You have overcome, You have overcome

I am flying.
So natural. Like walking, and speaking and breathing, but flying.
I am not alone, my companion is unseen, but so familiar. I have known Him for all of time, like a part of myself, only better. He prompts me to look here and there, take in the wonder of this new place, again so familiar, yet my heart leaps as though each pixel is a mystery realized. Seuss-like puffs speckle dancing meadows, set just inside the shallow basin of mountains. To the east the sun is resting in a pool of electric blue- is that blue?

But it's the west that captivates. We circle Him. He is taller than the mountains and twice as sturdy. His frame draped in what I can only imagine is the armor of kings. He is color. He is light. He is the very presence and goodness of God Himself-- looking at Him I can know nothing but peace. The questions jumps at me, almost with panic, "Why can I look at Him?" And before it reaches my tongue, my companion answers This is what it will be like in the end when we are all here. 

One thing I ask from the LORD, this only do I seek: that I may dwell in the house of the LORD all the days of my life, to gaze upon the beauty of the LORD and to seek him in his temple. ps27.4

We circle again and I am placed on the edge of the resting sun in the east, as if sitting on the side of a swimming pool. I heard an interview with Oliver Sacks the other day where he described an episode in which he saw a color he describes as cyan. He said that he began to search for, and wonder if this particular tone existed in the real world, but was unsuccessful in finding it. He mentioned thinking that maybe it was the color of God. Sitting on that edge I understand him completely. The rays of blue wash over me like the first life-breath.  I feel every molecule come alive in worship. Freedom-laughter comes aloud as joy ripples through my veins. The goodness of God is intoxicating. 

Now we have moved on, and I stand at the base of a red ladder. Climb, and so I do. 

At the top is a tunnel similar to one my child might find at the tip-top of a playground. Walk through it.

Quickly my mind considers the size of the opening He is prompting me through and panic rises in my belly. I can't, I will never fit. And I begin to back down the ladder. 

You have a choice, you can let fear control you, and this can end now, or you can move forward and I will make this fit.

I press fear aside as if moving a heavy curtain and walk forward. My eyes begin to make out movement and as my vision clears, I realize the compact tunnel is housing a snake. 

Panic. No, I can't. I step backward.

You have a choice, you can let fear control you, and this can end now, or you can move forward and I will fight this battle for you.

I move ahead as the snake lunges. My heart pounds as my fist extends lamely to strike this new enemy. I make contact- but not with my target. My fist slams against the ground inches from the snake's head. But he crumples, as if I hadn't missed at all, but rather had attacked with precision. I lift my arm to try again, and again I fail. Yet, the snake falters, dies, and disappears--my Companion wears the Victor's Crown-- and I move through the tunnel. 

The tiny tunnel space melts and molds around me and I am again on a playground, at the top of a red slide. Water glistens at the base and I am frozen. I can't, I don't know what's in there. Please don't make me. 

You have a choice, you can let fear control you, and this will be over, or you can dive in and see the good gifts of a Father whose love does not run out.

I dive.

I am embraced by freedom. Liquid bliss sparkles as sunlight finds its way into the deep. I watch as ripples of light dance and flit around me. I flip and breathe deeply, how is it that this water breath is richer than air? I am fully alive!

Something touches my foot, and I am consumed by fear. My eyes flicker and adjust to a world I know all too well, and I am faced with the realization of my choice. Fear is the absence of faith. Fear is the covering of eyes when the alternative is to gaze on God glory. Fear is my high place that must be torn down and redeemed by an altar of thanksgiving and trust. 

Ann Voskamp says it better:

"All fear is but the notion that God's love ends."

And fear is what makes me a "believer who doesn't believe."(1)

I wake again this morning, gripped by the anxiety of a day not yet lived. Has this dream taught me nothing? I am so human, so quick to choose regression over forward movement. But the goodness of God is unwavering, beckoning me on to see what depth lies in this truth--nothing can separate me from the love of a God who does not run out. I wrap myself around this promise and drop one foot off the side of the bed. In the morning He is still with me. 

