thinking of His faithfulness…

My soul cries out

My soul cries out for you

These bones cry out

These dry bones cry out for you

To live and breathe

-Gungor

When I was thirteen, I lay across my bed in the middle of a cluttered room with tears streaming down my face and sobs tugging at my stomach as I prayed out loud into my pillow for more of Jesus in my life. I was raised in a Christian home. I went to church. But I ached for the reality of a living breathing God who wanted a relationship with me.

And then He spoke truth to me. He said He knew my heart’s desire and He would fulfill it. I began to know the reality of Him being a God that is intimate and gentle.

When I was fifteen, I sat in a crowded storefront church surrounded by singing teenagers and wept because I knew Jesus loved me, but I didn’t know how to handle the enormity of His love. He loved too much for my self-absorbed and self-hating mind to handle. I ached for the reality of being able to not only love Him with all my heart, mind, and soul…but also to receive His love with all my heart, mind, and soul.

And then He spoke truth to me. He said He delighted in me. He showed me His Son wounded on the cross, suffering indescribable pain and sorrow for my sins. I began knowing the reality of Him being a God that enjoys His creation.

When I was seventeen, I sat on the rooftop of a Scottish castle on a misty morning and read Hosea and Song of Songs and knew I was pouring my worship onto my gods of self and shame. I ached for the reality of Him being the Lord of my life.

And then He spoke truth to me. He spoke of wanting a relationship with me. He said He was jealous for me. I began knowing the reality of Him being a God that relentlessly pursues my heart.

Two days ago, I sat and read through an old journal and wanted to cry because I was reading a story of His faithfulness in my life and it saddened me to realize that somehow in the midst of a life filled with constant chaos and responsibilities, I had stopped abiding.

And then He spoke truth to me. He reminded me that in Christ alone, my strength is found. He is my Hope and my Secret Place of safety and peace.

The reality is that He is faithful.

He’s good and I’m grateful

I’m sitting on the front lawn of my campus, under a huge silver maple tree with golden leaves. The day feels like a perfect early November day in Virginia. I’m surrounded by near-silence and serenity, with the only sounds being the faint hum of cars on Wards road and the softest whisper of conversation from little study groups clustered across the grass. I smell the autumn breeze with a slight tinge of cigarette smoke. A car drives by with the stereo blaring R&B. The leaves are just past their peak and the fiery orange and cheerful golden hues stand against the cloudless blue sky.

And here I sit, completely in awe of God’s goodness. I can’t shake this feeling of simply loving His goodness right now.

I’ve been walking around all morning in a daze of childlike happiness.

It started Saturday night, I think, with the rush of sudden and unexpected tears that came as a result of my rather turbulent emotions of the week finally colliding together. But with the tears came an absolute peace that I really am doing the right thing and I really am on the right path. This new season that I’m stepping into is full of uncertainty and fear of the unknown, but it won’t be without Him.

I realized His goodness on Sunday morning, when I stepped into my church and a real sense of joy and belonging swept over me. When I visited for the first time earlier this year, I stood in the back with a ridiculous amount of hesitation about this little store-front prayer room, while Stephanie sang about coming up from the wilderness. At that moment, I knew I should come back but I didn’t know the Lord really was going to bring me up from the wilderness of loneliness and rejection.

I realized His goodness as I prayed with two beautiful and precious women of God after church.

I realized His goodness as I told Stella some of my journey this year and listened to some of her’s, and I marvelled at what God’s done.

I realized His goodness as I sat with Tomi and listened to her heart, marveling at the goodness and healing love of the Lord.

I realized His goodness as I stood at a bonfire in the middle of the afternoon, surrounded by people laughing and talking and enjoying each-other.

I realized His goodness as I sat with Nicole in my car and realized how wonderful the Lord is to bring such a beautiful and compassionate friend into my life.

