this is a jumble and I don't like it.

Well, it's been a year. Every time I've come here to write, I closed the tab. The words just wouldn't come. There was a time in my life, about four years ago (actually exactly four years ago), when I had nothing but words to type. Everything was pent up inside me and the only way to process was to write. I suppose I should be thankful that it's not that way anymore, but I developed an attachment back then, and I still haven't let go.
When I think about it, a little voice inside me says, "Bec, you're still a writer," but I've always had trouble claiming that title. It seems so lofty. However, I cannot deny that there are always words inside me, winding themselves around in my head, attempting to find clever ways out. Is that all it takes to call oneself a writer?
Anyway, I'm a good bit ashamed of this post, because it jumps around and isn't very coherent and is NOT the type of writing a TRUE WRITER would produce, I tell myself. But I'm really not here to prove myself as a writer. I'm here to share my heart, to be open and honest, and to hope that God uses it to speak to someone. I'm pretty sure this post will end up being a big jumble of thoughts and emotions, and I dread that, but I know I need to just DO THE THING. Please bear with me.

Life lately has been... different. Kinda funky. It's a lot of self-discovery and avoiding listening to the news and trying to not be so hard on myself.
Here, I must admit that I'm a basic white girl and am VERY into enneagram numbers right now. Which, I believe, is leading to some really beneficial learning-about-myself time.
For a long time, I thought I was a Two- caring, people-pleasing, helper. Then I started seeing a lot of Four tendencies in myself.
Then I listened to Annie Downs' That Sounds Fun podcast on Enneagram Fours and I spent the entire hour going, "WAIT, THIS IS ME! IT'S ME, I'M A FOUR!" and crying along with the speakers.
It's been so beautiful and refreshing and rewarding to hear my tendencies and personality traits explained through the lens of the Gospel, and how those traits can be used to serve and love well. I can't tell you how many times I've cried about that.

And I must say, it tastes so sweet and feels so freeing to realize that part of my Four-ness and Individualist-ness and highly-sensitive-person-ness is a TOOL that God has given me to encourage and empathize and spread words of Truth. My ability to cry at the drop of a baby squirrel is not a weakness, not something I should apologize for, or hide, or feel ashamed of. My ability to cry while listening to any slightly emotional story is a TOOL that God has given me to be able to relate to people and to love them viscerally (tbh, not sure if viscerally is the right word there, but it's the best I've got).

So, needless to say, that made me fall in love with the That Sounds Fun podcast all over again-- I already liked it, but now I have feelings for it. Naturally, I then consumed it like crazy for about a week. I listened to some of my favorite authors and musicians being interviewed- they all made me cry. I learned a lot from all of them, but my favorites were Robin Jones Gunn, Mandisa, and Priscilla Shirer (you should go listen). Robin Jones Gunn reminded me of the importance of friends and of God's sovereignty in all our disappointments. Mandisa spoke about learning to stop hiding from the parts of us we are ashamed of, and instead to speak truth to ourselves and those around us. Priscilla Shirer really got me- she said she was in a season of "holy unrest", and that resonated deeply in me.

I feel like all of me is in that state of holy unrest right now. I'm uncomfortable, almost itchy, and I know there's a reason for it. He's making me uncomfortable for some reason that I can't see yet. I feel the need to get up and do something new in this season... but I can't tell what season this even is. It doesn't feel like any of them. Maybe Winter? I can't tell yet. I just know I'm transitioning to a new season and He's preparing me for something.

(I must remind myself that it isn't a coincidence that these podcasts that I listened to months after they aired, out of order, spoke to me. Every one of them was provided to me by my Father. That makes me weepy, thinking about the fact that He cares enough about me and my worries and my heart to give me some truth in the form of PODCASTS.)

I don't know about you, but I find myself most frequently battling one emotion: fear. I think, if we're honest, that's true for all of us. I'm terrified of what He's preparing me for, of the season He's introducing. I feel very certain that it will be hard and He will require some things of me that I don't think I can do. I'm scared of that.
That's why it is so touching that God's perfect love drives out fear. His ability to show us love in these insane, earthy, human ways is meant to drive the fear out of our hearts and lead us to Him.

As much of my writing does, this will circle back to Casey, so if that annoys you, just skip this bit. When Casey and I first broke up in August 2014, I was terrified. I realized that I loved him and I was terrified that losing him would scar me, or he would never come back to my life. I remember many days of waking up scared that I'd lost this guy who had quickly become one of my best friends, asking God, "Do I have to give him all the way up?"
The answer, of course, was yes.
At that time, I stumbled upon the perfect song- All We Are is Yours, by Daylight Worship. I cannot tell you how many times I listened to that song in the fall of 2014. The lyrics say,

"Whatever you say, whatever the cost, all we are is Yours

Wherever we go, whenever You call, we give all our strength that Your name would be known."

That resonated so perfectly in my heart. As much as I wanted to still be Casey's girl, to still be friends, to hold onto what we had, I knew the only way to move forward was to offer "us" up to God. To open my heart to the possibility of a call that I didn't like, or a cost that felt very unaffordable. To prioritize my relationship with Him over Casey.
I'll finish the story quickly by telling you what many of you already know- Casey came back in my life eight months later with all the beautiful timing and truth only God could orchestrate. We dated for 3 more years, and when planning our wedding, the one song we knew we had to have included was All We Are is Yours. This time we had many of the same feelings I'd had years before: fear, trepidation, nervous excitement. I think every time you fully place your trust in God, those emotions are to be expected. We knew that we would do what He said, go where He called us, whatever the cost. But that's scary and our human minds had a hard time wrapping around the idea of His ability to provide for us at every twist and turn.

