Merry Christmas (+ Why You Should Celebrate!)

Dear Friend,

Merry beautiful Christmas! *all the hugs*

I always enjoy asking people how they celebrate. I'm the girl that wants to hear all the unique family traditions and memories and differences and try to invent my own to make the day that much more special!

Because that's the word I keep thinking of: celebration

Christmas is a celebration. That means my job - no, my joy - is to celebrate.

I love the stories of celebrations in the Bible! I read of Esther, the victory God gave, and how they set aside that day to exchange gifts and rejoice and remember! Stories of battles won, enemies defeated, and God had His people set up monuments to remember.

When I see trees and lights sparkling in the early nights, I remember. When family gathers together in air scented with apples and cinnamon and Christmas dinners, I remember. When we open gifts and laugh and tell the nativity story one more time, I remember.

I remember as I turn on Bing Crosby and sing about snow and how it's beginning to feel a lot like Christmas (I can't even write that without my heart singing).

There's this cheer in the air like at no other holiday, and it's most beautiful when it all flows from Him, from this God who came down to change the world and grant us a Kingdom because He loves us.

Even if 2020 was hard. Even if you don't deserve it. Even if you messed up today and are so distracted and feel so far away. Even if celebrating feels just too difficult for you.

Friend, your joy is to celebrate. To remember what God has done and praise!

Like it says so often in the Psalms, let's praise Him! With instruments, with song, with silent prayers in our hearts, by giving gifts, when you see your breath in the cold air where lights twinkle.

And to praise, it takes us switching our perspective off ourselves and this world and to a Kingdom and a King more eternal, fathomless.

Praise Him, my friend! Let every moment remind you of His praise!

Let everything that has breath praise the LORD.

Praise the LORD!

- Psalm 150:6

And two little things I'm excited about this season:

A Lyric Video!!

My brother created this song, and it's one of my favorites. He just released it around the Christmas season; what better way to celebrate Jesus' birth than by rejoicing in His ultimate purpose and sacrifice and how that changes life forever?

Click the cover to listen!

And one more:

A Giveaway!!

My friend Victoria is hosting a beautiful Christmas giveaway that I get to be a part of, along with other wonderful creators. I'm excited to gift a copy of The Torch Keepers to someone this Christmas season along with the other great prizes. Click the picture to enter!

So merriest of Christmases, friend! May this time of remembrance continually point you to Jesus as we rejoice together! He is so good and worth all. And yet He chooses to give us another Christmas, another time to celebrate, and He gave us His all so long ago because He loves.  *more hugs*  ♥

Your turn! How do you celebrate? What's your favorite Christmasy song or tradition? I'm eager to chat in the comments!

I will greatly rejoice in the LORD,

My soul shall be joyful in my God;

For He has clothed me with the garments of salvation,

He has covered me with the robe of righteousness,

As a bridegroom decks himself with ornaments,

And as a bride adorns herself with her jewels.

For as the earth brings forth its bud,

As the garden causes the things that are sown in it to spring forth,

So the Lord GOD will cause righteousness and praise to spring forth before all the nations.

- Isaiah 61:10-11

~♥~

Find Our Roots and Remain (+ Story Snippets!)

His fingers turned my chin to look straight into his face. "No honor is greater than being a servant of the King's way, my son."

I rubbed at my eyebrow and looked away.

"It comes with a price. I have sought the Oasis and the King, and I lost much... You too may have loss if you follow the King's ways, but it is always worth the pain."

I leaned my chin onto my fist. My forehead grew tight. The words tumbled through my head, but they couldn't seem to connect.

"Don't forget, Rekém." He leaned forward. "Don't forget the Oasis. There is so much I do not understand, but never forget the Oasis and where our people came from. And my son, when you are confused, go find our roots and remain there. Find the four riverheads that flowed into the Oasis. When you find where the moon-flower grows, you will be there..."

A shadow passed over his face. "It's your decision, my son."

 

- The Torch Keepers // chapter 7 

Life can sometimes feel like I'm an artist.

I have a blank canvas, brushes by my fingertips, the bristles eager to jump into paint and spread beauty across the world. My easel is ready, and I unseal the tubes of paint to let them slowly leak onto the table. I fill a jar with water, grab another to hold the brushes, inhale deep.

Sometimes I paint the canvas.

Angles and dabs, squiggles and marks from the fan brush. They combine to form a melody from an orchestra, all those colors and lines and marks making something beautiful beyond myself. Something that takes on meaning. Something that tells a story and makes you smile and creates emotion in your eyes.

Other times, I paint different things.

Like my toddler sister's fingers. She grabs the paint tubes and squeezes. Color everywhere - on her hands and face and bare tummy. Blue on the floor and green on the door handles and in the sink. Little footsteps on the kitchen floor, that half-circle and five little toes.

