Tonight...

For the longest time there have been no words.

But tonight, my heart is full...painfully full. So full I hurt because I can't grasp it all. It came at once, like a dam which had finally been broken and the raging waters behind released.

So many things...so many. How can I even put it into words? How can you take a searching, yearning, and breaking heart and attempt to harness it with simple letters? A daunting task, even for the most poetic and skilled among us.

There's a deep longing which slowly tears apart my heartstrings, wanting something so much more. It's a rich pain; no, more of an acute ache, really. Even among the joy and contentment I've found I'm being slowly ripped in two. Yes three, four, a thousand pieces.

The Holy Spirit calls, and sifts, and changes, and yet my heart pulls here and pulls there. Oh to sort it all, to know what's right and what's wrong. To know where I'm being led and to discern where the doors are being firmly sealed.

My heart feels open and raw. It's worn from being ripped in so many directions, weary of trying to hold itself together. It doesn't know what to follow, doesn't know where to give, where to trust, where to change, where to stay, where to go, where to run.

It wants to give, give every single piece that it has. But I find the recipient so often is wrong. My heart is so unreliable, untrustworthy, and so very deceptive. 

Slowly the pain from the stupid choices builds up, like the dust which slowly accumulates on a shelf. You don't realize at first, until that moment when you suddenly see the ugly, nasty grime which you've allowed to accumulate on the surface.

My heart is strong, with a will even I lack the ability to control. It fights with vigor and persistence, until that moment; when the weight is just too much, and it cracks beneath the suffocating pain.

Then it explodes, so fast that even tears cannot keep up. My mind can't understand, and all I possibly have the strength for is to lay there in the midst of the tornado until it passes.

It will leave damage in it's wake, because I was too stupid to evacuate when the warning bells were wrung.

And it's there, when I'm left in the wreckage and debris with less than nothing left to claim, that I'm found. That's when the Holy Spirit comes behind, slowly rebuilding something stronger from the disaster of my heart that lays among the ruins.

So come, hurricane. Come, tornado. Break me over and over again, until there's not a shred of myself left. Destroy me, wreck me, splinter me into more than a million pieces. Oh yes, break me. Display for me, in your crystal-clear aftermath, that I'm weak and incapable, stupid, strong-headed, proud, stubborn, wandering, aimless, hopeless, and in dire need.

That. I'm. Lost.

For where I am lost, there also can I be found again.  

And He promises to find me.

Fire burns...

Oh darling, watch your heart.

I can see it in your eyes, that yearning. It pierces deep and fills your soul with a kindled fire. Your heart burns to have those cracks filled with him, his heart, his love.

Yet it's so early, love.

You seem so willing to fall, so sure of where you want it to go. But never, never throw caution to the wind amidst desperation. Your heart knows not if he's the one, so carefully wrap it in safety and caution. Those daydreams come often; I can catch them quietly slip through your gaze in those rare, unguarded moments. Each time your heart moves closer to the edge, closer to the brink that leads to an endless fall.

Your longing, my dear I can see it growing strong. Yet, I can sense the fear that glimmers behind that hope. All the “what-ifs” that flood your mind, the possibility of pain and brokenness that threaten at every corner you timidly step around. There's so much risk; so much vulnerability and insecurity. It's the scariest place you've been, I can sense it in your reserve. The hope is almost too much to even acknowledge, for as soon as you do you lose a part of your precious and guarded control.

But remember, my dear, that this heart is not yours to give away to another, or to keep from another. The Maker owns it, and it's He who must release it when the right one and the right time have come. Be wary, my love, and ever so careful of forcing it out of impatience and desire. The time will come, and then, but only then, will it be beautiful.

Calm you beating heart. I can see it wanting to burst from your chest, overflowing with the conflicts that tear at it's corners. Put your worries aside, it rests in the hands of One far wiser than yourself.

I know the questions pound in your heart, sometimes weighing heavy and sometimes soaring high.

