bittersweet eighteen

Today marks 18 years with Jesus. I've been looking forward to this day for a long time, thinking it would feel glowy and resplendent. Strangely, it is much less dazzling than I thought it would be. Maybe if life were a bit different, it would feel more exciting and like the coming-of-age party I thought it would be. However, life is heavy right now. A lot of things feel hopeless. It feels like every day there's something new to discourage us. The world is shut down. No one is hiring anyone, at the exact time that Casey and I are looking for jobs. We have to consider the possibility of moving during a worldwide pandemic and quarantine. Casey's mom is sick and we can't visit her, just have to watch updates of hospital visits and scans and bad nights.
I probably shouldn't be writing while feeling so melancholy, but here it is. Life feels too heavy for me right now. There is too much to grieve and not enough to hope for. And these aren't even "real" trials for us yet. I feel wimpy for being so affected by so little; however, I know this is how He works my faith muscles and the only way to gain strength is to experience His power in my weakness.

For most of these past two years, we have felt unstable. Don't get me wrong, we are incredibly blessed to have wonderful jobs and friends and Church family and the best relationship as friends and spouses, but we frequently feel like a hard circumstance will be un-handle-able. I keep going back to a verse that struck me last summer, Isaiah 33:6- "He will be the stability of your times, a wealth of salvation, wisdom, and knowledge." That solidifies me again every time I get wobbly, offers my heart a strong hand to grasp hold of.

We are in a season of even more wobble, I think. Out on the end of the limb, as my parents often say. Waiting for God to come through. I know He will. I know it won't be in the way I expect or probably want Him to. I know He is always only ever good, and faithful, and steadfast.

Today, in reading Sara Hagerty's book Every Bitter Thing is Sweet (I fully embrace the perfection of reading such an aptly-titled book at this specific time), a line struck me- "As with any calling, we dip our toes in the water of yes and hope to God that this is the biggest yes we'll have to utter, the biggest move our hearts will have to make with such trust, only to find ourselves submerged years later." I have been hoping that saying yes to moving and changing jobs was enough, but I'm afraid that it isn't. The yeses only get bigger so as to deepen our trust and submerge our hearts in Him. That scares me, but I want it. In the same chapter, Sara also writes, "Instead of letting all that I lacked consume me, I was being made ready to delve into unknown frontiers of Him." If I'm honest, it's been five years since my last 'growth spurt' with God. It feels like a new one is beginning. It's always in those dark, scary times that we grow the most, isn't it? Maybe someday I will be mature enough to "delve into the unknown frontiers of Him" without a deep, scary thing in front of me... but I'm not there yet. Right now, it takes the terrifying to push me there.

I think I mentioned in my last blog that I felt a "holy unrest" in me (thank you for the PERFECT terminology, Priscilla Shirer). I realized I had grown stagnant with God, and knew He was preparing me for something, but I couldn't tell then. I still don't know what it specifically is, but I know it is this season we are walking into that He was beginning to stir up.

So, here I stand. On the cusp of something big, that I can't see or comprehend. Looking over the cliff, into the darkness, preaching to myself through song:
"In the valley of the shadow, I remember You are strong, God, You are strong."
"I put all my hope on the truth of Your promise, and I steady my heart on the ground of Your goodness."
"You don't give Your heart in pieces. You don't hide Yourself to tease us."
"You revive me, Lord, and all my deserts are rivers of joy."
"I will trust here in the mystery... You taught my feet to dance upon disappointment, and I will worship."
"There's no place I can go Your love won't find me, no place I can hide where You don't see, no place I can fall Your love wouldn't catch me."
"I am not alone- You will go before me, You will never leave me."
"Where there was death, You brought life, Lord. Where there was fear, You brought courage. When I was afraid, You were with me."
"When the night is holding on to me, God is holding on."
"I'm still in Your hands, this is my confidence: You've never failed me yet."

It doesn't feel much like an 18th birthday party. It feels dark and foreboding and like a lot of bad stuff is about to happen. Probably not the happiest bundle of thoughts to share publicly, but I know my God is a God of full-circle and completing what He starts, so I share this for the day when we can look back to the beginning and remember where it began. I share this to hopefully comfort someone else who also wonders what sort of vast unknown they are walking into, and how it will change them. I share this to reflect on these 18 years so far and remind myself that He has never failed me yet and He won't start now.

Finally, I can't get this quote out of my head. This season will certainly require all of these attributes of me, and all I can do is eek out my little "yes" to seeing how God makes me more like Him through this.

__________________ ____________ ____________ ____________ __________________
music for this season:
Good to Me- Audrey Assad
Tis So Sweet to Trust in Jesus- hymn
Pieces- Amanda Cook
Jesus, Rock of Ages- Christy Nockels
I Am Not Alone- Kari Jobe
King of My Heart- John Mark & Sarah McMillan
Do It Again- Elevation Worship
God With Us- Brian & Katie Torwalt

the waiting and believing

"My hands hold safely to my dreams,

Clutching tightly, not one has fallen.

