Redemption.

Situated under the covers of my queen-sized bed, I am surrounded by mounds of pristine white, cloud-like pillows and prints of lavender sending an air of serenity off of their places on my bedspread. The smell of jasmine, sweet pea, and vanilla fill the air as my candles flicker to the beat of memories on my nightstand.
I am home.
I close my eyes after taking a look around the room and wonder how much longer until my heart bursts.
I SERVE A REDEMPTIVE GOD.

Two months ago, this room held a different kind of scenery. One of ruin. One of desperation. One of loss. The remnants of that picture, of that time, still slightly remain. Even my heart skipped a beat as the first scent of my candles filled the air, reminding me of the countless nights I lit them, only in hopes that the smoke from their flames would curl around me and hold me together. I look at my antique couch, now light with my two small bags and worn, gray boots, remembering a time when it was sagging, perhaps not literally, under the weight of a brokenhearted woman's belongings and tangible stress.
The air is quiet, the story is thick.
I SERVE A REDEMPTIVE GOD.

Not two months ago, I sat on this very same bed as my eyes searched over the crevices of ones that couldn't look at mine and the sagging skin under them, due to sleep that teased her, screaming far more than she ever could. I sat here. And I listened to my sister unpack the horrors and tragedy her heart was undergoing.
Not even a week ago, she was sharing a new found treasure in the Words of her King as she is learning about His love.
HE REDEEMS.

A little over a year ago, I laid on the cold tiles of my bathroom floor, letting my tears seep into the cracks. Empty, numb, desperate, hurting, angry. I begged, I prayed, for life to be whispered away.
Now, I sit in a warm bed, surrounded by love, once again letting tears speak; only this time, ones of joy, peace, and hope.
BECAUSE HE REDEEMS.

One of my best friends lived through years of hell, complete with drugs, sex, abuse, a close relation's suicide, and an eating disorder.
Wednesday, she went to counseling for the first time ever, completely diminishing the long trail of Satan's lies.
HE REDEEMS.

One of my very good friends has a roommate with a heart of gold and beauty to match. But she struggles to know her worth and therefore acts accordingly, letting filthy people and strong alcohol dictate her life.
A few weekends ago, she stayed in. The first time in 2 years she hasn't had alcohol on the weekends.
HE REDEEMS.

I am humbled and in awe at the work of the Creator. These are just words to you, but these are STORIES, REAL stories. This is my life, BECAUSE HE REDEEMS.

Let all that I am praise the Lord;
with my whole heart, I will praise his holy name.
Let all that I am praise the Lord;
may I never forget the good things he does for me.
He forgives all my sins
and heals all my diseases.
He redeems me from death
and crowns me with love and tender mercies.
He fills my life with good things.
--Psalm 103.1-4

don't go chasin' waterfalls.

Faithful

He provides. I've seen Him do it soo much concerning money lately.

I wrote a $54 check for my jersey on Monday night, only to realize I only had $52 in my account. I frantically asked my mom to put some money in my account so that my check wouldn't bounce, but she wasn't able to until Wednesday. I checked my account everyday to see what was happening because I talked to the Treasurer and she had ALREADY deposited the checks by TUESDAY. Meaning, the $54 should have been already taken out of my account by the time my mom put the money in Wednesday. The deposit and credit didn't show up until today.

As soon as the $50 my mom put in showed up, the $54 was taken out EVEN THOUGH it should have been taken out earlier this week. GOD IS FAITHFUL.

There's something Abba's been showing me a lot of lately.
All my life I have seen Christianity as a one time decision.

Let's start at the beginning.

Baptism.
A one time thing that proclaimed what I had already decided. It changed my eternity. And although I knew it wouldn't magically change all my decisions from that moment on, I somehow secretly hoped it just would.

Now.

When I face struggles, I want to stare it in the face, decide it's not right, and let that be enough. I don't want to keep struggling. I want it to be enough that one time.
For example: Two of my biggest struggles are making Abba the center of my everything and NOT putting worth in people (in general. (although I guess these two actually kind of bleed into one)).
And as I go throughout my days, perhaps coming to the realization that I have in fact done quite the opposite of these two, I'm angry. I'm spiraling into the rabbit hole of frustration. Of desperation. Why is this still a struggle?!
Because, you see, subconsciously or not, I view Christianity as a one time decision. When in fact, it's an every day decision. It is an all the time decision. In fact, it's really a minute by minute decision, I think.
It all occurred to me when sitting at The Underground, once again asking Abba HOW to put Him as Center. "Every Day" was brought to the forefront of my mind.
Every Day.



SIDE NOTE: it's really almost humorous the way Abba teaches me sometimes. Some of my biggest lessons seep from the Spirit filled words I recite to others for THEIR needs. Hah.

Oh he said it's crazy
How love stays with me
You know it hurts me
Cause I don't wanna fight this war
It's amazing to see me reading through this scene
Of love and fear and apologies

My love is like a blanket
That gets a little bit too warm sometimes
I wanna wrap somebody in it
Who can hold me in his arms
Cause when it got a little too hot in there
He was always stepping out for air and he froze
Oh he froze

-Apologies, Grace Potter and The Nocturnals

love is not passion. it is the pulse of sacrifice.