In my anguish I cried to the Lord, and he answered by SETTING ME FREE. ps118.5

all the poor and powerless

“hallelujah ripped through my veins

I heard the hammer drop

My blood in the rain

Sing hallelujah came like a train

when all is lost, all is left to gain”

That moment.

Peace breathes his first, emerging from fallen womb.

 Even brokenness brings life:

He uses even brokenness.

most unlikely child-mother brings forth Son of God.

That moment.

First cry pierces darkness.

Foreshadows final cry that will shatter the same.

In a tiny barn peace opens eyes once. for. all.

A bed made of straw cradles back wrapped in cloth

Tiny scratches on new skin

Scraps of cloth clean blood of life

33 years

33 years

Casket of wood and nails cradles bare sacrifice

Lesions of life rip deep

Blood of life

Cleanses me.

That moment

.the world is chaos.

babies die

mothers weep

But in that moment

Oh cave of Bethlehem

Peace is born to a world in need

And all cry

Hallelujah

Rest In Him:

Dear, sweet Maggie. Your life had meaning, you were precious and so loved.

Charlotte Bacon, 6

Daniel Barden, 7

Rachel Davino, 29

Olivia Engel, 6

Josephine Gay, 7

Ana M Marquez-Greene, 6

Dylan Hockley, 6

Dawn Hochsprung, 47

Madeline F. Hsu, 6

Catherine V. Hubbard, 6

Chase Kowalski, 7

Jesse Lewis, 6

James Mattioli, 6

Grace McDonnell, 7

Anne Marie Murphy, 52

Emilie Parker, 6

Jack Pinto, 6

Noah Pozner, 6

Caroline Previdi, 6

Jessica Rekos, 6

Avielle Richman, 6

Lauren Rousseau, 30

Mary Sherlach, 56

Victoria Soto, 27

Benjamin Wheeler, 6

Allison N Wyatt, 6

You are the best thing...

After 9 months of watching my body steadily grow larger and larger I was ready. Ready to stop getting stuck trying to maneuver myself in between parked cars, ready to sleep on my stomach, ready to meet this little girl who was the fulfillment of all the dreams I never knew I had.

Four weeks from her due date I was sitting in Dr. Jesus' office (his name is not Dr. Jesus, he just looks like a mixture of Jesus and Professor Snape, and we both agreed we would rather have Jesus delivering our baby.) We had had an ultrasound a few days earlier and had learned that our baby was in a breech position, meaning she was sitting head up rather than the needed head down. I was absolutely panicked. Is my baby ok? Would we need a c-section? Will I feel you cutting me open? Would we try to turn her? I don't want to try to turn her. Is it cheating for you to take my baby and me to not do the work? Can we go ahead and get her out now... I am SO tired of being pregnant! Is she brain damaged from me accidentally smacking her with that jar on what I thought was her butt a few weeks ago?

All of this in my head and Dr. Jesus' response? "Let's just wait and see if she turns... nothing to worry about."

I felt 9 months of hormones and crazy combine and give way to a pregnant woman's fury. I actually watched as my doctor's face showed a bit of fear- not at the fate of my child, but at his chance of leaving the room in one piece. We agreed that we should not try to turn her externally and that we would come back for another ultrasound in two weeks.

Those two weeks we tried everything from pseudo-head stands to Joe talking to the lower part of my abdomen trying to entice our kid to do one last in-utero flip. But nothing worked and I began to prepare myself mentally and emotionally for a c-section.

I struggled with the idea that I was somehow missing some right of passage not having a normal birth. I felt guilty and scared. Then a few days before our ultrasound my mom made a statement that changed everything. She mentioned how wonderful it is to have the technology we have today, and are able to know that she is breech and take care of it easily. I realized then that without the c-section the safety of my baby and myself would have been in jeopardy. I was ready and thankful when the doctor began discussing our scheduled c-section.