To everyone at LHOP: I love you all so much. As the reality of only having one more month here is beginning to sink in, I’m realizing how precious every single one of you people are to me and I’m really grateful that I can call you guys friends.

I don’t even know how to start summing up how beautiful and good the Lord has been to me this year, but I’m content in the fact that He is turning my ashes into beauty. 2011 has been a year with ashes, yes, but also with so much beauty.

i wanted to remember her

Write a story about the older lady in the airport.

I recorded a memo on my phone because I wanted to remember to write about her.

I wanted to record her memory because she looked fascinating, she looked wise, but mostly, because she just looked old and faded—like something I would find in my great-grandma’s attic. Everything about her was faded; from her yellowed blouse and dusty pink skirt to her carefully applied, but probably ancient, lipstick. Her shoes looked like they belonged in the forties decade—and probably had.  Remember Julie Andrew’s suitcase in the Sound of Music? Remember the bag that Anne of Green Gables said held all her earthly possessions? This lady had that suitcase. The kind that needed a key to open.

Her eyes were what drew me to her. There was wisdom in those faded blue eyes. I watched her as she studied the people rushing by—the father with the crying baby, the college kid on her phone, the tired security guard—she watched them rush by and I wondered what she was thinking. What does 2011 look like to 1956?

The plane was delayed. People complained. The baby cried. The college kid texted everyone in her contact list. Everyone was lost in their own worlds, all competing for first place in the race of their personal schedules. And I sat on the floor beside the electrical outlet with my charging phone and half-eaten pretzel and watched her sit and wait. That’s all she did. While the world rushed on a self-appointed hectic pace around her, she sat with her hands folded and her ugly brown suitcase neatly sitting beside her dusty shoes. She looked content. She looked patient. She looked like she knew more about the world than any one of the 21^st century Americans around her.

I suppose for someone that had probably lived through a world war, through Pearl Harbor, through a president’s assassination, and through a country that had changed dramatically in the course of her life, there was no reason she should not, on the tenth anniversary of 9/11, sit in a crowded airport in Philadelphia and wait for a plane.

I wish I had been brave enough to talk to her. I wish I had offered to take her for overpriced airport food while we waited for our plane. I wish I had asked her where she was going and why she was flying on 9/11, but I didn’t. I just sat and watched her as she silently analyzed everyone in a crowded gate in Terminal B.  I knew I wouldn’t be able to do her character justice in a hastily written note for Facebook, but I wrote myself a phone reminder anyways.

Dear old lady in the airport, I wish I had said hello.

learning

You’re a Warrior.

Sometimes I forget that.

Sometimes I think that You’re a mighty King

Sometimes You whisper that You’re my Abba, my Daddy

Sometimes I forget that You are also my Defender

Fighter of my Battles

There are so many complexities to God; so many different aspects of Him. He is every beautiful adjective in the English language, but even that cannot begin to describe Him.

Holy

Powerful, yet gentle

Righteousness and tender

The mighty King.

The tender Father.

Love.

He is love.

In His own gentle way, the Lord has been showing me what it means to be His daughter; to receive His delight and affection. It’s a lesson that I’m pretty sure He loves teaching—but not necessarily one that I always enjoy learning. My immediate reaction to His love is to reciprocate in my stumbling human ways, but He consistently says rest.

I’m learning.

But the past year or so, He’s revealed another side of Himself; a side that I wouldn’t normally have associated with love and fathers and delight. My Shepherd, my Abba…He’s a Soldier. He’s a Warrior-King.

And this Warrior fights my battles.

I resist; I like fighting my own battles. But He consistently says rest.

I’m learning.

Jesus, You’re Beautiful

Sometimes, especially in the quiet of  morning dawn, I think about encountering Jesus. Not encountering Him in the way that we’re used to doing–in our own times alone with Him or on Sunday morning–but actually encountering Him; in that moment when we will actually see Him face to face.

That incredible instant when faith will become a reality.

