I haven’t posted in a couple weeks because our family took sort of a last-minute trip to Florida to visit a couple family members. We had tons of fun with the family and stayed with our aunt. We also did a couple things like going to antique stores and made sure to hit up the pool and Clearwater beach of course! I must say I lucked out when it came to clothes! We went down to John’s Pass and ate at the most delicious pizza place (It was so good). As I said before, we did take a few trips to antique shops but these were some of my favorite ones (Picture shown below). We found some really fun things and my mom bought a beautiful figurine at our last stop! We stopped by Bealls Outlet a couple times and found some things there. My favorite thing was hanging out with the family and going out to do fun things together! I’m sorry to say we lost a family member close to us just a couple weeks ago and he will be missed by many. We love you grandpa!
I recently found these multicolor Nine-West flats; They’re so comfy and colorful and make a great edition to my wardrobe! I decided to put together three really fun outfits to wear with these shoes and hopefully these pictures inspire you to play around with your outfits too. I love statement shoes and think that they look super cute when paired with a simple top and bottom. I do tend to add brighter colors and prints with a shoe like this (making sure that the whole outfit doesn’t look to busy). I hope everyone has a blessed week and a great day!
I feel so bad because I haven’t posted in so long! We’ve been really busy and have much more to do throughout these next couple months. We didn’t have a lot of really nice weather; It kind of went from rainy to snowing. This week it’s supposed to be so cold and has snowed so much here in Michigan that most everything (including the mall) has been closed for the day.
It’s snowed so much to the point that we’re practically snowed in at our house. Yet our driveway has been shoveled multiple times. So I figured I’d make a day of it and start blogging about what’s been going on and of course, include a comfy winter outfit!
Our holiday’s have been really fun and we’re excited for my school dance-party in February. Shortly after, I’m looking forward to selling my fashion illustrations at a craft fair. We then have plans to make a trip to Florida for spring break which means new swimsuits and going to the beach nonstop!
This outfit is comfy and casual and it’s really warm which I love not to mention will need in this weather! I’m pretty much just wearing this around the house but just in case we had to go out, it’s cute and presentable.
I hope all of you had happy holidays and are very blessed this new year!
This past season felt like an eternity. Not the season of summer, which passes all too quickly in northern climes, but rather this past season of life. Too often my cry, both to God and to the people around me, was, “I feel like I can’t breathe, like I’m drowning and there isn’t enough air.” Can’t breathe. Stuck, trapped, suffocating. It was one of those times in which everything – literally, everything – seemed to fall apart in every area of my life. Nothing felt secure. Truly, I think everyone has those moments or feelings or circumstances, yet the deepest lie is always that we are alone in our suffering. This is not the place for details, because those are no longer my focus, but you likely understand the niggling feelings of isolation and “drowning” from your own experiences. In my desperation all I could whisper to God was, “Hold me; I can’t breathe.”
In our thirst for adventure, our longing to fill the empty places inside ourselves, sometimes we turn to thrill for coping with what we cannot understand. We become thrill-seekers on the hunt for the next breath-stealing wonder. We actually seek out things that “take our breath away” because it gives a rush of pleasure, or adrenaline, or even a fleeting sense of hope. The truth of this thrill, though, is that after it steals our breath, it tends to leave us hollow, waiting for the next rush of a breathless moment.
Circumstances, situations, people, our own feelings – these can all steal our breath, be it for a moment that seems to hold awe or for a too-long stretch that leaves us suffocating. As I walked through my own season of breath-crushing moments – pain squeezing too tightly, panic weighing too heavily, and hopelessness too ready to take up residence – I began to recognize something utterly precious:
We are created for life, and life requires breath.
I was not made for breathless moments or having my “breath” stolen by fear or pain; I was made to breathe, freely and fully. Genesis 1 describes how God put His breath into mankind at the beginning of creation. Before God breathed His life into Adam, Adam was nothing more than dust, hollow and ready to be filled with what only God could give. Adam’s frame needed the breath of God in order to truly be alive. To be flesh and bones is not enough; we need the breath of life – physically, spiritually, and emotionally. You and I are designed for breath, dear hearts. It is part of who we are, yet too often we don’t notice this life-breath until we suddenly realize it is absent.
