The Gospel.

It's been too long...I begin to grow restless when my fingers have not flown across the keys in too long...and then I start writing way too long statuses on Facebook and I don't think anyone appreciates a too long status ;) But, the days are flying by like the wings of a hummingbird beating, swiftly passing one after the other like the tides upon the shore, and I get swept in and caught up, wondering where all the changes will lead. 

So many changes. A life full and overflowing and good. I am blessed. I am blessed to be where I am, to work where I do, to love whom I love...ah, but there it is, the longing for more still. The deep and never ending call unto my heart for that which I will always seek. I wonder often at this one life...how one moment can change everything, how a flash of light upon your heart can reveal things which you never knew were there, how holding still, waiting, wanting, all of it wears deep grooves that are there forever, etching out the story of our lives on the heart that beats with the rhythm of our years and months and days and moments. 

The sky is like a bluebird this morning. No clouds, only that aching blue that could swallow one up like the sea. The air is cool and dry and I am completely gone on this place that I live. 

The thought keeps pushing in, nudging to be thought on. You see, I can write eloquent posts, I could write novels and stories and use the words I pen for whatever I wanted...but, the truth is, if I am writing on my own, alone, with no purpose but to pen beautiful words, then what I am writing, what I'm spending my time on is useless. For the nudging and longing and calling is there, always. It is as much a part of me as the heart beating in this chest, and this heart has heard the voice of the One who died to save me, who loves me beyond all I can imagine, and so the beats are pounding out the rhythm of the Savior to whom my heart belongs. And in this, in Him, I lost my life to truly find it. Losing the life I had before, it's the best thing I've ever lost. I would not have it back again for all the world. 

This is not an original idea and has been written on many times. Yet, I have watched first hand over the last several months, and perhaps it's not just recently, but that I am now fully seeing, that the news that I heard, the God who changed my life, is being dumbed down to a level that absolutely breaks my heart! The Gospel is simple, so simple, and what I am seeing is how we overcomplicate it. We take it in our hands, turn it over, examine it, and decide that it must be too complicated to be shared as it is, and so we take this precious story, this news that is meant to change lives, and over simplify because, obviously, a child could not understand it for what it is and it needs our "help" in order for others to understand it. What are we doing, Church?! We are not meant to dumb down the Gospel to be understood, but to deliver it with all its power to a world that is dying!! We are meant to give Jesus as light and life and in His full glory, and trust that we do not have to change the delivery, but to have faith and trust that this news changes lives and expect those it is given to to rise up to meet it! If we deliver in such a way that it becomes a joke, that even children do not take it seriously, we have lowered our expectations and in doing so, have taken power out of what should be the MOST life altering news EVER given. If we dumb down this story beyond recognition, conviction is lost, and THAT should break our hearts beyond all imagining. Lives depend on that conviction. 

Yeah, this is me on a soap box. And I will absolutely stay on this soap box until the day I die, because Jesus Christ has utterly changed my life. He has saved me from eternal separation from Him, and made me His child! I deserved every lash of that whip across His back, I deserved to have those nails driven through my hands, I deserved to be hung up on that cross, but He looked down through the ages, He saw me and loved me too much to let me take the punishment I deserved. This. Is. Life. CHANGING. News. And the beautiful part of this story is that He did the exact same thing for you. As if you were the ONLY person on this earth. If you HAD been the only person on this earth, the story would not be any different, but in fact, would be the same. Because He loves you for you. Because you are His child. And this great love for you and I, it loves too much to leave us the way we are. It comes in and transforms our lives, so that everything about us now reflects the utter joy, love, peace, courage, and strength of the Living God. 

I worked for a ministry for a couple years who produced a short film on their take of the Gospel. I was there when the ideas were being thrown back and forth about what that should look like, how it should be presented, down to the costumes and music. Listening in on all of that, being able to watch it take form and eventually filmed, that was one of the greatest privileges of my life. So, though I am no longer with them, though we may not agree on every little detail, I want everyone who reads this to know that I absolutely support the vision and hearts behind this video. I am absolutely sick to death of a church that divides itself from within, because we are absolutely ineffective in our delivery of what the Gospel is when we are divided over that which at the end of the day, does not matter. At the end of the day, Jesus is all that matters. So, if you've watched me over the last year and a half, wondering where I stand, wondering what happened, I want you to know right now that my heart beats along side theirs in how they have delivered this film. It is still one of the most powerful visions I've seen to present the Gospel. So, here it is, please click play and watch it with an open heart. For Jesus loves you far more than you could ever understand and is calling you to life abundant with Him. Lose your life that you may FIND it.

change and unchanging.