So many years I've shaped each one,

Reflecting my heart, showing who I am,

Now you're asking me to show what I'm holding oh so tightly.

Can't open my hands, can't let go-

Does it matter? Should I show You? Can't You let me go?

Surrender,

Surrender, you whisper gently.

You say I will be free,

I know but can't You see

My dreams are me?

You say You have a plan for me,

And that You want the best for my life.

Told me the world had yet to see

What You can do with one that's committed to Your call

I know, of course, what I should do,

That I can't hold these dreams forever.

If I give them now to You, 

Will You take them away forever, or can I dream again?"

I can't tell you how many times I listened to these lyrics of Surrender by Barlow Girl during my high school years. For some reason, my 16-year-old-self felt like I was surrendering a lot by not getting to date guys I liked, or do 'cool' teenager stuff. Then, a few years later when I returned from my semester abroad in London (very much against my will... I should never have agreed to round-trip airline tickets), the lyrics resonated in a new way. Living in London and teaching there became a dream that I held dear and begged God to fulfill, but eventually had to surrender as well. Then, of course, there was the time Casey and I broke up. That was an entire castle of dreams built up that I had no choice but to surrender. Since we got back together all those years ago, there hasn't been much surrendering of dreams. Everything came pretty easily, and while my job was definitely a challenge, life didn't require much surrender. It continued like that for a long time, until this summer. 

When Casey found out he got accepted to USM's Sport Management grad program, we started praying for God to lead us to the right home, church, friends, and jobs. The home was a pretty clear and easy decision. Church has taken a while, but we've finally been going to the same one regularly (whenever we're in town on a weekend, which is not much). Friends are still a process. The job part came simply for Casey, but has felt so convoluted for me. We were blessed when Case was offered a grad assistantship- it was such a miracle, and made me feel so sure that God was preparing such a miracle job for me, as well. I had a couple really hopeful interviews, but nothing ever turned out well for me. 

Naturally, I got angry. Casey started work, then class, and I was still sitting at home every day bringing nothing to the table but occasional baked goods. I gave up on a full-time option and started trying to sub. August passed. Then September. I was waking up every morning at 4:30 trying to check subbing availability, and nothing was coming my way. I subbed two days total.  It felt like God was intentionally keeping me from steady work, and I was struggling with it more each day. We were (slash are) majorly poor, surviving only off the savings we had wisely accrued while teaching, and generous wedding gifts (prepaid rent and a lump sum of cash) from our parents. My emotions and heart condition varied from day to day. Some days I was borderline depressed. Some days I could ignore it and pretend I was ok. Only occasionally was I actually trusting God and at peace with this waiting He'd forced me into. Casey, of course, has been so loving and supportive through every bit of this, but I have struggled to accept it much more than he has. 

Finally, in the beginning of October, I was offered a long-term sub position at one of the best elementary schools in the state. It has truly been an answer to prayer, in more ways than just financially (though that has been the most pressing one). Somehow, though, I have still felt unsettled and am concerned about the rest of this year, and next school year. I worked so hard for my degree, and I love teaching Music so much, it's hard to accept that there may be a chunk of my life where I just don't teach Music. I've always felt and believed that God led me to Music Ed for a reason, and that He placed me in the schools I've taught in so far. This season has worn me down so much, and made me question even those beliefs in God's plan for me that always seemed so logical and steady before. A few days ago, 'Surrender' played on my drive to school, and touched my heart all over again. I don't think I'd even realized how much I had tied my self-perception to these dreams I've had of growing into a better Music teacher, and someday getting to be that teacher who's been at the same school for 25 years. I felt like those dreams WERE me, so I felt like this season not fulfilling them meant that I was losing part of myself, or not being who I'm supposed to be.

A few months ago (a bit after Easter), our pastor shared a beautiful analogy of how God reveals things to us, which I frequently think back to. He first shared a video of his grandchild hunting Easter eggs. In the background, you could hear the dad, behind the camera, saying, "Look over here! Do you see that egg?". When the toddler couldn't find the egg that was hidden in plain sight, the mom would go stand beside it and point down to it, saying, "Look, buddy, what's this?" until the child waddled over and gleefully grabbed the egg to show to his dad. 

You can probably see the analogy coming. He remarked that we often feel like God is hiding explanations or plans from us, when really He is standing over some Easter eggs saying "Look over here! Open this up and look what I have for you!". The 'eggs' are hidden in plain sight, but sometimes our infancy keeps us from recognizing what God has put before our eyes. 

I love the way Amanda Cook references it in her song Pieces:

"You don't give Your heart in pieces.

You don't hide Yourself to tease us."

God's delay to lead me where I think should be led says nothing at all about His sovereignty or ability to bring good to me, and says everything about how He wants me to stop questioning and trust Him. Recently, I saw a post from one of my favorite writers + instagrammers, Sara Hagerty, that felt like it was made especially for me. Every day she posts a "daily adoration" recognizing a Scriptural attribute of God. This one was based on Psalm 62:1- (You can find the full post here)

And man, if He hasn't been delaying and growing my belief these past few months. He's been leading me to surrender some old dreams that maybe aren't lifelong dreams, or maybe they just aren't for this season. He's been doing a lot of uncomfortable things- things that cause me to be vulnerable, needy, and dependent on Him and my family. I'm not going to tell you I've liked it, or that I'm happy with it all the time... but I am telling you that the waiting and believing God is a good place to be. 