That's most of why I wrote the waiting and believing post, about our marriage, life in Hattiesburg, and all that God has brought about here: because I had been terrified, and my little heart relied on His love to get us through. And it did. We waited. We believed. He loved us. We survived. He drove out our fear. We grew. That was enough.

And it still is enough.
Sometimes I feel like life is happening so fast, there will never be enough time to soak up all the lovely moments that go flying past me every day. I fear forgetting these days. I will never be able to memorize every detail of Casey's face, but I need to have it memorized because there is a 50/50 chance that I will have to live without him at some point. There is not enough time in this future of beautiful things blazing past me. It literally makes my throat get tight, the fear of missing all the good stuff. It paralyzes me sometimes and lays in my chest, heavy and dark. Ironically, the fear of missing all the good stuff leads me to missing stuff, because I'm letting fear settle in me. I'm giving it a place to live. And I'm tired of doing that.

In those moments over over-awareness, I feel every little moment so deeply. Kids smiles. Tears. The sound of dragonfly wings. The silliest things. I want to use that over-awareness to cherish life, not to fear missing things. Since it's January 1, I strongly feel the need to have succinct resolutions, or a word for my year, or some sort of vision... but I don't have any of that.

I have things I feel God has spoken into my heart:
I will see salvation this year.
He will provide for the scary unknown that is the months of 2020 after May.
I can trust Him.

That's all I've got. No cute picture. I don't even have a verse yet. But I think His voice is enough.

songs that have been resonating lately:
-Barter (SSA arr. by Clausen)
-High Flight (SSA arr. by Karen Linford Robinson)
-Embracing Accusation (Shane and Shane)
-All We Are is Yours (Daylight Worship)
-Music of My Heart (Nicole C. Mullen-- man I miss her)

all the things, part 2- Gilgal

I don't know about you, but for a long time it has been difficult for me to piece together the stories and meaningfulness of a lot of the Old Testament. Sadly, but thankfully, I am just beginning to really comprehend a lot of it. I've always LOVED the book of Joshua (maybe because it starts out with God telling him like 17 times not to be afraid and I've always felt like that must mean Joshua wasn't too different from me). So bear with me here as I wade through some huge truths in Joshua, and hopefully you'll grab some along the way!

A lot of Believing God (see first post) hangs on scriptures in Joshua, which has made it come alive for me and I am soaking in so much more than I ever have before. In Joshua 4, when the Israelites first crossed the Jordan River (from Egypt/wilderness) to Gilgal (the Promised Land), the Lord gave them some interesting directions:

"When all the nation had finished passing over the Jordan, the Lord said to Joshua, “Take twelve men from the people, from each tribe a man, and command them, saying, ‘Take twelve stones from here out of the midst of the Jordan, from the very place where the priests' feet stood firmly, and bring them over with you and lay them down in the place where you lodge tonight.... The people came up out of the Jordan on the tenth day of the first month, and they encamped at Gilgal on the east border of Jericho. And those twelve stones, which they took out of the Jordan, Joshua set up at Gilgal. And he said to the people of Israel, “When your children ask their fathers in times to come, ‘What do these stones mean?’ then you shall let your children know, ‘Israel passed over this Jordan on dry ground.’ For the Lord your God dried up the waters of the Jordan for you until you passed over, as the Lord your God did to the Red Sea, which he dried up for us until we passed over, so that all the peoples of the earth may know that the hand of the Lord is mighty, that you may fear the Lord your God forever."

I love this. I've always been a fan of setting up 'memorial stones' in my heart (I first got the concept from Hinds Feet on High Places), and I knew it was scriptural but hadn't done much research into instances of it. I think my favorite thing about this whole Joshua/Gilgal story is the meaning of the word Gilgal: it means 'circle' or 'rolling'. They set up their circle of memorial stones there, and God started bringing His work in them full circle. They had set out on this journey out of slavery, had doubted and stopped believing God, and then had to live in the wilderness for 40 years. Finally, the years have passed, they have Joshua in charge, they have made it to the Promised Land, and God can finally finish the work He started when he brought them up out of their slavery.

  
In Joshua 5:5-7, we find this: "Though all the people who came out [of Egypt] had been circumcised, yet all the people who were born on the way in the wilderness after they had come out of Egypt had not been circumcised. For the people of Israel walked forty years in the wilderness, until all the nation, the men of war who came out of Egypt, perished, because they did not obey the voice of the Lord; the Lord swore to them that he would not let them see the land that the Lord had sworn to their fathers to give to us, a land flowing with milk and honey. So it was their children, whom he raised up in their place, that Joshua circumcised. For they were uncircumcised, because they had not been circumcised on the way."

I don't want to give away too much, but bear with me here. The Israelites have just crossed the Jordan River into the Promised Land, and now, finally, they were where God had intended for them to be long ago. BUT since they'd lived in the desert so long, those who had been born while they were there had not been circumcised (as God had already commanded). At this point in the Israelites' cycle, they are no longer slaves, they have their own Promised Land, yet they still look like the people of the land they came from. God tells them to circumcise those who were born in the wilderness so that they can once again be consecrated to (set apart for) Him.

I love the way Beth related this to our life- she talks about wearing a label of reproach from your past (I'll get to this terminology later). Beth brings a few volunteers to the stage and has them wear some letters- think Scarlet Letter. There were several, but there are only a few I remember:

One is a D for Divorced.

One is a TP for Terrible Parent.

One is C for Crazy.

That's the one that hit me. 

Many many days, I find myself thinking, "I must be crazy". Or, in the darkest moments, "What if I am and always will be crazy?" First, I dislike that language because I have many friends with mental illnesses and "crazy" puts such a negative connotation on that. Second, I have never been diagnosed with any mental illness. I have always been an anxious person (much more so as a child/pre-salvation), and a very emotional person (thank you, ENFP tendencies and artistic temperament), and "crazy" has always been my fear. I know I am frequently irrational, illogical, and overemotional.

