Understanding

"You don't understand. No one understands what it's like inside my head"

Oh but honey I do know. I was there and in some ways still am. Hating what I see when I look in the mirror. Wondering how it is I can be cared for when I care so little for myself.
Wondering when I'll have the courage to sink the blade just a little bit deeper. Just a little deeper I would think, then the pain will all be gone away.

"I want to kill what's inside of me"

Me too. Only therapy lets me say these things louder than a whisper. I know what it's like to hate what's inside of you. To want to kill it. To want to stop the hissing voices telling you you're nothing. You don't matter. All of them are right.

I've been there. When I was there I hated the people that told me they'd been there too. I hated that they told me it would get better. I hated that they told me it wasn't just me. I wanted to feel special. I couldn't even be uniquely miserable.

But the thing is; all of the things I say to you I wish people had said to me over and over and over again when I was 15. To be honest it's what I wish people told me when I was 20, and 25 and even 30. Even now at 33 I long to hear someone tell me I'm valuable.

The only way people can know you don't feel valuable, really know it, is if you tell them.

Oh, I wouldn't have listened either. The times when my parents or friends would tell me these things. That I was beautiful and lovable and valuable I really mostly thought they had no clue. They thought the girl I showed them was beautiful. They thought the boisterous acts were lovable and endearing. They thought the way I allowed my body to be touched and my favors abused was valuable to them.
I simply didn't believe them.

I can see it there in your eyes too. That you don't believe me. That you think I'm just some old lady thinking herself hip to your jive.
But I see it and it's ok. You don't have to believe me tonight. Tonight is just one of the many times I will tell you that you are beautiful. That you have value that is not in how your body looks, that how you look is not even close to the most valuable thing about you.

So I know. But you don't have to believe me. I understand, and you don't have to believe that either. Some things are true even if you don't believe them.

I'm stuck in this dream it's changing me I am becoming
the me that you know he had some second thoughts
he's covered with scabs and he is broken and sore
the me that you know doesn't come around much
that part of me isn't here anymore
all pain disappears it's the nature of my circuitry
drowns out all I hear there's no escape from this my new consciousness
the me that you know used to have feelings
but the blood has stopped pumping and he's left to decay
the me that you know is now made up of wires
and even when I'm right with you I'm so far away
I can try to get away but I’ve strapped myself in
I can try to scratch away the sound in my ears
I can see it killing away all my bad parts
I don't want to listen but it's all too clear
- The Becoming NIN

Broken Places

When you throw your back out it is often because the muscles around your spine have moved out of place. Sort of.
Your spine has been tweaked out of place but you don't know it immediately because the muscles will move and compensate for the pain by moving to a place where the pain is tolerable.

Eventually, no amount of movement, no amount of compensation, will make the pain tolerable. Usually this is when my back officially goes out and I can't walk upright anymore. This is when I'm forced to go to the chiropractor and get my back adjusted into the correct places...again.

This morning, standing in the dark shower I said to God...sometimes it is easier to stay broken.

I don't know the moments when my back goes out. I only know the moments when the muscles around my spine give up the fight and say enough is enough this has to be fixed and we can't do that anymore.

Even then, bent over and hobbling around I think...this will get better soon. I just have to push through. My back will take care of it, it will be fine. I will be fine.

Fine is my F word.

I just want everything to be fine. If I don't look directly at being broken it's fine. It's ok. It's no big deal. I can manage. I'll just move some muscle around and compensate for the pain.

Don't look at how you spend money and why you place value on bank account balances. It's fine. Just leave it alone.
Don't look at what you eat, Jesus loves you anyway even if no one else does. It's fine. Just let it be.
Don't look at friendships. If you do you might be clingy and scare people away from being your friend. Just be cool. No one loves a needy girl.
Don't look at relationships. Don't ask why, the answer is probably something that requires change from you and that's not what we're going to do.
Don't look at touch. It has no easy answers and complicated is just too messy.

So I compensate. I mold myself around the pain instead of trying to clear it up. Because sometimes it's just easier to stay broken.

But now I can't walk. I'm hobbled over and unable to push through.
God is whispering that it's time to get adjusted. It's time to stop compensating and avoiding and look directly at some things.
I tell Him I hate it.
I tell Him I don't want to.
I tell Him that HE made me this way. (The blaming always seems to help)

Again he has to tell me, again he has to take my heart into his hands and remind me that he did make me. But not for this. Not for a sort of half life hiding and fearful of looking directly at the broken places.
He reminds me that he is already in those broken places waiting to meet me there. I just have to look directly at them and I'll see him there.