-ann voskamp

"People sell themselves out for You. Wholly, completely, soul and all. They give themselves to a Being they've never ever known. Kids, thirteen years old, commit their whole lives to following you. They can't even drive. Of all the characteristics I know of You, Love is the most difficult to truly know. To remember. I have a really hard time making that fit. It's not hard to see you as powerful. It's not hard to imagine you creating everything. But what is STILL so hard for me to know is that You are present."

-prayer from this morning

I have literally seen myself being used lately. By God. It's like He's removing me from my actual life, allowing me to look AT rather than THROUGH, as I've said before. It's the weirdest experience. And suddenly, nothing makes any sense. I don't feel like I am in danger of leaving "Christianity (there really should be another word. I'm just not fond of that one lately)," rather, I fear I'm in danger of staying in something that I do not know the first thing about. Sometimes, I think it's necessary to be absent, to be silent for a time, in order to ever be present.
Wow. Sounds a lot like how God's looking right now...I just thought of that as I was typing.
Weird.


To be continued

Irrelevant

Fidgeting with the keys in my hand, I felt the breeze sweep through my pink hair. Each step closer to my car dissolved the hard plastic covering of my frame, and the pulling of the handle of the car door dissipated it entirely. As I reversed out of the lot, I searched for a song on one of my many CD's to compel my thoughts onto another path.
"DO SOMETHING."
It's funny that those words always seem to be the ones I utter.
I didn't know where I was going, literally and figuratively, but I just drove. So done. My eyes welled with tears as a flimsy balloon does, filled with icy water from a summer's faucet. But as quickly as they appeared, I banished them away. Not a single tear fell.


My thoughts trip over the words of so many "church songs" I have sang all my life. "Lead me to the Cross," "heart abandoned," "all my life and nothing less." Mouth (figuratively) agape, I now wonder to myself if the singer of those songs seriously knows what they are saying. Do I? Because if I had known, every time I sung those songs, what I am actually "signing up for," I would have needed a lot more courage to sing them. Honestly, I don't know if I would have sang them at all.
Last night, I sat in my car with two of my best friends, talking and doing our best to align with the Divine. I had just finished crying (it really does amaze me that I have any tears left) and doing my best to expose my heart when one of my friends said something so profound it will probably always stick with me. In fact, I remember looking at her in the rear-view mirror thinking, "Wow. God personified." (Don't freak out. Don't take that for more than it is...)

"Sometimes, it's just about being used."
To paraphrase, she said that there will be, have been, and are times in life that I won't understand. That I may never see the reason/lesson behind the trials I endure. But more times than not, it's because I'm looking at what it did for ME. And it's not always bad to look at it that way. Sometimes I really am trying to see what lesson I can learn from it. But as my friend so beautifully exclaimed, God brings glory, for HIMSELF, out of every single situation. There are times that I get to benefit from it, but mostly, I am IRRELEVANT.
It doesn't take me out of the situation, it doesn't by any means take the pain away, and it doesn't always make me feel any better. But I can't count the times I have prayed to be used by Him. I have even said "whatever that means." Let me tell you, I didn't mean that. At the moment of utterance, yes, I was sincere. But it was the same type of misleading sincerity that says, "I will take a bullet for you." When the gun is on your forehead, will you still mean it?

I have traveled the road, hitting every bump along the way. And sometimes, if only for a minute, a day, a week, I am granted a look AT rather than a look THROUGH. And as I stand on the other side of the Cross, seeing what it feels like to embody ignorantly sincere words, I can't help but wonder if I would do it all again.

heart abandoned
all my life and nothing less...
Lead me to the Cross.


To Be Continued.

praise God

Yesterday

I blink hard against the glass lenses of my black framed glasses, one eye watering and both burning, as if each has its own personal campfire behind my pupils.

I don't possibly know how to love You more,

I think to myself as I stare out of the antique windows of Midnight Oil, ones that capture and contain every small whisper uttered over a Fred. For one brief instant, my mind sets down its weapons to recall the story of Jesus in the desert. He had just received confirmation at His baptism as Heaven ripped open, declaring that He was, in fact, the Beloved Son. And now, He was dusting the dirt of a desert, physically and spiritually, off of His worn sandals.
I can't help but wonder why, taking some kind of twisted comfort in the fact that even Jesus endured trials from the One who He had been told, and believed, was supposed to love Him the most.

I don't know how to love You any more than I already do.

Slowly, the memory fades, bringing me back to my empty plate and mug rimmed with foamy remains, resting on the table in front of me. I reach for my red journal, small, yet full of loaded words and questions; ones I hope lift off the page to the One above. I pull the elastic band off, now stretched twice its original size, glancing at the frayed tassel marking my place.

A thousand words, accusations, and questions come to mind, but all my pen will allow me to write is one sentence:

You must be doing something good for me to be hurting this much.

I heard one time that when we endure trials, Abba wants so badly to intervene, to take it all away. But usually, He doesn't. Yesterday, that was not ok with me. And it wasn't until 9:30 last night that I even realized what the real problem is.
I am not complete in anyone or anything else.
And i try my hardest to be. I run away from Abba like daily. But every single time He brings me back to Him. And it is not easy. But is is necessary; not for His sake, BUT FOR MINE. Which blows my mind. Because in the middle of a storm when I am hurting soo badly, angry at Him for "not showing up," He is showing up more than I can even fathom.