Or maybe I don't paint anything. Maybe the dreams twine in my mind, and I keep them there, secretly locked up like an attic chest, treasures within.

My days are like that. Some create obvious beauty. Some make colorful, confusing messes. Others feel secretive, waiting.

If my value and purpose as a person was in my art itself, my work, my days, I'd be a miserable failure. But praise God, it isn't. He makes every single day beautiful and purposeful - especially those toddler fingers.

Joy comes, not in the art alone, but in rejoicing in the Artist who fills my heart with dreams to create. He is my root.

 

I was made to lift up my hands in praise to you

I was made to lift up my voice just to worship you

Who is like you, Lord God the Almighty, You are holy

- Jon Thurlow

Friend, find our roots and remain.

Remember where we came from. Savor the moment you first met Jesus and fell in love. Re-live those times He answered your prayers. The moments you wanted to dance because He filled you with joy. When you were scared, and He covered you with His feathers. All those times He was faithful.

They happen again. He is faithful continually! But there's also beauty in the remembering, in the thanking and whispers of praise.

Like Rekém in The Torch Keepers as he returns to his roots and discovers a glory and peace he cannot describe. Like his father, recounting stories of the ancient tales that still inspire hope.

And like you today, wherever you are, whatever life throws at you or smears on your canvas, whether obvious or abstract masterpieces, there's this greater purpose, and it's beautifully Jesus. He is our First Love.

If today seems to make masterpieces, messy toddlers, or blank canvases, it's all for good! God is the One who gives you those dreams. Live them just to praise Him, just to worship Him!

Life is a continual praise.

That's the root, Friend, the firm foundation: praising Him.

Where life has purpose. We have purpose.

But it's your decision. What's your root today?

 

Whoever keeps the fig tree will eat its fruit;

So he who waits on his master will be honored. 

- Proverbs 27:18

Thus says the LORD:

"Stand in the ways and see,

And ask for the old paths, where the good way is,

And walk in it;

Then you will find rest for your souls..." 

- Jeremiah 6:16

~♥~

To Dream, to Hope

 

Once upon a time, little me wrote a book. At 5 years old, I narrated the stories to Mama and colored pictures with crayons. Small hands scribbled a tale of people who got married and had babies and become happy families. Boom - King and Queen and Mom and Dad was born. Two years later, I grabbed more crayons and wrote Life.

How picturesque; I think back to those simple days, the tiny dreams, and I see the colors sneaking outside the lines with vivid hues.

Truth be told, life doesn't feel that simple. I forget to dream; I live mundane. Sometimes I forget that the world has color. Sometimes, I honestly struggle to remember to smile.

But these little books are reminders:

To dream, to hope

- Anticipate -

Because it's the way to look forward

To a future Glory

Dream, Friend, hope.

Because this world we live in wants to choke and mix those aspirations until they dissolve like salt in water. Its lies are everywhere - the lies of "you're not loved" and "not good enough" and "a failure". Lies of who Jesus is, who God is, and who you are in Him.

If you feel like you're too busy or not happy or distant from God, fight, Friend.

I wondered why I was drawn to the little books I wrote with child fingers, but now I realize. The simplistic beauty and hope was a tiny shard of mirror that reflected a bigger beauty, a bigger hope.

The hope, truths, that feel so celestial that I can't seem to fully grasp. The childlike wonder of Him: it's Truth.

Those truths: I have peace with God. His love has been poured out into my heart. The Holy Spirit, God Himself, is literally in me. I'm made perfectly righteous in Him.

I used to dream of a bigger beauty, and I still do. I hope for that prize of the upward call of God in Christ Jesus. Any discouragements, any mundane-ness of this life is scribbled away in Jesus' crayons of purpose, love:

Because Jesus is coming back

Returning

And He's the story's Hero - a Lover, a King

Who'll right all wrongs 

If life consists of little moments, I want to live them fully, me in Him, abiding in those truths He whispers in His Word.

I am with you. I love you. You have treasure in Heaven.

If life grows into bigger trials or adventures, I want to live them the same, to be based on something grander, beyond our imagination.

You are never alone. I wipe away every tear. These trials will produce a crown of life.

What if every little beauty we saw was a mirror reflection of the New Earth, futuristic glimpses of glory we can't even imagine?

That's why I started writing as a little 5 year old and why I still make stories today. Maybe it's one of the truest callings I can live out: to display tiny pieces of His beauty and hope in this broken world.

Hope littered throughout Scripture, promises of who He is and who we are in Him.

Focus:

Not on the struggles or fears or pains

The "not good enoughs", my weaknesses

Focus: 

- breath release -

For Jesus writes my story

And completes the work.

Friend, no matter what, dare to dream! Dare to hope! Dare to grab crayons and color life and smile 'cause you mean it!

