Poolside Proverbs

Yesterday I had my first swim lesson. Not with a certified swim instructor, but with the woman who has taught me most of what I know. Because here's the truth of it: I can't swim. 

It isn't because I was ever afraid of swimming, although I'm still not keen on having my face underwater. But growing up, I just never received an opportunity to learn. 

Still, never learning how to swim was one of my biggest regrets in life. Growing up, it caused me to miss out on a lot of birthday parties, a lot of summer parties, a lot of sleepovers, making up excuses not to go because I was so embarrassed and ashamed that I was past grade school and I didn't know how to swim. It was one of my biggest secrets. I never told my parents how embarrassed it made me feel and I never told people that I couldn't swim. I wanted to learn, but I also didn't want to because I was too ashamed to ask for anyone to teach me. My pride just wouldn't let me. 

But I'm going to Hawaii in two weeks. To an island, a place completely surrounded by water known for its beaches, its surfing, its snorkeling, and its scuba diving. A place where it would kind of be helpful to know how to swim. At least a little bit. So yesterday I tried learning how. And I learned a lot from it. 

I acquired a massive new respect for great swimmers and divers because they must have some STRONG muscles. Just sayin'. That stuff is WORK! I was so sore this morning. Talk about good exercise!

I learned that water and eyeliner don't mix well. 

I learned what an essential part of life water is. We drink it, we bathe in it, we float around in it for fun. What a marvelous invention God made of H2O molecules!

I learned that I LOVE water and that I love being IN the water. (That makes me basically a mermaid, right?)

I learned that sure, I can't swim like an Olympic swimmer can. I can't be a lifeguard or a swim instructor or a certified diver. But you know what? There are some things that I know how to do that an Olympic swimmer can't. I learned that there's no reason in the world why we should ever feel ashamed for not knowing how to do something or not knowing answers. That's silly. We can't compare our skills and abilities to anyone else's. There's always new things we all have to learn and we shouldn't ever be embarrassed or afraid of other people's opinions or judgement to ask for help or for instruction. That thing you've been wanting to try? Go for it. You're never too old and no one else is going to chase down that dream for you. 

I learned that sometimes- dare I say, a lot of times- God calls us to places that we aren't necessarily prepared for in the moment. He calls us to places and things that take us from our comfort zone and that sometimes require us to learn new things. Maybe a new language, a new skill, a new culture. Or that maybe requires us to allow Him to do a new work in our hearts and cultivate in us a new character quality or fruit of the Spirit. I know He's had to work in my heart a lot of humility this year for me to be ready to serve Him in Hawaii. The things He calls us do and the places He leads us to go aren't always easy- change is difficult, especially if you never anticipated it- but like in water, we have to learn to simply trust Him, stop fighting, and allow the current of His Spirit to move us. He knows what He's doing. 

I learned that mastering new skills is sometimes more difficult as an adult than it is as a child. Because as adults, we're so logical. We get so caught up in our heads, trying to rationalize everything in our own happy little worlds. Always trying to find balance and reason and make sense. But sometimes, that doesn't always work. Like with breathing: breathing is so natural, but if you stop and focus on it, you set your natural breathing pattern off. Like with swimming: your body mass will float in water, but if you think too much about it, trying too hard to float, you'll sink every time. Like with God: so many people reject believing in Him simply because they can't reason out His ways. The ways of the Lord are mysterious sometimes and force us to have faith and just to trust. It isn't for us to always have the answers and muddle over, trying to make sense in our limited human minds things that are supernatural and of an unearthly realm. And even like with opportunities and love: the Lord may open doors in our lives or bring someone into our path, but we get so distracted, focusing so much on it and overthinking, that we lose courage and miss them entirely. 

And I learned that "Rome wasn't built in a day." I didn't learn to be a great swimmer yesterday. I can do a mean "motorboat" kick across the pool with a kick board now, I learned a breaststroke, and I came pretty close to swimming a few strides on my own without anyone or anything to balance my front end. But I still can't swim. After three hours straight spent in the water, my body was tired. I didn't have the core strength, the energy, or mainly, the practice to keep afloat. And at first, that was really hard for me. I couldn't kick my legs one more time, I was exhausted and my muscles burned so badly, but I didn't wanna leave. Because I had gone there to learn to swim and I hadn't learned yet. But I had to remind myself to release the impossible expectations of my perfectionism and to be gentle and patient with myself. Maybe I'll come back from Hawaii with more practice and know how to swim, but nobody learns in one day. It wasn't for lack of trying and it wasn't for lack of intelligence, I had to remind myself. I'm a fast learner- I learned as much as I did within the first hour- but I physically wasn't capable of learning to swim well all in one afternoon. I think all of us can lean toward a tendency sometimes to be too hard on ourselves, be it in skills or abilities or performance or in spiritual growth. But the Lord is always loving and patient with us in our learning and training and becoming more like Him. "As a father shows compassion to his children, so the LORD shows compassion to those who fear him. For he knows our frame; he remembers that we are dust." Psalm 103:13&14 So why shouldn't we be gentle with ourselves as well?

We all have a journey. Some of us are farther along in that journey than others but we all have a past from whence we came. Life is about celebrating the small victories and milestones of that journey one step at a time and taking pride in how far we've come, who we've become, and who we're still becoming. Be kind to yourself. And remember that every journey begins with the first step.

I'm so deeply thankful for the person He's slowly made me into this year and for all that He has planned yet to do in my life. Revving up now for an adventure with Him that I know is going to change me forever. 