We were scheduled for surgery on Thursday 11/3/11. My mom and I had the last few days planned out in getting ready for baby, starting with a day of laziness on Monday. However, I woke to a call from the hospital Monday morning asking if we would like to move our c-section up to 7:30 am the following morning. We would be having a baby in less than 24 hours!

The morning of the delivery I was intensely nervous. I had gone through the gamut of fears about not being ready to be a mom and worrying that the pain medication wouldn't kick in before they started the surgery. I also felt as though I was doing some kind of violence against my unborn child by allowing them to cut her out of me. Joe asked me simply if I was scared and I started to cry. He told me to look up a few worship songs. I did so hesitantly, knowing he often chooses songs I never would. As we listened and parked he held me and prayed and I found myself so thankful that he was the one who would be next to me the whole time. We walked inside, hand in hand, singing

" Oh my God, he will not delay

My refuge and strength always

I will not fear, His promise is true

My God will come through always."

~Kristian Stanfill "Always"

I stepped into the cold operating room all prepped and still singing our worship songs in my mind. I was shaking from nerves and the cold, but the nurses were amazing and very encouraging. They put in the spinal block and suddenly I was warm and feeling awesome. I had one moment of panic when they put in the oxygen tube, but the anesthesiologist came and massaged my head and told me how to breathe and I was again feeling good. Joe came in and we teased Dr. Jesus about his "easy listening" music. I felt them pushing her down, then heard Dr. Jesus say "Oh, she's pooping." I thought, "OK, God, that's either me or her, and I don't want to know if it's me. " (The nurse told us later it was Lilly- though I wouldn't tell you if it wasn't :)

I cried when I heard her first cry, it was beautiful. Then, suddenly the doctor was saying "Here she is!" I look up at the top of the screen in front of me at this screaming, miniature Yoda covered in slime. Then as quickly, it was gone, Joe was gone to see his new daughter, and I was left lying there thinking, "I am the worst mother ever, I think my baby looks like a gremlin... I am supposed to be the one who thinks she's perfect no matter what." Waves of guilt, mixed with tears from hearing her cry, came over me. Then Joe came back around the curtain carrying a tiny blanketed burrito with a hat. He sat down and put her face up to mine for me to see and I said, "I know you." She was magnificent! Clean and smooth. I touched her eyebrow, her nose, and felt her soft skin on my cheek. She was more than I had hoped for, and more beautiful than I could have imagined. As for that little gremlin, I should probably write the hospital to let them know it's probably still running around that O room somewhere.

We found out later that the umbilical cord was wrapped around Lilly's neck and had we tried to turn her or gone into labor without knowing it would have been detrimental to both of us. It's so true, "My God will come through always."

Hand over your heart, let's go home

So I have this thought every time a fair or carnival rolls into town that if I were ever going to eat a fried Twinkie I would have to do so hunkered over it in a dark corner of shame. But I would still enjoy it.

My dog eats old tissue. It's pretty much the most disgusting thing I have observed- well, one of the top 10 at least. She just noses around in the various trash cans in my home, skipping left over scraps of tasty food wrappers, until she finds that fluffy balled up mass she loves so. She then moves to another room and munches on it joyfully. Though I am aware of my denial, I like to think I catch her the majority of the time and am able to stop her before she begins the digestion processes. But truthfully what happens is this: I holler her name sternly from whatever room I am observing her from, she glances around guiltily, usually meeting my eyes, and then hastily scarfs down the last bit of tissue before running in to greet me. I have begun to consider just letting her do as she pleases and writing it off as my one contribution to the recycling movement.