I couldn’t breathe emotionally or spiritually, and it’s terrifyingly amazing how that panicked desperation can trigger similar feelings in a physical body. I was looking for breath in all the wrong places, and in doing so tied my heart and mind to relationships, situations, and even roles that stole my breath. These ties seemed to steal my zeal to rise each new day to live and love well – to steal my very life. Suffocating.
Allow me to explain my three breath-stealers. Relationships can be the most agonizing and most subtle of these thieves. Please understand that a relationship (be it familial, romantic, friendly, or any other) need not be abusive in order to “steal” your breath. I say that relationships can be subtle in this way because you, like me, may have perfectly nice, well-meaning people in your life who are leeching slowly at the life-breath and passion you carry within you as the gift of the God who created you. These gifts are stolen through little compromises, through fear that says there may never be another relationship of this sort again, that you are not valuable or special enough to love or live any better. Relationships are glorious in that they allow for the intimacy of knowing and connecting, yet especially in romance it is critical to recognize where we might be stealing our own breath by remaining in unhealthy be-my-everything roles or by not allowing ourselves to be cared for. “Well, I can’t choose my family,” you may protest. Certainly, you do not choose the bloodline from which you come, but when you accept the overwhelming grace of Jesus Christ, you are given a new bloodline – a spiritual one – that is flawless and breath-giving. Marriage is sacred covenant between husband and wife, which is too easily put aside in the world today because people feel that their spouses are not fulfilling their needs – not giving them “breath,” so to speak. When we rely on any relationship to be a source of breath – or allow it to steal from the way God is calling us to live – we find ourselves in danger of either playing God or replacing God.
Situations that steal our breath – ah, why do we embrace the same options repeatedly and expect different results? That is the definition of insanity, yet we persist. Perhaps your breath-stealing situations were not your choice, being forced on you by the cruel, selfish choices of others (that is, by sin). Our breath is stolen when disappointment or pain creeps in: money once again not lasting until month’s end, the friend’s house in which you wish you never set foot, the same old story of being taken advantage of by those who know you’re too “kind” to deny them. Just one more problem, one more struggle to manage until it feels like dark water sucking us into the void. One of my greatest breath-stealers was my final example (examples become authentic when we’ve lived them!), in feeling intruded upon or taken advantage of by everyone from my closest loved ones to all the other random people who crossed my path. And this fits closely with the roles that I was permitting to steal my breath. Suffocating.
I like to care for everything and everyone – I am zealous about making certain all is well. When I fail to recognize my own desire to be needed, I easily find myself in roles where I am being exhausted in “do-gooding,” stealing my own breath in my quest to be the rescuer and meet every need. More, more, more; do, do, do. Yet for all my striving, my roles as rescuer or provider or daughter or anything else – these roles will steal my breath if I allow them to drag me away from the healthy parameters of grace that God sets. In the moments when my adopted notions of responsibility are crushing me, I remind myself of who God is: ‘“I, even I am the Lord, and beside me there is no savior”’ (Isaiah 43:11). This not only tells me who God IS but also who I am NOT. I am not the savior, the provider, the life-giver; those roles (and their responsibilities) belong to God alone. I am not the breath-giver.
There have been relationships that I needed to release because I was holding on, letting those relationships steal from my breath, crushing my zealous passion and the way God created me. These are not people I have stopped loving, but rather people whom I have allowed God to teach me to love differently, to love in such a way that I no longer seek them to fill all my needing for breath. Why would I deliberately choose any relationship that steals from my life breath, whether physically, spiritually, or emotionally? Or, perhaps better stated, why would I deliberately choose any relationship that does not give me breath? Why would I not choose to fill my life with people who are breath-giving to me, speaking truth and hope?
Relationships, circumstances, roles – in each of these areas we must guard against the temptation to either play God or replace God. Dear hearts, do not let others steal the breath God has given you. Guard your heart from small hope that would lead you to submit to circumstances. No matter how fortuitous – or disastrous – your current circumstances maybe be, they have no authority to steal your breath. Don’t give in to the lie that urges you to live one breathless moment to the next, that says panic or mania are the only options. Embrace the heights and depths and simply breathe. It is not your responsibility to be the breath for others. You may live well and love well, but know that ultimately only God is the Breath-Giver. Let Him do what only He can do. Breathe freely and fully, dear ones, and take courage.