Shattered World

Look at these pictures. At these faces. Look at them hard. Type their content into Google and look at the images you see. 

And I ask you: 

Is this okay?

If you're anything like me, you live comfortably in the American upper middle-class. You live the American Dream. 

I look around me and I see thousands of people just like me. I see people running around town this time of year, filling their shopping carts with the best deals they can find. I see people rummaging through the Black Friday and Cyber Monday sales to get the latest electronics and portable devices. I see people stuffing their refrigerators with food for the holidays. I see families laughing together and attending Christmas parties in ugly sweaters with gifts to exchange tucked under their arms. 

I see people just like me. Living a delusion. 

This American Dream of prosperity, health, abundance, and wealth we live... It isn't real. 

We live in a fantasy world and some of us like it that way. Others are simply naive. Some of us know what's going on in the world around us, across the globe, across town, across the street, but we don't want to hear it. We don't want to hear it because it dampens our high of happiness and health and riches. So we choose to bury our head in the sand. We distract ourselves with the pleasures our fantasy world has to offer. Fancy dinners, elaborate concertos, high-class museums, luxurious resort getaways. We distract ourselves and shelter our happiness like a trophy in a glass case. 

We don't want to think about the children being beaten and bruised in their homes every day. The young girls and boys being sold into the sex trafficking industry and the women selling their bodies to men in the dark alleys of our city streets or in pornography film studios. The refugees displaced from their homes and from all that they know. The victims of war attacks losing their family, their possessions, everything they own. The impoverished children falling ill from disease and malnutrition. The mothers and fathers who have no more tears left to cry as they watch the lives taken from their young children too soon. The men and women who have defended our freedoms now penniless on our streets with no more than a bag full of belongings to their name. The teenager pregnant and alone, seeking to abort the precious life conceived and formed within her body by the hands of a real and living and loving God. The Christians crucified, beheaded, raped, tortured, burned alive for the sake of not denying their faith in the Lord Jesus Christ. The soldiers of ISIS and their families, lost and so blind but still so deeply loved by our Father in Heaven, our Savior of grace Who died for their sins. The silent screams of their souls for help with every slice of their knives and every shot of their guns as they wander so blind by darkness toward a future of damnation and suffering, torment and grief in a lake of fire for eternity. 

But we don't want to think about them. We don't want to think about the reality these individuals live every day. 

Until it affects us and our family. 

Maybe I'm the only egoistic human to have done this. But maybe I'm not. 

When did we as believers, as the body of Christ... When did we as humanity, as a culture and society, begin caring more about the turkey on our table, the biggest presents under our Christmas tree, the newest iPhone released by Apple and the latest gossip of celebrities than we do about the orphans and the widows, the poor and the hungry, and the lost souls that are going to spend eternity in Hell. 

When?

When did this happen?

When did we become so selfish, so apathetic, so judgmental, so revengeful and so calloused?

Those who are like me, we can't continue to deny reality until it comes knocking on the doorstep of our own happy little worlds. This American Dream will not last forever and its moment on the scene of time is drawing to a close. 

A new era is dawning and the reality is our world is being shaken. The world in which we live mourns and the haunting cries of those slain continue to ring out throughout the nations. Their cold blood runs like a scarlet thread through our hearts, woven into the fabric of our humanity. Lives are lost, innocent, as our world is shattered with war and terror and violence and threats. Blood is on the hands of men so devoted to their religion but so sincerely lost. So blinded to the Truth. And we mourn. A darkness has covered our land and we desperately need a Light to break forth and bring hope to the broken-hearted. To penetrate through the cloud of darkness that has rested upon our world and upon the hearts of men that they may see the Truth that can set them free and give them an eternal hope. 

We live in this world. Beyond our American upper-class, this is the world in which we live right now. Here in this moment. Here in this time. 

And the Church has a decision to make. The Church has center-stage. People are hungry and heavy-burdened and are looking for a peace and a security beyond themselves, beyond the government, beyond alliances. All eyes are on us. 

What will we choose in these days of trial? Hatred or Love?

The world has enough hate. 

I choose love. 

This season it's easy to get caught up in the busyness and the festivities of the holidays. So preoccupied by our own little worlds. 

But please let's not hide. Let's not seek escape into our distractions. Let's not misuse the blessings of the Lord as a distraction. Let's not turn our heads away. 

We are living in a crucial time in history and more than ever, we need to pray and to reach out to the world around us in love. 

It might break our hearts. It might bring us to tears. It might make us cry out and question God "Why?" Why so much suffering, why is that not us instead. It might make us beg the Lord to return now. It might someday cost us our own lives for the sake of our faith. 

But the world is looking at us, the Church, the Body of believers. And it's looking for an example of love in a world now that only knows hate. 

Now is not the time to turn a blind eye to the events of the world around us. Now is not the time to hate those who mock and scorn, those who torture and persecute us. 

Now is the time to make a decision. 

May we choose love. Love as the Father loves us and washes every stain and blemish from His Bride with the ransom of His blood... so that we are made clean white as snow to show others the way to His Truth and glory. 

"For God so loved the world, that he gave his only Son, that whoever believes in him should not perish but have eternal life. For God did not send his Son into the world to condemn the world, but in order that the world might be saved through him." John 3:16&17

Giving Thanks

Thanksgiving. 

Has it really been a full year already? 

This season, as many people, I've been contemplating thankfulness and blessings, and I have so much to thank the Lord for. I have seen His hand in my life so powerfully and so intimately this year, and I have watched Him pour out blessings upon my family and me. This has been a richly favorable year for us in change and growth and love and memories.  