Somewhere along the way, I let myself label Rebecca Stovall as "CRAZY".
It was the shame I liked to pull out and put on when I felt low. Because how could any 'crazy' lady be used by God? (but like, how did I forget Ezekiel in those moments?? Ha!)

Anyway, as I got further into that session, I realized this was a real problem in my spiritual life, and was a way I was giving Satan victory in my life and, consequently, my relationships. It was a way that I was living like a slave, that I looked exactly like the world that I live in- whereas Jesus calls us to be IN this world, but not OF it. We are OF Him! We are consecrated to him and it should be visible to those around us that we are different because we are His. Our hearts are circumcised. Yet I was living in my anxiety and 'crazy' as if my heart was not circumcised.

"I must be crazy" ended right there. No longer would, or could, I wear that "Crazy" jacket. The only way for that to happen was to let God do what he did to the Israelites once they reached Gilgal- circumcise my heart. I understand that can be kind of a weird/freaky thing to see as spiritual, if you don't know much about God's purpose for it, etc. but I believe it is such an image of Christ's ongoing sanctification. He cut off the outer layer of me, cut off my jacket of shame and 'crazy', so that I could look more like Him. I realized this was no small thing. In my heart and mind, I did what the Israelites had done and set up some memorial stones.

I think my favorite thing about this whole Joshua/Gilgal story is that Gilgal means 'circle', 'rolling', or even 'to end'. They set up their circle of memorial stones there, and God started bringing His work in them full circle. Then he started rolling away their reproach, circumcising them, and healing them.

"When the circumcising of the whole nation was finished, they remained in their places in the camp until they were healed. And the Lord said to Joshua, “Today I have rolled away the reproach of Egypt from you.” And so the name of that place is called Gilgal to this day." Joshua 5:8-9

When I realized the reality of my 'crazy jacket' and allowed God to remove it, my cycle started over. No longer will I go from a promise, to miracles, to unbelief, to "crazy", to repentance, and back. Yes, I will still fall and still need to repent daily and hourly. But this lifelong cycle of letting Satan hold me back so strongly has ended. Now my cycle can be promise, belief, miracles, belief, and back- with repentance throughout. I'm done with disbelief and disobedience.

I know this because I've had opportunities to exercise it and I have already seen the miracles.

During the process of Casey looking for and accepting a job, there were some people who spoke doubt over him/us. I know they didn't do so maliciously, and for the most part they meant well. But no matter their intentions, the "Maybe you should just ___," and "Are you sure ____?" almost wore us down. Other people were pouring unbelief on us, simply because they wanted us to be safe or sure or whatever it was. There was one specific night, shortly after I listened to the Gilgal session, where we just sat on his couch and held each other and cried and prayed because it looked like nothing good was coming. It looked like God wasn't working, or hadn't heard us. I remember so vividly the moment that night when His Spirit whispered in me, "No. I'm believing God." I felt like one of those guys on American Ninja Warrior going up the Salmon Wall. Like everything was trying to push us back down, to keep us from getting to where God wanted us, and I just had to keep pushing upwards, saying "NO!" to the doubts. "NO, I'm believing God!"

Not 48 hours after that, Casey received a call from one of the dozens of schools he had emailed and applied with- one of only a couple to respond to him- and was offered an interview. A week later, he had the job. Not only is it *A* job, it is *THE* job. He will be in the Jackson area. At his new school, he is surrounded by other God-lovers, one of whom is the head coach he will be working closely with. And although it wasn't in the job description, he has been offered additional opportunities to assist in coaching high school in addition to junior high! It is truly our dream come true and prayer answered better than we knew how to ask for. It is nothing short of a miracle.

Oh, and a hilarious little tidbit- the apartment complex he will be living in is the one I lived in two and a half years ago, where he broke up with me. He will be in an identical apartment, just one building over from where I lived without him in that dark season. TALK ABOUT A GILGAL! What a hilarious, amazing full circle that has become!!

At the end of the Believing God study, Beth quotes Ephesians 3:17-19 in a cute little chant. I can't find the exact translation, but in the ESV, the verses say:  "that Christ may dwell in your hearts through faith—that you, being rooted and grounded in love, may have strength to comprehend with all the saints what is the breadth and length and height and depth, and to know the love of Christ that surpasses knowledge, that you may be filled with all the fullness of God."

As I listened to that chant at the end of all those sessions, tears filled my eyes. Not just at the goodness of God over the whole study, but at the particular chant. I learned it when I was 9 years old. You see, when I was 9 years old, everything happened in my life- I came to Christ, I started piano lessons {and am now a music teacher}, I started gymnastics {and coached for seven years}, I went to MC for the first time {where I obtained my undergrad degree and met Casey}, and I attended the Great Kingdom Caper VBS {which sparked my love for England, and led to me studying abroad there and falling in love with it and hopefully one day returning}. That year, my Sunday School teacher Ms. Cathy taught us that chant. I realized as I listened to it that she must have learned it from doing the Believing God study and that 15 years ago, she believed God for me. When I was so young and knew so little, she did what she could with what she had and prayed for a room full of fifth graders. And even if she did that whole study and learned the chant for no other purpose but to bring Becca Stovall's 24-year-old heart to its knees on a sunny Friday, it was worth it. It means so much to me that she, along with so many others, have believed God for me along the way, when I was unable or unwilling to. What a beautiful Gilgal that is, for someone else to believe God for me until I came full circle and was able to myself.

I've always loved the number 24 and believed that somehow God meant for it to mean big things in my life. He told me at the beginning of my 24th year that this would be a big one. That it would be full of miracles, and it certainly has been so far. If nothing else, I think God knew this whole time that this would be the year of my big Gilgal. That this would be the year that I clung to Him tightest and believed Him for the smallest and biggest and deepest things.
I cannot thank Him enough for that, for being a God who finishes the circle.