I don't know the moments these places were broken. I only know that in one of the places specifically, I'm giving up the fight. I still tell him I hate it. I still tell him I don't want to.

But now it's by looking over at him, beside me in the broken place.

Hiding

When I was a little girl I learned I should hide
Hide from shaming eyes and sharp tongues
Hide from shadows and secrets I didn't understand

When I was a little girl I didn't know my voice could be strong when it needed to be
I only knew to bite and lash out when it was safest, when I knew no matter how ugly I was I would still be loved

When I was a little girl I learned to hide.
I learned to hide my heart because it it was bad
I learned to hide my thoughts because they were stupid
I learned to hide myself because I was scared of harsh words and pushing hands

I hid myself in bathrooms, behind davenports, on stairs to scary basements, under dining room tables.
Because there I could taste the derision and ambivalence in the air while pretending it had no affect on my small, breaking heart.

When I was an older girl I learned to hide behind anger and sarcasm, scoffing and ambivalence. I accidentally became the kind of girl the angry shaming voices were when I was small.

And God said stop.
Stop with the anger, stop with the scoffing and ambivalence. (He would have said stop with the sarcasm but he thinks I'm hilarious)
He's challenged me to heal, to soften, to stop being the scared hiding girl who refuses to be anything but angry.

It's hard. I cry more now. But I'm holding on to it being worth it in the end.

10 Years and Counting

It's been almost 10 years since I started following Jesus and I still fear I don't know how to talk to God.
It's daunting, this idea of talking to God and the audacity to believe that he hears and cares.

So I talk to him like I talk to everyone else. For about 6 months last year the only prayer, and I mean the ONLY prayer I could figure out how to pray is "I'm still here, are you still there?"
Because I didn't know.

I didn't know if he was still there and I really didn't know if I was still here. I felt disconnected and disjointed. I felt like a fish trying to climb a tree.

Sometimes I yell at him. Asking him why I even need to say anything if he is an all knowing God he knows what I need and what I'm going to say before I even say it.
He knows what sin I struggle with and the anger and bitterness I was barely keeping off the edges of my heart at the time.

He knew that night when I said, "Dammit, I'm going to be pissed because it was SHITTY and I was hurt and I am PISSED."
He knew when the anger and bitterness invaded my head and heart and pushed all the hope and joy out into a pile of shit in the alley.
He knew when I started unraveling the stories of abuse and disdain from growing up for the first time.
He knew when I realized that just because it wasn't someones fault, and just because I know they were doing the best they could with what they had didn't mean I couldn't still wish it had been different.

Yet still I struggle. Wishing there was a black and white checklist to tell me if I was doing ok with God or if I needed to adjust something here or maybe there. Because it would be so much easier to just be able to check off a list, to follow the rules and the letter of the law and KNOW for a fact I was doing the right things and saying the right things.

But that's not how a relationship with Jesus is. It's wrestling, it's the gross every day messy relationships we all struggle with. It's a square peg in the round hole of legalism wanting more of my heart that of my blind obedience. Does God want my obedience? Of course he does.

He also wants my heart, and he wants my desire for obedience and my desire for following the heart of the law more than the completed check list of an ambilivent girl.

So I wrestle. I sometimes talk sassy to Jesus because that's how I talk to my friends and loved ones and he is my friend and loved one like no one else.

One day I might realize that the characteristics of my abusers and those that have left me and let me down are not the characteristics of God. I mean, I know that now with my head. But my heart, battered and weary of feeling strung up and locked out is a little more hesitant to comply.

So I hold on, I ask God if he's still there. I read the bible and put the bible down annoyed and pick it back up knowing that the character of God is not based on mood or emotion.

I know that God is good. All the time. I know that 10 years in I feel more entangled in a love affair with Jesus than ever before. It's just messier.

Dried Up

Sometimes it feels like all of my words have dried up
As if over time they slowly evaporated leaving nothing but that scummy film behind

There are still good things, great things
There are still friends, laughter, sorrow and contentment

But I've lost my words
More and more through this season (gosh, I've come to hate the term season) I'm finding that my words have been removed

I didn't misplace them, I didn't leave them at a restaurant or some one's house. I find that my words have been almost surgically removed

The funny thing about God sometimes is that when he asks you to do something he really means it. He means to have you rest when he asks you to rest. He means to have you be quiet when he asks you to be quiet. He means you to be still when he asks you to be still.