The moon is huge tonight. Lights twinkle in the distance, a dog barking, car engines coming and going, these the background song to the words. This night is still, quiet and sleepy in a way only very full days can be.

Boxes are being packed, one life is ending, left behind in mountains that rise up to touch the face of their Maker. Another life is beginning where the horizon bends down to kiss the water below. Change. It seems to be the only consistent thing in this life. With each item I put away, with every moment that slips through the hour glass, I feel it coming. Though I am not leaving this place that has captured my heart, those who have always been here with me are, and so though I am not the one going, it would seem that my life is tied in and drastically affected by the change wrought in those around me.

I have never really been afraid of having life change. It has conditioned me from a young age to expect that this will happen often. Some changes have been wonderful, some not, but always the tide ebbs out, taking what would seem constant and shifting it even in the slightest of ways. I love that about this sweet and uncertain life, the knowing that things are bound to be different eventually, that even the waiting does not last forever, and that though it may take a bit, things will change. Doesn't always make it easier, but it definitely helps:) I have known what it is to have things shift suddenly, with no warning, just wham. I have felt what it is to have pain engulf me, jerking me up and spinning me around, then sitting me back down to see what it has wrought. I have known joy with no warning as well, having the most wonderful moments catch me by surprise, lifting me up to dance, then sitting me back down to watch the smile spread across my heart. I have known both and I have learned from each in their own way, the depth of my Father's heart.

There have been times, especially in the last few months, when knowing that something had to change eventually is what kept me smiling. Yet, despite knowing that it will all be different, not fearing it comes from knowing beyond the shadow of a doubt that, though everything around me may ebb and flow like the sea, my soul is not cast about by this, but held tight and secure by the hand of a God whose love is never ending, boundless, unchanging, and faithful. He is unchanging. And my heart is His, secure in the knowledge that even if things do not turn out the way I want, He is in control and nothing can shake the confidence found in Him. Which is awesome.

And wow, it's amazing to know that if we are His, our lives can go absolutely crazy around us and yet in the midst of the storm, in His arms, there is security and peace and this amazing crazy love that just can't be understood, but which we feel with every fiber of our being! And this is unchanging. He is unchanging. Man, I'm so thankful for that. I am so thankful to know that I can trust Him with everything. All the changes and craziness and life in all its wild sweetness, it's all His anyway, and beyond all I know or can see, I know who holds my heart and on this rock is where my soul is built.

His.

It's the quiet Voice on the wind, softly speaking, gently asking, never pushing...beckoning. The stillness all around is deep and boundless and heavy. Yet, it is here, in this place, that His voice echoes through. And the caverns of my heart with all its twisting corridors and corners, echo back with the answer that my soul would cry. Would I give up what I want most to have more of Him? My flesh cries out with every fiber which makes it up, "NO! No, no, no, no....I want what I want!!!" 

His voice presses, deep calling unto deep, calling out that which my flesh does not want, crying out to the spirit He has placed inside the heart of His child.

Here the echo grows loudest, echoing back to the Spirit of the Living God, "YES! Father, I would have more of You. At any  cost, I would give back to you all I desire most."

The words are hard. Truth is hard. To choose that which fights against our flesh is....war. And the battle rages...and I am tired. This bone weary, when will I have answers, haven't I asked long enough tiredness, it aches and yearns and wears until all would be worn down to being thread bare. And yet, when His voice calls, when it calls forth strength and courage and the knowledge that, no matter how the story ends in this life, I know the true ending beyond all I can see...when this happens, a strength courses through the heart that beats with the Voice of the One who gives life and hope and joy unimaginable. It is here, in this place, when the battle rages most fierce, when all I want fades dim, it is here that I see so clearly the eyes of the One who gave everything, and it is here that the love He bears is felt far deeper than when I am in the shallows and not being asked to give back desires placed on my heart.

But, ouch. Because loosening the iron grasp of what we hold close hurts. Standing with hands open and heart surrendered, the pain courses along with the joy, because giving back hurts, but the joy in knowing that though I cannot see the outcome I do know He works all things for the good of those who love Him, this joy far outweighs the pain felt.

And His grace is sufficient. It goes beyond all I am, all we are, surpassing all I can see or feel or know, filling up the cracks and grooves of lives surrendered to Him, until they overflow with the goodness that only He gives. For He is faithful. Always. Forever. End of story.