(go back to all the things, part 1)

(go forward to all the things, part 3)

outgrown shoes

this season of life is a really weird one for me. I don't like things that don't feel like they're cut to suit me, and this period of time definitely doesn't. Casey eloquently put it as "outgrowing our shoes", which I feel like perfectly sums up so many of the things I am uneasy about these days.

I'll be honest, it's really weird for me to be open about being in love. it feels weird even admitting that so publicly and bluntly. makes me uneasy. I want to shout about it everywhere, I want everyone to know how amazing this is (insert Buddy the Elf "I'M IN LOVE I'M IN LOVE AND I DON'T CARE WHO KNOWS IT" gif here). But I also feel like it is something that should be held sacred and soft between just us two. There's a weird balance there that I have yet to strike. I'm not sure how or where to find it. I'm not sure if anyone has ever found it before-- now that I think about it, every relationship I know seems either too public or too silent, there is no in-between.

I feel like I should be able to sit down and calmly talk about this without giggling and avoiding eye contact because I know I'm blushing so hard and WHY DO I FEEL LIKE I SHOULDN'T ADMIT HOW MUCH I CARE ABOUT HIM AND HOW LOVELY THIS IS? I find myself, even now, almost three years into this wonderfully imperfect relationship, sometimes avoiding his loving gaze when in the presence of others cause I don't want to have some magical gushy moment that might make them realize that we're kind of madly in love. I find myself being uncomfortable using the term 'madly in love' even though that's simply it.

How can you not be madly in love with a man who spends new years eve building legos with you?

I'm not old enough for this, but I'm also finally old enough for this.
We're outgrowing the shoes of 'boyfriend/girlfriend' and 'just a relationship' (we might have outgrown the 'just' a long way back), but it isn't time for the new shoes yet. so... we just uncomfortably waddle in the outgrown shoes and make the best of it and giggle at the waddling and talk in funny voices.

A long time ago, I told him,

"I am the book you tried to write at 3 AM.

Then everything I am came pouring forth and you realized you were unprepared, you had not the capacity for me. You set me aside so you could go buy reams of paper, and boxes of pens, and a big, comfy chair, and pounds of coffee beans, and brightly colored mugs, and all the supplies one forgets about with the small writings that go on, but they suddenly remember when The Novel sneaks up on them. You left to prepare yourself for me, and me for you. You left so that there would be no doubt that when you returned, you would be more than ready to sit in a chair and leisurely pen my lines for the rest of your life."
And I think this outgrown-shoes phase is the next part, like writer's block. The book will happen eventually, but right now is not the time for it to come flowing forth.

I wish everyone who ever fell in love got to experience it the way I'm experiencing it, outgrown shoes included. I understand not everyone gets it this way- though I don't understand why- but I just wish we all did.

Falling in love with someone who loves me so weightily and stickily brushes away any and all fear. I suppose because it is a Christ-centered, pure love- and therefore, perfect love- it drives out fear. I'm not afraid of what he might say or do or become or think. I'm not afraid of being too much for him. I'm even not afraid of my own dark parts anymore.

Without my knowing when or how, he fell quickly and fiercely in love with the parts of me I have struggled hardest to accept or change.

And that doesn't mean he just accepted them. That means he sat down, and pointed them out to me, and held them up to my face and said, "I see this part of you. It isn't something I don't notice because you try not to bring it up. I see it and I already love it. I see how it has changed you and grown you and shaped you and refined you. I cherish how it has made that part of you softer and more sensitive and more guarded. It makes me want to put a balm on it and guard it with you. It makes me want to teach you how to love it since you haven't learned how to yet."

From my overactive thoughts to my thunder thighs, to my inability to talk normally about ways people hurt me, to my tiny "lucky" tooth, to how mad I get in traffic. From acne scars to stretch marks to cellulite to yellow teeth to weird toes to suspicious mind to mean self-talk to gossiping nature to lazy heart.

He says, "Babe, I've noticed you don't really know how to talk about your deepest hurts, and you are beginning to realize you've never realized how huge they are. I just want you to know you can talk to me about it anytime. You don't have to have it figured out. I want to hear your heart."

He says, "I love your lucky tooth and if you ever do anything to change it at all I will never forgive you, because that funny tooth is one of the first things that drew me to you and I adore it."

He says, "You overthink a lot, sweetie, and it takes up too much of your mental power. Give yourself a break and just pray for people instead of overanalyzing situations, your heart will feel so much better. Here, hold my hand and I'll help you."

He says, "Sweetheart, I love and appreciate every piece of you, no matter how messy or frumpy you feel. I know you don't like your thighs or rolls, and you sometimes think the stretch marks and cellulite are ugly, but I think they are womanly and strong and beautiful, and they show that you have lived. Let yourself see that as beauty."

He says, "I know it's a fight for you to keep from gossiping about people but I treasure the fact that you fight it daily and seek to speak truth and life instead. Your mouth speaks beautiful things."

He says, "I hope you know you are the fiercest, most delicate creature I know. And that is the best combination I can imagine and you perfectly embody it."

And girls don't always get to fall in love with that. Girls fall in love with "I wish you would lose weight", "shut up", and "you're kinda pretty in your own way" every day. They don't fall in love with men who know what it means for a woman to be fierce and delicate. They don't fall in love with men whose eyes are so perceptive to things both concrete and abstract, and whose eyes are so faithful to a covenant of purity even before marriage.

They don't fall in love with men whose compliments are "you refresh me", "your mind amazes me", and "I love just looking at your eyes."

They fall in love with "you're hot", "come over baby", and much more vulgar things than I dare type.