I find myself sitting alone with God and opening my mouth to pray. But all the words are gone. People ask me how I am, how I'm doing, what's new, what my plans are and I open my mouth like a fish out of water. My mouth just opens and shuts and nothing comes out.

I find myself shut down. Not in the "I'm taking my ball and going home" sort of way but in the action, task oriented sort of way.

I don't know when it will end or what it will be like. But I'm almost starting to believe that I can be loved just because I breathe; that I can be liked even when I'm disagreeable and that even when I do nothing I still have value because I am a daughter of the King.

If losing my words for awhile results in finally truly believing that my value is in Christ alone; I'm ok with that.

Home

My throat has dried up.I've been paralyzed by what to say, overcome again and again by the fear of rejection, the fear of abandonment.
Working through intimacy issues steadfastly ignored for at least 20 years if not the full 32 is scary. Scary because I have to try to re-build my belief that I am valuable because I am a child of God. Even if I did nothing else ever for the rest of my life I would have value simply because God made me.

Because I don't believe it. I doubt it so greatly that I've convinced myself (along with a substantial amount of help from others) that it's true.

I feel dry. So dry and sapped and strung out on fear and paranoia I can't see the top of the hole I've dug for myself to hide in.

But through it all I hear God whispering that he won't leave. If I can be frank, and it's my blog so I think I will be, I don't believe him yet.
With every relationship I seem to have long lapses of times where I hold my breath waiting for them to figure out that I'm no good. That I'm garbage to be thrown away when I'm no longer entertaining or useful.
Because that's who I see when I look in the mirror.

Garbage.
Useless.
Not good.

But that God is persistent. Even as I turn my face from him, even as I shout at him that he made a mistake when he made me because I'm NO GOOD he just stays put, stubbornly.

I stopped leading. The transition has been better and more terrible than I anticipated. Better because I have had my pastors clearly express to me they care for me no matter what. Better because I have experienced them allowing me to exit and go quiet because they want to help me honor God in truly resting and refreshing in this time. Terrible because I secretly wonder if they're relieved the be done with me. Terrible because I feel useless and therefore I'm not worth anything if I'm not doing doing doing.
Let me be clear that most days I know it's not true.
Most days I can inhale without choking and exhale without sobbing.
It's the some days that pour shadows over the sun and I wonder if I'll ever again believe these lovely people and this mighty God love me.

But I'm starting to feel the inkling of belief. The echo of a memory of the deep down knowing that God is here. He's here and he's not leaving and he's sticking around no matter what. It feels so strange.

But it also feels like home.

seeing myself sitting against the wall of the cavern with my tired head laying atop my arms slung over my knees and realizing it’s where i am and where i’ve been for a while, i found i wasn’t alone. seeing this in my mind’s eye for the first time, jesus sat with his arm around me. ‘we can stay here as long as you need to, mary kathryn,’ i heard in my heart. ‘and i will stay here with you. but i will not let you stay here forever.'

(Inspired by: Bottom-Dwellers)

but anger is the mask fear wears until it either becomes a monster of hate or a puddle of clay which only christ can mold and fix and change in his own image. (via)

The In Between

Rescued-

1. Save (someone) from a dangerous or distressing situation.

2. Keep from being lost or abandoned; retrieve

Redeemed-  
1.a: to buy back : repurchase b : to get or win back. 
2. a: to free from what distresses or harms: b: to free from captivity by payment of ransom

I read "I prayed to be rescued, not redeemed" today while on my lunch break. I was breaking in a new book and my breath caught. Because that's sort of where I am. Praying to be plucked out of the danger and distress and placed in a new, exciting and much more clearly defined life. Praying to be back to normal, even though I was never a huge fan of the normal when I lived there.
I'm scared to be shaped. I'm scared of redemption because in my secret put away hear I don't believe that I'm valuable enough to be bought, let alone bought back. I'm scared of the waiting, of the silent in between times full of turmoil and refining.


Yet, I find myself in the in between anyway. Despite all of my protests and tantrums here I am, in between. Some much needed rest and intentional withdrawal is here and it's time I start making as much of this in between as I can, stop throwing the tantrums and actually listen to the whispering voice telling me that He sets my value. That He has already redeemed me

If I'm honest, I prayed the way you order breakfast from a short-order cook: this is what I want. Period. This is what I want. Aren't you getting this? I didn't pray for God's will to be done in my life, or, at any rate, I didn't mean it. I prayed to be rescued, not redeemed. I prayed for it to get easier, not that I would be shaped in significant ways. I prayed for the waiting to be over, instead of trying to learn something about patience or anything else for that matter. 