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. 

inspired by a new picture in an old frame

hello, virtual readers. it's been a pretty minute since I slipped some words into this space, but it felt like the right time. it's funny how for a season, a couple years ago, I felt like I had nothing but words. They poured out of my fingertips onto the keyboard- into emails and blips of google docs- and slipped from my pen in journal entries and letters and little jots here and there. They pulled me along as they flew out of me, I think.

and now they don't, not so much at least. not as easily. they drift around me a lot. maybe I just keep them to myself more now. maybe I finally learned how to store things up and ponder them in my heart. maybe it's good, maybe it's not.

so here I am, with some words. whether they are important or not is not up to me to say, but I'm glad you've kept reading this far. stay a little more, please.


I just did a tiny thing that felt really monumental, and I'm quite emotional about it.
I changed out a picture in a frame. I put the frame in a place I look every morning. (then cried.)

to explain why this is monumental, I have to backtrack a good bit, so please bear with me.

summer of 2014. specifically, the beginning of august. I had been dating Casey Key for nearly four blissful months.

(somehow a lot of things come back to this. I want to go ahead and clarify that this is not because of Casey. I love that man dearly, and I love our story, but not because of him or me or us. things don't revolve around that because of us. 

things revolve around it because it's a turning point on my heart's journey to the Lord. 

Casey is a huge part of my life because Jesus is a huge part of Casey, and of my relationship with him.)

so after four months, I thought we were kinda serious- at least I was serious about it. in all honesty, I knew six days into dating him that he was the only person I ever wanted to date or kiss or love.
for him, figuring it out wasn't that fast. I'm glad it wasn't.
anyway, I fly with his mom to Houston to pick him up from working at PineCove for 6 weeks. this was during the season I had a lot of words, therefore I had written him 42 letters, one for every day. I had also mailed him a lock of my hair, but that's beside the point.
during this time in Houston, I met his mom's birth mother (this is important and you'll see why in a minute). we picked Casey up from camp; I was smitten, he was less than thrilled to see me. we drove back to his house, talking about his family and hearing stories of his parents dating and all that fun stuff. so many times on that trip, I thought, "I just want to be part of this family."

we get back, talk a bit, and all part ways to get some sleep. the next morning we all go to his parents' church together. once there, Casey doesn't talk to me, doesn't get very close to me, doesn't hold my hand or lay his arm across the back of the pew. we get Cane's for lunch and take it home. we eat with minimal talking. Casey seems very off, and i'm internally freaking out. I ask him if I should just go ahead and drive home, he says "yeah I think that would be good."

the alarms in my heart start blaring.
I knew. this was it.
he walks me to my car, muttering about dragonflies. he opens my door, I get in, he gives me a peck that I don't reciprocate.
I immediately regret it and give him a decent peck back. I close the door and drive away and cry most of the way home.
I try not to act like anything is wrong. I tell myself "he was just tired". I don't let myself cry at first.
a few days later I ask him if everything is okay with us; he won't answer me.
"can we just wait and talk about it in person when I get back in town sunday?"
I write a sad song, I say "fine."

I wait and wait and wait. the slowest week of my life.
I call my mom on sunday and cry for hours. I knew it was coming. I tried to tell myself, "we're not about to break up." I tried to suck up my tears and be happy and go to dinner with friends.
He texts me, "can I come over?" at 9 PM.
He comes over.
He's wearing yellow.
He gives me a sad smile and it takes so much of me to keep from crying.
Liv leaves us alone to talk downstairs.

He says a lot of things I don't remember.
I force myself to look him in the eyes the whole time.
I force myself to not say anything, not guessingly finish any of his thoughts, let him say what he means.
I don't cry.
he talks a lot and I remember none of it, just the look on his face. just seeing my refrigerator behind him. just shaky insides.
he ends with saying he guesses this means we are breaking up for good.
I ask a few questions, I still don't let myself cry, I sit and stare a bit. I try to breathe the thick, awkward air between us, but it hurts my chest.
he asks if he can pray for me.

he holds my hands. I want to pull them away but he holds them.
he utters a sentence and my shaky insides burst. I cry big alligator tears, bigger than I had cried in many years.
my tears fall on the backs of his hands, I remember that part so vividly.
when the first one drops he pauses his prayer and says "don't cry, please" so shakily, but I can't stop. he keeps praying. I think he cried some on the inside.

"Amen." we look at each other. I'm crying. he wells up. I sniffle my tears in a little. we stand up, awkward goodbye, i don't even want to hug him but I do.
he leaves me with a note on yellow paper, "don't read it until I leave."

he walks out. I walk to the kitchen table and sit. I open the letter.
it feels like I disintegrated in that moment.
heaving sobs and trying to read through my tears and wanting to hate him but having no reason to.
"it seems that our relationship may be coming to a halt..."
"I can't give you what you need right now as a boyfriend..."
"Please keep loving like you do. seriously, scare people by how evident your love is for them."