The river flows fast, the sky dark and beautiful. And peace, like the river that sings outside my door fills the air and all I am. For, though I do not know what the future holds, I know I am His child and this is and always will be more than enough.

In the dark and quiet of this night, that same voice echoes...calling unto your heart. For you are His child and He is pursuing all you are with every fiber of His being. In the stillness, deep calls unto deep, and your Father's love would envelop and surround you. Pursue His heart. For you are loved by the One who created the very air you breathe, and He is for you, beyond all you can see or feel or know.

if rivers spoke.

The words won't come. And all I would say, all that pushes and pulls, bends and twists, begging to come out, simply won't. Thoughts dance, my heart keeping time to the rhythm...a slow steady lilt, harmonizing to the rushing river outside my door.

What would he say if he could talk, this mighty rushing body of water? What would I ask, if I knew his voice would echo back, deep and clear and true. Would the stories bubble from his tongue, stories of days past, of ages and times, men and women, and the dance of life witnessed as his waters rushed on? Or perhaps his voice would speak of the One who created the crevice and filled it with water that rushes through and into every moment of every beating heart's life. There it is, the song of a God, the voice of the One who thought of the very place to lay the waters, held together by banks of emerald green, sprinkled with the bright, shining colors of laughing little flowers. His song, the river's song, written by He who would give so much more abundantly than I could ever imagine to His child. 

I would sit and talk with this river if I could. And we would speak of much, if rivers spoke. Of things deep and rushing and true. He would tell me how, like his waters, the love of the One who made Him rushes all about His children, at times like a flood, lifting like a stone the children He so loves. And there I have found myself, carried deep, pushed down and beaten, worn and smoothed through this great rushing love, until the edges of a soul jagged are worn smooth, reflecting the gaze of a Savior who loves more deeply, more true, more clear and sweet than any rushing river on the earth. This river and I, we would talk of how pain, it teaches and molds and smoothes out like no other teacher can, of how, when held in the Creator's hands, all that once could never be, now is. For like five small stones chosen by one small shepherd boy, when we are smoothed out in His hands, we can be slung forth with perfect aim to bring down giants and bring glory to His name. 

And we would laugh too, for rivers hold such joy in the depths of their waters. Here I see the deep and abiding joy of a God who laughs bigger and carries joy unimaginable, joy overflowing in every ounce of His being. This river would tell me of a joy that flows through a soul given to its God, until even in pain there is still the joy of being a child of the Living God. For rivers know that beyond the wearing and smoothing and pain and hurt, when you have reached the end and flow into the sea, it is here, when we are pressed beyond ourselves, swallowed up in all He is, that we are held most close to the heart of He who loves beyond all knowing. It is here I would stay. In the deep. In the midst of a love I cannot explain, to gaze forever into the eyes of the One who holds my heart in His hands. 

Yes, this is what we would speak of, if rivers spoke. 

time and a promise.

If you could say anything, what would you say? I think there comes a point, when age graces us enough, when the clock has kissed us to the point where, words are more honest. When time has etched across our memories and hearts and minds enough days and months and years, that we can see with clarity the importance of just simply being honest. I think. I'm not positive because, as of yet, I have not breathed enough breaths to have time wear down the facade....but, I don't really want to wait until I'm old to live with honesty and truth at the forefront of my life. I have had my fill of playing the game expected, of living with the greatest concern being the approval of others. Don't get me wrong, I'm not interested in living my life like a bull in a china shop, crashing down with no concern at all for those around me. No, but there is a difference in living with concern for others in front of you and living with their approval as the driving force behind all you do. I am highly interested in being concerned and poured out for those in my life. However, I am not in the least interested in letting what they think of me dictate what I do. Because, no matter how we try and try and try to earn the approval of those around us, their will always be someone who looks at us through a grid that is completely wrong. There will always be people whose approval we'll never earn. And we can choose to let not having their approval break us and mold us into what they want, or we can choose to do what we know we're suppose to do, no matter what anyone thinks. No matter how anyone judges our actions. At the end of the day, there is only one opinion I'm interested in, and His opinion is my only concern because He gave His very life that I might have the choice to give it all back to Him. That definitely garners my full concern for what He thinks when I'm finally standing before Him face to face one day.