Girls don't always get to fall in love the way I'm getting to fall in love. I wish we all did. And I don't know why we don't all have that (I guess that's not for me to figure out), but I'm here to show you that it's possible to.

It may not sound fun to walk with outgrown shoes, but the feet walking beside me are faithful and gracious and loving, far more than I could ever ask for or deserve. If you're looking for a nudge or a sign to trust, to wait, to stay, to love someone you could only deserve through the grace of God, then this is it. Trust Him.

"Take a break from all the plans that you have made,

And sit at home alone and wait for God to whisper.

Beg Him please to open up His mouth and speak

And pray for real upon your knees until they blister.

Shine the light on every corner of your life,

Until the pride and lust and lies are in the open.

Then read the Word and put to test the things you've heard

Until your heart and soul are stirred and rocked and broken"

(-clear the stage, jimmy needham)

this season of life is really weird, and I don't love feeling uncomfortable with most things most days, but the one constant is the goodness of God. I think we all outgrow our shoes in different ways throughout life; I am sure I'm not the first of His children to have felt like they had outgrown something, who yearned for the future instead of living in the present. I am certain He took care of them, in His time, and in His way, just as He has for me and for Casey- from the first day until now. I believe that I shall look upon the goodness of the Lord in the land of the living! I know that I have already seen as much of it as I can handle. I am so grateful for the life and experiences He has given me, including the now-moments I get with Casey, and that is enough. 

on pilot lights, being a garden, and springtime.

It’s testing month at school, which means every day this past week I have had a few hours each morning to just sit and breathe and think. Which you know, if you get me at all, is quite dangerous for me.

But last week it was beneficial.

“Somewhere along the way, my dears,” (she says, quoting a favorite musical just because her brain turns everything into song) my little flickering flame inside me got turned up, I think. For a long time I relied on the pilot light of my spiritual gas heater to keep me okay. I know it’s not a good consistent state to be in, but I also think it was a necessary phase and for a while it was the best I had, so it was good enough. But somewhere in those months of relying on the pilot light to warm the house, God refilled the tank and turned the heat up. And I had this realization the other night that my soul, at some point, settled into a toasty 4 on the heat dial and is thawing out the numbed extremities.

Please understand me; this is not my “I’ve made it and have everything together, guys, so you can stop trying to help me” speech. I am far far far from making it and having things together (the very thought of which ever being possibility for me literally makes me laugh). I don't think I will ever stop needing people and flailing around in life a little bit (or a lot-tle bit) as I go.

This is simply a public recognition that the clean-up work in my heart, the renovation, the Big Remodel, the turning me into His cathedral is happening. It has been, little by little, unrecognizably so, until a glimmer caught my eye and I took a peek back into the land I’ve been trekking these past three months.

There He said, “We’re moving. Do you see that we’ve moved? You’re thawing out. Your weeds are being pulled. I am tending you every day, my little garden, and Spring is on her way to us. Life is ebbing in.”

Sure enough, as I looked down into my own often-too-small heart-garden, I saw He had expanded it a size or two (enlarge my borders, Lord! including my Grinch heart that needs so badly to grow!). I saw He had planted a few things- I know not what they are or will yield yet- and the little bumps under the soil promised fruit soon enough. I saw a few more holes in the ground where the deep-rooted weeds had been excavated; I saw new weeds trying to settle into the newly fertile soil.

Rain and sun that fall into me are nurturing all they touch, and He reminds me we- He and I- must be careful to tend this garden every day. We must be careful to arise early and pull the new weeds out before they have a chance to be nourished by the smiling sun or crying rain.

The cathedral has a garden! I love that! I love cathedrals with courtyards and gardens and life!

It’s as if my heart is literally undergoing spring cleaning, and I’ve been lathered up and scrubbed down and rinsed off, and set by the nice, toasty, 4-on-the-dial heater. What a tremendous feeling.

Recently, I’ve been reading a few books that are changing my life (as good books tend to do) and that I think have induced this Springtime.

1. LOVE DOES by Bob Goff. It’s unexplainable how this book both wrecks and revitalizes me at the same time. I don’t understand it. It’s obviously God.
2. Parables of the Cross by Isabella Lilias Trotter. Honestly, this book (or pamphlet, I suppose, as it’s only 23 pages) makes me feel like such a Christian hipster because NO ONE has heard of it. Literally no one. I discovered it because Elisabeth Elliot referenced it in her life-wrecker, Passion and Purity, and it was just a few dollars on Amazon, so I ordered it and wow. Just get it and don’t try to read it all in one day. It’s too deep and rich.
3. If You Find This Letter by Hannah Brencher. I feel like this one explains itself. It’s her story, her weighty words, her heart in a book. So far I have cried every time I’ve picked it up and it is astonishingly beautiful.
4. Winged Life by Hannah Hurnard. Her first book, Hinds’ Feet on High Places has always been one of my favorites- it’s an allegory centered around the journey of Much-Afraid as she follows the Good Shepherd’s leading to the High Places. And man, Winged Life doesn’t disappoint either. So far it’s teaching me a lot about what Love really means and goodness knows I can always use more of that.

if you couldn’t tell, there’s really one main theme in these four books that are transforming my heart and mind:

LOVE.

Which is great because it just confirms in me that this is His work. Because He is Love, so of course it makes sense that the books and many other facets of entertainment in my life right now are just pointing me back to Love- even the ones that seem like they would never be able to teach me anything about real Love. Funny how He can turn anything into a window.

While I am learning about Love and being bowled over by my God at least four times a day, I’m in need of prayer and support and encouragement and life-giving truth.

Here’s how I need you to pray for and with me, beloved people:

Pray for consistency. Pray that I would have a new sticktoitiveness (which I rarely have the motivation to find in a lot of cases). And pray that I would stop making this about me and just abide.