I’m vacationing with my family for a few days before I fly to New Hampshire, and last night I finally had the free time to do what I’ve been wanting to do for weeks: with my Bible, my journal, and a teaching by Mike Bickle on descriptions of Jesus in Revelation, I settled down to find descriptions of the Jesus that I’m going to encounter someday.

Listen.

“His eyes are like doves by the water streams, washed in milk,mounted like jewels.” (Song of Songs 5:12)

“I looked up and there before me was a man dressed in linen, with a belt of fine gold from Uphaz around his waist. His body was like topaz, his face like lightening, his eyes like flaming torches, his arms and legs like the gleam of burnished bronze, and his voice like the sound of the multitude.” (Daniel 10:6)

“I saw heaven standing open and there before me was a white horse, whose rider is called Faithful and True. With justice He judges and wages war. His eyes are like blazing fire, and on His head are many crowns.” (Rev. 19: 11-12)

“I turned around to see the voice that was speaking to me. And when I turned I saw seven golden lamp-stands, and among the lamp-stands was someone like a son of man, dressed in a robe reaching down to His feet and with a golden sash around His chest. The hair on His head was white like wool, as white as snow, and His eyes were like blazing fire. His feet were like bronze glowing in a furnace, and His voice was like the sound of rushing waters.” (Rev. 1:12-15)

“And I saw the glory of the God of Israel coming from the east. His voice was like the roar of rushing waters, and the land was radiant with His glory.” (Ezekiel 43: 2)

Can you imagine what that moment will be like when we see this Man? When wee see this Man who is altogether beautiful in every possible way? When we see the Man who sacrificed everything for us? When we see the Man with nail prints in His hands? When we see this Man…and we gaze into His blazing eyes?

Holy Jesus. We worship You. You are so breathtakingly beautiful beyond what our human words can convey or our human minds can comprehend.

Oh if we could only see the Man

with the eyes like flames of fire

He is the Sign, He is the Wonder

We can’t wait to see You.

My upcoming adventures

This is me.

And this is what I will be doing in a week…

…because I will be heading to…

…my summer internship/practicum at His Mansion Ministries in New England.

Several people have asked me for more details about what I’m going to be doing this summer, so I’m going to attempt a blog post.

First, a little bit about His Mansion…

It’s a community-centered residential facility for  young people who are struggling with life experiences or need some guidance/counseling. Actually, saying it’s a facility makes it sound like a group home. It’s not. It’s a self-sustaining farm in the rolling green hills of New Hampshire. Most of the food comes from their gigantic gardens and farm animals. The old-fashioned work ethic principles are a reality here; you don’t work, you don’t eat. Everyone has to chip in and do their part to keep the place going and in operation.

And best of all, because this is New England, every spring they go sugaring to prepare their own maple syrup.

How awesome and yummy is that?!?

I can  vouch for this ministry because I personally know people that have come out of their program completely changed and restored. This place is solid, built on a great foundation–they’re celebrating forty years this year–and most importantly, their whole program is centered on faith and the Bible.

So what will I be doing this summer?

It’s hard to say anything too specific, because I don’t know too many details at this point. But basically, I will be interning there along with several other college students. We’ll be considered short-term staff and we’ll live and work alongside the residents, while assisting with mentoring/counseling sessions and building relationships;  investing in the lives of these people. Also, we are all going into medical, counseling, or other care-based fields of work and this summer will be a practicum for us–along with working, we’ll be taking academic classes pertaining to healing and counseling. It’s going to be a fantastic hands-on, practical learning opportunity and I know that I’m going to learn and grow so much.

It’s going to be good, but it won’t be easy. I would definitely LOVE everyone’s prayer support. And let me just say…last Sunday, my church prayed for me with such fervor and love, I almost cried right there in front of everyone. It meant alot…so if you were at LHOP and you happened to be one of those intercessors last week, thank you. I love you guys SO MUCH!!

Let’s bring on the summer!