But in the midst of so much I could thank the Lord for, a group of senior citizens taught me how much I also take for granted. 

Last Saturday morning, I awoke with no official plans for the day and another weekend to myself what with my parents still gone on their cruise. So I decided to give a few hours of my Saturday to serving. I was severely tempted to stay in my warm bed and sleep, but I was convicted. I'm the girl who wants to move to Hawaii to serve in outreach. But I won't even wake up early and sacrifice three hours of my weekend to serve in my own hometown? So I woke up earlier than usual, picked up my usual Saturday morning chicken biscuit and hugged my coworker friends, and I drove to Downtown Atlanta. To the Atlanta Dream Center. 

I had never been to the Dream Center before but when I was younger, my church used to take a group down there to serve. I was out of my comfort zone there. Drastically. I never go to Atlanta, much less on my own. I never serve with urban ministries and outreach to low-income areas. And I didn't know a single soul there. I hadn't even submitted an RSVP for their Adopt-a-Block event like I was supposed to have. I just showed up. My inexperience even would've gotten my car towed had it not been for the kind volunteers who informed me that I had parked in an unacceptable space: once in a tow zone, the other blocking a florist shop driveway on the street. 

Something was there though. The tall buildings looked old and dingy and dirty. Graffiti wouldn't have surprised me. The roads were not in the best condition and iron bars were on the windows of the Dream Center. Parking for the Center was right in front of the ministry buildings or I otherwise would've felt wary of walking far alone. Overhead the sky was gray and clouded, casting the urban area in a cold pale light. 

And I felt something there. I felt a darkness in that place as soon as I stepped out of my car. I didn't feel in danger from anything in the physical, but I felt something imminent and threatening to me in the spiritual realm. Something that I feared might manifest itself in the physical.

I looked up at the buildings around me and an eeriness overcame me to realize that inside those buildings, in the backstreets of the heart of Atlanta, women and young teenage girls were selling their bodies to men every single day, either by choice or by slavery. There was a darkness to that side of the city that few people saw. It made me shiver and cringe. 

The people from the Dream Center were kind and welcoming to my joining them even though I hadn't submitted an RSVP. I signed a waiver, which I didn't read but which I assumed essentially claimed that if I got abducted or assaulted or injured in any way, it wasn't the organization's fault. The church was cozy and inviting, and we gathered all together into a warehouse-looking room for a brief time of worship. 

But I still felt in my spirit something there, and it terrified me. It made me want to jump into my car and drive away from that place as fast as I could. Something, or should I say someone, didn't want me there. 

I turned to spiritual battle, and I prayed against that evil spirit of darkness that I felt surrounding me. I prayed against it. And when I closed my eyes, I saw a vision of myself surrounded by a bubble of light. Against that bubble of light pressed a wall of darkness, trying to drive the light back. 

I realized that sometimes we'll never know how bright a light really is until it's placed in the darkness. You can't see the influence of a candle glowing until you see how far its realm of light extends into the dark. And my spirit was strengthened and encouraged because I realized that I had a Light to shine and a gift for shining it effectively to those around me.  

That heaviness and darkness I felt left, and after the worship, I joined two young ladies and an elderly woman in going to visit a group of senior citizens. 

Lija and I rode with Jordan to the high-rise home where the seniors lived, arriving some time before Miss Ruby did. Many of the elderly were shut-ins and looked forward every week to the Atlanta Dream Center volunteers' visit. We gathered in a circle with a group of about ten black elderly Christian men and women. I won't lie, as a Caucasian-Puerto Rican in a society that is so quick to create racial tension, I felt culturally stretched from my comfort zone. But it was good. I needed that. I might feel like a minority often in Hawaii. 

We read Scripture together and taught on meekness and humility. We brought them food- bread and pies and fruit- and new toothbrushes. We shared about our weeks. We introduced ourselves and shared something about our lives. 

We went around the room sharing one thing that the Lord had done in our lives that week that we were thankful for. 

And the seniors' thanksgiving all had a common thread: they were thankful for life. They were thankful for health and for a sound mind. They were thankful for another day that they had woken up and were given the opportunity to live. 

And it challenged me. It challenged me of how much I take granted the simple things that matter the most. Like food on my table. A roof over my head. A family and good friends. A car. A job. 

Life. The very essence of breath in my lungs and every morning I awake, the chance to see another day dawn with the colors of the sunrise.

I initially questioned my calling to serve with the impoverished when my eyes had seen reality for the first time that morning. I had questioned fearfully what in the world I was doing, going to Hawaii with a desire to minister to the homeless. But by that afternoon, I felt so fulfilled. I fell in love with the sweet seniors, so welcoming, so accepting, so loving. I enjoyed the group I served with and I formed a new friendship with Lija over sipping apple juice together back at the Dream Center before I headed back into the suburbs. 

I had gone to serve and to be a blessing. But I was blessed. Tremendously. 

And this Thanksgiving, I'm challenged to give thanks for the simple things. 

To give thanks for the beautiful gift of life and for the precious gift of Christ's blood on the cross that I may have life and eternal life abundant.

"The thief comes only to steal and kill and destroy. I came that they may have life and have it abundantly." John 10:10

"For the wages of sin is death, but the free gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord." Romans 6:23

Be Still and Know

Last weekend was special for me because I got to spend so many powerful and precious intimate moments with the Lord. 