Will he come for you? Does he see you?

Can he love you, with your touch of madness and reckless abandon?

If you truly see the best of him, and the worst of him, can you gently take both? When it gets dark, will you point to the sky and tell him there's a star for every thing you love about him?

But don't be like the rest of them, darling. Until Jesus Christ is the obsession of your heart, you'll always be looking to mere men to meet needs that only He can fill. Only when you make Him your first love, will you be ready for a love story that reflects His glory.

When the nights become long and restless, and sleep sails far away, cry to your true Lover. Seek him, darling, with every ounce of love, fear, and desire that courses through your veins.

I see the way you watch him, I sense the way you catch your breath every now and then. But remember, he may not be the one for which you are destined; if that's so, my love, guard your heart with all vigilance. Love never comes without risks, but seek your Creator and He promises to fulfill you and guide you with the wisdom of His own beautiful promises.

Oh darling, watch you heart.  

Beneath my Beautiful...

Beneath your beautiful. Beneath my beautiful.

What is beneath my beautiful...really?

Who am I behind the mask that I fake for everyone around me? It's not so much the makeup that I hide behind, or the clothes, or the hair. I'm comfortable one way or the other; with or without stuff artistically enhancing my face, stylishly dressed up or wearing baggy sweatpants and an over-sized t-shirt, or with my hair nicely styled or stuck in a ponytail. (If anything I prefer the loose, comfy, and effortless over the other.) Now don't get me wrong, I definitely love to dress up, and I love to look nice, but it's not where I find my identity. Those aren't the things that I'm afraid of being seen without.

So...what is?

My persona. My confidence. My drive, my independence, my talents. The self-confident belief that I can do whatever I set my mind to. Not so much from pride, but from a factual knowledge of what I believe I'm capable of. I'm afraid, so desperately afraid, to be seen for the inner person that hides underneath all those. It's those things, those characteristics and traits that have defined me, that I'm terrified to ever walk out the door without.

Let's be real here; I'm insecure underneath my confidence, (who isn't?!) and I despise it. I mean, hate, abhor, detest, and loathe it. (Maybe those words will give you a hint of an idea.) I'm terrified of people seeing my insecurity. It makes me feel helpless, like I'm swimming in an endless sea that's always a second away from drowning me, and there's not a single thing I can do. It makes me feel weak, and out of control. I hate feeling like I can't control myself and my emotions. I hate feeling like other people control them, and I hate knowing they see my “weakness” underneath all my armor.

What's underneath my beautiful? A girl wandering around, a little bit lost. A girl who's very capable and skilled, but who desperately wants to be lead, not lead. A girl who's afraid of being lonely, but afraid that if she shows what's beneath everyone will turn away. What's underneath is not so beautiful, you see.

It's vulnerable, and uncomfortable, and insecure, and just a little afraid. It's weak sometimes, bending to the wishes of others instead of standing up for it's own standards.

Beneath, I get weary of being so tough on the outside.

But I don't know who else to show.

I don't know what to be or what to do without that strength, confidence, drive, and independence. It's the only thing I know, and the only way I know how to get places. With it I gain respect because of what I can accomplish, and it slowly becomes my identity. I fear being seen without it; I hardly know what I am without it. But beneath it is someone much more vulnerable and afraid than I would ever show.

Beneath my Broadway show you'll hear a girl say, “Please, don't hurt me”

That's what I'm afraid to ever take off. You will see me with no makeup, with my hair greasy, and wearing gym shorts. But rarely will you ever see me out of control of myself and my emotions. Rarely will you see me let down my wall of confidence and strength to the vulnerable, weak, scared self underneath.

I've carried on so long, I couldn't stop if I tried. I've built my walls so high, no one can climb them. 

           But will you try?

Underneath my beautiful I long for someone to scale that wall and top the terrace mounted above. If you dare, let me warn you; it's not truly beautiful.

But help me, please help me take it off and see what's beneath my perfect.

