insecurites become blessings.

Our hearts are fragile, and they're searching for something, but what? What are we so desperate for? I walk through the mall and I see all these people and they all search for the same thing. Unknowingly they drag unsuspecting young people along with them into this death trap. This thing we search for? What is it?

We see it in the magazines that show celebrities and how they keep falling apart. I see it in the love stories we watch at the movies. I see it in the climb for power in the workplace. I see it when I look in the mirror.

This grasping, is it not meaning and value we search for? We think that wealth, schooling, makeup, relationships, and statuses will make us feel like we are worth something. We all want to be something special.

Don't be fooled. There is not one among us who does not hunger after being valued. And that, that is a good thing.

I see the unshed tears in her eyes as she views herself in the mirror. I see the frustration as she tries to loose those pesky pounds. I see the failure she feels when she sees her grades. I see the desperation clawing her heart as she holds onto hoped for love.

I see myself. Sometimes it's not the literal, sometimes it's in the heart that these things happen. The ugliness of the heart that you see through the mirror of scripture. The weight of sin that starving those sins isn't making them go away. The grades we give ourselves when we must measure up to some ideal. The love we are so sure we can't have from Christ.

This desperation, this need for meaning. This meaningless world grates on our hearts meant for eternity and perfect love. That's why we aren't satisfied. We will never find ourselves with perfect value and meaning and love in this world.

Let that sink in...

You will never grasp complete love while you're on this earth.

Wait, but what of experiencing God's love? What of salvation? That is the road to learning of this love, but does not Paul even say that God will bring his salvation to completion on that day? God's love is something that we will not fully encounter until we are made like him. We can be overwhelmed by it, we can revel in that love and feel our value. But dear woman, sister, our hearts can not hold all the love God can give. Not until He makes us perfect.

And that is when we come face to face with JOY!

Let God's love rush over you, and realize that there is absolutely no end to experiencing more. There will always be more of God to fill you to overflowing. And because there is more, we will continue to search. And does the fact that we continue to search show us that we have this need for value, to be complete?

I'm a glad that I have a hole that I can not fill. I am praising God that I have this insecurity. This need for more. Because when he draws me near, and my search continues in him? That is when I get to know my savior's heart. That's when I get to be filled through and through. And the adventures are waiting for us, these adventures to jump in, to feel unsure, to allow that hole to open wide. That's when God starts pouring in.

When you know where to look, insecurities become a blessing in disguise. They become the catalyst to searching and knowing the heart of our Lord. Fears will creep in, questions will arise. But we cling to our light, and soon we see the one step in front of us. Taking that step, God will always shine a light on the next one. And that step will always lead us closer to God.

Like the proverbs woman, I laugh at tomorrow. I know that these insecurities are only lies. They are only the lies the devil tells me...the ones he hopes will make me distrust my God. But, I have the choice to make. And I make it boldly and step out.

The last step into God's love held firm, and I know the next one will too.

Zephaniah - And the story of a Father and Child

Is God really real in MY life?

I feel shut out of His presence, unnoticed and rebuffed. I do not feel welcomed before God, nor do I feel desired or changed. My life feels dead, as though I’m not living. My heart is cold as stone. I do not see the hands of God working in me, and I do not have the strength to cry out to him in my weakness. Will my voice not work, or does it refuse to work? I am frozen in time, unable to move. There is no escape from this blackness, I can not see. I am numb. I am cold. I am dead.

I know that God is the only one who can change me. I know that no amount of struggling is going to save me. My flailing arms grow weak, and I know that I can not shake off these bonds. There is no escape. I can not save myself. No amount of good deeds will change my ending. No amount of effort will seal a good fate. There is nothing I can do. I give up my will. I struggle and fail to live because this is not really life. This is only the walking dead. I can not fake this slow dying. There is no smile, no cheerful act that can change the way I feel. There is no standing up straight, I will only be knocked down again. I can not change the way I feel, nor do I want to have a superficial light on the horizon.