Saturday morning, I found myself at a local coffee shop I had been wanting to try. I sat outside on the deck overlooking the river and played my guitar and read my devotional. But mostly, I stood in awe. In awe of how magnificent our Creator is. It was so beautiful. The way that the water moved, so many droplets of water all moving together as one. The autumn colors of the trees were so warm and brilliant. The laughter of joy coming nearby from a young boy and his loving father, engaged and present, pretending with small tree branches that they were sword fighting. 

A few hours later found me at what used to be one of my favorite places on the face of the earth. The Monastery of the Holy Spirit. I used to go there so often with my mom. We would picnic by the lake, sit in silence, reflecting and resting our souls in the Lord's presence, and we would stay for the 5:20 vespers service. But now it had been over two years since I had stolen away to that place of solitude, silence, serenity. 

It was fairly busy that day. There was a weekend retreat being held so there were many people staying in the retreat house. There was also a group of elderly women from the Red Hat Club in their red and purple. There were tours being given, families spending the day, couples young and old strolling the grounds hand-in-hand. And there was me. 

Some things had changed, but it was much as I had remembered it. And I discovered that it's still one of my favorite places. I wandered the spots I used to go with my mom: the bonsai tree greenhouse, the lake, the Abbey Store, and the Abbey Church. 

But before I left, I brought out my acoustic guitar from the back seat of my sedan. I carried my gig bag over to a field. And I sat down in the dying grass and brown leaves. 

The afternoon sun was low in the horizon before me and behind me stood the tall white chapel, bathed in its warm rays. I lifted my guitar from its case and I began playing. People were walking by- it was a public place- but I began playing and singing anyways. "10,000 Reasons" I played. And the presence of God came over me so strongly. 

I was singing and playing openly, freely, without shame or reserve, though my skills aren't excellent in either. Usually I'm insecure in my playing and my singing alone. But I wasn't that afternoon. I didn't care what anyone else thought. I was worshipping Jesus and that was the only thing that mattered to me. 

I closed my eyes and at one point, stopped playing and lifted my hand to Heaven. I felt so much freedom wash over me as I lost myself in His presence.

I had been dreading the changing of the seasons. I dislike the cold so I had fought against accepting the inevitable approach of autumn and winter. I mourned for all of the precious moments I had spent with the Lord. The picnics, the walks, the prayer times outside at IHOP, the ice cream eating and Bible reading outside Barnes & Noble at the Avenue, the outdoor adventures. I had mourned for them, thinking that such special private times away with the Lord were over for me until next year.  My favorite places to get away from the busyness and distractions from the world and to focus wholly on Him are all places outdoors. 

But I realized last weekend that I was wrong. 

We don't need a place or perfect conditions to touch the heart of Jesus and feel His presence surrounding us. The seasons change, but He is ever constant and is ever wooing our hearts to spend time with Him and in His Word. He cares for us His children, us His treasured ones, so deeply. He is pursuing us and there is no place that we can run from His outstretched arms and His abundant love. 

In the changes of life, in the ringing noise of the day-to-day responsibilities and cares of this world... Be still. 

Be still and know that He is God. Not just in your mind. Be still and know in your heart that He is God. We are a busy generation, a busy culture, a very busy society. 

But we need time away with Him. He longs for us to seek His face and through our private moments with Him, He strengthens us, equips us, and uplifts us to live our lives more abundantly, more fully, more richly for His glory than we ever could on our own. Be that beneath a cathedral of blue sky, a quiet corner of a coffee shop with a cup of hot cocoa, or curled beneath the covers reading His Word on a chilly night.

Be still and rest in the confidence that our God never changes and He is faithful with no end.

Dancing with Me

The first of October, I found myself at IHOP for the Thursday night Forerunner service. I was feeling in need of some encouragement so I went into the prophecy room. 

For those who aren't familiar with IHOP's prophecy rooms, the intention of the prophecy ministry is simply to encourage and uplift, not to foretell of the future. To be honest, the idea sounded pretty creepy to me though the first time that my friends wanted to try it out, but it wasn't at all as I had thought. 

Among other words of encouragement, one of the women there praying shared with me a vision she glimpsed. 

"I keep seeing you dance. I just- I just see you dance and twirl and spin," she said. "And I mean... It's just beautiful before the Lord. I don't know if that's something that you do or... I just hear over you 'Dance with Me. Dance with Me, My beloved. Dance with Me.'"

Here's the thing. 

I don't dance. 

That vision struck me as strange and I didn't relate to it at all. Sometimes in my mind I imagine myself dancing, and when I was younger, sometimes I would dance before the Lord in my bedroom. I took ballet lessons as a cute five-year-old, and with my slender physique and long limbs, for most of my teenhood, I was asked if I was a ballerina. But that vision still didn't resonate in my spirit in that moment. I don't dance in worship. 

But it stuck with me. Something about that word stood out to me. 

This past Thursday, I was at the Forerunner service again. (I spend quite a bit of time at IHOP.) I was dressed fashionably in black satin high heels and skinny jeans, deep red lipstick, gold jewelry, a black top, my thick mass of curls clipped up. There was an altar call at the front for receiving the baptism of the Holy Spirit, and as I sat there in my seat, I suddenly felt a prompting to go outside. 

To go outside, to go down the porch steps to the grassy overflow parking where I picnic, and to dance. I felt my spirit stirred. I felt the Lord leading me to sneak out of the service and to steal away to dance with Him. Like a lover coaxing his beloved away from the crowd of a party and out into the night on the portico alone. 