I've thought about all of this a lot lately. I've thought about how much I want to drink deeply of all He has put before me, of how quickly the moments slip by and how, time, like a magician, snatches years until one day, we wake up wondering how we can possibly be (enter age here) and where the years went. Maybe I'm an old soul, or maybe I'm just more aware at a young age of how quickly the years pass. For it has always been something I've been acutely aware of. I have never been under the delusion that because I am young the years will pass more slowly...I feel time moving all around me, I feel the sand slipping through the hour glass of time just as surely as I can feel the beginning of each new day. I feel my age and each year that has passed, I have noticed how quickly it goes. Perhaps for this reason, for the knowing, for the connection I feel with the tides rising and falling in my life and in those around me, I have no interest in wasting the time I've been given. I would rather have a full awareness of time passing than to wake up sixty years from now, wondering how I got there and where my life went.

I want to wake up sixty years from now poured out, used up, and spent in the best way possible. I want a life overflowing with memories of the glory of God, of knowing my Father like never before because of the passing years, ready and willing and yearning and eager to see His face. To wake up and know that the years hold tight to drinking deeply of everything He gave, of loving people with the love with which He loved me, of wonderful books devoured, conversations had, relationships built standing the test of the passing years, of times spent camping and eating food cooked over an open fire, of moments cherished in all their beauty, of staring up at twinkling stars, of the sun kissing my face as it rose and set, of laughing deep belly laughs, of baby giggles and hugs that lifted me off my feet, of dancing and singing and squeezing every single drop of joy out of every single moment given by the hand of a God who was satisfied with this life of mine well lived.

I want to wake up and remember times that were hard, that hurt, that cut deep and left wounds whose scars were healed by the Great Physician. I want to carry those scars as reminders of the grace shown and let that grace flow out to others whose wounds are still bleeding. I want the pain and hurt to be used to mold a heart that was pushed deeper into the heart of Jesus because of the pain and hurt felt. I want to remember how, there were times when all hope was lost to eyes looking at my life and I want to know that in those times, my heart trusted what it could not see, that it clung to my God despite the circumstances and came out of the darkness with His light shining forth. I want to wake up knowing that beyond all else, those who walked in and out of my life may not even remember my name or face, but while they were crossing my path, they caught a glimpse of the face of Jesus, and this is all they remember.

That's really the point, isn't it? In the end, to wake up not being remembered for what I've done, but for what He did with my life.

Or perhaps sixty years have not been allotted to me. Perhaps there are only thirty, perhaps more or less, it doesn't really matter. For no matter the passing of the days or months or years, if time for me stops tomorrow, I want to look into my Father's face and know that no, I didn't always get it right and probably messed up a lot, but that with every fiber of my being, I tried with a heart that belonged to Him to live each moment He gave with utter joy and a desperate pursuit  of His heart.

Yes, all of this is what I want and desire at the age of twenty-seven. Life stretches before me and there seem to be many years ahead, but I am not promised a long life. I am, however, promised a life of joy and hurt and laughter and pain and that it will be walked out with the One who holds every beat of my heart. And the promise is that He will work all things for my good, if my heart is His.

This is your promise as well. What do you desire most at the age in which this moment holds you?

sea and salt and reminders.

Note to self: Do not read Pat Conroy when homesick....also, don't watch Safe Haven while homesick. Double whammy for a soul whose veins flow with sand and salt and hot southern nights.

Sitting still, thoughts coming muddled with salty air, heart longing for nights drenched in star light and moonshine, filtered through heavy humid air. Mason jars filled with lightning bugs, like fairies caught with magic in their wings. Moss laden trees, pluff mud, and the echoes of a gray sea, caught up and tossed about in a lazy, hazy breeze. It begins a call through the caverns of a heart who forever echoes back the rising tides the call brings forth.

Steps taken in silver gray sand...wading through white foam, listening to gulls flying above. Lost in a place where time stops, held by ocean tides, long and wonderful and somehow lonely in all their fullness. Moments drug out, stretched long and wide, sweetened with food taken from salty water. It fills up a soul known to its shores, spilling over and out, and so we answer back. We are born and bred in salt and sand, their course running through our souls, etching lines across hearts and faces that are not at home unless breathing where horizon touches water.

And the sea imprints upon our hearts, softening the edges, creating souls that are forever torn in two. For to be born to the South is one thing, but to be born to her sea, to her Lowcountry that spans only a small shore line, this is an all together different thing. We hear her call every moment of every day, though we push it down, trying to silence the aching that wells up and spills over. Yet, it is always there, just below the surface. We may live many places, we may fall in love with them in different ways, but never will they compare to the way our souls still, the way they quiet when we finally go home. For to stand on her shore is the only place we can truly breathe. And unless you were born there, you cannot understand the deep and lasting mark we carry, forever branded by this place that will never let us go.