I fall completely into the arms of Grace. I claim the promises of Love. I cling to Mercy.

I read the verses, I memorize them, I cry them out, and I sing them. My mind holds on to these words, my heart is gasping them out.

THE LORD your God is with you, He is mighty to save. He will take great delight in you, He will quiet you with His love, He will rejoice over you with singing. Zephaniah 3:17

The Lord - my Lord. I cling to these words...I remember his many names. El Roy, oh God who sees me. I grab onto this hope that he does see me, laying here covered in the mud. I hold onto the truth that God sees through this grime and desolation. That there is something to see inside of me…

I cling to the hope that GOD IS WITH ME. That He really is the Jesus who was born into humanity. Who knew our pain, who knew this hopeless life. I cling to him because he was not born into the rich and the wealthy. He was not born a King. He knows the hardship? Does he know this ruthless life? And He really chose it?

He delights in me. I look in the mirror, at all this grime. This dust, this brokenness crumbling. And I see nothing to delight in. Nothing to catch his eye, or make him smile. And I cry for the beauty that would delight him. The heart of kindness, the white as snow purity. Somehow he delights? He is not blind. He sees me as I truly am, do I?

He quiets me with his amazing love...but only if I am willing to be quieted. After seeing all that dirt and grime and how can God really delight. Yet still, he comes close and calls me child. And his love tells me that no matter who I am or what I’ve done, or what I never ever accomplish...he will STILL love me. And I suddenly feel the peace that seizes my heart when my mother or father wraps me up and tells me it’s ok...What more love God must have since he sees every single thing in my heart! His love stills my heart, and my heart runs water down my face.

And to know, this wet mess of tears and grime and sin, He rejoices over me...I fall apart. I can not hold myself together. I’ve known this mess from the start. He has joy when he looks upon this face of mine. And I ask again - The one who delights in me, does he see the real me? And I see something else? Is what I see a lie?

And I close my eyes and see a child...a small blond girl in her Daddy’s arms. I see joy written on her face, hands held to the sky, trust...the Kingdom belongs to such as these. The daddy laughs and smiles, and I can see his face rejoice. Bliss. Yes, the little girl will hurt, yes she will fall, but she looks up into the face of a daddy who can wipe away those tears, and that mud, and he picks her up. All trust, all love, all peace. Wonderful LOVE.

The love of Christ washes me clean...washes away the muck and dirt and lies that Satan has painted my heart with, and what I begin to see...I begin to see what God sees. That little girl, full of joy and trust, still lives in me. 

Looking up into the face of the Father, He scoops me up, wipes away the tears and grime... and in His arms is peace... and in His eyes...Rejoicing and Delight.

Second Chances and the wonder of Grace

Anger reared it's head as quiet gentleness bent it's head. Control was fleeting as infuriation blinded all love and compassion. 

There are days when we lose control, and either we can't regain our composure, or we simply won't. This sinful nature, these ugly displays of emotion, they try to get a hold on me - to squeeze out His love and render useless this amazing freedom. My heart begins to boil, my hands clench. And worst of all, I despise it. I despise these hands, this heart, this world.

Soft and gentle, these words play. Hands to ears I try to shut it out, for I despise the gentle love. I count it worthless. But it coaxes me, and I can not resist. Blinded by my failure and fury, this unrestrained grace breaks down the walls and renders my anger useless. I am relieved.

I can not give grace when I can not receive it. I can not be full of love, when my heart does not know it. I can not be full of joy unless I know the joy giver. I can not give forgiveness, when I refuse to except it.

Everything I try to be, everything I try to give - without excepting it, embracing it, knowing it - I can not give it. If I try to keep giving these things, I will run empty. And all that is left is the anger and hatred and cruelty. These things are what I am apart from the One who gives all good things. Apart from Him, nothing is good.

Tears of release as I listen to song after song - these songs, they are love songs of my Savior. And I listen to each word, and I hear the heart of Love. And I'm reminded that I am a child of the One True King. And it stuns me silent I am told that the past does not matter - that it's forgiven. And I ask, is not one minute ago the past?  Anything done or experienced...that is past.