Will you climb atop my ivory tower? Will you hold my hand so we can jump right out? We'll be falling, but that's OK; because you'll be right there.

I'll let you see beneath my beautiful. I'll let you see beneath my perfect. I'll take it off now, boy, I'll take it off, 'cause you wanna see what's inside. I ain't perfect, I ain't perfect...

...but I'll let you see beneath my beautiful tonight. 

A Beautiful Existence

Life is amazing. This life that we've been given, isn't it amazing? It's wild and crazy and unpredictable, filled with new highs, lows and challenges at every bend. It's the most brilliant roller coaster ever made, perfectly crafted by the Master Builder. The twists, turns, and spirals it holds delight us with uncontainable excitement, thrill us with unexpected findings, and frighten us with their dark tunnels and upside down loops. But it really is a thrill, isn't it? What fun would it be to know every twist in the blueprint, and every intimate design of the engineering? No, those secrets are saved for us to uncover as we approach them, springing up without warning. Forcing us to call upon the Author who wrote the grand mystery to explain it's complexity and confusion. Oh, but it's so delightful.

 One moment you'll be ecstatic, wildly laughing over the joy that the ride brings. The next you'll be heartbroken over a twist you never saw coming, trying to recover and move on from the damage it did to your soul. Because, you see, it indeed affects even the deepest part of your soul. It's not just the outside that experiences the ride, but it's everything, in your entire body; from the wind on your skin to the tingle in the deepest part of you.

And it has power.

Power to touch that core, or to break it. Pierce it, shatter it, destroy it. This ride can be cruel sometimes, you know. Cruel and heartless, gleefully speeding you along it's course while mocking every twist it drives home. And yet, is it really the ride that brings those fatal falls and those crashes?

No.

The ride has no mind of it's own, has no power without it's operator. There is one who sits behind the veil, behind the blurred walls of rain and wild sunshine. He knows every journey upon which we are to embark, and with those journeys the delight and agony alike that shall come along too. And He's there.

All too often we hang on to what we shouldn't, to a piece of the journey that is meant to pass on. It's all meant to pass, in time. It brings lessons, we're to learn, and so the cycle repeats. Through it we gain knowledge of the One who drives it all with just a commanding breath, and to Him we're to cling. Sometimes He moves us along because we're holding too tightly...even to gifts which He granted.

You know, sometimes it's in the broken places that life can be the most beautiful and exciting. Sometimes we find a current of joy flowing within that wasn't there before, placed with care by the Maker, because He knew we'd need an extra river from which to draw strength. It's a special place to be, really. We should feel it just as much as we feel the highs, because within lies even more depth, emotion, and life than anywhere else. It's all a part of the winding ride, meant to be taken and felt and learned from. Albeit it painful, you may just find that diamonds lie within.

Little things are bound to happen. Plot twists that we didn't see coming, but that seem overwhelming at first sight. And yet we must remember, it all passes. It really does. Days and months will continue to fly by. We must learn to embrace the changing of the seasons, or the temporary differences that may hinder us. Hinder us? Are they really hindering us? Perhaps not. Perhaps there's something we've been missing when those unexpected "miss-haps" happen. Perhaps we're to take a step back and re-evaluate. Things that you thought were your whole world diminish to nothing, and things that you'd forsaken and crushed blossom once again. Let the Spirit move you; be supple in His hands, and the change in the path and the steps back won't be so brutal.

A step back can be life-saving, yes, but don't let that step back be a stop for good. No, always keep pressing forward. Tackle the ride with as much passion as before, feeling and using the deep joy that burns within. Yes, it might be different than you ever dreamed it would, but adapt. Handle it with the same love as you had for the ride before the twist, throwing your head back and feeling the wind whip through your hair as you fly along. Even the strange and foreign winds can be glorious to feel, and the unknown sights beautiful to behold. You never know what adventure is just around the corner, but if you always hang on you can never step out to feel the unknown. It's okay to lose things, because new ones take their place. They might be experienced from a point of view we never thought we'd possess, but that's the great fun of it. And we needn't fear losing anything if we're looking to what lies ahead, not behind.

