I chopped about 25 apples into bite-sized pieces, this rippled through my thoughts. Solo woman. To be given a solo in a performance is a big responsibility- to carry the moment in all it's glory. It shows the level of skill possessed and faith entrusted. The beauty of a solo performance is unique, just as a duet or trio or any other combination of performers. They are all beautiful in their own respects and given purposes. To carry the burden of responsibility alone in the performance is much like my life- the beauty and burden is special to one.

Traveling and being here has brought out many struggles I thought have been conquered or at least were moving towards that direction. My weaknesses have been highlighted and put on display; I feel as though the well of grace I have come to trust has dried up. I am constantly finding myself at the end of my abilities. My work is not demanding, but working, leading and learning has been consuming my last energies. In the midst of becoming frustrated and wondering why I do not feel the grace I have become accustomed to, I was immediately faced with this question: why did I think this would be easy? Why did I think God would not allow me to be stretched by this experience?

Because I was under the (false) impression that my work was done by just getting everyone here in one piece. The rest was supposed to fall into place and take care of itself. I find myself becoming frustrated when directions are not followed, when expectations in the schedule change, when people want relationship and not just a task completed, when I am at a loss as to how to handle relationships or understand people's behaviors, when I am constantly face-to-face with the very natures that I feel overwhelm me with no escape. I see myself turning to momentary relief instead of taking the time to seek the Lord and to see his peace in this place. I am seeing waves of reminders that the Lord is available; that I am able to let go of my desire to find comfort in the schedule or task; that he is able to take care of me if I pour myself into this place and into these people.

The thing about solos is that there is a community of others involved in the performance, a symphony of others all playing their parts. The soloist relies on these others in the performance. There is no place for a soloist to simply stop and it is not the job of the soloist to direct this symphony. It is the job of the soloist to know the part, perform it well, and perform it with the rest of symphony.

As I lay me down to sleep

I am reminded of a time where messages of freedom were spoken to me in the midst of such pain that I could not fully hear to understand.

Looking back over the long days and nights, the stretches of which became weeks that turned to months all connecting to form a year, I can see with clarity and certainty what was meant by those words spoken with hope and promise. I can see the release from what I held so tightly to that I was held back in a place of voluntary captivity.

And now, more than ever, I am thankful for the broken freedom.

Lamentations 3

A Single Pursuit

There is a difference between being alone and being unwanted.

I live a comfortable existence walking through my days and weeks connecting with various people and keeping the connection at appropriate levels of depth determined by the strength of the relationship. Part of this is because I usually have the only say-so in my schedule and sole responsibility of my time.

And I rather like this funny life I am living. I do not understand it to say the least, but to watch it unfold in the different seasons has been, at times, excruciating, but always a revelation of beauty.

However, there are times as I walk this life alone that I easily confuse being alone and feeling unwanted; and these are two very different things. I have little trouble being alone and often escape to do just that. I have a lot of trouble feeling unwanted. 

So what do I do with that? When being alone seems to highlight the feeling and point to being unwanted.

First, I realize the insane whirlwind of emotional thought driving that  feeling- fear. 

Second, I own that fear: I do fear being unwanted. To be known and found wanting... that is about the worst feeling a person can experience.

Third, I look for truth. God promised he would never leave me or forsake me. I have to believe that is true, because when I cannot see the physical relationship in front of me in my quiet hours of solitude, or in the days when I am stretched so thin I can barely breath for fear of snapping, I have to believe in what I cannot see. 

Fourth, I get to chose to believe in that truth or continue to believe in my skewed perception of the reality in which I sit.

These numbers hold very little weight in the midst of that place of fear. When it's in black and white and reduced to letters strung together making the sentence make sense, it seems sensible. 

I do not fear being alone.

I fear being unwanted.

And that is to be human. That is to feel alive. That is to recognize my need- not just my need for relationships with others, but it shows my absolute need in a God who is not moved by my circumstance and is not shaken by my doubt. 

devotions of a mother in a waiting room

as I feel the tidal wave of pictures surge on social media, I am overwhelmed by so much new life and new beginnings- it is a beautiful thing to see

but this is an aspect of life I wonder if I am to only participate in as a spectator

those kids I always pictured in my future were visions resembling magazine cutouts and commercial clips

I was inspired by the idea of letting my son have a mohawk and go to the store in a super hero cape and letting my daughter wear her tutu and soccer cleats together because she wanted to

the visions I have of my future look nothing tangibly like that future I assumed I would step in to

what I see now opposed to then is a different kind of birth and growth-
a metaphor