I call my mom and tell her. I'm surprised she could make out any words through the sobs. I walk upstairs and fall on liv's bed and tell her and cry and cry.
I cry myself to sleep. I wake myself up crying. I cry in the shower, I try to stop, I tell myself "you can cry now, but when you start blow drying your hair, you have to stop." I blow dry my hair. I cry some more.
I text close heart-friends and tell them, and I cry at their responses. So much love, and support, and loyalty.

For three days, I managed not to cry in public, but I would walk in my front door and sit on the piece of my couch he sat on, and cry and stare at the wall. for hours.
I would run to the bathroom at the school I was student teaching at, just so I could let a few tears slip out when they needed to.
I cried every day for months. I hated seeing him.
I wanted to hate him, I wanted to be mad, but I just kept loving him, and that was worse.
I vowed to myself that I would love people so much that it scared them, and I reminded myself of that every morning.
I started writing.
I wrote 30 pages of what will hopefully someday become a book.
I would always start out being sad, and it would turn into me realizing how much I loved him. how willing I was to be stabbed in the heart by God's will for our relationship.


That was the first time I had ever died to my self. You hear in church about "dying to self," and "denying self," and that kind of stuff. it was all just jargon before that. I thought I knew what it meant, but I didn't.
I finally, then, learned what it was. it wouldn't have happened if Casey had not been listening to God's heartbeat. I hate that part of the story. I hate that it had to happen, but I'm so thankful for what that season did to each of our hearts separately.

we were 'apart' for six months, but we stayed best friends. after the first week of silence, we texted daily. we met every couple of weeks for coffee and life-chats that still lasted a minimum of three hours. we still talked about the hard things, the deep things, the us things. we chose the hard and holy choices. we stayed close.

in a moment that was nothing short of miraculous, after six months apart, Casey told me he still cared about me. I shared my feelings too. We realized we didn't want to date other people. We talked and prayed about it for a couple weeks, just to make sure we weren't jumping back into something because it was easy. we sought wise counsel.
then we came back together and said, "Yep. this is it."

our story didn't stop there, but that chapter ended and another began. We're very different people now than we were two augusts ago, or than we were when we got back together, or than we were a month ago. God moves our relationship closer to Him a bit more each day, and some days I hate how difficult it is. But goodness, am I thankful for our season apart and our seasons since then.


NOW, here we are. two augusts later. two thousand sixteen. it feels like lifetimes have gone by.
and yet the other day, God gave us the strangest way for this part of our story to come full-circle.


it was saturday, we were at his house for his brother's graduation and going-away party. his mom's biological mom (the one I had met in Houston) came to town for it. It was the first time I had seen her since That Weekend in 2014. when we were alone, I commented to Casey "isn't it crazy that it's been almost exactly two years since I first met Sheila? the last time I saw her was That Weekend." he agreed, we talked about how glad we were for that season to have existed, and to be done. I thought that was the end of it.

later that night we sat at opposite ends of the table during a family card game. something ticked in me, and my heart started shaking again. it felt just like that time when we sat at the table after church and he wouldn't look into my eyes.
later that night, I got weird about it and we talked about it and I realized I'm just going to be a mess this August. last year I was consumed with first-year teaching prep, too much to realize anything else going on around me. this year, the memories of 2014 started drowning me.
I cried and he comforted me and we prayed together, and the next morning I assumed I was fine.

We went to church with his parents. I started being startlingly aware of the similarities in "this time in 2014" and now.
We sat on the same row.
But this time he looked at me. He said my name the way he does (he doesn't even know he says it a certain way), the way his eyes crinkle in the middle of it. He held my hand and squeezed it and saw my eyes fill with tears at the memories, and offered his shoulder to cry on. He stuck by my side and held my hand, even when I shrunk away and tried not to hold his because the memories hurt.

After church, we were planning to return home and eat leftover pizza, but I asked his dad what the lunch plans were anyway.
"I think pizza, but we may stop by Cane's and pick up some chicken too."

I laughed out loud. I looked at Casey and said, "OF COURSE!"
Nothing else would make sense. God was flashing this in front of my face and I couldn't help but laugh. I was weird most of the afternoon though, and I tried to pull away from Casey, like I do when I want to be alone in my hurt and not bother him with my heaviness.
We finally had some time alone to talk, and I let out my big tears again, about how much it hurt to see this in front of my face again, about how scared I was that things would be too similar to 2014.

I kind of wish I could share Casey's heart in those moments. He is nothing but the most loving, tender, patient human in the face of my panic and worry. I love many things about him, but that part of him is one of my favorites. I am so glad God gives him the strength and patience and grace to love me well, especially in those times.
Casey always soothes me and helps me breathe again in places I never realize I have been gasping for air.