That said, I realized this today, as I watched my dog eat yet another tissue, that I am just like her. When I hear my own Master calling my name while in the midst of getting off track I am quick to look around in response. But when he pushes me to let go of my own vices I am ready to comply after I gobble up that last little bit. I know the things I hold onto ( my need for control, my desire to be thin, my obsessive need to make everyone happy, or my tendency to watch hours of TV without once spending time with Jesus) hold no life supporting nutrients- yet, I can't seem to help but crawl back into my corner and pull out that fried Twinkie when I think no one is looking.

I have been thinking a lot about what Jesus did for us in dying and coming back to life. There are moments when the magnitude of His love and His sacrifice hit me so hard that I have to strain to keep myself from falling on my face in worship. The other day I was walking along the beach with some amazing people of God and this topic came up. As soon as the words bubbled into my brain it took all I had to keep from falling to my knees in thanks. I do not share this to show some elite form of holiness or to even say anything positive about myself. Rather, it is more of a personal challenge to myself. I want to be a woman so inebriated by the Redeemer that I lose all inhibitions when it comes to worshiping Him for who he is. I would like to give in next time my gratitude draws me to the floor (I say that with the slight fear that it will happen next in Wal-Mart). I have this fantasy of driving down a busy road and as we all come to a stop everyone gets out of their cars and begins worshiping and praising God right there in the middle of the street. Let us be spontaneous beings of worship. Not in a way meant to draw attention or to be disrespectful, but rather out of a genuine response to the God who gave everything so we could be with Him.

and my heart turns violently inside of my chest

"Give me your forever, please your forever. Not a day less will do, from you."

~"Forever" by Ben Harper

I have been thinking a lot about the past. My brain often moves more quickly than I can efficiently process, but it seems lately it has been going double time. Memories that I have thought of every day since their occurrence as well as ones I did not realize existed have been finding life outside of my subconscious. There have been some joyous, others awkward, and still others sad.

Two nights ago as I was driving I grew tired of flipping through radio stations and decided to see what was in the CD player. A familiar song began to wash over me and I stepped back in time to a moment I felt most loved...

I was sitting in my apartment probably staring aimlessly at my computer screen trying to stifle the war that had been raging within me for what felt like ages, but may have only been weeks. I had just told the man who would someday become my husband that I couldn't be with him anymore. My heart ached but I bit past the pain because I knew that I may never heal fully, that I could never be "sane", that I could never be worth giving someone my forever. Not only that, I stopped believing that love was something that lasts and that people were something I had the strength to invest in.

I think it is one of life's most viciously formative milestones when a child (even if they are no longer a child) realizes their parents are imperfect. It's as if their world crashes. And just before that moment, mine had.

My cell phone began to ring and I hesitantly picked it up. With few words I was asked to pull up a myspace page and listen to one of the songs. I did as my future husband asked and sat quietly listening.

"...I'll be waiting here for you, so come out and take my hand. Come out, I'll help you understand. I know it hurts, I know you cry, well you cry, you cry. Just come out and take my hand..."

I set down the phone and stepped outside to fall into the arms that were waiting patiently outside my door to catch me. These arms that would later be there to catch me over and over again. The arms that would link in mine as we ran up the isle, that would hug me and say "I love you" in the midst of a nasty argument, the arms that will one day toss my giggling children in the air, and that I will hold as we wobble our slowly failing bodies through Wal-Mart.

I didn't have to hear the whole song to know. Nor did I look out the window before running out to meet him. I had no doubt that he would be there: waiting. loving.

I realize that many of my posts have been based around pain, around the dirt of life, and around the brokenness that humanity wrestles with. Part of me feels like I should apologize, like maybe I should write something full of humor to offset the gloominess. And there will be days when God inspires that. But in my life I have learned that it is in the ashes that God's beauty stands out in stark brilliance. So I will boast in my weakness and in my suffering because I have known God's heart most deeply in these moments.

It is unfortunate that people fail us. That childhood innocence is so quickly lost, and often repeatedly. But in this, I stand and rejoice, for without the Grace of God where would we be? Whoa! How He loves us!

My husband is truly an amazing man of God. He has loved me in a way that has given me a glimpse of how Jesus must love his people. Mercifully, and without merit.