I decided to follow. It was strange, and it felt so counter-intuitive, but I decided to follow. 

I left my things on my chair and I quietly slipped out from the prayer room where the ministry at the altar was still underway. Outside, the back deck was wet from rain and for me in a short-sleeved shirt, the night was a little cool. 

I crossed the wooden deck and I stopped at the railing, drawing a deep breath as I looked out across the overflow parking. Dark and vacant of anyone else. No one else was in sight.

I followed the steps down and gingerly picked my footing in my high heels across the gravel and wet clay into the grass. 

Then I stopped. 

I looked up at the treetops silhouetted against the darkening night sky. 

This is silly, I thought to myself. 

"I don't dance," I told God. 

And I heard Him whisper gently to my heart in a way that assured me He knew something that I didn't, "Oh, but you will." 

I took a deep breath, looked over my shoulder to be sure that no one was around, and I started swaying. There was no rhythm, no music, but I began dancing. Just a slow, gentle sway at first. 

Then I slipped out of my heels, my feet sinking into the soggy grass scattered with wet fallen leaves. And I began twirling. Like a young girl again, I began running and spinning barefoot around that little field cloaked in the darkness and the lamplight from the deck. I laughed breathlessly, wet, cold, feet growing freezing and dirty, my curls coming loose. 

I opened my arms and sunk down to my knees in the grass, my eyes closed as I turned my head up to the heavens. And for a moment, I forgot about everyone and everything else. 

It was Him and Him alone. 

No one else mattered. 

Sometimes we create such high expectations for ourselves. We seek perfection in ourselves. For me, I struggle with perfectionism. I'm organized, I exhibit mild symptoms of obsessive-compulsive disorder, I love planning and scheduling, I love routine, I love being in control of my life, and I've always loved the feeling of being put together, both in dressing well and in having my life in order. I hold expectations for myself that I can't always meet or always feel like meeting. 

And sometimes, that holds me captive as a slave to my own ideas of what I should look like, of how I should act, of the way my life should go. 

But this year since March, the Lord's been teaching me to let go. 

To let go, to let loose my fist-tight grip on my perceptions of reality and expectations for myself, and to embrace the joy of living. 

Truly living. 

Of living in the moment. Of spontaneity. Of following the prompting of His Spirit though they may seem like whims to discover intimate moments spent with Him in His presence. Of living more simply, more unhindered and carefree. 

More free. 

Living in freedom. 

Free from worries and overthinking. Free from expectations and barriers I create for myself. Free from concern of people's opinion of me. Free from my pride, telling me that I need to be a certain way. And free from the confines of what has always been "normal" for me, the old me. 

I've been embracing a new freedom in Him. 

And it's brought a lot of changes in me and my life. 

I've never felt like a more real authentic version of the person that I was created to be. 

I walked back into the prayer room Thursday night during the meet-and-greet and immediately a young woman greeted me. She asked me my name and introduced herself. And then she told me genuinely, "You are so pretty." My feet cold and dirty in my high heels, my curls falling out of place, blades of grass clinging to the wet knees of my jeans, breathless and wet and disarrayed, I felt like a mess. 

But I knew there was a spark of passion and life and love in my eyes, lit and let loose by laying down my pride before my Bridegroom and King. 

And the Lord reminded me that beauty isn't always found in perfection. Sometimes the most real beauty of all is found in the chaos, in the confusion, in the carefree, crazy moments of life spent with Him. Trusting and walking step-by-step by faith every day. 

Today is a new day. A day to begin again and to start afresh. To break off whatever is holding us back from stepping into the freedom in Him that the Lord wants to offer us and into the fullness of all that He has for us. He desires so much for us. 

Let go. Breath. Don't be afraid of falling into Him. He'll catch you. Step beyond the circumference drawn in the sand of that small circle called the Comfort Zone that you're content to live in. 

Let go. Be free. And believe. 

And watch all that He will do. 

He makes wondrous things from the pieces we place in His beautiful hands. 

Beloved

I woke up in the middle of the night last night with this song in my head. So I decided to play it and listen to it. And as I laid in bed, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, tears came to my eyes and I began weeping. 

Because I got a vision as I listened to this song. There are so many things that I'm excited about doing and seeing in Hawaii, but this is one of the things that I long for most. 

I want to stand at the edge of the ocean, my toes deep in the sand, the wind on my face, and water as far as I can see. And I want to be reminded of how incredibly small I am in this world. But of how indescribably great His love still is for me. I want to be overwhelmed by His love. I want to drown in His presence. 

Friends, we chase after so many things. We turn to so many things to fulfill us. To consume our time and attention. Things that one day will all pass away. Things and people that can never fulfill us and love us as we were created to be loved. 

When all the while, the Lord is right there. Standing by, watching, with arms wide open. 

The parallel of Hosea and his wife the prostitute Gomer has been on my heart lately. Because do we really realize- really really get in our spirit fully- how much He loves us? He LOVES us. 

He sees us chase after other loves, after the things of this world, after the temporal pleasures it has to offer. He sees us and despite our ugly past mistakes, despite our complicated present situations, despite how many times we turn our eyes away to other things, He's still there and He still longs for us. 

We don't have to do a thing. We don't have to chase after Him or earn His love. We don't have to prove ourselves worthy of it. 

All He wants is to love us. If we'll only accept His love. He only wants our love and our hearts. Fully. All of our heart. Not only a meager portion as we turn to other things to fill us. 