And to finish off that circle, I left my hug-pillow at Casey's house accidentally. My hug-pillow is the one I hug closer at night when I miss Casey and wish he could be beside me.
When I drove back from the Key house and realized I had left the hug-pillow behind, light-hearted laughter bubbled out of me and it felt like an agonizing leading-tone chord had finally resolved back to tonic.
How perfectly wonderful that this time, the only thing I left at Casey's house was a pillow, and not our relationship.

and now, back to the tiny thing that felt so monumental:
I rediscovered my favorite picture frame tonight; in it was a picture of my favorite day of the 2012 London semester program.
I took the frame from the dusty windowsill it hid on, and dusted it off. I opened up the back of it and took out the old picture, and put a new one in.

And then I remembered how much it hurt to leave London behind. To move on without something that I loved so dearly, with only a vague promise of returning someday.
So I whispered a "thank you" to my Jesus, who has heard my heart these many times over these many days.

"Thank you for taking some things away, for letting them die. Thank you for bringing them back to life and finishing the circle."

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.

the 1 Timothy 4:12 challenge

Back in August, when I had first moved into the apartment and was just doing my own thing trying to spend my days as best I could and still didn't have class, God started this thing. It was, in typical God-Thing fashion, completely out of the blue and something I could never have thought up on my own. I had been listening to an old audio CD of the 2010 TeenPact National Convention sessions for a week or so, slowly listening to bits of each session when I was driving hither and yonder. And of course, over the course of the past four years, I had completely forgotten the things God had whispered to my heart during NC, so He was busy re-wrecking me with those truths.

One day I was driving down I-220, after having treated myself to some Target shopping for teacher things, and listening to Zach Hunter's session about his organization Loose Change to Loosen Chains. It had nothing directly to do with what God had been teaching me; there was nothing in it that I would have pulled out and said "THIS RELATES TO MY LIFE SO PERFECTLY RIGHT NOW."

BUT GOD.

Honestly, I can't even recall what Zach was talking about when he brought up 1 Timothy 4:12. It just hit me suddenly and I zoned out from what He was saying and was caught up in these God-thing thoughts. That verse was what I once claimed to be my "life verse". It was the one I had memorized and felt called by as a 9-year-old at my first summer camp (at MC, no less).

"Do not let others look down on you because you are young, but set an example for the believers in speech, in life, in love, in faith, and in purity."

then WHAM.

God was all, "Hello, Becca. It is August. that means there are five months left in 2014. And would you look at that! There are five areas in which you should set an example that are listed here. Not a coincidence. Also not a coincidence that you have been struggling with unsure speech lately and that happens to be the first thing I'm going to work on you with."

So then and there, on the wavy I-220 whose foundation of Yazoo Clay seems to be having loyalty issues, He challenged me. and we made a pact.

SPEECH= August was rough. I was not very faithful to hold up my end of the "setting an example" deal. I gossiped and I cursed and I used slang words too often and I spoke a lot of words of death, instead of life, especially into myself. It was really hard and I felt like I had failed big-time by the end of the month. But, I had mentioned to two or three friends the work that God had started and all of them said, "Oh gosh, Becca. He's been telling me to work on that, too. Can I join you?" and it was so wonderful to have them there to confess my failings to and to find encouragement and words of life from them.

LIFE= this one befuddled me, and I spent a good 12 days of September trying to figure out how to "set an example... in life." It seemed so vague and broad that I hardly knew what to do with it. Then one evening I had dinner with one of my fabulous KT breaux, Myles, and he spoke & prayed words of truth and life and Jesus that made everything become clear. He reminded me that we have already conquered death and sin and darkness by the blood of Jesus, and to live in any mindset but one of LIFE and VICTORY and LIGHT is to make small the sacrifice of Christ. So I spent the month being reminded of His victory in my life and in the world, and learning what it meant to SPEAK LIFE.

(I love that He didn't just teach me these things individually and separately, but used them to build on top of each other little by little.)

LOVE= October seems like anything but the month for love, so being the rebel that I am, I decided to make it the most loving month I could. I started with trying to love myself better, love others deeper, love Christ more fully, and love life more freely. and wouldn't you know God brought so much love to my heart that I could barely handle it. I spent my last two weeks at GMS loving those students as hard as I could and hoping they would feel it, see it, or remember it (and realize it later). My literal dead mums were brought back to life, and students that I didn't know even cared about me displayed obvious respect and affection and "I'm going to miss you so much!"s during my last week with them. I found a litter of kittens, and spent weekends with beloved friends having LIFE and LOVE SPOKEN into me (yes, He just keeps building), and I realized how much I loved and admired my cooperating teacher. I crashed a KT meeting and an old active friend made my night by freaking out when she saw me and exclaiming how glad she was that I was there. I realized I'm actually a pretty good teacher and that I love it, I decided to stop wallowing in self-pity and choose to love and appreciate suffering because it produces perseverance and character in me, and I started my teaching at the new placement and didn't like it at first but started learning to love it. I learned Love really does require self-sacrifice and that the sacrifice of self leads to brokenness and then miracles and multiplication on His end of things (see previous blog post for more on that). There was just a lot of odd kinds of love I experienced in this odd month that seems like it shouldn't be one full of love (mostly because it isn't February), but was anyway. Because Jesus seems to be a fan of oxymorons and the like.