We all know I tend to be a person that throws herself into things. For the most part, I’m an all-or-nothing kind of person.

That has its downfalls, certainly. I tend to give up on things: I start projects and never finish them, I start books and stop ⅔ of the way through, and when I start a new friendship/relationship I either give up too soon or go a little overboard showing that person love. It also means I tend to ramble, as I’d rather give too much information than not enough. Additionally, people think I’m constantly exaggerating. Granted, I exaggerate all the time (irony). But in the moments when I’m not exaggerating and I’m genuinely IN LOVE with a lovely plastic box of perfectly yellow paper clips, it’s easy for my words to mean less than I want them to, because so often I use the same exaggerated words when I’m trying to make a point or tell a story, and now all the sudden no one understands just how much a tiny clear box of yellow-coated metal thingys can cheer me up.

However, I am also beginning to see a lot of strengths in my throw-myself-in-with-no-looking-back personality. I’m GREAT at starting projects or books or road trips. I love easily (or maybe ‘quickly’ would be more accurate, because GEEZ don’t I know that real love should never be easy) and wholly and, if need be, fiercely- that also means I tend to forgive quickly. Everything in my world is rose-colored, and I don’t even need glasses for that; it’s just constantly rose-colored and I love it because rosy hues are probably my favorite of all the hues.

(she realizes even in her explanation of how she loves easily that she proves how sickeningly optimistic and enjoying-life-at-all-times she tends to be)

And here comes the part where I know I need the prayers and intercession::

I throw myself into projects and relationships and even God’s Work.

And then when it starts getting kinda hurt-ey, when I’m getting cramps in my Faith muscle or when someone hurts my heart or when I realize I still have to go back and edit and re-write the entire paper, I stall.

I find it really really tough to stick to it. To be consistent. To be a train and chug ahead.

I say, “eh, good enough” and turn the paper in because it’s 4 AM and if you include the bibliography it’s 8 pages, so that should pass, right? or because I’m a pretty good person and God loves me and there are other, better Christians out there who can do it better than I can anyway. or because that was the third time they have spoken hurtful words to me in the past month, and I don’t need people like that in my life bringing me down.

“Brothers and sisters, this should not be.”

I need to do the paper to the best of my ability. I need to do what I feel God tugging me to do, even- no, ESPECIALLY- when it makes me feel inadequate or uncomfortable. I need to love and treasure that person anyway, because the only thing that can drive out darkness is light, and the thing that draws me closest to the heart of God is my own pain.

In the end, though, I know it’s not about me. That’s a thing I’m having to remind myself second by glorious second. Abiding in Christ and making much of Him is my ultimate goal. This is a portion of my journey in which I’m extremely introspective, but my end goal is not my own profit or gain or goodness but simply CHRIST.

So yeah, it’s Spring in my heart again, and for that I am unendingly grateful. But there are weeds to be pulled and work to be done in this garden. Feel free to step in and water the soil and help me pull up weeds when you’re around. I’ll need a reminder to stick to it, to abide with His nourishment so these plants can grow.

everything. perhaps we should call it The Big Remodel.

Somewhere along my way here, something told me that I had no right to talk about my pain. I started believing I shouldn’t acknowledge or talk about the things that hurt me and the season of death I’m encountering (leaving?), because mine is so ‘easy’. Which, I guess, is true.
In comparison-- ground gets shaky and dangerous once that word enters the picture-- to much of the world, my pain and sorrow is negligible and laughable.
But believing that I have no right to be open about sorrow I experience is just SATAN.

Let me back up.
Over the past three weeks that I've been blog-less, God has been whispering so much I can hardly hold on to one thing long enough to sketch the most vague idea of it down before another wafts my way. Living in a community of God-lovers (which I love so much, don't get me wrong!) is exhausting in times like these because I am CONSTANTLY being asked, "What is God teaching you lately?" and I always want to respond, "EVERYTHING."

He's teaching me to die to self every day, pick up my cross, and follow Him.
He's teaching me to dwell on things of God and not on the things on man. (Romans 8:5)
He's teaching me that losing my life & dreams is the only way to find life & come alive.
He's teaching me how critical it is for me to surround myself with words of Life, people who speak Truth, and music that breathes Hope.
He's teaching me to hide His Word in my heart, and how greatly it affects my desire/lack of desire to sin against Him.
He's teaching me to see people and listen to them, even to things they don't say.
He's teaching me redundancy is okay.
He's teaching me to live a messy life reeking of redemption and splashing on passersby.

He's teaching me to pray.
He's teaching me to cry.
He's teaching me not to hide.
He's teaching me to stop trying to be tough and sassy.

He's teaching me to be honest with myself.
He's teaching me to love myself AND others.
He's teaching me to rely on Him and abide in Him.
He's teaching me to bear fruit.

He's teaching me to do nothing out of selfish ambition or vain conceit, but to humbly consider others better than myself.
He's teaching me to look out for others' interests and heartbreaks.

He's teaching me to stop comparing.
He's teaching me to replace, "How am I better? How am I worse?" with "How can I bless them? What can I learn from them?"

He's teaching me to stay.
He's teaching me to speak.
He's teaching me to be renewed.
He's teaching me to leave shame behind.
He's teaching me how to study a living, breathing Word that reads me even as I read it.

He's teaching me to see His patterns.
He's teaching me to hear His voice.
He's teaching me to read His signs.
He's teaching me to question.
He's teaching me to measure everything I see, say, hear, and do against His Word.

He's teaching me to empty myself.
He's teaching me how to be filled.
He's teaching me what to let fill me.

He's teaching me to be a cathedral.
He's teaching me what it means to be a cathedral.
He's teaching me to say, "OK," through the tears.

