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.

Fulfillment

When will I learn? My identity is not found in this world. It won't come through people, or what they think, or whether or not they like me. I vainly search and hunger after this empty and temporary fulfillment, and find myself desperately empty again and again. I crave it, with a desperation that's consuming. Even if I obtained it all, I would still be empty. I would still be left in blackness, blindly trying to see who I am and what I was made for. Nothing here can give me my purpose, or make me feel whole.

Stop looking for it! Stop giving your energy away into emptiness, with no return. Stop searching everywhere but where you know you can find it! You are found in Him, and Him alone. Not a single person here can tell you who you are. Not a sibling, not a best friend, not a young man, not a husband...no one. None of them can fill the void that only He can. So look to Him. Only will you find yourself if you no long have a “self”. You must not be, and He must be. Then, and only then, will you find fulfillment. Then will this unquenchable hunger be satiated, and then will you no longer look to things of this world.

Oh, when will I learn? Must I fall again and again, over and over and over again, doing the same thing? Will I always find myself looking in the wrong place, and always have to come back to the feet of my Savior? Yes. In my helplessness He is glorified. If I could always do it right what need would I have for Him? I must continually be broken for Him to heal me.

A peek inside...

   It’s haunting, following my every move. In the mirror, in my shadow, in my mind; it’s infused within my very being, darkly shadowing the innermost part of me. It runs inside my very blood, tainting every cell that lives. I try to snuff it out, drown it, override it, ignore it, or argue it away. But it won’t go. It stubbornly creeps up again, winding its deathly fingers around any ray of hope that might dare show itself. It has a screaming whisper, suffocating everything with it’s silent raucous. It’s forever there in my mind, ready to bury with an explosive avalanche. Slowly it weaves it’s net of death within me, ready to trap everything that comes through. It’s one of the most powerful tools of the devil, and I’m far too weak and stupid to fight it.

   Insecurity

   It’s always drowning out the truth, using doubt as it’s key tool. The thick cloud fights endlessly to smother the warming rays that the He blows into me. It refuses to give in; and sometimes, for a short while, it gloats with a sneer of hateful vengeance for it’s temporary victory. But it cannot and will not last. His strength is mightier, and His truth pierces the vilest storm cloud.

   I am a child of the Most High, the Living King

   It shoots me down time and again with reminders of my imperfections, and my fear that I’m not good enough. It whispers that I could be better if I were different in so many ways, flinging lie after lie inside my vulnerable and tainted heart. I’m not thin enough. I’m not beautiful. Compared to this person or that person I’m nothing. I’m too filthy and disgusting to be loved and accepted. There’s always someone who’s better.

    My Father made me.
   
   Just the way I am
   
   He looks upon me as the most priceless treasure one could ever own, because I am crafted perfectly by His hands

   It tells me that my heart doesn’t matter. My soul is only a distant memory, a myth that will fade like the mist. The worldly things are what matter. It tries to distract my focus, keeping my mind running at break-neck speed so I don’t have time to meditate upon the deeper spiritual things. It uses the world, and the demands of the physical, to put a barrier between Him and me. Am I good enough? Will I be accepted? Will they like me? It shoots those questions at me like missiles, trying to keep me astray by constant doubt and fear. It haunts me, and keeps me running for a hopeless and utterly impossible goal.

   This is temporary. My King will reign forever

   There is another dimension that I must not let slip through my fingers

   There is something much more than this fake, empty layer that the world lives upon, and I was lovingly breathed into being for so much more

   Yes, I struggle with it. Insecurity weighs me down at every turn, stopping me with its slimy lies. I battle with it every day, hopelessly fighting to believe that I am good enough, that I'm acceptable. Desperately trying to understand that I am beautiful now, not necessarily on the outside but on the inside; my heart, my soul, and the core of my being. I may try, but I always find that I cannot. Not on my own.