Our writers will try to express it to you...try to make you understand how this southern sea changes you. It is simply a place that is felt, that will only allow you to understand if you go looking for something. For its salt air heals many a wound wielded into hearts and souls who thought they would never be the same. Time alters there...it will slow into a crawl that only the south knows, becoming a balm that heals down deep through layers unknown. For the salt air seems to be a cure for things that cannot be seen, bringing forth much that we carry hidden away.

And it is in this place, in standing to gaze upon horizons that touch white capped waves, it is here that all that is born in my soul reaches up and above and beyond, gazing upon the face of a God who tenderly speaks through the crashing of waves upon steel gray shores. A reminder to a heart that beats with the ocean's rhythm,  that the aching is truly a deeper longing for the One who created it all.

morning, moments, and Aslan.

This morning broke clean and beautiful, filled to overflowing with a bright blue sky and golden sun. The night that held so much drifted away and now, sitting in the clear light, my coffee cup steaming beside me, all I can think of is how beautiful it all is.

Unpacking must be done, boxes to empty, a new space to fill with life abundant. For now though, before the day fully sweeps in, I'm sitting here, enjoying this mug full of coffee and thinking about all the day holds.

The mountains out my window have peaks covered in white snow, shining in the morning light. Up there, I know winter is still clinging to the tips of these beautiful mountains...where I am below, it's going ever so slowly. Our mornings hold the last breaths of winter and our afternoons promise Spring will come soon. Spring snow falls in spurts, every day different from the next, yet, the snow melts quickly and Spring pushes on.

Amazing how quickly things change, isn't it? If you look back to a year ago, I'm sure, like me, you'd wonder at how life has changed, moved, shifted. Or maybe, your year holds a moment, a flash, when everything changed. Maybe it's the first time it's ever happened to you, coming unexpectedly and with a force hard enough to take your breath. I had that happen in the course of this past year. First time it's ever happened in that way before. Suddenly, wham, with a blinding flash everything changed. Amazing how that all can happen on the inside and if anyone looks at you, at where your life is, it will look exactly the same to them....probably would even in the moment things changed. Yet, it did indeed change and everything from that point forward has been different and I am certainly not who I was.

I sit here and smile, thinking of that day, because all I can do (though it has not been easy) is know that life is wild and beautiful and sweet, ever changing, ever breathing around us, whispering of a set number of days we have, and not to waste them wishing things were different...wishing that they could change again, that the struggle would be somehow less. Less is not what life is about. It's about more. More moments, more giving, more living, more being who He would have us be in those moments He gifts to us, be it easy or hard.

The song "Fairy Dance" from Peter Pan drifts from my computer. Lilting and soft, it reminds me of a time before when I wrote of much I do not write of now. Of fairies and ogres, of walking through a land where children seem to be the only ones to remember the way. I wrote often of this....knights and dragons, perhaps Narnia right around the next bend. I wrote often because this is who I am, this is what lives and breathes inside of me. But, it went away for a long time. Smiling, I think of all this, and it's amazing how, though I haven't written of this part of who I am in a long time, it is still there, quiet and still, waiting to come out at the right time. Perhaps, with the coming and going of one Spring, and now with the coming of another, time has healed the scar enough to think of all I found so beautiful, all that filled my days with what children delight in reading...what adults do too, if they're old enough to admit it once again. For I have been molded by the first books I ever read down into my soul, first the Word which cuts like a sword, reading through it at seven, while at the same time reading "The Chronicles of Narnia" and these together painted a living, breathing picture of beauty and magic, filling the days of a little girl, painting a picture of a majestic lion, Aslan in the one world, but in reality, the beautiful picture of Jesus, whose name I discovered at the same time. This is what has molded my relationship with Him. This is what He saw fit to use to mold me, creating a yearning inside my heart to capture words like an artist wields a paint brush, painting beautiful pictures of lands we forget as adults, of how their beauty can show us a picture of who He is even when we do not know it.

So, perhaps once again, it will come, singing to be written of....and maybe, you will find your way to lands you have forgotten, seeing once again the face of the One who loves you, knowing He would speak to you in any way possible, even through the made up visions of a writer who loves Him with her whole heart.

"It isn't Narnia, you know," sobbed Lucy. "It's you. We shan't meet you there. And how can we live, never meeting you?"

"But you shall meet me, dear one," said Aslan.

"Are-are you there too, Sir?" said Edmund.

"I am," said Aslan. "But there I have another name. You must learn to know me by that name. This was the very reason why you were brought to Narnia, that by knowing me here for a little, you may know me better there."

C.S. Lewis, The Voyage of the Dawn Treader