I see my slate - the one that is wiped clean. And I see these clothes white as snow. Bewildered, my eyes fill again with tears. And the only one to see is God, and I leave my sunglasses in place as I cope with this new reality. This overwhelming grace. I know the anger and I know my failings. I know all the things I should have done differently. And I accept his yoke...

Matthew 11:29 "Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls."

The sun warms my face as He warms my heart. The spirit has whispered to my heart, and it begins to heal.

I drive home, listening to song after song repeating the same messages. God is love and forgiveness. I am wanted and I am loved. And he is enough, no matter what I've done in my long ago past or in my moment ago failures.

At home I'm met by two wiggling dogs with open paws, gentle eyes, and loving hearts.

I shake my head in wonder as I write my 100th gift.

100. Second Chances

Accepting His Forgiveness

Life continues on and on, and my heart becomes more and more numb to God. And I see this truth, that Christ died for all transgressions, and isn't his heart full of grace? My mind says yes, but my life says no.

Those little sins, and even those things we call "nothing" those are what make my heart numb. Because not only do I refuse to label them, I refuse to receive God's grace regarding them. And aren't  I disbelieving in his goodness and love when I reject his forgiveness? I swallow hard, and blink eyes and try to take it in. In not coming to Christ and excepting and even embracing his love, I am throwing the cross, his love, his grace, his goodness....I'm throwing it all in his face and saying an emphatic "no!"

No to his love? Why would anyone do that, especially a Christian? Especially a Christian....This is the story of mankind, and why did I think I was immune? We throw it away because it's far too good to be true! It's far too good to be true that I can make a bad choice, and then turn to God and throw myself at his feet and still feel his grace. He still loves me in the moment of my sin...

Romans 5:8  - But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.

While we were still sinning, and throwing it in his face, and yelling and screaming at him, and living out our "no", that's when he showed just how much he loves us...that's when he poured out his love on the cross and did the unimaginable. 

But I still struggle, because with a numb heart how do I know when I throw it at him? And I see my journal laying there untouched...the one I write my own One Thousand Gifts in, just like Ann Voskamp. And it lies there closed, and I don't even know when I last took time to write in it. And I know it's not just about writing it down, it's about actually thanking God...but without the physical act, the heart act has failed.

I struggle and fight this mundane life, this life full of mistakes. And I refuse to believe Christ doesn't care about the moments of my life. And doesn't he give me each breath, so how could he not care about them? I refuse to give the Devil a strong hold in my life, and isn't his goal to make me not trust in God's goodness....just like Adam and Eve fell for his lies, the devil wants me too to believe his lies, to refuse to trust in God's goodness.

And it's an every day battle, to keep trusting in God's love, to keep giving thanks, to fall into God's arm's each day. And with His kind of love, what do I really have to fear?

And I want to live out a "yes" to God in my life. So I remember his love and I accept his grace. I accept that I really am forgiven, treasured, wanted, and loved. And I see hope replace my numbness.

Hearts vulnerable and Living Free

My mind goes wild, and my heart beats wild too. My heart cries out silently to the Christians all around. And I wish that it weren't silent. If only it were like the shot heard around the world...

Listen to me cry out, hear my words. We are falling apart. We are being deceived. We are an immobilized people. We sit in our beautiful church buildings and we smile and sing and listen and make commitments to change. And there we sit, doing nothing. We go home, back to our jobs, our lives, our homes. We go back with a focus to change ourselves.

I see it in the mirror, this need to change self. To gain more control of desires, to learn to be better. This self discipline, it wears on me.  I throw it out the window, refuse to look in the mirror. I sit and block it out. And I am dead in spirit and alive in body. And why would I want this and how do I get the strength to change?

I run through the gospels, my mind brushing fingers across memory. I want to feel it, to see it. And in my mind's eye, I do. I see Christ and I see service. I see dirt and filthy sandals and hands washing away grime. I see wet hair with dirt and leaves and accepting eyes. I see hands letting go of stones and words being written in sand. I see fishing nets and knives cutting away and cleaning. I see arms around children, and food in hand with grins across faces.