He's teaching me love.
He's teaching me to love.
He's teaching me how to love.
He's teaching me how to be Love.

((if you didn't stop and think about at least a few of those, please go back and do so. Let Him whisper to you, too.))

And you know, there are probably more things He's teaching me that I haven't thought to put words to yet. I am, at all times, as constantly as I have ever experienced in my nearly twenty-two years of life, being amazed by Him.

I would love to be able to wrap that in a pretty little box for you and tell you that all the things I am learning and being amazed by are so fun and lovely and painless.
HA.

The searing pain of spiritual discipline is deeper than any other pain I have ever known.
It's life-wrecking.

It's the kind of pain that leaves you
sitting in the big chair in your new apartment's living room,
a roommate on either side,
shaking and crying and attempting to breathe,
while the world passes by on the road outside our window
with no knowledge of the revolution going on
in the little girl's heart that lives in that old house.
No matter how hard I try to convey that spiritual pain to you, it's not one you can understand until you've experienced it.

I've said this many times in my recently-passed conversations about the God-things in 2015 so far:

I always thought I knew what self-sacrifice meant until now.

I thought I knew what it meant to undergo spiritual discipline.

I thought I knew what Love was and what Love did and what Love looked like.

I thought I knew what that pain felt like.

But I didn't.

I know now: I never knew. 

I still don't know.

I see a tiny, tiny, beautifully tragic fraction of what it looks and feels like.

When I get to this point in the thought process, I always try to boil it down to one big thing. And right now, it all comes down to this:

be His cathedral.

the commandment of my year. my heart.

I'm still not entirely sure what it means or should look like, but I know this:

without the presence of God in it, a cathedral is just a sad, old building.

The only thing that makes a cathedral beautiful, sacred, and holy is the Shekinah Glory of God- the very presence of the Lord- filling it. **side note: I still don't know or understand enough about Shekinah Glory, but if you know nothing about it, read up on it (a little). 

So my quest then becomes: find the presence of God. figure out how to let Him live in me.
Which is a funny thing, because with all that He's teaching me, He's doing the serious remodeling needed to make my sin-filled, self-inclined human heart a place where He can dwell.
I also know He inhabits the praises of His people; He lives in "our praises, filling up the spaces in between our frailty and everything [He is]." (Restless by Audrey Assad). We have a God who responds when we ask "as I sing to You, in my praises, make Your home!" (Audience of One by Big Daddy Weave).

I find it so beautiful that in Exodus when God outlined for Moses and the Israelites EXACTLY how the Tabernacle was to be designed and set up and consecrated (He spent CHAPTERS doing so!), He had a purpose in it. It was ornate and beautiful and sacred and holy- because it was His dwelling place.
Then, when Christ died, the veil, which separated the Holy of Holies from the rest of the Tabernacle-- literally the only place where redemption of sins could be found, and the only place where God's spirit could dwell (Exodus 26:33, 30:6)-- was torn in two (Matthew 27:51). There was no more separation.
We got to become His dwelling places. We got to be made holy because His glory could now fill us as it used to fill the Tabernacle (Exodus 40:14).
We got the chance to become His tabernacles, His cathedrals; We got the chance to become inhabited by the Spirit of the Living God as our hearts and minds fill with praise for Him.

What an undeserved blessing.
What glorious newness is there to be found amidst the searing pain of self-sacrifice.

In my learning to study His Word, I have found a new connection with several hearts that fill the Old Testament- one of which is Joseph. Mainly because he cried a lot.
In Genesis 41, shortly after Joseph has risen to a pretty significant position under Pharaoh, we see a little section about Joseph naming his kids. Verses 50-52 say:
"Before the year of famine came, two sons were born to Joseph. Asenath, the daughter of Potiphera priest of On, bore them to him. Joseph called the name of the firstborn Manasseh. "For," he said, "God has made me forget all my hardship and all my father's house." The name of the second he called Ephraim, "For God has made me fruitful in the land of my affliction."

Now, I'm obviously not claiming to be on Joseph's level here. But I love finding a treasure like that in an odd place.
I love seeing it and clinging to the truth:
God will make me fruitful in this land of affliction.

{this blog and Becca's current heart-movements inspired by Mark 8, the book of Lamentations, Romans 6-8, and the following albums:

Majestic by Kari Jobe

Cathedrals by Tenth Avenue North

City of Black and White by Mat Kearney}

so for a long time she sat-- remembering, wondering, and thankful.

For some reason, my words never quite fall the way I want them to. Especially when it comes to nights and moments like this, times that matter and that deserve eloquence. I’m just really not the eloquent kind of girl, I suppose.

It’s New Year’s. Happy 2015, my friends!

Apparently there is something about this day that makes me melancholy every time it rolls around. Maybe it’s the vast amounts of reflection it requires, maybe it’s the tidal wave of emotion that sweeps over me as I remember every big & small thing I encountered throughout the past year. 

Whatever it is, it almost bowls me over every year. In fact, last year it really got me.

Last year, God told me on New Year’s Eve that 

“someone will die this year.”

Just that one sentence.

That terrifying fact,

Whispered repeatedly when I asked for an explanation.

I remember it so vividly- I was in the theatre watching The Hobbit: The Desolation of Smaug for the second time, and He dropped it on me.

And when I asked “why?’ and “who?” and “when?’ and “WHAT?”, He simply restated Himself.

Sometime in the past couple of months, I have realized it was me He was talking about.

It was me that was to die in 2014.

It is me that sits typing at almost 1 A.M., tired of holding back tears, tired of having no words that adequately explain my heart condition, and dead.

Dead to self. Dead to false hopes. Dead to frivolity. Dead to shallow relationships.

And I think the reason that this particular New Year’s is so melancholy is because I know that I’m not done dying yet.

And I hate dying. And I am so bad at it. And I wish I were a natural.