FAITH= this one I find hilarious. November is only 8 days deep, so far, and already He has given me so many opportunities to let my faith take deeper root in my heart and soul. I'm remembering what it means when He says that "without faith, it is impossible to please God." I'm recalling what faith really looks like when it's played out in my life, and that it really is as simple (but ?) as being assured of things I hope for and being certain of what I cannot see. There is a peace that comes with knowing that God will do what He said He would do, even when those promises seem to have drifted far away with no hope of returning; there is a joy that comes with waiting on Him to find you and bring His promises full circle, because there is comfort and assurance and expectancy in the blind waiting. Stepping out of the boat I'm in, out of the city founded half on pride and half on fear, that I have built myself, and onto a future and promises as uncertain as a choppy lake, is not fun or easy but there is exhilaration in stepping out and finding the surface tension can hold me up and I can run on this illogical track. He has led me and kept me here for a reason, and I can hold tight to the lifeline in front of me that I can't really even see, and I can trust His unfulfilled promises will be filled to overflowing. and I really look forward to all the other things He will show me regarding faith over the rest of this month.

PURITY= I don't understand this one yet. Pray that God will prepare my heart for it and wreak havoc in me all over again, as He has each month throughout this challenge of His.

the end.

easier

a while back, I had a conversation that's stayed with me. I honestly don't remember a whole lot of what was said, except that we talked about that little phrase that so often pops into our heads, "Wouldn't it be easier?".
Life has seemed incredibly difficult lately. I know that's super first-world-probs of me to say, but it's the truth. It's a season of nitty-gritty discipline and daily picking-up-of-cross, and it's just not easy and rarely fun. I've been really whiny about it, too.
Then on my drive home God gave me this lovely little wake-up call that revolutionized my mind (and was probably the first time {at least in a while} I consciously had my mind renewed by the Lord).

About a year ago, my old voice teacher sent me an encouraging text with some scripture, and I, being a typical white girl, instagrammed it. Then it appeared on TimeHop on Friday and God used that old picture in a huge way.

As I was mulling it over on my drive, God did His weird God-things and stirred His little pinky finger around and whispered. 

I've been so busy complaining that God took my five little loaves and two little fish. 

I was the one the offered them, I was the one that brought them to Him, but I held them out hoping he would say, "No, that isn't enough, you can keep it and I'll take miracle-worthy matter from someone else."

He didn't say that.

Come to find out, He never does.

He will always, always, always accept the widow's mite. I should have known.

Anyway, He took my five loaves and two fish of all the good little things that I wanted to keep in my life- my plans & hopes of: returning to London; graduating into a stable, promising job; having a boyfriend; being able to keep working with the best teacher ever at GMS; keeping my safe little circle of friends and not moving outside of it; maintaining my self-protective covering and not being this continually, obnoxiously transparent person.

I held these things out innocently, because it's what you're supposed to do, and assumed He wouldn't want them.

But He took them. He took them, and there made me realize that I had chosen the hard route, accidentally.

I had been whispering to myself all along, "wouldn't it be easier if....?" and setting those choices to the side (I thought) for later, for the day I would have the bravery to choose either the hard choice or the equally brave choice of the easy way. 

But in reality, I had been choosing the hard way as I went, by simply saying over and over again, "OK, GOD."

I didn't even know. THAT'S WHAT YOU GET WHEN YOU ARE IN A RELATIONSHIP WITH SOMEONE FOR 12 YEARS; GEEZ GOD, WAY TO CHOOSE SOMETHING FOR ME. (total sarcasm. I'm glad for it.)

Once He took those five loaves and two fishes of my life, lifted them from my hands, I immediately realized I was lunch-less (metaphorically). I had not much else to give. I immediately regretted my offer. 

But He comforted me with that look He gives your spirit sometimes, when you start reconsidering an offering you gave Him; the one that reminds you that He is so good and trustworthy, especially with living sacrifices. So I stood there by Him and watched Him give thanks for it-- HE GAVE THANKS FOR *MY* TINY OFFERING!?!? The one that couldn't go around to feed everyone no matter how small I cut the pieces up?

As I drove and saw this little picture sketching itself in my head, it all clicked.

Matthew 14:17-21 and John 6:11-13 tell the story:

"They said to him, “We have only five loaves here and two fish.” And he said, “Bring them here to me.” Then he ordered the crowds to sit down on the grass, and taking the five loaves and the two fish, he looked up to heaven and said a blessing. Then he broke the loaves and gave them to the disciples, and the disciples gave them to the crowds. And they all ate and were satisfied. And they took up twelve baskets full of the broken pieces left over. And those who ate were about five thousand men, besides women and children."

 "Jesus then took the loaves, and when he had given thanks, he distributed them to those who were seated. So also the fish, as much as they wanted. And when they had eaten their fill, he told his disciples, “Gather up the leftover fragments, that nothing may be lost.” So they gathered them up and filled twelve baskets with fragments from the five barley loaves left by those who had eaten."