Be a dreaming hope-seeker, someone brave enough to look this world in the eye and say, "I'm living in Jesus' love, and nothing you do can stop me."

I could sooner count the stars,
Than number all Your ways.
Though I only know in part,
That part exceeds all praise.
As sunlight fills the skies
Your goodness fills my life - 
 For all your precious gifts
Receive my gratefulness.

- Sooner Count the Stars

 

...who set their mind on earthly things. For our citizenship is in heaven, from which we also eagerly wait for the Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ, who will transform our lowly body that it may be conformed to His glorious body, according to the working by which He is able even to subdue all things to Himself.

- Philippians 3:19-21

 

~♥~

A Simple Love

 

Hello Friend!

Happy September 22 (unless you read this later), Tuesday, first day of Autumn (all the feels!), national icecream cone day, and a million other blessings!  Today I have some little, poetic thoughts as I sit here beside my favorite dictionary and dream of who I am, who God is, who we are. 

And that's all - some pretty words I try to compile together and a deeper longing for Jesus. And if life is beautiful and full of autumn's sweaters and cinnamon scents and candles or if you struggle and skim over words and hide away within yourself, still know that there's purpose. You are here for such a time as this and dearly beloved. 

May your fall be full of that rememberance, friend. *hugs*

I need a simple love. 

Simple, like it says in black ink on this thin page: 

consisting of one thing // uncompounded // unmingled // uncombined with anything else 

Simple love, where my focus is on One, and He is all I see. Like the piercing brightness on this first day of autumn where the sun shines full blast and I squint, see nothing else save that warm whiteness. Or like a drenching storm as I stand under a tin roof and hear that one consistent rhythm, and it becomes all. 

Not a love where I work and strive and struggle to muster it up, but a simple me and Him. A Daddy I sit beside, share secrets. A Friend who holds my hand. A Lover I can’t help but talk about and giggle about and tell everyone I know. 

Like the rain, I forget all. I forget the sun and clouds and stars somewhere in space and become consumed by the pounding drops, shattering like crystals. They soak my hair, my clothes, and I watch the lines of water pulse in invisible wind patterns. The stars are somewhere too, but I don’t see them, don’t think of them, because these glittering galaxies are ones I can touch.

I need a simple love like that.

Or simple, this black ink goes on to define, can be a medicinal herb or plant, and I laugh to think I can go “simpling” down meandering meadows and rolling hills. And yet, walking with book in hand and eyes searching is a singular purpose. I track to find a healing remedy, simples – those medicinal greens – but I’m really seeking the One who heals. The secret One who is so close yet spans the world. Who is invisible yet can be seen in the moments of the everyday. If my love is like that, searching the valleys with ardor for Him, it's enough.

Maybe “simple” could be replaced with “focused” or “singular.” 

But despite the word, I’m seeking that kind of love. Like the sun as I exit the house’s eves and step into brightness, that overcoming light. Like pouring rain that drenches every part of my being. 

I’ll wander through meadows seeking a cure, seeking Jesus. My soul is still, eyes focused, singular purpose for the One who loves me. 

‘tis all and more than enough.

Lord, my heart is not haughty,

Nor my eyes lofty.

Neither do I concern myself with great matters,

Nor with things too profound for me.

Surely I have calmed and quieted my soul,

Like a weaned child with his mother;

Like a weaned child is my soul within me.

O Israel, hope in the Lord

From this time forth and forever.

- Psalm 131

~♥~

God Moments || Eight Days of Hope

Look for God moments. 

And I don’t know where to start or what to write, because God moments are piled up around me, and I’m overwhelmed. 

So here goes: a little journal entry in my life where I followed God’s lead to step out, do something scary, and now I cry because it’s over and I miss it. 

 

Last week, I had the honor of serving with a team who loves Jesus to support the people of Louisiana. 

I was scared. Really scared. But God lined everything up—my job and schedule and ride—and I found myself at the doors of a Louisiana church with a banner on the front: Eight Days of Hope. 

The scent of the gulf, wind in my hair, and humidity that stuck to my arms. Savage mosquitos, mounting heat. We drove to Lake Charles, and their world had been devastated. 

Almost every roof was tattered, patched. Telephone wires hung limp and crunched under our vehicles. Trees pierced through homes. And people hurt. They shared stories. 

They talked of huddling in their homes as the hurricane tore all around them. Others returned from evacuation to find their houses soaked through, musty mold growing in every corner, and they have no options. A single woman with a tree limb stabbing through her kitchen roof, and her backyard is a tornado of branches, shingles, destruction. 

Scared. Alone. Hopeless. 

But I looked for God stories. And they piled around me as I raked the yard, revealing tiny sprigs of grass that yearned for sunshine. 

Jesus was in Louisiana. He was in the hugs we offered to homeowners, the prayers, the way neighbors saw us working and asked if we could help with their homes too. 