-Shauna Niequist Bittersweet 

Conform

Often, without even meaning to do it, I do it.
When meeting someone new, that I don't even know or think is cute or anything, I'll conform myself subconsciously into what I perceive they might want me to be at that particular time.

What do you think is funny?
I'll crack a joke that matches

What music do you like?
I likely have it on my ipod and will play it (and sing along) for you

Do you prefer hair up or down?
I'll wear it accordingly

I really dislike this about myself. I am struggling with identity and finding it in the appropriate and rightful place, with God.
Yet my position of default is to twist and turn and conform myself to the perception I have of what pleases others.

I'm working on it, day by day, minute by minute, second my second.

This Costly Faith

This.

(via:)

“Save me, O God,

for the waters have come up to my neck.

I sink in the miry depths,

where there is no foothold.

I have come into the deep waters;

the floods engulf me.

I am worn out calling for help;

my throat is parched.

My eyes fail,

looking for my God.”

Psalm 69 is a lament, one that puts into words the agony of my own heart right now. I am weary. Night after night I can’t sleep. My body is weakened by stress and I’m physically ill. I feel like a worn out old shoe that has to keep running.

Can you relate?

It doesn’t seem so long ago when the Psalms of Lament hardly made sense to me. I was happy, carefree, full of faith and hope. My life philosophy—”it’ll all work out”—was based on the unwavering belief in the goodness and sovereignty of God. It’s not that I was unfamiliar with suffering. I had faced the worst kinds of hardship that you can imagine—and yet my joy couldn’t be snuffed out.

But now the waters have come up to my neck and I am gasping for air. I still believe in the goodness and sovereignty of God, which is why I cry out to him for help, but he feels far away. His back is turned to me.

And so now, finally, I am learning the cost of faith.

The Psalmist, apparently while still barely treading the deep waters, says,

“I will praise God’s name in song

and glorify him with thanksgiving…

The LORD hears the needy.”

Praising God in advance for rescuing me, though he seems already too late, requires faith so deep I have to suck it out of the marrow of my bones—digging and scraping for it when it refuses to come—rather than depending on my optimistic nature to help it bubble to the surface.

This kind of faith hurts. A lot.

I sing, “Let the waters rise if you want them to. I will follow you,” but the tears stream down my face as I do. It’s like reaching the 25 mile marker in a marathon: you go on even though each step hurts.

And that’s when I remember that Jesus himself did this same thing.

“Keep your eyes on Jesus, who both began and finished this race we’re in. Study how he did it. Because he never lost sight of where he was headed—that exhilarating finish in and with God—he could put up with anything along the way: Cross, shame, whatever. And now he’s there, in the place of honor, right alongside God. When you find yourselves flagging in your faith, go over that story again, item by item, that long litany of hostility he plowed through. That will shoot adrenaline into your souls!” (Hebrews 12:2-3, The Message)

I’m going to press on, no matter what the cost. I’m going to focus on the prize to strengthen my feeble arms and weak knees. And I’ll trust God even if the water pulls me under.

How about you? Will you fix your eyes on Jesus too?

by Heather Gemmen Wilson

Truth Is...

"The truth is, the biggest sin issue right now, for me, is that I just don't believe God's promises are true for me."

This is what I said to a dear friend back in the early spring. We were at a conference together and I was just walloped over the head thanks to a speaker talking about volunteer burnout and taking time for you and God alone.
It's still mostly true.

I believe in a big God. A God that is huge but can make himself small enough to come into our lives and walk beside us in every moment with every thing. I believe that God will redeem the years that I fought him and that he will redeem the years I believed he saw only the value in me that I believed (and was told) I had.

Most days it's not clean, and most days it's not easy. But I push on and fake it until I make it sometimes.
Because I believe even when I don't.
I believe when it's messy and when it's hard, I believe when I hear him the least that He is still here, holding me in His ocean of grace. Even when I don't believe, I believe. Because I don't know what else to hold.

What else is there to hold really? People have failed me, I have failed me. Food has failed me, possessions have failed me, drinking has failed me. Encounters both casual and not so casual have all failed me because none of them were casual to my heart.

The truth is it's easier for me to believe that God loves you than that he loves me. I have been so utterly convinced of my wretchedness that I have lumped God in with those that tell me I am nothing to them with voice and deed.

The truth is, we're all wretches apart from the salvation of a God that loved us all so much he sent his Son to die for us. The truth is we're all in desperate face to the floor need of his ocean of grace.