The only thing we should ever regret losing we can't possible get away from; because He's in our very core, our very being.

And that, my friends, is why I'm in love with life. Not the earthly part, the eating and breathing and moving; no, the deeper part. The currents of life and love and pain and joy that run beneath it all, channeled by the Maker's hand. It is indeed a glorious existence, is it not?

Don't you love this too? Being able to wildly live? To give your heart with everything you have to others, to love with a passion beyond belief. To fall into the deepest, blackest trenches, but only to soar up and fly higher into the gold above. To feel the rush of excitement that runs through your bones, your veins, your heart. To think of a bright future, filled with all the gnarly twists and lovely flights. Don't you love the unknown, and the expectation of it? There's so much to come, so much to see, to do, to experience, to learn; it sends chills through me, chills of giddy anticipation. We get to endlessly search out our Inventor while on His ride, having complete faith that in the end we will see Him face to face.

Oh, it is indeed so beautiful and exciting.

Thoughts from my thoughts...

    As I was writing in my journal this afternoon I was thinking about how EXTREMELY jealous I am for my future husband. I pray regularly for him and that he might keep himself whole for me and for the Lord, and that he stays pure and undefiled. Even though I have no idea who he is I pray that he keeps himself for me and me only, and that I might be the only one who will own him second to the Lord. I don't want any of him, not even a tiny part, to ever belong to anyone else.

    I feel this deeply, desperately praying that he save himself. How much more, then, is my Heavenly Father crying out to me? The extent to which he yearns for my heart to be His and His only must be infinite compared to what I feel!! I know He deeply longs for my heart, and yet I betray Him at every corner. I can only imagine how broken I would feel were I to be betrayed, and yet I do it to Him all the time, and so easily. I want my husband to be faithful, but He absolutely deserves my faithfulness. How much worse then is my treason!!

    This all just causes me to think twice about what place the Lord should own in my heart. In fact, He shouldn't be in a place. He should be in every part, filling even the tiny cracks. He is more jealous for me than words could ever express, and so much more than I could ever comprehend. His pain at my unfaithfulness is infinitely deep, beyond anything that this world could ever understand.

    I should spend every bit of my life saving my heart, whole, for Him, painstakingly guarding it and keeping it pure from the filth of this world.

 

Longing

Sometimes it becomes so acute I crack under the pain. I want to cry out, unable to bear the weight that presses upon me. Tears flow freely, springing from a heart that is aching desperately.

It's a good longing. It's wholesome, right, pure, and lovely. But it will never be fulfilled...not in this life. I must always bear it's weight, sometimes successfully, sometimes not. But it keeps me going. It keeps me running for what lies ahead, it clears my vision, and it brings my focus around to where it belongs.

Sometimes though, it's so intense I can't bear it. It makes minutes feel like hours, and days feel like years. I become so aware of what I am not and what this world is not.

I long. I yearn. I cry.

I must wait.


"Heaven is not here. It's there. If we were given all we wanted here, our hearts would settle for this world rather than the next. God is forever luring us up and away from this one, wooing us to Himself and His still invisible Kingdom, where we will certainly find what we so keenly long for." Elisabeth Elliot

Failure and death=life

It cracks. Slowly, piece by piece, fraction by fraction. Everything falls down, and there’s only the truth left to face. Tears stream down, and the throat aches from the effort to hold them back. A stern, harsh voice cuts through every defense thrown up, not understanding anything yet understanding everything. It all collides at once: misunderstanding…pride…perfectionism…failure. Excuses are hurled as fast as it’s all being crushed, attempting to flee from something that’s deeply, deeply engrained.