He reminded me that after Jesus gave thanks for the food, He broke it. There was no way it could be spread out to feed all the people that needed to be fed if the five loaves and two fish stayed as they were. They had to be broken.
This season of 'I don't know' and 'everything hurts' are my broken bread and split up fish.
They are broken that they may be multiplied.
They are broken that they may feed.
They are broken that others may eat their fill.
They are broken and promised to bring leftovers, and that 'nothing may be lost'.

"Becca," He said,"you brought me your little bit. I took it, I gave thanks, we gave thanks, and I broke it. Wait to see what I do with it. Wait to see how far I will multiply it.
'Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, see if I will not open the 
windows of heaven for you and pour down for you
a blessing until there is no more need."

"Wouldn't it be easier" if I didn't trust Him in this? "Wouldn't it be easier" if He were just some figment of my imagination that I could discard from consideration? "Wouldn't it be easier" if I could go about life on my own merry way and not have to give Him my little loaves and fishes?

Maybe it would. Maybe it wouldn't.
I really don't want to know.
It's hard, but knowing that my small sacrifice is broken that it may be multiplied and used to provide sustenance is enough.
Knowing that God is inviting me to test Him and see if He will not throw open the windows of Heaven and bless me abundantly (I'm not Prosperity-Gospel-ing, chill out) until there is no more need.
Not no more want.
But no more need.

my pile of "I DON'T KNOW"s

How do I begin a blog post about my life after so many days full of change since my last one? I don't know where to start to catch you all up. It's been almost a month since I last posted and God has done so very much in that short time span.

Having my heart stolen by 154 6th through 8th graders was not something I would have predicted.
Having my heart broken by a man full of good intentions and operating on God's whispers was not what I thought was coming.
Having my heart stretched to its limits by a God who somehow thinks this is the best time for me to grow exponentially was really not on my radar.
Having my faith muscle over-exercised every day to the point that it is now simply a wobbly, sore mass of Something Bigger Than Me wasn't something I would have signed up for.
Having all my seemingly perfect little plans evaporate into thin air was something I thought would never happen.

I thought my plans were His plans that I had warmly accepted. I thought my faith muscle was strong enough already and suitable for where I am in life and where I'm headed. I thought my heart had been stretched too much over the past four years and that this was finally the time that it got to adjust to its current large stretchiness. I thought being heart-broken over a boy was something I'd never experience. I thought that that multitude of stinky, snarky adolescents would never come to be a group of people I truly cared about, that they would only ever be Those Kids I Teach.

And hey, look at that. All my thoughts were wrong.
At my school, we do this thing every morning called WAR Time-- it stands for We're All Reading-- where everyone sits in silence and reads a book for 10 minutes. It's the most glorious, refreshing invention ever and I hope the rest of the world soon adopts it. Well during WARTime this week, I read a booklet called Be a Circle Maker by Mark Batterson. In it, he talks about Isaiah 55:8-9 and the fact that God's ways and thoughts are not only different from and higher than ours, they are UNFATHOMABLY different from and higher than ours. He brings up the concept of a lightyear and that it itself is pretty hard to grasp, let alone the concept of 15 BILLION lightyears-- then he goes on to say that that's how different God's ways are from ours. They are 15 billion lightyears higher and better than any human plans we could make for ourselves. And while that's a terrifying thing to think about, it's also comforting. The God who invented lightyears and keeps the universe in order thinks about me, cares about me, and listens to my prayers. He orders my steps in His Word and in His way because HE KNOWS they're that much better and He loves His children too much to let us live without them.

So while it's disconcerting and uncomfortable for me to suddenly realize that all my thoughts and plans and hopes are all being remodeled right now, it's comforting to know they will eventually resemble and reflect Him in a much better way than they ever would have if He had let me continue with my own plans.

In addition to that, I've been kinda freaking out over it lately. Crazy, right? ME, freak out? I never would. (smirk) I keep having this realization that I DON'T KNOW.
I don't know what I'm doing or where I'm going when I graduate.
I don't know if I'm ever going back to London.
I don't know what or where I want to teach.
I don't know what the rest of my semester will look like.
I don't know if I will continue loving teaching and will actually want to teach once I graduate.
I don't know what God has in store for me and Casey.
I don't know if I'm able to be friends with him and bury all my emotions about him.
I don't know if once I bury those emotions they will eventually be resurrected or they're just lay there, dead.
I don't know if I should move on from him or not.
I don't how to love my friends at MC when I never see them and feel so disconnected from their lives.
I don't know how to talk to people about hard things that may ruin friendships.
I don't know how to live at peace with literally EVERYONE.
I don't know how to live with constant peace in my soul.
I don't know what it really means to "set an example for the believers" in those 5 ways that 1 Tim. 4:12 lists (though that is my God-given discipline area for the remainder of the year).
I don't know if I should pretend I'm ok all the time or be openly broken.
I don't know how to pretend to be a young professional when I still like to wear bows in my hair and watch Sofia the First.
I don't know where the line is between pleasing my professors/higher-ups and being falsely happy/respectful/agreeable.
I don't know how to be loving towards my friends who are living in sin, while not supporting their sinful lifestyles, but also not being judgmental or holier-than-thou.
I don't know what I should know.

and a lot more.
as I've said, I'm just a big pile of "I don't know" lately.