It almost do wish it were easy for me present myself as a living sacrifice. 

But it’s not. 

It’s freaking hard. 

And I feel like such a wimp because I cry about it a lot.

Because I should have expected this. People told me it would be hard.

But I don’t know, I guess it’s one of those hard things that you don’t understand until you’re under the weight of it yourself… and by then it’s too late. By then, all you can do is cry and hope to find someone along the way who will encourage you and remind you:

It isn’t easy to offer yourself up to be crucified. It’s not supposed to be.

And the fact that you finally are offering yourself up doesn’t mean you’re some awesome, strong person; it means you’ve come to the end of your weakness and realized you have absolutely nothing left to give. You are the utter weakling. At least for me that’s how it’s happened. It’s almost a last-ditch effort, this final surrender. It’s the:

“OK OK HERE, TAKE IT!” that seems to be human instinct when we are met with someone who wants something from us and won’t back down.

On Christmas Eve, Jesus did another of his whispering acts. Except this time instead of warning me of coming death, His words were spoken so softly and tenderly it was almost like a proposal.

But instead of “Be my wife”, it was

“Be my cathedral.”

And I really don’t know why or how or what, but something in my heart understood that. Something clicked.

Before I even really had a chance to think about it, my heart was whisper-screaming and crying out and twirling around before Him the most wholehearted

“YES!” 

I think has ever existed in a human heart.

I didn’t even know it was there; it’s like she, strong little Yes, had been lying dormant and growing stronger as the other things in my little human heart died off in 2014. And when enough of them had finally had died off, she had the space to stand and twirl and leap and shout her strongest.

It was then that I remembered that lovely (though terrifying) C.S. Lewis quote:

“Imagine yourself as a living house. God comes in to rebuild that house. At first, perhaps, you can understand what He is doing. He is getting the drains right and stopping the leaks in the roof and so on; you knew that those jobs needed doing and so you are not surprised. But presently He starts knocking the house about in a way that hurts abominably and does not seem to make any sense. What on earth is He up to? The explanation is that He is building quite a different house from the one you thought of - throwing out a new wing here, putting on an extra floor there, running up towers, making courtyards. You thought you were being made into a decent little cottage: but He is building a palace. He intends to come and live in it Himself.”

It turns out, Jesus was never interested in turning me into an adequate little residence. He wants me to be His Cathedral. 

And don’t you think it’s fitting that in Cathedrals, you find stained glass windows? 

And that this year of the most brokenness of heart I have ever encountered has surely left some tinted glass bits behind somewhere?… they, I am sure, will be used for the windows.

It reminds me of Joel 2:12, (the first verse I am memorizing this year!) where the Lord calls on His people to come back to him AS THEY ARE: broken/shattered/weeping/etc.

“Yet even now,” declares the Lord, “return to me with all your heart, with fasting, with weeping, and with mourning, and rend your hearts and not your garments.”

If you haven’t heard of it before, that verb there, REND, literally means to rip apart violently. Applied to the heart, it means “to harrow or distress the heart with painful feelings.” (thanks, Webster).

Honestly, I don’t think I’ve completely understood this verse until right now as I type, but here it comes:

He is inviting us to let our hearts be distressed.

COME BACK TO ME, EVEN NOW, he says, WITH ALL YOUR HURT. RETURN WITH YOUR WOUNDEDNESS AND ODD MOURNING RITUALS AND LET YOUR HEART FEEL ALL THE PAINFUL THINGS AT ONCE.

After all, a broken and contrite heart is an offering He will never turn down (Psalm 51:17).

Last NYE, I posted something about sweeping out the dark corners of my heart to make more room for Him, and boy has that proved true. I almost think God is in the business of Corner-Sweeping-Out of Hearts. Mike Donehey, lead singer of Tenth Avenue North, put it this way: 

“We are never trying to win divine approval, Christ has already bought that for us. No, we are in search of simply creating more space where He can fill.”

And all the little corners in my heart need to be swept out and filled with Him.

So 2015 is a year of that. Of continuing to sweep out and let Him fill the vacancy. Of inviting Him to renovate this old shack into not just an “ok” cottage, but a palace, a dwelling place where He alone will reside, a stunning CATHEDRAL.

“What does it mean to be a Cathedral of God?

We are “sanctuary” for each other.

Like those great and mighty structures of old, 

we too can be a place of refuge for those in trouble.

People are no longer a threat.

They are fellow sojourners searching for that eternal spring.

Weary sinners can find a harbor for their souls when they come 

to those who know they have been redeemed.

We are safety for the stumbling and still waters for anxious hearts.

We have tasted.

We have seen.

And now, we can show them the way.” (Mike Donehey)

So with that, let me share my few resolutions for the year:

1.  Become a Cathedral, or at least more of a Cathedral than what I am now.

2. Within that, stop viewing other people as a threat. Stop seeing myself as “small sauce” (thank you, Hannah Brencher, for those perfectly paired words). The time of “we seemed to ourselves likegrasshoppers” in comparison is OVER. Love people, be a hospital, and claim what the Lord has given you and built in you, so that you may use it to bless others.

3. Write one encouraging/thankful note per week.

4. Memorize 24 scripture verses- one every two weeks (I'm doing this with Beth Moore & friends...  "SSMT 2015", they call it. Please join. It's going to be a tough and so worthwhile commitment!)

I’ve only recently finished re-reading an old favorite book of mine, Hinds’ Feet on High Places. 

At the end of it, when Much-Afraid has reached the High Places and received her hinds’ feet and had her name changed to Grace-and-Glory, she runs around on the High Places rejoicing.

And then, at the close, it states: 

“So for a long time, she sat silent—remembering, wondering, and thankful.”

May that be each of our hearts’ attitudes today and throughout 2015.