So I'm repenting. I'm choosing to believe and I'm asking God to help my unbelief. His promises do not say that God sent his Son for everyone but me. They do not say that everyone is eligible for redemption and forgiveness but me. How selfish to even think that it would.

The truth is, I have no idea what I'm doing and I'm realizing that not a lot of other people do either. I'm just a broken girl, asking forgiveness for the audacity to believe she was beyond the reach of God's promises and grace.

All will arise and follow you over
Savior please, pilot me.
Over the waves and through every sorrow
Savior please, pilot me
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
Oh Lord, Oh Lord
-Josh Garels Pilot Me

Letting it Down

"I'm sorry I let you down. But you let me down too."
-Baby (Dirty Dancing)

I got a text about needing to chat. Over the course of the next few days I began to wonder, what had I done? Because my immediate belief is that I've done something wrong and I will be chastised.

Deafening silence happens and I think, what did I do? What action or inaction did I take to cause this to happen.

It all feels very selfish to me. As if I'm focusing so inward I can't see outward anymore.
But at the same time I'm realizing that the outward focus was founded in desperation to hide from something, something in me that I saw as being without value. Something I believed everyone else saw too.

I didn't know I could be valued for simply being alive. I didn't know how to look for that value in Christ and not men or women around me. I still don't get it entirely.

I also didn't know how to share the blame. Even though I can articulate to you that it's not all my fault, that statistically speaking it's impossible for all the blame to lay at my feet I believe that had I been more; more perfect, more demure, more deferential, more humerous...more, that people wouldn't have left. I believe that were I more I would know the answer to the great mysteries of life and relationship.

I'm learning to believe that everyone feels this way to some degree. That no one has it as together as the expectations I place on them and myself. Yet I push forward, aiming for perfection and dying inside when I inevitably miss.

So I'm making peace with having to look inward for a little while; to figure out and uproot the sin and the doubt that I find and then move outward so the serving, the friendship, the love that I offer to others can be deeper, more genuine and less chaotic.

I know that I have let people down. It's the way life goes. But I'm just now realizing that when they let me down I can name it and not assume that I am somehow to blame. It's terrifying really, but freeing just the same.

Identity

Through this end season of leading Washington Project I'm feeling excited for the unknown that is to come and also a little scared. Because I find a lot of my identity in doing things for other people. If I am useful people like me. It's the belief that I have.
More and more I'm seeing the pattern of transition that God has me in, the pattern of transitioning my definition of identity from one found in others and tasks to one that is found solely at His feet.

I clung to a friendship, regardless of how often we spoke or how awkward things were starting to get I knew,

I was her FRIEND

I told stories of their antics and the sweet things that they would say to me and I knew,

I was their AUNT

I spoke of stories from the growing up years, of the small town living under their roof years and I knew,

I was their Daughter

I planned serves and led meeting. I told people Jesus loved them and I blushed appropriately when people commended the things I did through Washington Project and Outreach. I knew,

I was a Leader

I sent silly cards through the mail, I took dinners to new moms, I attended showers and small groups and showed up when they needed help, I knew,

I was a Volunteer

I scheduled nights out with friends and weekends away. I coordinated schedules with friends that were moms, wives or otherwise engaged with their own separate life. I ensure family time was filled and on schedule.
Because regardless of anything else that was going on in life it would come down to the identity I found in those relationships and tasks and I knew,

I was a Planner

I smoothed things over, I contorted my heart into shattered little shapes, I ensure that even with other people were losing their cool that I was calm and collected and available to pick up the pieces. I knew,

I was a Peacekeeper 

I mean, I'm no Job or anything, but little by little the things I identified myself with and by have been removed from my life, or at the least altered deeply. But there was still leading Washington Project. As the others identities lessened and I became more autonomous or less involved I was still the leader of Washington Project. It was for JESUS. Obviously it wasn't an identity that was BAD right?

Then a few months ago I started hearing, leading doesn't define you either.
I started hearing, even if you quit this you would still be complete and who I created you to be as my daughter.

But I still pressed forward.

Until one day, I heard God whisper, "this too. I'll take this too."
He didn't take it through the destruction of the ministry or through some great moral collapse of mine or another leaders. He just gently reached into my heart and told me it was time to walk away. To take a break. To be still and know that regardless of anything else in or around my life that HE was GOD.

There are still moments. When I ask Him if He's sure. If He's SURE that I'll be ok without a defined role. If He's SURE that people will still like me when I'm not doing anything for them. That people would still have things to talk about with me, that I would still be valuable to people.