Perhaps your heart is wailing, as mine was, “But I cannot breathe! My breath is gone.” Perhaps you don’t even have the breath left for such a wail. Suffocated. Dry. Lifeless. The question is, how do we recapture the breath? Perhaps you are like me. I didn’t know, after this long season, if I could breathe again. I felt hollow, void of life, void of breath. I couldn’t hide my numbness, my hollow nothingness. Could I breathe again?
“Prophesy to the breath, son of man.”
These are the words that flooded my mind. “Prophesy to the breath.” Those words – I knew those words. Ezekiel, chapter 37:1-14, in which God takes the prophet Ezekiel in a vision-dream to look upon a valley full of dry bones:
“Then He caused me to pass by them all around,
and behold, there were very many in the open valley; and indeed they were very dry.”
So very dry – oh, Lord, we are so very, very dry. I am just dust; I am undone.
‘And He said to me, “Son of man, can these bones live?”
So I answered, “O God, You know.”’
Can they? Can these bones live? Because I don’t know. But You do.
‘Again He said to me, “Prophesy to these bones, and say to them, ‘O dry bones, hear the word of the Lord! Thus says the Lord God to these bones:
“Surely I will cause breath to enter into you, and you shall live.
I will put sinews on you and bring flesh upon you, cover you with skin and put breath in you; and you shall live.
Then you shall know that I am the Lord.”’”
Is it so? Can there be life from this death, breath into the void?
“So I prophesied as I was commanded; and as I did, there was a noise, and suddenly a rattling; and the bones came together, bone-to-bone. Indeed, as I looked, the sinews and the flesh came upon them, and the skin covered them over; but there was no breath in them.”
Without breath, there is no life. All the proper components are there, but there remains only one Breath-Giver.
‘Also He said to me, “Prophesy to the breath, prophesy, son of man, and say to the breath, ‘Thus says the Lord God: “Come from the four winds, O breath, and breathe on these slain, that they may live.”’ So I prophesied as He commanded me. And breath came into them, and they lived, and they stood upon their feet, an exceedingly great army.”’
Lord, breathe on us, for indeed, we are dry bones without the Breath of your Spirit. Sons of man – children of dust, yet chosen by You. Are we forgotten? Are we too dry, drier than these? Is there hope for us?
Such sentiments as these were what God’s people were wailing: dry bones, lost hope, cut off, abandoned (v. 12) – utterly breathless. But God was not finished; their story was not over – this was the message given through Ezekiel:
‘“I will put My Spirit in you, and you shall live, and I will place you in your own land. Then you shall know that I, the Lord, have spoken it and performed it,” says the Lord.’
So I, too, will prophesy to the breath. I can be no one’s breath, not even my own, but I shall prophesy to it. I will speak to the breath in those around me, for I know the One who alone gives Breath. I will speak life to the dry places, because I know Jesus is Life (John 10:10, 11:25, 14:6). How will you prophesy to the breath today, sons and daughters? What places in and around you are dry and lifeless? Where do you need breath? Whatever may have stolen your breath – be it relationship, circumstance, or role – you have the power to speak life. Prophesy to the breath, brave ones, prophesy, for you know the Giver of Breath.
You are created for life. Don’t go another day breathless.
Earlier this year, while still in Michigan, I had an afternoon off and visited my former students at the previous school where I’d worked. For one of the classrooms I served, I made each child a special birthday treat of his or her choice – the only condition being that it had to be a treat I could bake (no Skittles!). Knowing that his birthday was not until after I moved schools, one intrepid lad made his request early, and I promised to bring this delectable treat on one of my visits. Though I had visited my students several times, I knew this occasion was the perfect opportunity to bake for Daniel. I had him called to the office to meet me, and I presented the treat – much to his delight.
While Daniel skip-hopped down the hallway clutching what I thought had been a surprise, I asked whether he thought
I had forgotten. “No,” he replied with a cheeky grin, as full of confidence as ever. “I knew you’d come eventually; I just didn’t know when.” Daniel knew that when I made a promise, I would keep it. He knew my heart for him and knew that I wouldn’t forget him. He wasn’t sure when the promise was going to be filled – but, oh, he had been anticipating its fulfillment!