But instead, we treat Him as a second option. As a backup plan for when things go wrong and don't turn out right in our eyes. When He should be first! He needs to be first in our lives. He wants to be first in our hearts. 

He delights in us and longs for us, friends. He wants you and me. And when we truly get that in our spirit, it should wake us up in the night. It should bring us to our knees and it should cause us to weep. Because His love is that great for us. 

He only wants to love us lavishly and to receive our passionate love and devotion in return. If we'll only stop chasing after the loves and distractions that can never satisfy our souls and turn to the One Who is divine Love and the only One able to love us and fulfill us as He created us to be. 

"My beloved speaks and says to me: 'Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away, for behold, the winter is past; the rain is over and gone. The flowers appear on the earth, the time of singing has come, and the voice of the turtledove is heard in our land. The fig tree ripens its figs, and the vines are in blossom; they give forth fragrance. Arise, my love, my beautiful one, and come away.'" Song of Solomon 2:10-13

http://youtu.be/diMZ3ucq24g

Kindness & Compassion

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience..." Colossians 3:12

Yesterday had been a really long day by the time I was driving home. 

I had been at my job since 6:20 in the morning. I was running on less sleep than my body needs and I needed to be at work again today at 6:30. I had worked a nine-hour shift with no break. And simply put, I was just exhausted. I was ready to go home, take a shower, get in my pajamas, eat dinner, and go to bed early. 

And that's when I saw her. 

I was passing Walmart when I saw a Hispanic woman standing on the corner of the Walmart entrance. She was holding a sign that explained that she was a single mom and was in need of help. She was asking for someone to help her. A few young children were by her side. 

They were homeless. 

They hadn't been homeless for long clearly because their clothes still looked in good condition. But they were homeless and needed help. 

And I love homeless people. They hold such a special place in my heart. 

I immediately thought of the fifty-dollar bill in my wallet- fifty dollars I wasn't counting in my bank account anyways- and I was prepared to help her and her children without a second thought if they needed help. She needed it more than I did. So I took my eyes off of the road for a brief moment to read her sign and to see if she was indeed homeless as I suspected. 

My eyes scanned her sign as I passed. And then I felt a thud. My front right tire had hit the curb. 

No big deal. I straightened my car again and that's when I heard through my rolled-down windows, a sickening hissing sound. A very loud, very rapid hiss. I had never heard that sound before, but I immediately knew what it was. 

I had a flat. 

My very first flat tire. 

From trying to help someone. 

From caring. 

From my compassionate heart. 

From my big stupid compassionate heart. 

In a panic, I swerved (safely though!) into the near turn lane I had almost passed and I turned into the parking lot of Sam's Club across the street from the Walmart. I anchored my gear shift stick into park, locked gears with my emergency brake, and jumped out of my car, running around to the passenger side to inspect the damage. 

I groaned inwardly to myself. 

The tire was as flat as could be. The rim nearly touched the pavement and I had left a trail of black skid where I had driven. I took a deep breath and sunk back into the driver's seat. Then out came my iPhone. Mom. 

A brief phone conversation with my mom revealed that she was at least forty-five minutes from where I was. So I called my dad who could leave work and come to my rescue much sooner than my mom could. I explained to him the situation and how it had happened. He would be on his way. 

Meanwhile, I decided to wait inside the Sam's Club rather than in the deserted side parking area. It seemed safer. So I got out of my car, locked the doors, and began walking around the building to its front. 

That's when I realized that I had parked beside the auto repair center. Hmm. Convenient. 

Inside, I sat in the cafeteria and tried to amuse myself and pass the time on my cell phone while I waited for my dad to arrive. I was tired and grumpy. And pretty down. I thought of how much money I would have to unexpectedly pay from my savings for Hawaii to replace my tire. I felt stressed and worried. And I just wanted to go home and sleep. I hadn't planned for this.

I felt like a total fool. A total fool for how it had happened. I ruefully bit my tongue from cursing the gift of compassion the Lord had given me. I was frustrated. 

But then I stopped. I was still worried and stressed about the financial expense, but I realized that I needed to count my blessings and still thank the Lord even despite my unfavorable circumstance. 

So I began making a list on my cell phone of the things I could be thankful for about the situation:

1. No part of my actual car was messed up. (And no part of ME was messed up!)

2. I'm in Georgia and not in Hawaii yet where my dad can't come rescue me. 

3. I guess at least I popped it in wanting to help someone in need. 

4. I have a little bit of extra money in my bank account than I had budgeted for going to Hawaii. 

And 5. I'm stranded in the Sam's Club auto shop's parking. Most convenient.

"I'm cranky and bummed," I wrote, "but the Lord is still faithful!" 

My father arrived and I made my way around the building to meet him at my car. His pickup truck was already parked and he was surveying the damage. 

I held my breath. "Are you mad at me?" I called out to him as I approached. 

"No, I'm not mad," he assured me. I should've known he wouldn't be. 

But why wasn't he mad? In my own eyes, I had just done the stupidest thing, not watching where I was driving because I was busy distracted by a homeless woman and her children. It was ridiculous. 

My dad retrieved the spare tire and car jack from my sedan trunk and commenced to replace my flat tire. I sat on the curb and silently watched him, lost in my thoughts, my anxiety, and my woe. 

That's when the thought crossed my mind. What if it hadn't been an accident that that had happened? What if there had been a reason for it? What if there was something that God was trying to get through my thick skull through the situation?