Because I'm afraid I'm not.
I'm afraid I'm not valuable without reason to others.


Tonight I thought, you know what. I might not be.
I might not have value to others without a reason.


The lesson I hear God trying to tell me over and over again lately is that even if that's true it's fine. It is fine.


Because I am valued by Him


I am precious to Him

And so are you.

Some Days

Some days it's heavier.
Heavier to hold this wondering if I'll ever even out.
If I'll ever stop wondering when the other shoe will drop, when you will leave, when your lies (because I believe they exist) will come to light.

Some days it's harder to believe that it will all be ok and it will all work out in the end.

Some days I have to cling to hope and His promises so tightly I can't feel my heart anymore.

Because I believe this will all be redeemed. I believe that this will all be used for my good and His glory.
Some days I just need to remind myself a little more so I can swing my feet out of bed and face the day knowing my doubts will scream at me from the minute my eyes open until they finally shut again.

Conditional Grace

I've recently been added to a group on Facebook. There's a new rash of "You know you're from (or attended) :insertcityorschoolnamehere: if..." groups and I was added to the one from my High School.

Its been filled with posts about the ins and outs of attending said school as well as a lot of people that aren't my FB friends and who I was happy to mostly not have to speak to again.
It seems a little cliche to not enjoy the high school you attended, and it's not exactly that I didn't enjoy the high school that I attended or even the town I grew up in, really. I didn't mind it. But I also didn't like a lot of the people or things that happened there. Very typical small town and it's been interesting to see where people ended up and how people have changed, or in a lot of cases stayed the same.

Enter a sermon on judgement Sunday at church and it had me thinking a lot today about grace.


Because I am realizing more and more how I offer conditional grace.
I have a hard time letting people exit the boxes I remember them living in, the way I remember them being. Even though I loathe when that happens to me, when people don't let me evolve, change and mature I can't give everyone the same courtesy.

I'm learning how to walk the fine line between judgement and grace. I'm learning that just like with almost every other aspect in my life I am an all or nothing kind of girl. I'm the kind of girl that either believes there is redemption for people even when I can't see the possibility, or they are un-redeemable. I'm also learning that sometimes there are appropriate and correct boundaries that must be set.
See, I have this idea that I should give my all to everyone. That I should try to make them happy and comfortable and help their lives be as wrinkle-free as possible.

The only problem with that is I end up feeling left out, forgotten or I ultimately (or immediately) end up sacrificing my values, beliefs or mental/emotional well-being in the process.
I'm learning that I can't do it anymore.

I just can't.

I'm learning that I shouldn't either. That just because there should be grace, and that should cover everyone it is not my job to make things ok for them. Sometimes, things need to not be ok for other people.

It's the root of a lot of tension in my life right now as I move forward trying to begin relationships with healthy boundaries and build healthier boundaries into the existing relationships in my life. It's taking a lot of energy to seek God's will for what he wants in and around my life and to say no and stick to it when there are people and things in my life that I just can't abide any longer.
Because I'm stuck in that tension of being a people pleaser, wanting people to like me and want me around. I'm seeing more often how destructive and detrimental that is when I choose keeping others happy and content over doing what is right for my heart.

Even typing it I feel incredibly selfish. I want to qualify it with all sorts of reasons and examples of why it's important. But I'm not.
It's important because it's what God's asking me to do right now, and I do in fact need to do it with grace; especially when it impacts others.
Ben was right on the spot Sunday when he said that for generations we've offered either the truth without grace or grace without the truth.

I'm learning how to balance them both in the only messy and broken way that I know how.

Such a Time as This

The book of Esther is about this young Jewish woman that marries the Persian King. She was placed in the position at the same time that a man in the court (maybe a prince) was rising to power and was given an unusually large amount of power from the king.
She struggled with the position she was in. She was frightened and overwhelmed at times. But her cousin said to her that she was in a position to save her people. Save the Jews of her time from this man in court that was given so much power.
The 2nd part of chapter 4 verse 14 reads:

...And who knows but that you have come to your royal position for such a time as this? Esther 4:14

Not that I'm about to marry a king or anything, nor am I about to be able to save an entire race of people either...but the phrase for such a time as this just won't leave my head.

I was talking to the women that are taking over leading Washington Project this fall and while we chatted it got even louder.
So I told them that I believed that God had called them to lead this ministry at such a time as this. Just like he has called me to rest and follow for such a time as this.
God's timing is perfect, even if we don't understand the timing this side of Heaven.