I see service.

What I see is a Christ who came to live. Came to live among us, and isn't his name Emmanuel? And wasn't that one of the first names we knew him by? God with us. God living among us. Not sitting teaching for hours, not home working on self discipline. No, this man, this Christ, this holy one sent to save us - he came to go and serve.

And I see it clear. All this sitting around, this trying to find the strength to change. And is this really what Christ modeled for us or is this what we've imagined for ourselves? And am I afraid to dig my hands into dirt, and lift the battered off the ground, and wrap my arms around the filthy and unclean. And am I really afraid to live Christ. Because what was it? What was this living that he did other than a drink offering? And am I really ready to be pored out? To be emptied of myself and filled with God? And his sacrifice was so great, can I also sacrifice like that?

I am afraid. I am afraid of what He will ask, and will I be strong enough? I am broken and battered and dirty and unclean; and how do I lift others up when I can not even rise to my own feet. I try and I fail and I am a mess. And I see the faces of family around me, and I can not help them. So we all stay on the ground beaten and bruised and together we moan. And I just sit there.

What is it about this giving away that so scares me? I am comfortable. Comfortable in this discomfort. And I refuse to really see it because I hide in this crazy life. And like a blanket covers my face and I am blind, I allow this comfort to cover this broken heart and the light doesn't touch it. And if this light, this truth, if it does not touch it, my eyes will remain comfortable. The burning light, how do I allow the pain of opening my eyes, and is it really worth it?

I nod yes slow. I look into the eyes of true comfort. I look into Christ's love eyes. And I slowly begin to release my hold on this comfort blanket. And he takes my hands slow, holds my heart and I try to keep breathing. I feel vulnerable, and it will not end with this uncovering. But I was never meant to live comfortable and safe, I was meant to live surrendered and free and vulnerable.

I struggle, and try to grab the blanket again, and he coaxes me quietly. I know that voice, and I trust. And I know that this releasing will only happen one little step at a time. But I am afraid and unafraid at the same time. I know my Jesus, I know that he is my comfort. I feel his love rain down. I want this surrender, and I want this living free. Free to live as Christ, to serve.

  And I open my heart to the fear, because a fearful vulnerable heart that is unafraid and protected because of Christ....That is a heart that is ready to live life surrendered. 

The Hard Gifts

I give up before I even open my eyes. The puppy cries. My heart cries too. How did life become all about surviving? And is it truly life when that's all I do?

The heart feels limp, limp as my wet hair after standing in water coming down. I hope it will wash away these feelings...but I'm not sure what these feelings are. Perhaps the walking dead? I feel dead and I wonder why these lungs keep breathing in and out. And some days I wish they wouldn't.

And I ask, why does God still care when my heart is so broken? Why does he want to pick up the pieces again, and does he really? And why can't I trust? And then I begin to remember.

I take a breath and practice...practice. I practice looking at the past, at remembering what God has done. And I see a little blond girl playing games outside, and digging in flower beds, and seeing all the flowers believing that she really did make them grow. And I see a face of trust. Where did that child bliss go? And do we really have to let it go or is it choice?

And I remember to give thanks for the past and the present. I see how easy it was to give thanks, because God seemed in control and I had nothing to fear. And I gave thanks for the ants and the flowers and the cold water on the counter. Trust - just complete trust. Childhood bliss was just trust? And I shake my head and a smile forms. I know how to learn to trust again, and is it really as easy as giving thanks? Can I have that bliss again?

So I count -
82 - Broken guitar strings and forgotten foot stools
83 - Shadows playing on the blinds and on guitar strings
84 - dusty pianos

I thank God for his blessings, and is he really a good God who loves me? And the more I count all as grace - as blessing - the more I see as gift and only a good God can give good gifts.