PS. If anyone is interested in finding out more about His Mansion for whatever reason, their website is http://www.hismansion.com/. They’re also on Facebook.

Advocate

I have this little tradition with myself.

I know you’re dying to hear about it, so let me explain. Almost every Sunday after church and lunch with friends and/or family, I grab my Bible, journal, favorite pen, music, cell phone so I can look up words, and a big cup of coffee. I find a little corner to nestle up in and spend some time with Jesus. It’s honestly one of my favorite moments of the week. The other six days, finding some time to spend alone with God is a little tricky and when I do, it tends to be quicker and filled with prayer requests and “help me with this homework/situation/job/ect. So Sundays are special.

All that to say…

A couple weeks ago, I was reading in the book of Hebrews. I’ve been stuck in Hebrews for a while now, but I keep discovering things that I’ve never seen before.  Hebrews 5:7, for example. It says:

“During the days of Jesus’ life on earth, He offered up prayers and petitions with loud cries and tears to the One who could save Him from death, and He was heard because of His reverent submission.”

The loud cries and tears made me pause.

The Bible makes several references to Jesus going away from the crowds to pray. It talks about Him going up a mountain to talk to God. I was raised on pictures/videos of a stoic, white, blue-eyed Jesus and apparently that concept is so ingrained in me that it influences the way I interpret Bible verses. Because, when I picture Jesus praying, I view Him sitting on top of a lonely mountain, quietly talking to His Father. There almost definitely were those moments of quiet conversation, but…well, let’s just say that I don’t really picture Him sobbing and wailing before the Lord. I don’t hear the sound of His cries echoing off the rocks.

Hebrews talks about Jesus being our Advocate before the throne of God. Today, at this moment, He’s praying for us. When I picture Jesus interceding for me, I see Him speaking solemnly before God. I don’t picture Him brokenly pleading for me. I don’t picture Him weeping as He says my name in the presence of God.

He has emotion. His prayers for me are filled with passion.

I looked up synonyms for intercede. The top three were plead, intervene, and advocate.

To me, that confirms the reality once again that He was fully God AND fully Man. He was human. He had human emotions. He was filled with terror at the thought of the cross.

It confirms the reality once again that He loves us. He cries over us. He laughs over us. He rejoices over us. He is jealous for us.

And it confirms the reality once again that I love Him. He’s my Savior. He’s my Lord. He’s my Advocate. He’s my Friend.

before the throne of God above, I have a strong and perfect plea

a great High Priest whose name is Love

He lives and interceds for me

“Because Jesus lives forever, He has a permanent priesthood. Therefore, He is able to save completely those who come to God through Him, because He always lives to intercede for them.” (Heb. 7:24-25)

 

resurrecting an old facebook note…

this is old, but still burns in my heart.

…

Picture this scene: a young woman trembles from anger and fear. With her arms wrapped around her body and silent, poignant tears streaking down her face, she tries to block out the angry accusations of those who surround her. How dare those hypocrites accuse her of adultery when she knows they, too, have sinned. Deep down, though she knows she deserves every indictment. And now she cringes before God.

 Shame.

 Shame is the defining element surrounding her quivering form. It hovers over her, like a furious black cloud intent on slowly suffocating her soul.

 Can you relate? I can.

 But then the story becomes beautiful. Listen.

 “Jesus bent down and wrote with His finger in the ground. And as they continued to ask Him, He stood up and said to them, “Let him who is without sin among you be the first to throw a stone at her.” And once more He bent down and wrote on the ground. But when they heard it, they went away one by one, beginning with the older ones, and Jesus was left alone with the woman standing before Him. Jesus stood up and said to her, “Woman, where are they? Has no one condemned you?” She said, “No one, Lord.”

  Now listen to Jesus’ words as they cut through the cloud of shame like a two-edged sword.

 “Neither do I condemn you; go, and from now on, sin no more.”