   It takes my Maker, the potter who has molded every bit of me, to show me the light and the truth. It takes Him to break the rain cloud and cause the sun and the beauty of the rainbow to shine forth. He must save me from wallowing in my own desperations and hopelessness, as I cause myself to sink closer and closer to destruction by my own fruitless efforts. This is His truth:

   I am re-made

   The slate is wiped perfectly clean, and there is not a speck to taint it. I have been washed with His blood, and I am good enough because of His redemption

A Magical Moment...

Rain and hail pour down from the sky, falling with pent up fury. The windows are open and a fresh breeze swiftly winds throughout the house. Noises float in from outside…joyful laughter and happy voices are carried on the breeze. A strong aroma fills the kitchen, captivating my senses. Music bursts forth from the speakers, bringing with it life and energy. Amidst all this I stop and listen…listen to the lyrics of the song playing…

“Joy, joy, unending joy…”

My senses are working furiously to take in all that’s happening. I close my eyes and listen. This moment settles on me, and it’s magical. Everything is light and free. There’s no pain in the air, and no sorrow that haunts the dark corners. Conflict is only a distant memory, and burdens are lifted far, far away. Worries have been dispelled, and duties are accomplished. All that remains is joy…pure joy. Again the music floats into my ears...

"Always, joy will remain..."

The Lord is good. He gives these short glimpses of purity and goodness to me for my own, to take and enjoy, and praise Him for them. My heart is lightened like never before, and a smile bursts across my face. I laugh…laugh just because. The joy of the Lord is ever so freeing, and my chains are gone. My heart sings to the point of bursting, praising my Maker with all that is within me. I have much to be joyful for, and this moment is mine. Mine to take, keep, and relish. 

Infinate Ignorance

So here is a little bit of rambling out of my head. I just typed it out as I thought it, so it isn't necessarily pretty or poetic. You may even find it confusing, but I too get muddled in my own thoughts sometimes:

I am constantly shocked, surprised, and convicted about how little I know of people. One of my major faults is that I am very quickly judgmental of someone, even when I don’t actually know them, their thoughts, true feelings, circumstances, recent happenings or struggles. I don’t know their hearts, and so often it’s far more than I ever imagine or give them credit for.

I like to try and figure people out, but the more I try the more I realize I don’t know. I’d like to think that I can know and understand someone, but I’m actually so naive to what’s really going on. I think I can perceive or “figure them out”, and then I find out something and realize that I was utterly wrong. I could only see their actions, but I was never aware of their hearts.

I always have the stumbling block of my own thoughts, perceptions, judgments, and others opinions that cause me to be blind to who they really are. I may think I’ve got a pretty good idea until I fall over that barricade that I didn’t know was there. Constantly I find myself falling face first, and never being aware of my blindness until I tripped. I get so frazzled over it all, too. I want to know…oh so badly I want to know people. I mean, really know them. I want to understand their hearts, and I want to know what’s actually going on.

But I can never know everything…that’s only for God. A friend told me that I just have to trust the Lord with the information I have. I need to ask the Lord for wisdom in my estimation of people, and I need to be extremely careful of how I judge them. I need to love them for who they are even if they aren’t “my kind” of person. I have so far to go…oh so far.

The Lord keeps pointing this out to me. There have been so many times in the last few weeks that I’ve learned something new from someone, I’ve been enlightened on something, or I’ve been able to see another side that again and again I’ve been shocked at how little of the puzzle I could really see. I’m only one little person in an immense world of people, circumstances, emotions, pain, secrete thoughts, backgrounds, buried anger, and people seeking the Lord’s will. It’s so hard to know…and therefore I must lean on the Lord even more. In my ignorance I must trust in the Lord’s infinite knowledge. 

Proverbs 3:5 says, "Trust in the Lord with all your heart and do not lean on your own understanding:
Isaiah 55:8-9 says, "'For my thoughts are not your thoughts, neither are your ways my ways,' declares the Lord, 'For as the heavens are higher than the earth, so are my ways higher than your ways.'"
Proverbs 28:26a says, "He who trusts in his own heart is a fool..."