He was in the times of worship, guitar strums, as we shut our eyes and praised.

He was in the dirt that stuck to our sweat as we worked hard and loved harder. 

In traffic and tiredness, late-afternoon showers and clean clothes. In people offering to wash our laundry, in checking temperatures, and wearing masks. In felling trees and dragging branches and hearing a person’s story for the first time. In prayers He answered when I whispered fears, concerns, confusions to Him. And those prayers of praise and adoration, us rejoicing.

We worked and laughed and learned. And the people of Eight Days of Hope became a family as the Church united to serve hurting people for free just because we love Jesus.

It wasn't just individuals being nice. It was people loving Jesus and reaching out to be His hands. That's not just in mission trips or church services. It's in your neighborhood, your home, your room, your phone. 

I go home and miss people. I scribble notes in my journal, remember, look at pictures. I remember the beauty - in beachy air and sea birds flying, in houses with roofs tarped like quilted blankets, in pulling up a seat with a smile and, "I'm Hosanna, it's so nice to meet you," hearing their stories.

I find God stories.

They’re everywhere: in serving, at home, abroad, God working and using us when we surrender, rest, follow His leading. He answers prayer.

Friend, look for those God stories. Step out even if it scares you. Be part of the Church, rising up to love recklessly and serve unreserved.

Live today with the prayer of "live in me, Jesus." Surrendered, letting Him live instead of ourselves.

Maybe it's traveling across states or walking across the room. Maybe it's loving someone by wearing a mask or snuggling in a hug or praying right where they are.

But when we let go of ourselves and let Him live, it’s amazing.

Look for God moments, friend.

Only let your conduct be worthy of the gospel of Christ, so that whether I come and see you or am absent, I may hear of your affairs, that you stand fast in one spirit, with one mind striving together for the faith of the gospel. 

- Philippians 1:27

~♥~

 

Battle Plan for Fear (+ Story Snippets!)

 

My little sister sits at the top of “big slide”, two year-old fat-rolls on her legs, and she peers into the dark.

I wait at the bottom.

“Ready, Neena?” She calls to me, making sure I’m there.

I answer her, but she waits, hesitates. Her blue eyes widen.

“Scared.” She stands, backs away from the dark hole of “big slide.” “Neena, I scared.”

So I climb up, hold her on my lap, and we slide together, bodies tight. At the bottom, we laugh.

“See how fun it is?”

She nods and runs to the ladder, scrambles up with eager eyes, reaches the top of the slide again. But then she slows, shoulders fall, and she says it again. “Neena, I scared.”

I smile. “It’s going to be so fun! I’m ready to catch you, baby!”

She slides.

And then a hundred more times.

The fear disappears, and she asks me to take her to the “big slide” every single day.

Because the fear was that I was asking too much of her. That she’d get hurt. That she couldn’t trust me. But when she did, all that vanished. She trusted, and fear turned to excitement.

Now I have to convince her to stop sliding.  =)

You know if you’re afraid. You know what keeps you up at night worrying. And that single idea or person or situation is the very thing you’re not willing to trust Jesus with.

Because fear comes when you don’t think God can handle something or you’re not sure His handling of it will be what you want.

And there’s a three-word solution:

trust. surrender. Jesus.

It reminds me of a scene in The Torch Keepers, the allegorical fantasy novel God lead me to write. Chapter 9 is one of my favorites, added later in the editing process because it was just this simple yet precious picture of our relationship with Jesus. The scene starts with Ka-Dara experiencing her first thunderstorm.

Something rumbled, like when my tummy made funny noises, but this was deeper. It began low and then got louder.

And then a crash. Light lit up the room, pale and yellow…

“They-They’re gonna get us.” I whimpered between sobs. “Like they got me and Ka-Mama. They’ll burn everything and kill us.”

… “My child,” he said, “You are safe. Nothing can touch you when I am here. You must trust.”

My jaw quivered. “but they took away my daddy and mama.”

He nodded, and a shadow came across his forehead. “Your King has a plan. He has a purpose.”

“I don’t think—,” I hesitated, chewing on the back of my knuckles. “I don’t like His plan very much.” I looked up quickly. “Is that super bad?”

Lines creased his face. “The King still loves you.” He stood. “Let me show you, my child.”

He still held me in his arms as he walked toward the door. Opening it slowly, the outside world met us in a breath of cold air. The flashing light had gone, but the loud pounding continued. In the light of the fire, I saw the enemy—only drops of water falling onto the roof.

The rumbling sounded, but it was far away. Father smiled. “This is a rain storm, and you are safe.”

…I blinked and giggled. “I like this rain,” I said. “It’s fun.”

He rubbed water off my forehead. “The King made it for you. He knew you’d dance in it. He knew you’d love it.”

My mouth gaped. “Really? How’d he know?”

“He just does,” Father said. “He loves you.”

