healing in the storm

Africa has the greatest storms. The rainy season finally comes after months of drought. By the time the first drop falls, the earth is cracked and parched. Lakes and ponds have all but dried up. The tall savannah grass is brown and brittle.

The earth is thirsty. Ready. Waiting.

And then, out of nowhere one day, the storm clouds roll in.

The blackened sky sobs heavy tears. You can feel the thunder deep in your bones as it echoes through the plains. The lightning makes you jump with fear and paralyzes you with awe all in the same loud, bright instant. The wind reminds you that only God could tie the trees down tightly enough.

Africa's storms are altogether wonderful.

And altogether terrible.

Water rushes into homes, through the cracks in mud hut walls and the gaps in old thatch roofs and the seams in tin shack ceilings. Gusts of wind blow right through bedrooms and marble-sized hail destroys gardens. Those with only their feet for transportation run for any cover they can find---the bus stop, the liquor store, the first home they can reach in the village.

The storms are harsh. And unrelenting. And inconvenient.

And yet, they are welcomed.

There is a joy about the rainy season. "We need it," is what you'll hear.

"We need it."

They find it easy to say. Easy to see. Easy to recognize and acknowledge that as challenging as the storm may be, good will come of it. It is, after all, an answer to countless prayers for the sun-scorched ground of Africa.

They know that the thirst can't be quenched without the storm.

Spring can't come without the rain.

New life can't bud deep beneath the surface of the dry, crusty ground until the heavens unleash their fury.

The drought doesn't end until the storms start.

We need it.

I need it.

I need this storm in my life. Not as punishment or discipline or as some cruel cosmic joke that has God chuckling to Himself. I need it because of what's waiting on the other side, that I can't see yet.

I need it because my cracked, dry heart doesn't remember anymore what it feels like to be filled to overflowing.

I need it because everything in my life has turned the bare, barren brown of winter. And I'm despearte for the life-awakening green of spring.

I need it.

Even when I hate it.

Africa reminds me to take joy in the downpour.

For there is healing in this storm...

Originally a guest post at Mary DeMuth's...

i kissed dating goodbye

I didn't date until I was 20, and my first and only boyfriend became my husband a couple years later. He is the only guy I've ever kissed; he's the only one I've ever slept with. And somewhere along the line, without even realizing it, I assumed that had earned me some brownie points with God.

After all, I'd "kissed dating goodbye". I'd saved myself for my husband. Subconsciously, I thought that guaranteed an incredible, lasting marriage.

But then he cheated on me.

And ultimately chose her over me.

In some ways, it feels like I'd saved myself for nothing... Like none of it mattered.

I know, at least on some levels, that that isn't true. I know that even my "all things" are intended for my good, even when it's impossible to see. I know that He is redeeming, restoring, rebuilding me, for His ultimate purpose.

I also know that redemption doesn't usually look like we think it will.

And that there are no brownie points to be had. There are no guarantees, no obligatory blessings, no automatic protections or provisions.

Life is just plain hard. Even though God is good.

Even though God is good.

And even when I "kissed dating goodbye".

I hope to someday see the bigger picture. The full circle. The "none of it mattered" transformed into "every bit of it mattered".

But even if I don't, even if I won't, I'm still called to trust Him. To live on the truth of what He says and who He is.

Because then and only then...

All of it mattered.

Originally a guest post at Love Wins

eternity in our hearts

"He has planted eternity in the human heart."

Such a beautiful, divine thought...

Eternity is planted deeply in the soil of my heart. Placed there by God Himself.

If eternity is within me, then the past and the future exist in each moment just as much as the present does.

Trying to wrap my brain around that makes my head hurt. Such an unfathomable concept.

But the idea that eternity courses through me with every beat of my heart, seems to make some sense of my too-often struggle with being fully present in the moment.

I'm not very good at living in the now.

I am more likely to dwell on the past or restlessly wander ahead into the future. Both hold fears and hopes, of entirely different kinds. And both can either rob me of my present or enhance it.

God is timeless---existing simultaneously before now, after now, and right now---and He's planted the seed of His timelessness inside me.

As a gift, not to be fought against, but to be embraced.

There is a reason He wants me to live in the tension that past, present, and future create as they collide in every single moment. There is a purpose in the struggle.

Maybe embracing the now doesn't mean switching off the ever backward- and forward-wandering of my heart.

Maybe, instead, it means choosing to engage my present in light of the regrets and joys of my past, and the hopeful, sometimes fearful, yearnings of my future.

I need to remember that the One who was and is and is to come, lives within me, stabilizing me in the uncertainty of what was and is and is to come.

When I do, I live more mindful that God is in control. I live with more active trust in Him.

The constancy of Christ at work inside me---He who is the same yesterday, today, and forever---provides an anchor for my unpredictably inconsistent heart.

And that anchor holds fast.

No matter how turbulent the storm may be.

[Originally a guest post at Mel's World...]

just me

There's a reason (or many of them...) that I don't video-blog. But I made an exception... My friend Toby is hosting Ladies' Week on his site this week, and I feel incredibly honored to be a part of it.

When he first asked me, I had lots of excuses reasons why I couldn't. And then I ended up deciding I should. I don't know why... I just felt like I needed to...

So please remember that I'm better at writing than speaking (dang, I love me some backspace), and (please?!)  have grace for my awkward, stumbling-over-myself ways... and then link over to Toby's to watch my video interview...

Here's me.... Sharing my story...

(and then stick around Toby's site to watch the videos of the other amazing women taking part in Ladies' Week. In-cred-i-ble!)

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...]