forgiven

By far, the hardest person for me to forgive is myself. The personal standard I hold no one but myself to is unreachably high. So I fail often. Beyond that, I sin often.

And while I seem to be able to forgive others relatively quickly and easily, it's not as easy to extend that same grace to myself.

I've somehow convinced myself that I can't be let off the hook that easily. I have to feel the weight of my mess-up. It has to be held against me for at least a little while, as some sort of penance.

So when God says I'm forgiven and He won't count my sins against me, it's as though my heart responds, "That's not enough! I must feel the weight of what I did."

I know there are natural consequences for sin; I know that in some ways, feeling the weight of it is unavoidable. But deeper than that, part of me feels like someone must hold it against me.

Even if that someone is me.

So I punish myself because God doesn't.

As if I could possibly atone for my sinful brokenness better than He did. Ugh.

The truth is that God is faithful to forgive when I come to Him. And because He forgives me, I can forgive myself.

When I don't, I'm slapping Christ in the face and telling Him the cross wasn't enough.

Ouch.

Who am I to hold against myself what Christ has already fully pardoned?

It's time to start living forgiven.

let Me love you

When my husband's affair was exposed, my entire life turned upside down. Everything changed. Overnight.

And though I didn't think it was possible, everything crumbled into even smaller pieces when he filed for divorce.

In one big swoop, I lost my marriage... my ministry... my home.

After a decade of living in Africa, I've now been back in the States for a year-and-a-half. Almost nothing in my life is the same as it was two years ago.

Nothing.

My world fell out from under me. And it was surprising to see the people God used to catch me.

It wasn't who I expected. In fact, some were people I never would've expected.

But that's just the way God works, isn't it?

Often, those we think "should" be there for us, aren't. And those we'd never expect to be, are. It's painful in some ways and joyous in others, but ultimately it reminds me to keep my eyes on God rather than on man.

And while it never plays out the way we'd script it, God uses people to bring redemption and restoration to our lives.

The greatest hurts always come from relationships. But so do the greatest healings.

In the past couple years, I have felt the deepest pain of my entire life. But I've also felt more loved than I ever have before.

It's as though the raw hurt was matched, depth for depth, with immense love.

Deep calls out to deep.

And I wouldn't know how to love and be loved so intensely if it weren't for the pain I've endured in my life.

In the midst of such indescribable personal grief, God built an amazing support system around me. In unfathomable ways.

He gave me friends who've loved me hard even when I had nothing to give back to them. Friends who've prayed faithfully and sincerely for me. Friends who've held me as I cried, talked me down off the proverbial edge when hopelessness set in, and pushed/carried/dragged me when it felt impossible to take a single step.

In a lot of ways, being on the receiving end of so much care and support has been really hard for me. But over and over again I've heard God's unmistakable voice:

"Let Me love you through My people."

In allowing myself to receive others' love, I've discovered new depths of the love of God. I've experienced more of His character. I've learned to love more deeply in return.

I am grateful for the community God's given me. I'm thankful for the amazing people I get to call "friends" and the ways God uses them to bring healing to my heart.

He continues to show me aspects of who He is that can only be expressed through His people.

In spite of great loss, my life feels incredibly rich.

And it makes the pain worthwhile.

So I lift my eyes and whisper... "Thank You."

[Originally posted on (in)courage...]

pondering

"Mary treasured up all these things and pondered them in her heart." I do the same.

With both my greatest joys and my deepest heartaches. "All these things..."

Some feelings and experiences are simply far too wonderful, much too precious, for me to even begin trying to explain them to others. And so... I ponder them in my heart.

Some situations and raw emotions are too big, too extreme, too altogether horrible, to ever try to put words on them. And so... I ponder them in my heart.

Some moments, both magnificent and wretched, simply won't fit inside the alphabet. They can't squeeze into words. They can't be packaged and given to others. They are only to be experienced. And felt. And pondered.

The past few weeks have been filled with some of my most wonderful and most painful moments. I live in the tension of the two extremes that war at each other within that pondering place of my heart.

Cooped up. Fighting for elbow-room. Unable to both fit within the confines of my insides.

And unable to be shouldered by anyone else.

Only me.

I'm not talking about dwelling on things in the worrying sense, although I do plenty of that. But there is a realistic need to just sit in things sometimes. There's the unavoidable truth of not being able to escape the crap of your own life, no matter where you go or who you're with.

It is what it is what it is.

And sometimes it's fighting to get out---to be acknowledged, to be shared---but will never find phrases big enough to offer it a means of escape.

Some things are simply meant to be pondered and held onto.

And my heart feels every ounce of their weight.

four-minute friday: STORY (so far)

Go. My heart is teetering on the edge right now. Let's see if four minutes of rambling balances things out a bit, or ever-so-slightly causes me to tilt even further into the abyss...

My time at STORY has been incredible so far. It's just been so packed that I don't feel as though I've had time to process anything yet. I've taken furious notes, and have gotten so many great nuggets out of each speaker... but I'm not sure I know how to answer the "how is STORY?" question. I'm gonna need some breathing room to go back through all my notes and really chew on everything that's marinating in my heart right now. (I think that analogy is stemming from my growling stomach at the moment. iHunger. Clearly.)

Soaking in God's presence as Kari Jobe led worship yesterday morning was by far one of the highlights for me. I get lost in music. Yet I feel God uniquely find me in that place. I think I love music even more because of that paradox.

Another highlight has for sure been all the great conversations I've had. I've been able to spend time (too brief, as always) with so many amazing people. I seriously am overwhelmed to tears by the stellar people God's put in my life. I feel undeserving to run with such giants. So, so thankful. And so, so humbled.

Okay - it's your turn. Give me four minutes of ... anything. Please?

Done.

green flossers and good intentions

The ziplock bag filled with green flossers caught my eye this morning, and reminded me that good intentions aren’t enough. Two weeks ago when I packed for this trip, I deliberately counted out enough flossers for every day I’d be gone. Even though I don’t normally floss everyday.

Oh, I wish I did. But the reality is... I don’t.

Yet I put 19 flossers in a ziplock and tossed them in my toiletry bag. Somehow simply bringing them made me feel better about my oral hygiene habits.

As if the desire alone is enough to get the job done.

But as I repacked my toiletry bag today, I couldn’t escape the truth that I didn’t floss any more than I normally do. And that I was bringing 16 flossers back home with me.

All my good intentions got me was a false sense of accomplishment at the start and a guilty conscience at the end.

Though I started off feeling quite proud of myself, the end result is a sense of failure. Over something silly like flossing.

But that's because this is actually about something far bigger than dental care.

It’s really about self-discipline. And follow-through. And genuinely doing something about those things I want to do something about.

Because good intentions alone won’t get me very far.

So excuse me... I need to go floss...