I grew serious. “Does the King know I was scared of his rain?”

“Yes.” He nodded soberly. “But that’s okay. A lot of people’s fears are silly when they realize it. But the King knows, and he loves anyway.”

“Big people too?”

“Especially big people.”                

 

Dear friend, just a reminder for me, for you.

The King knows our fear, and He loves just the same. And that beautiful Love vanquishes, casts out fear.

That’s an incredible place—where our fear, anxieties, are drowned in His perfect love. And when we trust Him and surrender to His will, it’s glorious.

Make the decision to trust. Rest in His love.

That relationship is all that matters.

 

You are of God, little children, and have overcome them, because He who is in you is greater than he who is in the world.

They are of the world. Therefore they speak as of the world, and the world hears them. 

We are of God. He who knows God hears us; he who is not of God does not hear us. By this we know the spirit of truth and the spirit of error.

- 1 John 4:4-6

For whatever is born of God overcomes the world. And this is the victory that has overcome the world—our faith. Who is he who overcomes the world, but he who believes that Jesus is the Son of God?

- 1 John 5:4-5

~♥~

The Word that Altered Forever

In the beginning, that Word was spoken.

And galaxies spun. Butterflies flashed color in a world void of those hues only moments ago. The first smile. The first roar. The first shooting star.

It was like a song, everything dancing to its tune, the Word that began life intricate.

When darkness and light first twirled together, when sounds twisted in harmonies, when smells erupted from a new earth, the aromas of moist soil and budding flowers and soft fur. And with it, laughter, a melody all in itself.

But sometimes I forget, the Word didn't only start life, it continues too.

I see glimpses of it in every day. The force beyond myself, something deep stirring, flowing, gathering up like mountains of water.

A breath - when I hear the popping of canning jars, sealing by some hand beyond my own.

A sound - when plants peek their heads above soil, fruits full of juice that appear on the branches, in the bushes, and it's because of something deeper than us. The corn tassels, golden brown, and vegetables that litter our countertop, and it's all because of that Word.

An echo - tiny miracles, like a littering of tadpoles in the watering trough, like that lone minnow found all alone in the creek, and yet even those are known and taken care of by His hand.

Sunflowers first in bloom in this beautiful July sunshine, and they rotate and follow the rays. And somehow, as I slip out of bed earlier than the others, I find that hint of sun on the edge of the horizon, and I watch it tickle the grass for the first time that day. Noon makes sweat line my lips, and my hair sticks to my skin. As the day cools, I still see light, falling away in the west, and clouds are pink and soft and bubbly.

I want to be like the sunflowers, following the rays, seeing the Word all around me.

When noon comes, and I sweat and grow hot and forget the morning's glory, I want to keep my face up like those flowers, sink my roots deep, listen for His music.

There's beauty to be found. Always. 

Jesus was the Word, and He is, still. He set the world in motion, the stars in place, and He still holds today.

And deep inside, I pray that Word, Jesus, settles in, becomes the entity of who I am. That the force that established the heavens is my simple heart melody, the steps that I take. That my lips repeat His song, that I see His works all around me.

So I'll awake with the sunrise, savor the first stars and that planet that tinges the horizon. I'll think of Him as I slip through the gardens, nibble on the blackberry's tart juice, stand under spotted shade as I fill the cows' trough, see tadpoles.

And remember that it's a relationship. It's me and Him, us. That's the beauty.

The Word is everything.

And I'll sing His song.

In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.  He was in the beginning with God. All things were made through Him, and without Him nothing was made that was made.  In Him was life, and the life was the light of men. And the light shines in the darkness, and the darkness did not comprehend it.

- John 1:1-5

 

That which was from the beginning, which we have heard, which we have seen with our eyes, which we have looked upon, and our hands have handled, concerning the Word of life—the life was manifested... we write to you that your joy may be full.

- 1 John 1:-2, 4

 

~♥~

She Walks Down the Aisle || a short story

The Aisle trickles before me. 

The pathway is a ribbon, edged in white, inside painted green with the grassy clover that sweeps to both sides, meeting the trees, then up, canopy. They’re like castle walls, this path is the drawbridge, and I hear crocodiles on both sides. 

But when I stand here, feet on gravel, at the edge of the path before me, I can see it all. 

The road I’ll walk in the morning, Father by my side, me in white, my groom waiting. This moment I’ve dreamed of. 

Yet now, as the party disperses, night settles, I’m walking down it before. 

There’s a dripping in the trees, the kiss of today’s misty rain. Fireflies blink, syncopation. I smell wet mud, grass, the flowery perfume of the wedding party gone moments ago from the rehearsal. 

It’s different now. I wear exercise shorts in neon pink, a thin shirt hanging on my shoulders. My hair falls in messy curls that frizz from the rain. 

I cross my arms, tight. 