It all sounds so Pollyana-esque I know. Because it certainly doesn't make me feel any better when people die, friendships end/shift/change, months are long and budgets are short.

But I keep hearing this whisper of how all of this is coming together for such a time as this. The excavating of my wounds and the patching of my scars may cause nightmares, but I'm reminded that they are simply the infection of abuse being worked out of my heart.
I go back and forth missing WP so terribly (even though I'm not completely out of it yet) and longing for the time that I'm done completely with it. Because I don't want to miss a thing. I believe so strongly in what WP does and the way that people drift around believing they're invisible and not knowing there is a real God that sees them.

Yet I talk to these women that are transitioning in and I realize that all of this is according to God's timing. These ladies are primed and ready to roll. They are passionate about letting people know about God and caring for them. It's really amazing to see them grow bolder and more confident in their calling and such a pleasure to have been a part of it.

Because God has called me to rest at such a time as this, and I know there is more to come in the future. I need to be primed and ready to run, and I know that rest is a key part of that.

Thanks

I met the other night with the ladies that are stepping up to lead the next iteration of Washington Project and Ben. As we talked through the transition and some guidelines of what it could/should look like I just sort of sat back and was grateful.
I was so grateful for the opportunity to lead at Four Corners and the way that God showed up throughout the years of Washington Project.
I was grateful for the staff and especially Ben and how they are constantly striving to lead well and allow others to make mistakes (and gracefully recover from them).
I was grateful for the stretching. The sometimes tearing apart of my heart by the people I served and served alongside as I saw just how desperately in need we all are of God's grace and forgiveness in large ways and small.
I was grateful for the moments with people where they realized for the first time that God saw them, really saw them.
For the lady at the car wash that cried because she believed her relationship with her kids was forever broken and we showed up that morning and told her that God loves her so much and cares very much about every single detail of her life.

For the lady at the dry cleaners that wasn't sure her marriage was going to make it and was hiding in the dry cleaners from her husband because she couldn't take one more fight. God set an appointment for Washington Project to show up and tell her that God is with her. That he loves her and is there for her.

For the girl at One Way Farm who made choices with consequences that almost caused her to miss her grandfathers funeral. For the almost year of going and playing silly games and painting nails that led to the moment of being able to tell her about a God that promises us eternity if we follow his Son. For the moment when she asked our regular One Way volunteers to sign her yearbook because she was leaving One Way and wanted to never forget us or the God we were serving ever.

For the couple at the marathon that took some free coffee from us and when we told them it was just a tangible way of saying God loves you and cares about you they cringed a little. But as they walked away realizing there were really no strings attached were heard saying, "that's the kind of God I could believe in, they really didn't try to hit us in the face with the bible".

For so many other moments large and small.

For the moments as a leader when I felt God bringing people in around me to encourage me when I was so defeated and low and I remembered that he cared about me too.

For the moments as a leader when I saw the people on my team light up with the realization that God has called them to such a time as this to lead in such a church as this to proclaim the gospel.

I was just filled with gratitude for it all and a sense of longing for what it to come. Because this chapter is closing, but I know that God is already writing another chapter on my heart and the heart of my awesome church.

I want to thank you
For so many gifts
You gave with love and tenderness
I want to thank you

I want to thank you
For your generosity
The love and the honesty
That you gave me

I want to thank you
Show my gratitude
My love and my respect for you
I want to thank you

I want to...

Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
Thank you
-Natalie Merchant Kind and Generous

Used

I never quite know where to draw the line. Between being helpful and being enabling and being used.
Because sometimes it doesn't occur to me that I'm being used until someone else points it out. So does that mean I'm being used?
Does the using occur because of the intentions of the user or the usee?

I just don't know.

All I know is I'm feeling dread about a lot of relationships, even those with healthy functioning people that have proven time and time again they are only interested in a 2 way friendship with no harm to either of us.
So it makes it that much harder when delving into building new relationships to know how much of myself to invest.

Because I want to invest.
As I've wandered around hearing people saying "me too" and wondering to God why no one ever says anything I hear him saying..."then why don't you say something?"
I hear him asking me to go first.

But I also am working on setting healthier boundaries and often even I forget where they are at so how can I hold others to them?

I still feel so unsure of myself, but I am sure that this is the place God has placed me for such a time as this.
I don't know what He'll make out of it...but I know it will be for my good and more importantly His glory.

Taking my ball and going home

This isn't my first go at therapy. It's just the first time I was willing to engage in the hard stuff and push through the uncomfortable and painful to get far enough in that there was no turning back.