  I don’t know what happened after that, but I imagine she slowly turned and walked home, in a dazed mixture of puzzlement and elation.

 She was not condemned.

  And neither are you.

  Romans 8:1-2:

 Therefore, there is now NO CONDEMNATION for those who are in Christ Jesus, because through Christ Jesus the law of the Spirit of life set me free from the law of sin and death.

 The dictionary defines condemnation as either the state of being condemned, or strong censure; disapprobation; reproof.  

To me, the word reminds me of inmates in the death-row, a building wrapped in yellow tape and boarded shut, a child constantly trying to measure up and never quite making it. It’s a chilling word. A depressing word. A word that causes flowing tears, broken hearts, and tragic death.

 I was talking to my sweet friend, Emily, the other day and she mentioned John11:43:

“Take off the grave clothes and let him go.”

 I haven’t been able to get that line out of my head since. I can almost see Jesus’ smiling face, with tearstains still on His cheeks, as He subtly asks, “What does a living man need with grave-clothes?”

 Centuries later, His voice still speaks through the shame, the condemnation, the self-hatred, the inferiority. Take off the grave clothes, beloved, because “for all you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.”

 We are not condemned.

He’s Everything…and More

Last night a whole group of people gathered in my living room and talked about five hundred different things, played chess, and pounded some Beethoven on the piano keys..all simultaneously, of course. My Irish family isn’t quiet.

Somehow Jesus came up in conversation and we started asking each other how each person saw Jesus in their mind. It’s interesting to see how people view Him because everyone’s views are so different and unique.

My dad saw Him laughing with the disciples and stumping the religious people with brilliant questions.

My little cousin saw Him touching people so they could become normal…and those are her words because she’s seven and doesn’t know what the word healing means.

And on and on and on…everyone viewed a different side of Him.

I tend to think of Jesus as He is now–a High Priest in heaven, standing before God and interceding for us. For me. Jesus constantly prays, talks, and thinks about us and that honestly messes with my mind a little. I love it.

I think people see the Lord through their giftings and personalities. My dad is a teacher with great debate skills, and he has a wonderful sense of humor. So he views Jesus through his own personality.

Of course, Jesus is all those things and more, and we need to be careful that we don’t focus so heavily on one aspect of Him that we completely forget about everything else. However, I love that He has such a unique relationship with each one of His friends. It’s beautiful.

So when you picture Jesus in your mind’s eye, how do you view Him?

community is the home for healing

This past Sunday, I visited a fairly new church not far from where I live.

To call it a church is rather misleading…their ultimate goal is to be a prayer center, with prayer and worship going on 24/7. It’s affiliated with IHOP, which stands for International House of Prayer, not International House of Pancakes. Although, I do think Sunday mornings and pancakes go together like chocolate and Valentines Day.

(I know, lame comparison. But VD was yesterday, so  I’m still thinking about chocolate.)

Anyway, all that to say…I visited on Sunday morning.

It was great.

The worship was beautiful.

And although the majority of people there were college students, there was a nice mixture of families, young kids, and older people. I don’t know why that matters to me, but it does. I like seeing various generations crammed into a tiny storefront; all with the same heart and love for Jesus. 

My favorite part, though, was the community. Everyone I talked to had only been coming for a little while, and the prayer center actually just started a few months ago. Yet, people were hugging one another, laughing at inside jokes that were still only a few weeks old, sitting with foreheads touching as they prayed together.

It was a community.  

Maybe that had to do with the fact that they’re meeting several times a week for extended worship sessions. Maybe it was due to the informal setting or the crammed quarters. I don’t know the reason, but it was refreshing. I’ve been really hesitant to get involved with any church that hasn’t been around for at least 50 years. I’ve been through the pain and gut-wrenching confusion of a church crashing to the ground because it didn’t have a solid foundation and I don’t want to go through it again.

But last Sunday, I saw genuine love and friendship. It surprised me. It delighted me.

And I’m definitely going back.