I see a continued growth in myself- feeling the odd cravings to taste new and strange things I would never have had a taste for- or the immediacy of tasting what I know is good at all hours of the day and night, the onset of getting everything cleaned and straightened and in order, experiencing the joy in the hope of what is to come and the discomfort as that growth becomes almost too much to bear

there is the time when this new life needs every ounce of me - when I tend to it losing time, sleep and money having no idea if what I am doing is right and concerned I am missing something

there is a time as that new life grows and demands less and less of me and can function independently leaving me feeling superfluous



there is no way to assume this is the same as giving physical birth to a child
there is no way to assume this will be the only way I give birth

I don't know that I am built to carry the physical weight and wait of what it takes to create a new life and sustain that life
I don't even know what it is to live with the persistent and deep longing unmet, the void of a desire yet to become real and tangible in a physical way


I do know that I am in a place to build and work under the weight and in the wait of a new birth of vision

and as I wait, the weight continues to impress on me ever-growing into something I could not plan for or fully be prepared for
I hope and pray over this vision as a mother would a child - hoping that it grows healthy, plays well with others, is thought well of, is beautiful, would leave a strong legacy in it's wake

Hiding: a how-to guide.

Around the third or fourth grade, I remember playing Monsters in the Dark. I was at my brother's friend's house and the lights were all out and we would play hide and seek in the dark. I hated being the person seeking because I not only enjoyed finding a good hiding spot in the dark, but I was good at it. However, no matter how good at hiding I was, I hated waiting in the dark. There's an anxiousness in waiting to be found. And it was alone in the small spaces that the darkness seemed to envelope me in an almost mystical way that turned furniture into monsters and shadows into demons.

Now that I am an adult, I still hate the darkness; whether it is physical, spiritual, or emotional darkness. Having hidden in that darkness, calling the shadows my friends, I can more easily recognize when I begin to sink into those spaces, begging for someone to find me but not feeling able to call out for help.

Just like the game, hiding is unique to each person- to find that one spot that no one knows about or knowing just how to position yourself so that you blend into the darkness.

One of those spaces I have found to hide is in busyness. Being so busy that I do not have time to really be known, thus creating a safety zone of friendliness that provides an illusion of connection without any real relationship. Or, I use it as a reason to jump in and out of commitments. In some regards, my busyness has become a sort of safekeeping providing a barrier of protection to rely on. Even today, I swept in and out of church making sure to not stop moving long enough to really talk with anyone; giving the impression that I was needed to accomplish tasks and the vibe that the importance was too great to slow down.

One of the ways I used to hide was to shut off, shut out, and shut down. I would literally fold in on myself until I was on my floor or bed in the fetal position. I still struggle against this reaction. To play and replay events in my head trying to find a way to sort it out and find some understanding mentally so it feels manageable emotionally. This is a frustrating way to hide- behind intellect and psychobabble.

There are a lot of ways I hide and there is reason for this: fear. Fear of being hurt. Fear of being a dissapointment or being disapointed. Fear of not being right. Fear of looking foolish. Fear of being capable/successful.
But reason does not equal excuse and fear is not an excuse to hide. If it was, then it would be acceptable to remain as I used to be and God loves me too much to leave me as I am. He has called me out of hiding in the darkness. He has called me into the light. In so many areas, he has acknowledged my reasons but has not let them excuse me from his call.

He has called me to be known. I do not yet know what this looks like, but I am finding this day by day. In the interactions with my roommates first thing in the morning when I cannot filter out the rough edges of my natural tendencies. In my work as many of my fears and joys are interwoven throughout the day and my coworkers experience the truer versions of myself breaking through. In ministry as I work with amazing women and a great staff who see my desire for control trump my struggle to relate.

In all of these places, I have been called to come out of hiding in the dark. In doing so, in that fear and risk, I have experienced responses of grace that overwhelm my tired heart and renew my anxious mind.