I didn't know. But I thought of the woman again. Had I not popped my tire, I would've driven past her and missed my opportunity to help her. To bless her. To be used of God to provide for her needs. Maybe that's why my tire had popped. To give me another chance. 

I thought of the woman again. And I forgave myself. The Lord gave me a compassionate heart for a reason. In fact, I purposed that if the woman was still there when I left, I would still drive across the street and give her the fifty dollars I had tucked away in the pocket of my little black clutch purse. Sure, to some people, it would seem idiotic of me. It seemed foolish to my common sense too, especially in spite now of over a hundred dollars I would have to pay to get my car back on the road for good. 

But I didn't care. If she was still there, that fifty-dollar bill was hers. 

My dad lifted my car on the car jack and began removing the lugs. As he worked, a red-haired young man dressed in a mechanic suit appeared from the auto center. "Are you guys okay over here?" he asked, approaching where we were. "If we had known, we could've come out and been working on this for her," he told my dad. 

My dad thanked him for his offer to help. "Okay, well, let us know if you need anything," he added before returning to the auto shop. 

My dad removed four of the five lugs. But there was one that stuck tight. It wouldn't budge. I watched my dad struggle with it, praying with every turn that it wouldn't break and applying his whole force to it so that his face was red and his biceps defined and prominent. It squealed in protest. I held my breath as I watched. Something was going break. 

His efforts were useless though. So he went to see if our young mechanic friend might be able to help. 

The young man attempted with his own hand wrench and manpower to unscrew the lug but to no avail either. He then asked if we had a Sam's Club membership, to which we weren't certain if my mom did or not. Technically, they weren't supposed to work on any cars if the person didn't have a membership, he told us. 

But he did anyways. "I'm sure we've all been stranded on the road at some point," he said. If we didn't have a membership, he said not to worry about it. We could use his. 

The auto center was already closed for the day, and he was already off of work. But he opened the first bay of the auto shop and drove my car into the work area. Though he ended up having to break the stubborn lug with the impact wrench to remove the flat tire and though they didn't have in stock for my car any new tires that I could afford (to which the mechanic agreed that they were a really expensive tire and I could get them cheaper elsewhere), the young man had my spare tire in place and on the road in no time. 

He washed his greasy hands, drove my car out with my dad and I following behind, and parked. When he stepped out from behind the steering wheel, we thanked him and offered him a monetary expression of our gratitude for his help. He had worked off of the clock for no pay, staying late when he could've been home already on a Friday night after a long week of work. He made no money off of helping us. 

But he shook his head and held up a hand in refusal. "No, I was glad to help," he insisted genuinely. "Pay it forward for someone else."

And like that, an hour and a half later, I was on the road headed home again. To my deep grief, by that time, the woman and her children had disappeared from their place standing at the corner and I'll never know how their story ends up. 

I added more to my list of blessings I was thankful for though. 

6. The auto mechanics were still there. 

7. The young mechanic was kind and generous.

8. I would only need to pay for two new tires, a wheel alignment, and a new lug rather than needing a new wheel as well as we had initially thought. 

9. I was able to learn a little about changing a flat tire. 

And 10. I learned both that there is still goodness in this world and that in a spiritual sense, even if we veer off course in this life, the Lord is still there with us and we can still see His fingerprints all around us if we only look for them. 

The mechanic didn't know what he had taught me. To him, he had just changed a flat tire for someone who needed help. 

But to me, he taught me that compassion and kindness is magic and power and that it always has its reward. He restored my faith in humanity. And I learned that kindness in helping another human being is always worth it. 

So be kind, reach out a hand to help your neighbor you cross paths with, be a good Samaritan, and never be ashamed of caring for one another nor of needing the help of someone in return. 

"Put on then, as God's chosen ones, holy and beloved, compassionate hearts, kindness, humility, meekness, and patience, bearing with one another and, if one has a complaint against another, forgiving each other; as the Lord has forgiven you, so you also must forgive. And above all these put on love, which binds everything together in perfect harmony. And let the peace of Christ rule in your hearts, to which indeed you were called in one body. And be thankful. Let the word of Christ dwell in you richly, teaching and admonishing one another in all wisdom, singing psalms and hymns and spiritual songs, with thankfulness in your hearts to God. And whatever you do, in word or deed, do everything in the name of the Lord Jesus, giving thanks to God the Father through him." Colossians 3:12-17

Life or Death?

"Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruits." Proverbs 18:21

The power of words. The Lord has a lot to say to us in His Word about the power of spoken words and of taming the tongue to speak blessings and not curses. 

I was at IHOP last week and as I sat in the prayer room, praying, worshipping, I took out my journal and pen from my backpack and I began to write. I didn't really know what I was writing, but I wrote whatever came to my mind. Whatever truth I felt drop into my spirit. And when I went back and read together all of the individual thoughts I had written, I was amazed by the power of them. 

These are the words that I read and that I've continued to declare out loud over my life again and again. 

But just a thought, I ask you, what words are you declaring today over your life, your future, your family, your circumstances? Are your words admitting defeat and speaking a curse? Or are you laying hold of the promises of God and declaring life and blessings abundant. 

The grass withers and the flowers fall but the Word of our Lord stands forever. 

He desires to bless me, not to curse me. 

His thoughts toward me are precious and His plans for me are good. 

Before I was conceived in my mother's womb, He has had the days of my life ordained and written in His book. 

I am chosen. I have a purpose and a divine destiny in Him. 

I am fearfully and wonderfully made. 

He sees me pure and spotless, white as snow through Jesus' blood. 