Love the "Unlovable"

The sun had already found it’s way to bed for the night, and the evening was so perfect it was almost unearthly. It was one of those nights of impeccable weather; one that you wished would just last. The temperature was so perfect you couldn’t feel it, yet there was a slight breeze softly kissing your face. Although the brightly glimmering stars were veiled by the array of city lights, you could catch the brave shimmer of one here and there. The darkness had settled lightly, bringing with it peace. It was freeing; not heavy or depressing. The air held a hint of excitement, like electricity and joy were mingling together freely. It was impossible to step a foot past the doorstep without sensing that activity. And it was all perfect…just perfect.

It was on this evening that three of my siblings, my dad, and myself chose to go for a stroll. We were headed back home when, upon gaining the top of a small hill, we saw someone walking towards us. From the silhouette framed against the streetlight I could see baggy jeans, a rappers hat, a large jacket flapping limply, and small wisps of smoke curling up from the glowing end of a cigarette. I stiffened slightly and grumpily wondered why this unpleasant sight had to meet my eyes near the end of my perfect walk. And I judged him.

As we drew nearer I inwardly grimaced at the smell of the cigarette smoke and I moved up closer to Dad and my brother. I didn’t want anything to do with this man but quietly and peacefully pass him. A part of me was scared too, and I was thankful that I was with men. But then, I saw his face. This man, this look-alike to a street bum, was not a “man” after all. He was a young teenager! I would guess only fifteen or sixteen, but definitely not old enough to be legally smoking. I thought,

“What in the world is he doing smoking?”

After a quick glance at his face I looked in front of me and walked on. We passed him with a polite “good evening” and I let out a sigh of relief. I warily looked over my shoulder at him walking slowly down the long sidewalk. My second thought came,

            “I bet he’s a mess.”

But as I turned around my conscience suddenly smote me with guilt. Questions flooded my mind, threatening to overflow my processing capacity.

“Who was he? What circumstances had brought him to this position? Was his family a wreck? Did he even have parents to love and guide him through his treacherous teen years? What horrible pull, peer pressure, or pain had brought him to the pitfall and relief of smoking? What was his story?”

            As I looked back again, this time pity at the forefront of my thoughts, I was slightly dismayed to see that he had turned around and was following us. For a brief moment the disgustingly selfish and sinful side of me didn’t want to meet him. The hypocrite and Pharisee inside didn’t want to talk with this “lowly” person…I didn’t want to get remotely close with something so “dirty”. And yet, the Holy Spirit inside was faithfully fighting the Devil’s slimy whispers. A hint of genuine sorrow pierced me. Then, a voice from behind shattered right through the thoughts that were hotly battling inside.

            “Are ya’ll church goin’ folks?”

            “What?!? HE just asked THAT?”

             We all stopped and turned around in surprise to await this mysterious person. He slowly walked up to us, and began a conversation with Dad. He was awkward, and seemed a little slower mentally. He asked if we were church folk, and if any of us were teens. Upon the confirmation that two of us were he invited us to join his church’s Sunday evening Bible study at a friend’s house! Dad carefully handled the conversation, and asked questions about his church and the Bible study. But then things got a little funny.

            The young man couldn’t remember what they were currently studying in the Bible, and said that he had short-term memory loss. He told us that last year he had been in a very bad skateboard wreck, and was in a coma for a little over two months. He told us that he had received level 4 brain damage, and the doctors had told him that he would end up paralyzed. Dad tried to give him his phone number, but nobody had a pen or pencil. The young man said he couldn’t put it into his phone because it was stone dead. Dad asked for his number, but he didn’t want to give it. He said his phone wasn’t very reliable anyway, since it had been damaged during the wreck. However, he offered several times to walk with us to McDonalds to get a pencil. Dad courteously closed out the conversation, telling him that we had a church but thanks for the invite. Then we moved on.

            My thoughts began rolling again.

            “Was he really going to church? Was the Holy Spirit working in him? Was his phone really conveniently stone dead and unreliable? Why couldn’t he tell us what they were studying? It seemed like he may have been on some kind of drug. Did he just want a meal from McDonalds? Was his story about the wreck true? That would at least explain the lack of memory and awkwardness.”