Because here, on this gravel, I’m safe. I can just live life. I can keep going the way I always have, change nothing. 

The first step to the Aisle, into that rich grass, changes everything. 

And it’s growing darker. The path leads deeper into the forests’ shadows. I hear the raindrops falling. Crickets pick up their song, noisy bugs and frogs joining in the twilight reverie. 

I can see the pathway until it curves around the trees. The rest is imagination. 

I shiver. It’s silly, but I imagine bears or cougars in the night, I think of the reasons why I shouldn’t walk down tonight; I could wait for tomorrow when light and people make it safe, easy. When my fiancé stands before me, watching me in silky dress, blushing cheeks. 

I hear my Lover whisper. 

And I take the first step.

Clover curls around the dirty shoes I wear. I feel mud squish down. Raindrops tickle my hair. 

My heart thunders like a storm, and I’m scared to go forward and scared to go back. I want Him so badly, and yet that surrender and falling into His arms leaves me vulnerable. Open. Bare like a newborn child, crying for his mother because, without her, he is utterly helpless. 

Another step. 

I slide in mud, body shakes to steady myself. 

Step.

A branch falls in the trees, I jerk, stare, then turn my eyes back towards the Aisle and inhale deep. 

As I walk, it’s this decision to abandon everything for a Person. Tomorrow it will be for the man who captured my heart, the man who makes me laugh, who knows my secrets, who wants to live the rest of his life with me as his own. My heart quickens. 

But tonight, it’s more. 

It’s leaving myself utterly behind to be joined to a King who declares me forgiven, holy, beloved. It’s me becoming nothing so that He can make me His own, give me His life to live, and ever be by my side. 

Nothing can separate me from this Lover. 

He is the embrace when my heart hurts deeper than anyone else can know. He is the hope I grab when I want to give up, to run, to hide from it all. He is the joy when I see the sunrise mixed with morning fog, the first spring rainbows, the stars shooting across the heavens, and He gives every one of those good gifts. 

He makes me laugh hardest. He knows my deepest secrets. He wants to live the rest of forever with me as His own. 

And that’s why I step, trembling, my legs with raised goosebumps and neon shorts tinged with drops. 

But the best thing—this Lover walks down the Aisle with me. 

I’m scared. He holds my hand, and I feel His presence in the last bird song. 

I slip, straighten, and we laugh—together. 

Tomorrow the mud will be dry, tables set, but today is somehow more beautiful. 

The sun sets behind me, and I see the glow through misty fog, slight orange reflected in the trees. The Aisle turns a corner, and tables are set up, cloths pulled up above to keep off the rain. I see knobby chair legs and the remains of tonight’s dinner that will be cleaned up as the sun rises. 

And the Arch. 

Rising before us, me and Him, the two tree trunks meeting and the cross high above interwoven. Tomorrow there’ll be flowers too, gold and purple hues, but tonight it’s just the rustic wood, the reminder of us. 

And at the Arch, I’m alone but not alone. I still shiver, still glance into the forest, but He gently turns my chin up, and I exhale. My breath meets twilight. 

I kneel in moist leaves mixed with new grass. 

Forehead touches the soil. 

And surrender all to this One who loves more than any other, to the One who is ever good, to the One who wills me to take His life, His goodness, His love, and live it. 

My name is changed. I become His. 

For in this holy moment, it’s not just a kiss and then life goes on. It’s a forever that is just beginning and will go on till the end of the age and then further. 

Here, a Prince took a peasant and made her a Princess. 

She’s me. 

I raise my eyes towards the misty sky, tinge of grey and orange and blue, and, for that moment, I forget the shadows and dangers because I’m enraptured by the Lover who has me in His arms. 

Everything changes. 

Tomorrow, I’ll do it again for the man whose ring I wear, but tonight I seal my heart to the heavenly One who called us together in the first place. 

We love because He first loved us. 

I stand, wipe mud off my legs, shake the shirt that hangs loose on my shoulders. As the first stars appear and try to peek through the atlas of clouds, I walk back up the Aisle. 

But things changed. 

I’m not myself. I’m bought with a price. I’m beloved. I’m His. 

So this time, I skip. I run. And I don’t care if I slip because life is beautiful, and it’s His.

                                     

Dear Friend,

This is a little story to remind you, me, that we're being pursued, loved. Jesus is seeking your heart, and He bids us surrender all and follow Him. Like the wedding day that changes everything in a beauty we dream of, we now get to share our everything with Jesus as we surrender our mistakes, sins, fears, and take on His life. And that's why we rejoice.  ♥

*hugs*

 

​Seek the LORD while He may be found,

Call upon Him while He is near.

Let the wicked forsake his way,

And the unrighteous man his thoughts;

Let him return to the LORD,

And He will have mercy on him;

And to our God,

For He will abundantly pardon...