He died for me, He rose for me, He offers life eternal for me, and His Spirit lives within me. 

He will direct my path. 

He holds me in the palm of His hand. 

I am enough. 

I never have to earn His love and prove myself worthy to Him. 

In Him, there is joy and peace abundant. 

He calls me beloved child. I am His daughter. 

I can do all things through Him. 

He has equipped me with all that I need to fulfill the purposes that He has for me. 

He will never leave me nor forsake me. 

I am never alone. His Spirit is within me alive. 

Nothing can take Him by surprise. He has already conquered and I am victorious. 

I am free from the bondage of fear. 

The Enemy can do nothing to stop the promises of the Lord from coming true in my life. 

His love has paid my ransom and He calls me His own.

Going Home

I go to IHOP, International House of Prayer Atlanta, frequently whenever I can. It's my quiet place. It gives me time alone outdoors in nature to spend with the Lord, praying, journaling, worshipping. 

On my way there I pass a street. Many streets, of course, but a street which leads to the neighborhood in which I grew up as a little girl. And I had a whim the other day to drive by the house my family lived in until I was eight-years-old. 

I didn't know why. Why I wanted to drive by. Why I had that urge, that whim. Why I followed it. But I did. 

I wanted to go home. 

I turned my car down our street. "Ashton Place" was the name of our neighborhood. The sign was dirty and showing signs of wear from the years. 

What I saw though as I drove slowly through the neighborhood of my old home broke my heart. 

I saw unkept yards. Older cars lined up parked on the street. Stained siding on the houses. Grass and weeds popping up through the cracks in the curb and the street and the driveways. An untastefully-painted bright teal house. 

What was this place?

Nostalgia overwhelmed by senses and a million memories seemed to flash through my mind. 

I saw through the trees in the neighboring subdivision the giant hill my dad had taken me over to to sled down one cold winter when the subdivision was still only under construction. That late afternoon as we had plodded back together through the snow to hot chocolate my mom had waiting for us in the kitchen- that happy moment of just me and my dad- had filled my young heart with so much happiness and deep contentment, warming me from within. 

I saw again myself six-years-old tromping in my rain boots through the grass in the backyard after my dad, going to pick ripened tomatoes and peppers with him from his thriving vegetable garden. The garden now looked like a jungle overgrown. 

I saw myself playing dress-up and house inside with my mom between her cooking dinner in the evenings. 

I saw my sisters and I sitting on the front doorstep with our cat Prancer, years' gone from us now.

I saw our white house with its green shutters, now repainted tan and brown. 664 Carriage Court. I almost didn't recognize it. 

I saw the hill in our backyard and the plucky little girl I was that snowy day when I stood up to the stranger boys bigger and older than me, wanting to use "my" hill to sled down, and I told them to "get out of my yard."

I saw myself taking walks around the neighborhood with my mom and dad in the long summer evenings after dinner was eaten and the kitchen was cleaned. I remember the mosquito bites. The mosquitoes always loved me. We would return home when the fireflies were just sparking like magic in the shadows of the woods. 

I saw in my mind again my quiet place. The Jack-and-Jill printed white hamper by the window in a corner of my small pink carousal-horse-decorated bedroom. I saw myself as the girl so young and so innocent, sitting on that hamper, my children's Bible in hand, looking out the window in the stillness and silence as the sun set in the evenings before dinner time. Thinking, praying, feeling the Lord's presence overwhelm me and fill my heart with peace and contentment indescribable. 

Just as it still does. 

Life has changed a lot since those days. Since I've called that place "home." 

And going back wasn't the same as it was when I was a little girl. I can't go back to those days. 

Sometimes we aren't supposed to. 

Life is a storybook with new chapters revealed piece-by-piece. Every day is another page in the story the Lord has written for each of us. And when one chapter draws to an end, it's time to turn the page and begin another anew. My childhood is closed. My teenhood is closed. My transition between teenhood and young adulthood is closed. 

I'm here. I'm in the now. And I'm about to start another chapter as this one ends with the close of the year. And I can't go back. I can't look back. If I try, it just isn't the same. 

When one season of life ends, we have to let go and move onto the next. And sometimes that means leaving people and memories behind as we begin a new chapter. And that's okay. It's how life is meant to unfold. Change is inevitable. We can't fight it and we shouldn't try. 

But some things never do change. Love. Family. Faith. Truth. And Jesus. 

Make life count. Invest in the things that don't change with time. And never- never- take for granted a single moment, a single memory, a single breath we breathe. Fifteen years from now, when you can't go back to a time and a place you once lived in, they'll be there tucked away in your heart forever when your thoughts turn back in nostalgia to days gone by. 

It'll bring a tear and a smile. 

And then you'll move forward again on. 

Because that's the way that this precious life is intended to be. 

"All the days ordained for me were written in your book before one of them came to be." Psalm 139:16

"There is a time for everything, and a season for every activity under heaven: 

a time to be born and a time to die,

a time to plant and a time to uproot,

a time to kill and a time to build,

a time to weep and a time to laugh,

a time to mourn and a time to dance,

a time to scatter stones and a time to gather them,

a time to embrace and a time to refrain,

a time to search and a time to give up,

a time to keep and a time to throw away,

a time to tear and a time to mend,

a time to be silent and a time to speak,

a time to love and a time to hate,

a time for war and a time for peace." Ecclesiastes 3:1-8

"The grass withers and the flowers fall, but the word of the Lord stands forever." 1Peter 1:24&25

            Daddy's vegetable garden