But no one can love like our Father. David Crowder recently released a song that puts this thought into words better than I will ever be gifted to. I encourage you to read them, to listen to them and soak in their truth. To see that you are loved and the places where God has reminded you of that in your brokenness...

and then, to believe Him when He says He is good.

He is jealous for me,
Loves like a hurricane, I am a tree,
Bending beneath the weight of his wind and mercy.
When all of a sudden,
I am unaware of these afflictions eclipsed by glory,
And I realize just how beautiful You are,
And how great Your affections are for me.

And oh, how He loves us so,
Oh how He loves us,
How He loves us all

We are His portion and He is our prize,
Drawn to redemption by the grace in His eyes,
If His grace is an ocean, we’re all sinking.
So Heaven meets earth like an unforeseen kiss,
And my heart turns violently inside of my chest,
I don’t have time to maintain these regrets,
When I think about, the way…

He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.
Yeah, He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves us,
Oh how He loves.

"How He loves" by David Crowder

http://www.myspace.com/davidcrowderband

don’t wish you more or less without the mess of you

"Give me your tired, your poor,
Your huddled masses yearning to breathe free,
The wretched refuse of your teeming shore.
Send these, the homeless, tempest-tost to me,
I lift my lamp beside the golden door!"

-Excerpt from "The New Colossus" by Emma Lazarus

 

You cannot listen to the radio without knowing that humanity is a place of suffering. I once heard that the best songs come from a broken heart, and I must admit, it is those songs that make my stomach hurt (in a good way) that rip to my core and make me hit "repeat". Our very country was founded on those battered souls of the human experience and the hope that comes with a glimpse of liberation. But where is our hope now? Freedom of speech has left us with citizens bearing automatic rifles. Free love has left us with unloved babies. Free will leaves us with broken hearts. Free economy has left us with starving children. And freedom of religion has left us with dead churches. These freedoms are indeed beautiful; are indeed worth the fight. But they are not where our hopes can rest. Obviously manmade autonomy is a system in want.

So what now? In a world where the tragic thrives and the hopeful quickly whither, where do we go? In a world where innocence is found only in the senile, where men and women die in the streets, where children are sold for pleasure and women are killed for beauty; how can we not cry out, scream with rage, and die in hopelessness? Statistics show we are not untouched by the darkness. We are an oppressed people, imprisoned by our own minds. Depression effects adults and children alike and leaves them isolated. Sex becomes a gimmick and love is raped by the manipulative. Our souls rest and fade away in the ebb and flow of our material desires and we lay down at night wondering what it's all about.

"Why should you be beaten anymore? Why do you persist in your rebellion? Your whole head is injured, your whole heart afflicted. From the sole of your foot to the top of your head there is no soundness- only wounds and welts and open sores, not cleaned or bandaged or soothed with oil."
                                                                                                             Isaiah 1:5, 6

We have all of these wounds- not an inch of our beings are left untouched by the pain, by the rebellion, by the anger, jealousy, fear, selfishness, broken heartedness. Have we forgotten that these wounds can be healed?

"He sent me to bind up the broken hearted, to proclaim freedom for the captives and release from darkness for the prisoners, to proclaim the year of the Lord's favor and the day of vengeance of our God, to comfort all who mourn and provide for those who grieve…the bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of gladness instead of mourning, and garments of praise instead of the spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, the planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor."
                                                                                                             Isaiah 61:1b-3

I cannot say with honesty that God does not use the things of this world for his healing purposes. In my own life He has used friends, music, books, pets, and medicines to bring me to a place where I can better know Him. But I can say that God never leaves Himself out of the equation. He is our hope and our bottom line. He is there at the highest peak and He is present at rock bottom. His kingdom HAS come! He HAS reconciled us to Himself! And one day we will throw off the burdens of this world for the splendor of his open pastures!