For you shall go out with joy​​,

And be lead out with peace.

- Isaiah 55:6-7, 12

~♥~

The Secret that Gives Life Purpose

My little brothers are in the yard, one running, white net billowing behind him. He chases butterflies, grasshoppers, tries to tangle them in his net, see the little creatures up close. The other brother stalks, green slips of grass between his toes, sneaking up on the insects. Sometimes he drops to his knees and crawls like a panther. His net lies flat against his back. Waiting. Searching.

And I'm like them, me here, sometimes running sometimes stalking. I'm searching for moments. I'll keep swinging my net, trapping time between my fingers, and seeing the beauty in the little things.

I used to think life was made up of time.

I'd write for an hour. Eat and clean up for thirty minutes. Go on a 15-minute walk.

I thought life was trying to cram as much productivity as possible in a 14-hour day, fill my journal with how much I'd done, and then sleep, satisfied.

The problem: I never do enough.

I can't write enough. I can't blog enough. I can't spend enough time with my siblings, with Jesus, with helping around the house. My work is half-hearted, mind distracted.

Because life isn't meant to be lived on a watch.

I want to go back to the Garden of Eden. Where life is made up of moments, of relationships, of beauty.

Where I sit here, window blinds open, watch the raindrops on the glass. A thousand crystals, clear gems of every shape and size. One's a teardrop, another like eyes watching me; the one on the right slides down, slowly, and is joined by others as the clouds release their treasures of liquid diamonds.

Moments: like watching her walk down the aisle, white veil on her back, hair dark - brunette, as her eyes meet her lover's and they hold hands, kiss for the first time.

Another: Highlighters scattered across a white desk, the hues a picture only I see, but it's beautiful in colors a camera could never capture. The sapphire, emerald, orange.

I hear rain. I smell petrichor, that scent of the drops against the soil. Puddles splash, the geese stand in awe. A sibling lays on my bed and asks questions, break from writing, moments to treasure.

Because I read of Heaven, of the New Jerusalem, where foundations are made of sardius and beryl and glorious precious stones. I read of gates of pearls, of being with Him forever, that relationship, that water of life He gives freely.

Not to-do lists. Not alarms or watches or schedules. Yes, there's good in those, and Eden had its share of work. We were made to do good, to take care of the gifts and talents God has entrusted to us. But that's not the core.

Just Him, beauty, because it comes from Him too.

Oh, to walk by that pure river of water of life, clear as crystal, from the throne of God and of the Lamb! But even today, we're called. We're chosen. We're loved by the one from whose face the earth and the heaven fled away.

That beautiful, beautiful truth!

So if COVID goes on forever, I want to capture moments. If life returns to the same normal as before, I want to rejoice.

One day, we're going to stand before this God and account for every work we did. I want to know I lived them for Him, I loved Him, I made sacrifices and abandoned all for Jesus.

Yes, we work hard, we press on, we make schedules and sometimes have to rush to get tasks completed in time.

But it comes down to this: He is the center. He is Life. He is good.

And this life is a gift. So I want to run through the green grass and catch those moments, the resting and the working, catching them in white, silky nets, savor them, rejoice in Him, and know He is God.

To live life knowing I am His, I am loved, and I can draw near Him at any time, accepted because of Jesus.

That's Life.

...as a bride adorned for her husband. And I heard a loud voice from heaven saying, "Behold, the tabernacle of God is with men, and He will dwell with them, and they shall be His people. God Himself will be with them and be their God...

Behold, I make all things new... I will give of the fountain of the water of life freely to him who thirsts. He who overcomes shall inherit all things, and I will be his God and he shall be My son."

- Revelation 21:2-3, 5-7

~♥~

COVID + Why I'm Not Looking for a New Normal

I wasn't planning to write a post about COVID.

*smiles* But here goes. Because this is my prayer, my fear, the hope I keep reminding myself of, and what I'm living for.

I don't want a new normal.

We don't need a new normal.

God is writing new stories, and I love them.

I love the way He pulls the carpet out from under us by closing cities, locking us in our homes, and making us stop. I love it because when we fall, we remember.

We write letters to old friends we miss. We video chat, have real conversations. We sit around the family table and are all together. We play games, raise our faces towards the sunshine, and actually live life instead of running through it.

We pray more. We love more.

I hurt too; I hurt for the nursing homes where people suffer and live alone, sick. I hurt for families with parents in the hospital, young adults who struggle for every breath, people scared and lonely and hurting. I hurt for graduates without celebrations, weddings postponed, beautiful occasions passing by alone. All this is not God's heart, not the way He desires life to be. But it happened.

Yet even so, there is beauty, incredible beauty.

Quarantine brought me on long walks. I planted tiny seeds, watched them bud into sprigs of green. I gathered with the family to listen to audiobooks, groaning at cliff hangers, and trying to guess what would happen yet. I saw sunshine and rainbows and baby animals and spring flowers. I stared at stars, glimpsed the first fireflies.