            As we continued down the street to our house we discussed him. What was true? I didn’t know. We didn’t know. We had no idea, and it will likely never be our place to know. However, my sweet sister pointed something out. At some point, somewhere along the way, a church or a Christian had made a positive impact on this young man’s life.

            As I lay in bed that night I thought everything over. My sis was right. He obviously had come across some Christian or group of Believers who had taken him in and had accepted him; despite his looks, his manner, and his habits. Someone had put aside their judgments and critical thoughts of him and loved him like Christ.

            “I should love him like Christ.”

            Yes, indeed I should. I am called to love like the Lord. 1 Peter 1:22 says,” Since you have in obedience to the truth purified your souls for a sincere love of the brethren, fervently love one another from the hear.” Unheeding and unmindful of his looks, his background, his lies, and his filth…and ever mindful that he is a human soul, oh so cherished and loved by the Lord. As Dell Tackett, the teacher of a course called The Truth Project, once said, “There is no mere mortal.” Think about that.

             “There  is  no  mere  mortal.”

            We are all equal, and all helplessly wallowing in sin and despair. And yet, not one of us is a mere mortal. We are all unconditionally loved by the Lord, and we as believers are called to love unconditionally too. We are called to love the “unlovable.”  

            I am called to love the “unlovable.”

              After all, we’re all “unlovable.” Yet we’re all loved.

Blessings

      A friend of mine recently wrote a post on her blog about noticing and being thankful for the little things in life that we so often overlook. This post is kind of a copycat of hers, but the idea was so good I wanted to share it here, too:) As I read her list of things that she loves the gears in my head started churning. I began to think of so many things that I loved, and very soon my think tank began to overflow. So, I decided to type up a list of things that I’m thankful for…big or little. It was really enjoyable to look over it when it was done, not only because every time I read it I think of the things that I love, but also because I am reminded of just how much the Lord has blessed me with. I don’t deserve to find any joy in this life, and yet my heart delights in so many things!

      I hope this inspires you to think upon what gives you joy, and I pray that it will ultimately bring you to praise and thank your Maker. I also thought it would be a good thing for my first post, since it will give you a little insight into me:) So here is a long and totally random list of things in life that bring me joy!

The smell of spring

The sparkle of snow and ice

The smell of a scented candle burning

A hot cup of tea or cocoa in my hands

The unspoken yet plainly shown approval of the ones I love

A bond between an animal and a human

Baby animals

The song of a joyful bird

Love between two humans

The peace that comes after deep prayer

Warm weather

Completing things

A clean home

An un-communicated understanding

The smell of horses

The smell of freshly cut grass

Perfect weather

The dead calm before a storm

Warm, windy days

Pouring down rain

True pleasure in someone’s eyes

Beautiful colors

The growth of things

Laying my head down after a weary day

Exhaustion after exercise

Unconditional approval

Dipping my hands in hot water

Hot, hot showers

Getting new clothes

Having someone caringly search to understand me

Searching and finding truth

The painful wisdom of friends

Honest friends

Music

Laying on the grass

Being truly accepted by people

Being close to the Lord

Feeling the Lord’s pleasure

Intricate jewelry and art

Hands

A baby

A child’s innocent love

Looking and feeling beautiful

Being clean

Thinking

Time talking with ones I love

Summer tans

Deeply loving someone

Being a vessel for the Lord

Genuine encouragement

Making someone really happy

A beautiful pasture

The sensation of jumping a horse

Wind in my hair

Productivity

Touching a bird

A special hand-written note

A family who loves

My family

Sore muscles

Adventure

Sacrifice

Being so broken God has to remake you

Affection

A truly feminine woman

A warm, dimly lit room

Drawing at night

Perfect silence

Being active

Confidence in Christ

Realization

Correct understanding

Looking into someone’s eyes

Passion

Beautiful handwriting

A soft touch

Being used by God to touch others

Being able to “read” someone

A special moment

Being sought out

Life in someone or something

God’s boundless grace and mercy

Cozy coffee shops

Sunrises/Sunsets

Singing
Reading
Being lost in imagination
People's personalities
Quietly obserbving
The Lord of the Rings
Going barefoot