Smiling down into Daniel’s face, a face shining with such pure confidence and excitement, I wondered where my own cheeky grin had been lost. Deep in my heart I heard the love-whisper of my heavenly Father: “Where is your cheeky grin that tells the world you are confident in my promises? Do you trust Me?”
Do I trust Him? I know Him. I know He is truly as good as He says. God, I know you – but do I trust you? I’m looking ahead and I’m feeling afraid because I can’t see where we’re going yet. Twenty-one years we have been dreaming together, He and I, since I was just a tiny girl. Oh, the places we’ve gone and the adventures we’ve had! I wouldn’t change a single aspect of this story, not even the heart-wrenching, teeth-clenching moments. All this time we’ve been walking together, and twelve years ago I let Him fully capture my heart. (Isn’t it beautiful that He woos us before we even know what love is because He alone is Love (1 John 4:8)? Romans 5:8 encapsulates the greatest Love Story of all time: “And God demonstrates His own love toward us, in that while we were still sinners, Christ died for us.”) After twenty-one years of dreaming with Him, do I trust His faithfulness? I humbly must confess that I don’t – not always. Help my unbelief.
When I am afraid, I want to have control because it makes me less fearful – if I have control, I can manage my expectations and even the outcomes. And I like to manage both those things. I then content myself with small hope instead of Jesus Christ, my Living Hope, because it seems less terrifying. Help my unbelief.
Somehow I trust that the sun will rise each morning, that I will have air to breathe, that the warmth will come again even though the winter may be bitter-cold – yet I struggle to trust that the Creator of all those steady processes will keep His promises to me. I honestly thought it would be easier after so many years together, but it’s true what they say (whoever “they” are): the older you get, the more you realize how much you don’t know.
While my parents were traveling, I stayed home with my then-five-year-old sister, who is the joy of my heart. In the stillness of one early morning, I heard the sound of a pair of small feet finding the floor as my sister jumped out of bed. I sleep in the room directly below her, so I hear and know every noise – even the little snuffling sounds she makes while she sleeps. Often when she wakes up, she calls down the vent (which doubles as our handy home intercom system), but this morning it was very quiet. I considered going upstairs or calling to her. Suddenly, the bedroom door burst open, and a tangle of blond curls appeared. Beaming her sweet smile at me, my sister declared, “I knew you’d be here, Honey. I knew you’d never leave me alone.” The reason it had been so quiet in the house was that she had tiptoed about, looking for everyone else. As she explained, she didn’t feel afraid when she couldn’t find anyone because she knew we would never leave her alone.
As she pressed her face to mine and I snuggled her close, my eyes filled with tears of wonder. This precious blessing is so confident, so secure in her trust of our family’s love for her. In that moment, my mind imagined me climbing up onto Father God’s lap and declaring, “I knew you’d be here!” That is what He wants for us, His children: to burst in shouting, “I knew it! I knew you wouldn’t leave me alone!”
I want to trust like that, like cheeky Daniel, like my joy-filled sister; I want to trust my Father’s faithfulness toward me, to trust His relentless kindness as both Promise-Maker and Promise-Keeper. I want to live my life not merely knowing my God is good; instead I want to embrace the freedom and delight of trusting that pure Goodness. I have promises that I have carried for all the years of my life, entwined so thoroughly into my being that I cannot separate them from my dreaming. Many of them have seen no fulfillment yet. But as I wait, I want my cheeky grin to be ever-handy, because I don’t know when but I know He always comes – because He’s just that faithful.
“Sing, O heavens; be joyful, O earth! And break out in singing, O mountains!
For the Lord has comforted His people and will have mercy on His afflicted.
But Zion said, ‘The Lord has forsaken me, and my Lord has forgotten me.’
“Can a woman forget her nursing child, and not have compassion on the son of her womb? Surely they may forget, but I will not forget you.
See, I have inscribed you on the palms of My hands; your walls are continually before Me.
Your sons shall make haste; your destroyers and those who have laid you waste shall go away from you. Lift up your eyes, look around and see….”