One of the therapist I had was talking to me and I said something about how I needed to just get over whatever it was I wasn't over because it was clearly done. He replied, "If you're not over it it's not done."
I dismissed him naturally because he didn't realize that I was always wrong and always at fault.

While in theory I realize that forgiveness doesn't always mean reconciliation and that it is for sure not always a one time forgive 'em and you're done deal it's the every day living out of that knowing that is so hard some days.
When you realize that someone is never going to do...whatever it is you're wanting them to do, that's when the hard work starts. Because it can be easy to forgive someone when they're shaping up and walking the line you want them to walk.
But when they don't....when the relationship after the forgiveness either does not or can not exist....you're still called to forgive them. Because forgiveness isn't supposed to be conditional.

Can I be honest? I sort of hate that.
I sort of hate that my agenda and my idea of "how it should be" is not the way that it goes and that forgiving and continuing on in a reconciled relationship with a person hurts sometimes and sometimes you're still let down.

But I also know that when I ask God for forgiveness (which feels like an alarmingly high amount thanks to some spiritual temper tantrums of late) his forgiveness is instantaneous. He keeps no record of wrongs and calls me to do the same.
I also hear him asking me how I can love those I need to forgive well.
So I stomp my feet and I whine and cry and ask him why I need to be the one to love them well. They are the ones that hurt me and wronged me.

Then I hear him whisper..."There it is. There's that seed of bitterness I knew you were fostering in your heart. Can I have that please?"

I'm still stuck in that tension, in the temptation to nurse the bitterness and unforgiveness. I'm tempted to just sit down, cross my arms and pout. But I can feel Him pursuing me even when others won't. I can feel Him whispering to me that He's got this, that I don't have to carry it because He will and already is carrying the burden.

I hate to turn up out of the blue uninvited,
But I couldn't stay away, I couldn't fight it,
I had hoped you'd see my face,
And that you'd be reminded that for me it isn't over
-Adele Someone Like You

God loves you and your Big Mac

I was listening to the radio this morning. A local morning show takes a random question each day and answers it themselves as well as taking calls from listeners who answer the question.
The question today was, "What is an act of kindness you have done that no one knows about?"

Lots of people called in and told stories about things they have done and several about receiving random acts of kindness from others.
The one lady said she was in line at McDonald's and it was taking forever. When she finally got up to the window the worker said the lady in front of her paid and wanted to tell her that God loves her.

The female on the show immediately said, "Oh yeah, she probably saw you getting annoyed with the wait and was sticking it to you with "God LOOOOOOVES you" right?"

The answer was no but all the same it made me really sad that there are so many people out there that think the only reason someone would do something nice and wrap it in God loves you is to spite and "stick it to" you.

Amazing, because it is

I've been thinking a lot about sustainability lately. Not like, save the Earth sustainability but sustainability of leadership and vision.
I had a conversation with Cody the other day about leadership at their church and some of the awesome things about it and some of the slightly less awesome things about it.
I've also been thinking a lot about Washington Project and continuing to keep the goal and vision of WP and its purpose in the forefront. Ben and Greg have been talking a lot about the purpose of our church and the whole staff has been awesome about focusing the churches energy and attention towards the main goal and vision.

But then tonight I watched Secret Millionaire and one of the women that ran an organization the secret millionaire ended up giving money to said, "It doesn't feel amazing day to day"

Because that's sometimes where I lose my momentum.
I was talking to someone the other day and I was going through the whys and whats of Washington Project and it struck me that it had been a shamefully long time since I articulated that for people or even myself.

I'm a doer. I can get lost in tasks and getting things done. It's what jazzes me. But I need to keep reminding myself that the task means nothing if the message of Jesus isn't clear. If the fact that we're wanting to tangibly show people that Jesus loves them and they are not invisible to him is lost in the chaos of planning and executing the plan.

What we get to do each week through Four Corners and Washington Project is amazing. It's amazing that we were saved by this God that loved us so much that Jesus DIED for us. It's amazing that we are loved by a God that cares so deeply about us even when we were lost and completely falling apart hot messes He reached in and rescued us.
But it doesn't feel amazing day to day. Some days it's messy and complicated and full of relational complications.

I'm not sure how to tie this up in a bow today. The WP leadership team is reading a book together about not losing sight of the amazing in the day to day tasks and I'm frankly chatting with God a lot about it.
Because as I'm finding with almost every aspect of leadership learning to remember the amazing things about WP and leading is also helping me remember and focus on the amazing things about my sweet little life.

What are the amazing things you forget about your life and circles of influence?