But for now, as we walk as aliens in this place, we can remember that He is our constant. I have not, as the apostles did, seen the blind restored and the dead raised. But I have seen hearts of marble broken and made soft. I have seen marriages that shouldn't make it, thrive. I have seen citizens of closed countries given truth through dreams and visions. I have seen the restoration of a mind ravaged beyond the grave. I have seen in my own soul the refracted effects of being welcomed into the presence of the Lord and I have known firsthand the sympathy of our Savior. He is a God who rebuilds that which has long been in ruins. He longs to restore that which has for generations been devastated. And He will, if we let Him.

all made for wilderness, called into pilgrimage

So I will step off of these walkways and head for the hills

trade my plastic jesus for a Lover more wild

life is more than four walls and bowls of fix-it pills

so hold my hand

and after everything: stand.

 

" God loves organic obedience as much as organized obedience."
                         -Christian George

To tithe new Testament style is so different from the Old Testament call to give a tenth of all you are given. The tithe laid out in Leviticus was to protect the Levites and to support this priestly tribe. So what does that mean for today? Is 10% enough? Is it required? Is it still a time to test God and see him tear open the flood gates of heaven into our homes and bank accounts? The early church was united in their giving. They sold their possessions and gave to anyone that had need (Acts 4:42-47). NO ONE WAS WITHOUT. Each had exactly what they needed. The old woman gave her last of everything while the young man flaunted his great gift, probably a small portion of what he had to give. So is 10% enough? What about late bills? What about trying to save? What about college, debt, and a car that runs? To honor God with your money do you give it freely or use it to pay down your own debts and live a more miserly life? What about a combination of the two? The question still remains: how? James talks about us not having because we do not ask, but when we ask we do not ask with correct motives-we ask because we want to spend what we receive on our pleasures (4:2b-3). Ask so that you can give.

"Oh sleeper, get up and be reminded that you are the child of a King. He wouldn't leave you with nothing to bring."
                                             -Miriam Jones "Earth and Sky"

 

~We spend so much time trying to buck tradition because we see the American church failing. True, the church is dying. But to try to build anew rather than recover is to forget what Jesus has been doing in the world for the last two thousand years~

This is a paraphrased thought from the book "Godology." It felt like a punch to the gut- the good kind. I have too long been angry at the church. I seethed as I sat through the hours of Baptist History, subconsciously rolling my eyes at what I perceived as the failings of generations of overly pious men and women. Now I think it's time to take another look. To really look at the fire in the bellies of our ancestors and to let the diesel of the Spirit rain down once more. It's time to set this thing on fire!

 

"You're the only thing I can't do without today"


- Miriam Jones "Anything"

T.W. Hunt said that each morning he spends a few minutes just praising God in order to orient himself to eternity. He then goes into his study where he has a list of all the names he uses to refer to God. He studies this list in order to remind himself who it is he is praying to. I understand what the Psalmist meant when he said "My soul thirsts for God, for the living God. When can I go and meet with God?"(42:2). In a world where we value immediate satisfaction I would like to offer this- come to love Jesus for the very fact that today will be better. Though suffering will come, and often comes daily, the precious time spent freely in the presence of the Ancient of Days, the Creator and Redeemer, THE KING---will make all things fade in comparison. This is not to say that relationship with the Almighty is something fleeting, but rather that even the smallest taste and you will indeed see that He is good and forever long for more. There is nothing in my life that does not mist into the distance the moment I choose to dance around my living room in the hands of my Savior. For those of you who know what I mean, be reminded that you are committed to the "message of reconciliation" (2 Corinthians 5:19). And for those of you who do not yet know, "I tell you, now is the time of God's favor, now is the day of salvation."     

 

"I don't need company in the company of you. I don't need love, your love will do…I don't need air, no I don't need to breathe. I don't need rest, no I don't have time to sleep; cause I've got You and You've got me- and that's, that's all you need."
                                                            -Tegan and Sara "When I get up"