~ Isaiah 49:13-18
Beloved, our Father doesn’t hide from us; He never tricks or teases because He is never cruel. Do you know that He has never left, has never let go of you? Can you believe He is really that good? Though even those we love best may fail us, He never will. Trust that He always loves and never forsakes. He will be found by you when you seek Him, and you lack nothing in His goodness. He always comes. You are not forgotten. So prepare your cheeky grin, run with your bare feet – because He’s here. Oh, dear hearts, do you know?
I was thinking it over and when better to start posting then to do it towards the end of Autumn! I love fall not only because that’s the season of my birthday but also because of the way you get to go on walks through the park and see all of the beautiful trees that have changed color and can hear the crunching of leaves beneath your feet.
I am sometimes reluctant to wear a very uncomfortable outfit that takes a lot of work to pull off; But even though I prefer layers and big comfy things around this time, I still like to look cute and presentable in case I were to have a get-together with family (we usually have one or two of those this time of year) or some sort of party to go to. I like fall colors like jewel and earth tones but I personally like to incorporate brighter colors or stick with one of my favorite tricks that pretty much works with all seasons: Black and white! If you pair the two colors together and add just a little bit of color it makes the look really unique and fun! For example: A black top can be paired with a black and white polka-dot skirt and then add some bright colored heels and it makes for a super cute look for any season depending on how you layer it! Here is one of my recent Autumn favorites…
Because it is no longer spring and summer, it’s best to put on tights or leggings on under this look (which I did). I had so much fun taking pictures of this look and putting it together. I love this season and enjoy the fashion that comes with it including all the big sweaters and tall boots. I hope you all had fun reading and have a very blessed day!
As I made my first site visit to a new school this year, I found – as I would term it – a “bad word” scribbled broadly onto the back of a stall door in the bathroom. Not having an eraser handy that particular moment, I left it and determined to inform the janitor later. I forgot this seemingly small detail in the hubbub of another busy day working with my students. When I returned to the site several weeks later, I was aghast to find this scribbling still present for all to read. Not only that, but a packing box, tucked into a lonely corner, was adorned with equally inappropriate phrases. I resolutely snatched a brand-new eraser from my supplies. With half a dozen students watching curiously, I thoroughly erased the ugliness from the door. Next I fished a permanent marker out of a closet and squatted to cover those carelessly written phrases on the box. In that moment I decided: it was not enough to simply remove those graceless words; they needed to be replaced with words of life. “Be nice” – be kind, I wrote onto the box. These new words declared the former ugliness exposed but put in place a new set of words for my students to see.
As I made my renovations, I realized that so often we simply let words be – they come out, they are shared – but they take on an existence of their own. Words are powerful in their ability to destroy or to create, to cultivate death or offer life. By His word God spoke all creation into being, hanging the stars and fashioning a physical realm to display His handiwork (Genesis 1). It is with good reason that Proverbs declares, “Death and life are in the power of the tongue, and those who love it will eat its fruit” (18:21). My act of blotting and rewriting was about much more than maintaining school property or protecting the youngest students from words I hope they never learn. It was about removing what had no right to a place in either their lives or their environment.
It was not enough to simply remove those “bad words” that act as poison. To not cause death is not the same as offering life. And so in each moment I begin to ask, “Lord, how can I speak life?” That is the whisper-cry of my heart: “Speak life!” So I speak, I write – I simply offer whatever words of life well up within me. I speak to the dreams and the strengths, to the destinies and passions – all the glory of how people are created, as I behold them through the eyes of Jesus. Never have I looked upon anyone whom my Jesus has not already loved first and best, so I, too, seek to look with love. On a weekly basis I get messages or responses from friends, coworkers, students, and random people I’ve met – so many of these interactions have a similar phrase: “That is the kindest thing anyone has ever said to me.” “No one has ever told me anything so nice in my whole life.” “I’ve never shared that with anyone” or “We just met – how did you know?” Then I have the delight of watching LIFE happen, like the peaceful warmth of the sun shining down after a dark night, like birds joining sweet songs to the newness of spring. This is the kindness that we all crave – the kindness that sparks hope, that saves lives. A young writer shared a poem with me this week, and these lines captured my thoughts:
“So many people want to stay and survive
But the voices you give them want to make them die.
But they don’t want to leave their loved ones, so they stay alive;
Once the voices get louder all they can do is cry.”