But things are changing. Stores are opening. Churches having services. Friends meeting. Running shoes put on for this race to continue once again.

We'll go back to work. We'll visit again, we'll sing.

But we don't need a "new normal."

The last normal was broken. Many of us were too busy, too distracted. We lived crazy lives and forgot to savor the little moments.

I want life to change. I want history books to write that COVID altered a lot—and we stepped up and lived in a new way.

We loved more. We realized the beauty and stories of every single person. We took time to be still and know that He is God. We surrendered to Him, let Him guide our lives completely. We sang, rejoiced, went to work with a smile, and did school with joy.

Where we didn't just go to church, but we became the Church. We didn't just pray and read and memorize and give more, but we let Him be the center focus of our life where everything revolved around Jesus.

I want our generation to stand up, to realize that we were created for such a time as this, to dance and sing in Jesus' glory, and yet to fight the enemy with fierce determination because we know who we are in Jesus.

And, in all, to live in the quiet place where we know Jesus intimately, love Him completely, and see life through His eyes.

Be still and know that He is God.

But it's not just for us, for this country; it's for me.

I will seek Jesus. I will rest in Him. I will know who I am in Him, Who He is, and how that changes everything.

And I'll praise!

I'm not looking for a new normal, not wanting to keep running and living old stories. Let's write new ones. Let's live the way we've always known we should, seek the dreams He has given us, and rest.

Let's rise up as the Church.

God is writing new stories; I want to be part of them.

Practically?

That means I'm getting on my knees. I'm setting apart time. I'm worshiping and remembering who I am and Who He is.

And it's beautiful.

Draw near to God and He will draw near to you. Cleanse your hands, you sinners; and purify your hearts... humble yourselves in the sight of the Lord, and He will lift you up.

- James 4:8, 10

Create in me a clean heart, O God,

And renew a steadfast spirit within me.

Do not cast me away from Your presence,

And do not take Your Holy Spirit from me.

- Psalm 51:10-11

 

 ~♥~

Purpose in Today + Freebies!

I'm sitting here where the creek dances under a rock, and I'm above it, above all of it.

Paper growing wet on this old log, fallen. Little holes in its flesh; I wonder. I wonder if termites make their hiding places here in secret crags. I wonder if woodpeckers used to sink their beaks deep into the bark that's now rotted away. Did the tree know it would fall, where water plays under this rock? Where puddles sleep, I see a worm drowning, and I save it. Us girls gather round for picnics, throwing peanut shells and watching them float away.

Old times, new times, ones I can't see yet. All beautiful and caked with stories and sunshine.

There are old lessons to relearn and remember, new ones to dig up like treasure. And ones in the future I can only dream of.

Today I'm going back, wondering what life is. What it means.

Because we talk so much about what Jesus did, and we grow calloused to it. We talk about His death. It's beautiful. It's amazing.

While we were sinners, Christ died for us. While we were enemies, He chose us.

What story has the hero die for the villain? What type of purpose, meaning, love would that be?

We're all Adam. We've sinned, we've struggled, we used to be enemies. We fought Him, mocked Him as if we were the soldiers that nailed Him to that cross.

He loved anyway.

He died anyway.

But it doesn't stop there. We aren't just saved, reconciled, justified. We're righteous.

God looks at us and sees Jesus.

For if, while we were his enemies, we were reconciled to God through the death of His Son, how much more surely, having been reconciled, will we experience further salvation through his life?... we also exalt the acts of God.

- Romans 5:10-11

His death brought us life, and now we reign in that life through Him (Romans 5:17)!

I love that word: reign. It means reigning as a King, exercising that dominion, authority.

With Jesus, you're not just you. He. is. in. you. Everything changes.

So I think of the forests, the water that hides under the rock, the tree fallen so many years ago and now only a rotting stump, and it is beautiful. Jesus died, and that changes my forever. He lives, and I live in Him.

Every moment has a purpose. And we rejoice!

A reminder for me, for you, for today. No matter what you've done, in Christ, you are righteous, pure, spotless. And He wants to live in you, to take over your ordinary life and make it epic.

Surrender. Rest. Abide. Shalom.

And if you need truth reminders, I have freebies from me to you, including bookmarks, posters, and quotes! I've enjoyed designing them and digging through Romans 5, and I hope you can print them out, save them on your device, or dig into Romans yourself to remember who you are and Who He is.

Click Here!

You have a purpose, dear friend.

*hugs*

If, as a result of the one man's offence, death began to hold sway because of that one man, how much more surely will those who now experience this - God's abundant provision of grace and of the gift of salvation - come to hold authority in life because of the one man, Jesus the Messiah?

- Romans 5:17

~♥~