Generous Grace

What does this mean? Generous Grace.
This came to mind after I read a devotional this morning with the main concept stating that to hear truth- the Word- is not enough. There is more. We have to believe it is true and let it change us- who we are at our core. This is not often done because it is usually really uncomfortable. Changing your behavior is hard- changing your motivation is harder. And God calls us to be holy because he is holy- what a command! But in this, he also provides grace.
If God provides grace for me, and I am called to be like him, I should then be offering grace to others- the way it is offered to me: generously. But I often find that I put myself in a place of judgement, puffing myself up, thinking I am in a place to offer grace- to extend it- as though it is mine to give. 
It is not.It is mine to live. 
The difference is that I am not sitting here hoarding all of the grace to parcel out as I see fit. I am to walk through my day in a gracious way- living, breathing, exuding grace so that others cannot help but be affected by the grace I experience and the graciousness that flows from me. 
As lovely as those words sound, it is an ugly process filled with raw emotion and mishandlings that often leave more than just myself devastated. Learning grace is not a pretty process. However, the process of learning grace produces beautiful results.
To walk through life is actually easier if it's just you. Only you know your thoughts and your heart. You can walk away or escape or explain your behaviors. It's the living day-to-day life surrounded by others that begins to call out the hidden areas in our lives. That is why we need relationship, we need community, and I think that is why it is also avoided. 
I love learning people. I love being learned. But there comes a point that each person is at a place where the vulnerability is real and there is a moment to accept that in grace or to walk away. I find myself constantly at that place, that precipice of relationship (whether that is in friendship, working, living, etc) where we can choose to go either way. It's that uncomfortable tension between the newness and the commitment. And I have experienced a lot of walking away- both from others as well as myself. I have heard and given some really good excuses too: I have a full time job, a full time ministry, friends, a small group, etc.- I do not have time. I don't want to be distracted from the ministry I participate in and lead- it's too important. It's not the right time- I'm not ready for a relationship. 
Hogwash.
Looking at the overview of Jesus' ministry- ministry is the result of relationship- not vice versa. I have been expecting relationship to come after the ministry is built. Once everything is in place, then women will connect and there will be relationship. Once the ministry is in place, then I'll have time to devote to a relationship. Once the ministry is going... what kind of ministry is that? One of plans and schedules bypassing the messy trenches of relationships. I think we, as the American church, have made ministry too pretty and flashy. We have made it more about attracting people than meeting people. Jesus did not run after people to try and convince them of who he is. He did not use fancy words or even a lot of words. What did he do then? With no real plan or agenda or sermon prepared? 
He loved on those who others did not. He saw the good in people, even those who hated him. He touched those who longed to be felt. No rules, no programs, no schedule. Just a lot of space, time and grace.
I don't do this. I shy away from people. I rationalize that the ministry I do within my church is good enough- messy enough.
I am living within a controllable mess. One in need of grace, but not in desperate need of generous grace. The kind of desperation for grace that knocks the breath out of you. The kind that not only steps on your toes, but crushes your selfishness. The kind that reminds you of the necessity to breath in the freshness of grace over and over and over again. 

I keep saying “I’m not that kind of girl”

Truth is, I am more that kind girl than I ever thought I would be.

I drive a jeep and bought camo seat covers for it. I have a hot pink kayak. I have an ever increasing number of tattoos. My nose is pierced as is a part of my ear other than my lobe. I wear a bikini bathing suit to the beach to lay out in the sun. I like to wear dresses and skirts and even high heels. I like to climb trees and walls and sometimes hills and mountains. I break some rules- mostly jaywalking. I lead Bible studies. I watch sermons in my spare time. I read before I go to bed. I brush my teeth first thing in the morning and usually before bed. I always make my bed. I live attached to my phone.  I cook more often than I bake, but I do both and usually from scratch. I spend more money on food than clothes. I love yoga but still find the need for a good run. I cuss sometimes, mostly on purpose. I break promises and hearts. I lose my temper and cause hurt. I am ever learning what grace looks and feels like. And I continue to practice the art of apologizing and humility of asking for help.

So much of who I look like is in line with who I am. However, I still get stuck. I get stuck in that place of anxiety that what my life looks like creates an unrealistic expectation of who I am. I am not always graceful. I am not always overjoyed that I drive a jeep. I sometimes even have a microwavable dinner. I waffle in my indecision of who to trust. I don’t always trust myself. I don’t always trust others. And, more often than I would like, I don’t always trust God. This is the place that scares me the most. This place of waffling and mistrust- this hellhole of anxiety. Want to know why I like to plan? Why I look at every detail? Why I am an avid researcher of the world wide web when I don't know something? Why I freak out when something is misspelled or I have something in my teeth? Because, I know what it is to live in fear. And if I'm not running from the fear, I become obsessed in trying to figure it out- most people tell me I over-analyze... everything. Once I get fixated on something, I think through it until I try and comprehend the mystery of it, which makes it feel like I am in control. This also makes me appear wise- because people rarely see me freaking out in the midst of this place.

And God has been kind in allowing me to experience the brokenness of such fear- to see the goodness in being broken in that place and broken free from that place. But even in the freedom, in the joy of trusting God and walking out in faith, of just "rolling with it," I still get stuck sometimes. I get lost and I break down and I cry like a girl.

The point of this is to remind myself: I am that kind of girl. But I get to choose who I am. I don’t think any of this surprised (or surprises) God. But it surprised me one day as I saw my tattooed hand playing with the wind outside the door of my jeep as I drove down the highway after church- that was when it all began to sink in. I am that kind of girl - I am every bit of myself with only the apologies necessary to continue to mold that person to be more in line with who God is, not who I think others or myself think I should be.