He doesn’t understand and he’s so, so wrong. He cannot read me and he has not the foggiest idea of what I’m thinking. Yet, what he’s saying could not be truer. Every sentence, phrase and word. Thoughts whirl so quickly I just stand there and sob, my gaze half glaring and half pleading. Glaring because I’m angry and in pain. Pleading because I desperately want so much more.

But stubbornly it holds it’s ground. It refuses to let it be known that there’s another desire, growing strong and dangerous from within. It cannot give way now, or else it will lose. Everything. Once it takes one step backward it’s a slippery slope that cannot be re-tread. The glare will remain, though perhaps in the subconscious. Though there be another desire screaming from within, it holds at least the outside wall still. The part that can be seen, read, and interpreted. And as much as it’s undesirable, even the outer wall is still a part of the structure. Holding on with every ounce of sickly strength that it posses it manages to remain.

He doesn’t understand one part, the part that is deep and effectively buried. But the other part, the outer wall, he understands and sees clearly. That’s all that’s visible as I stare at him through my tear-filled, aching eyes. It’s all there: rage, helplessness, broken pride, conviction, pain, regret, and scars all flashing across my face. And indeed, he sees correctly and clearly…as clearly as he can through the impenetrable fog. And he sees the grotesque.

For years it’s held. For years it’s caused the same problems, the same pain, and the same consequences. Though it’s been brutally confronted numerous times, it’s rooted far too deep. Every effort has ended with a bruised and bleeding attacker, helpless to continue and slipping agonizingly into the grip of death. Each time leads to utter failure, and each time the effort is slowly squeezed to death.

His harsh words cut deep, but still they fail to fell the wall. My bottom lip quivers uncontrollably and my eyes burn as I seek to see through the thick haze of tears, receiving everything he hurtles at me. Somehow the words make it through, though to the onlooker it seems as if they’re deflected as soon as they’re released. I try so desperately to fight. There’s a battle waging within unlike any that has ever taken place before. Internally I’m a raging furnace, heated to a degree beyond coherence and comprehension. And it all happens in split seconds.

It pounds its stakes deep, driving them into the very flesh of the soul. Seeking to mortally wound everything that offers resistance it spreads it’s harsh darkness over every part. Well it understands what’s occurring, and well it knows how desperate the time is. But it knows this, too. It knows fully, and with an appalling glee, that it has nothing to fear…as long as the battle against it is waged with human strength. And that human strength must be kept gasping for life just enough for it to continue to struggle on it’s own.

He gazes at me with harsh eyes. I stare back, through a face of brick but from a crushed heart. I understand now, and suddenly I have complete composure. Exhaustion has utterly overtaken me, like a machine that has been run far too long and too hard. Nothing is left to feel, think, or react. I’m broken, and in my brokenness I’m helpless. And I know it. I recognize and acknowledge defeat, and with that acceptance there remains not a thing. Nothing to fight for, fight against, defend, protect, hide, cherish, or desperately cling to. I am the very definition of failure.

It cracks. Slowly, piece by piece, fraction by fraction. Everything falls down, and there’s only the truth left to face. That truth? I am a wretch. The sobbing, the lecture, the pain and the self-hate come to one end and one realization: I have sin I cannot overcome, and there are countless black stains hideously streaked across my heart. I cannot flee from, hide, or ignore the facts one minute longer. I…cannot…get…away. It doesn’t matter how hard I try, or how much I brutally torture myself over it. I’m dead, rotting with the stench of the sin that engulfs me. No power is in me, and not an ounce of strength or will is present.

One hope remains. One way out, and even that is a way that cannot be chosen. Left to the grace of One, the knees must hit the floor in desperation. Pleas are lifted with the little strength that remains for the grace and favor of Him who reigns supreme. There is one weapon that can demolish the outer wall, and indeed it is stronger and mightier than all else. As He crushes and destroys, the brokenness and pain only becomes more acute. The awareness that all is black and evil, and that there is no strength to be found from within becomes unbearably sharp. In this state, and in this state only, can He utterly destroy and begin to rebuild.