And what of the hard things in life? I sit back into the past, the table at the bookstore, Mom and Dad enjoying a muffin together. A smile turns my lips. And the question about the what ifs. What if something happens. What if we don't get the jobs we want and what if we loose what we have. And we know to keep trusting. Keep trusting because hasn't God provided already? And why would he stop?

But what about those circumstances, and how to make sense of the going ons.  And he's still good even if they're not? No, I shake my head. And I speak it, more to myself because I'm the one in need of hearing these truths. These things - the breaking and hurting and struggling - they are not just allowed to happen. They are gift. They are blessing. And I try to count them not just on paper but on the tablet of my heart. Because everything that happens is simply preparing us to be more like Jesus. More like Love himself. And who wants anything else but to be made whole? And so I thank him one thing at a time. For the hard and the easy, the ugly and the beautiful. And nothing ever falls outside the label of grace blessings.

I look around at the mess and say "blessing" (85). The calender has a sticky note with work hours on it. I don't feel the energy today. But still I say it quiet. "grace" (86). The weeds grow and I sit and I am lazy. And still I look to God and say "this is grace"(87) . The floor has just dried, and I wish that puppies knew to go outside..."blessing"(88). One at a time I count. And I say a prayer of thanks as I write them.

This love of God shown through his blessings...just as in salvation we accepted it, still each day we grow in our salvation by seeing his blessings and grace and naming them. And only when we name them as gift will we begin to live as though they are gift.

Hearts open

My heart opens out and up, and I glimpse the wonder of God working in my life and the lives of others.

Why do we hurt? Why do we get bitter? I've been learning, and I've been giving thanks. Giving thanks to God helps us to trust God. We thank him for what he is doing and what he has done, and seeing all of his mighty works in the past gives us a hope for more mighty works in the future. So I thank him for the hard, the painful, the bitter. And I open my heart to Him and to what he's doing.

Hearts with complete trust in God are soft hearts, because hearts that trust in him have the Spirit's heart beating with their own. And it's in this syncing of heart beats that we come to life.

And it's the failure to sync that kills our hearts. It's the failure to keep trusting the Lord that causes us to fall apart. I take a breath, and see distrust in my own face. A distrust that He really can work out everything for my good. A distrust in his plan...and instead of falling into myself, I try to allow my heart to fall out to God and to others.

I don't like being vulnerable, and living with an open heart is the last thing that comes naturally. If I shut off my heart and refuse to allow anything to phase it, my heart feels protected. But that's when bitterness and pain creep up on me. And I fail to see them, or if I do, I refuse to stop them.

Living in freedom, living fully, is about allowing God to work in and through you by reaching out to others, and most importantly, up to God. When I trust God to live through me, and to heal the brokenness inside of me, I can open up to others. It's not about me. It's about God. And so I have nothing to fear in living with this heart that is open.

It hurts. It hurts to live open to the people around you and allow them to see you. But in some ways, it's a good pain. But only when you're allowing God to shine through. On my own I am dirty and ugly. I am the undesirable leper who becomes beautiful when He heals me. When my heart trusts in him, I am healed. And isn't it in my weakness and brokenness that God's greatness comes through? My bitterness turns to love. My hurt becomes my understanding and compassion. In the hands of the Almighty, every thing in me, and everything that has happened to me, turns out to be a blessing to me and to others. And I am beautiful. 

And it's in loosing control of this crazy heart that I learn that God is already in control. And I realize that controlling these emotions is simply a distrust that God can work through them. And without them, I feel dead. And I know that with the pain, it's o.k. to cry out with God and say "My God, why have you forsaken me?" But instead of asking I push away. And wasn't that what the thief did? Was not distrust on his breath. And the other man? Wasn't it the question on his lips that brought him to God?

And I ask "why?" and his all consuming love comes and soothes the breaks, and he puts me back together. And then I see it clear - to trust in the Lord with all of my heart is what will make me whole. And thanksgiving is how I learn to trust. And I continue to write my own one thousand gifts. And I already see the change.

I give thanks constantly, and I learn to accept all things as grace. And my heart begins to come back to life.