HOWEVER.
I keep hearing God remind me that He DOES know.
A friend recently send me an excerpt from a devotional she was reading. It said:

in the middle of reading this, I burst into tears. There I was, sitting on my bedroom floor having just applied mascara for the day. And there it went, streaming down my cheeks. "I KNOW", he said. He just kept repeating it and singing it over me. 

In the midst of my many "I don't know"s, He is THE "I KNOW". 

Last week alone, there were two more instances where friends who had no idea about my heart's whispers lately, who were oblivious to my "I DON'T KNOW", simply said to me, "HE KNOWS."

It made me cry and laugh. Here I am freaking out over these things that really are tiny in the light of Eternity, but He cares enough to look into my "brimming ache", and sing over me the "I know" that is absent from my life right now. 

Then, this morning at church, the biggest "I know" was spoken. The message was on 1 Samuel 16:7- that ever-famous passage about not looking at the outward appearance because God looks at the heart. In high school you hear it billions of times related to popularity and not judging weird kids just because they look different from you. I have heard so many shallow messages on this passage that I gagged a little when I saw that it was our main scripture focus today. 

THEN.

God did his funny God-things and blew my mind and giggled a little with me when it was all over.

Bro. David started the sermon by teaching us about the original wording used in this passage. Where it says, "Man looks ON the outward appearance, but God looks ON the heart," the ON actually has three translations that each tell us something different about seeing with spiritual vision, as God does.

It can mean WITH or ACCORDING TO, it can mean REGARDING, or it can mean INTO.

So here were his three conclusions:

1. The Lord sees WITH His heart || PURPOSING

He is not bound by time or really anything that humans are bound by, so God is able to KNOW everything. Just as we KNOW what happened yesterday because we have past knowledge, God KNOWS what happens tomorrow because he has eternal knowledge. He is unbound by time and tense. It is in that sense that He PURPOSES for us to hope in His power and "glorious inheritance" (Eph. 1:17-19). He also literally laughs at our stupid human efforts to be smarter or more powerful than Him (Psalm 2:1-6). HA. Thanks for realizing how stupid we can be, God.

2. The Lord sees REGARDING our heart || PURSUING

Just as He KNOWS the past, present, and future, He KNOWS our hearts. He searches them and tries them and replaces them when the need arises. He is slow to anger, abounding in love, always merciful and gracious-- the perfect combination of attributes for One who pursues His Beloved. He gives out hearts of flesh when He sees that our hearts have become stony (Ez. 36:26). And when our seasons of disciplining are toughest, He is still in control, still fully knowing what His plans for us are-- that they are good, hopeful, and offer us a prosperous future {by His definition. not ours.}, especially when we are seeking Him (Jeremiah 29:11-13). HIS PLANS ARE TO GIVE US HOPE FOR OUR HEARTS, because He knows we can't run to Him in our natural, wicked, human heart-condition unless He pursues us first.

3. The Lord sees INTO our heart || PEERING

He uses His Word (Hebrews 4:12) and our words (Matthew 15:10-11, 19-20) to see into our hearts, to examine them, and find the places that don't yet look like Him. He knows our hearts are desperately wicked, and like Jeremiah asked: Who can know it? (Jeremiah 17:9)... well, He can. He knows they ARE desperately wicked, and He knows the desperate wickedness inside. 

As I have been doing, we humans like to make our own plans and justify our ways-- they seem good enough for us!-- and just go along with it until something stops us. And that's not how God functions. He calls us to COMMIT our ways to Him, to give them over fully and obediently, immediately and with a cheerful heart. Proverbs 16 is killer convicting. We can plan our lives, but THE LORD ESTABLISHES OUR STEPS. He grounds us and holds onto us when we don't even know we need to be held onto.

The passage in Malachi 3 regarding tithes keeps coming to my mind. I've realized that maybe this loss of my own plans is a sort of tithe. "Tithe" doesn't just mean giving God a check, it actually refers to the process of God TESTING His children by asking them to GIVE. So here I am, being tested and having given up a lot of my own plans and 'knowing'... sounds a lot like a tithe to me. 

And do you know what God's opinion on tithing is?

"Bring the full tithe into the storehouse, that there may be food in my house. And thereby put me to the test, says the Lord of hosts, see if I will not open the windows of heaven for you and pour down for you a blessing until there is no more need."

He can, will, and DOES bless His children when we obey Him.

So as I walk around feeling like I pile of "I don't know"s, I'm clinging to His promise that HE KNOWS and that when I bring in my small tithe, my widow's mite, all the little things I have to bring that are nowhere near enough for Him, THEN He will pour down on me until there is no more need. I don't know what the "blessing" is there, but honestly I hope it's just Him. Because though knowledge and money and happy little things would surely feel good, what my heart yearns for is to be filled to overflowing with Him, until I need no more and lack no part of His heart.