Dear hearts, what have these voices been for you, these poisonous voices with their death-words? I know which ones they are for me – and I can think of moments where my voice was the pain of someone else’s heart. God forgive me for moments when my words carried the whispers or shouts of death; forgive the moments when my words were not meant to bring life-light to others. May my heart always be tender to offer life through word and deed.
“Do not let any unwholesome talk come out of your mouths, but only what is helpful for building others up according to their needs, that it may benefit those who listen. And do not grieve the Holy Spirit of God, with whom you were sealed for the day of redemption. Get rid of all bitterness, rage and anger, brawling and slander, along with every form of malice. Be kind and compassionate to one another, forgiving each other, just as in Christ God forgave you.” – Ephesians 4:29-32
To not speak death is not my goal. Rather, I want every word to hold the echo of life, of hope and grace. Where I look, I begin to see; and where I listen, I begin to hear – what voices of life need yet to speak? There is a life that was saved this week because of this kindness; there is a life that was saved two months ago by this kindness. There is a life that was saved in October last year and another many years ago in 2010. When Scripture declares that our words, our voices, can be either life or death, it is not purely figurative. There are physical, in-the-moment cries that this kindness answers in a way nothing else can. It is the right words, in the right moment, given in pure kindness. Your words can literally save lives – not because you are the savior of any but because you carry the love of the Savior of all: Jesus Christ, the Living Hope. And He is the best Word of all. There are other moments that this kindness touches and has touched that I may never see fully in this life, so I continue to speak life.
We are created for life, dear ones. What life are you speaking over yourself and others today? What words need to be erased? What new words need to take their place? Where is your voice meant to save lives, pulling others back from despair? I bless your voice to be one that carries words of life in every way, declaring Truth for every need.
“Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.” – Colossians 4:6
I wrestled with this title. I wanted it to be a reference to the gentleness of God the Father. Perhaps, though, that lies in a lingering misconception of gentleness as a part of God’s nature. “Grip” has some ugly (or at least undesirable) connotations. “The Art of Gentleness” seemed a much less…overpowering title. (Titling my blogs is a thought-consuming process!) Yet the Lord has been speaking to me about His relentless gentleness and His grip of grace that holds me fast. In Psalms David wrote to the Lord, “Your gentleness has made me great” (18:35). That verse forever altered my perspective on gentleness. The gentleness of God is not demure or soft. His gentleness is not puny and powerless, bending to meet the whims of others. It is not God’s conciliatory pat on the back in our times of sorrow and suffering. So often I have viewed God’s gentleness as a sort of secondary trait, the “weaker” or “lesser” part of His nature. But I have come to realize that is utterly wrong. There is nothing more fierce than God’s gentleness. His gentleness is relentless, fierce, and tender, meeting us where we are and pursuing us. In God’s hands, gentleness is mighty.
As I consider the gentleness of God, I think of my own daddy. As he used to do for my brother and I, so he does for my little sister. Just this morning my sister had a meltdown, and our family always has a solution for that: Daddy takes her flailing, sobbing, screeching, angry, sad self and says, “Right now you just need a big, squeezy hug from Daddy.” He then holds her body tight to his chest and won’t let go. Even though she might fling herself, push at him, or simply hang there in his arms and beg to get down, his arms hold her tight. “You don’t need to get down right now; you still need a big, squeezy hug. Stay here with Daddy,” he’ll tell her. He holds her until she quiets, her tears dry, and she cuddles into him instead of pushing away. He does this because he knows what she needs. Through the moments of pain and anger and deep sorrow, my daddy holds onto us. Relentless.
Last summer I remember pouring out the swirling emotions of my heart, full of confusion and angst, to my daddy. I didn’t really want him to give me answers – I didn’t need answers; I needed to be held. Even grown, I needed the comfort that only my daddy’s arms could offer. Thinking about these moments, I am utterly captivated by the gentleness that doesn’t relent. When I pushed away from my dad’s arms, thinking I could pull myself together after a few minutes, he didn’t let go. I didn’t need to “pull myself together”; I needed to be held, and my daddy knew that. The same arms have sheltered and held me through sorrows and joys alike. Relentless.
That is only my earthly daddy; our Heavenly Father is the source of gentleness, and His arms never fail. David was a warrior-king, a mighty man of valor. In Psalm 18 he describes how the Lord has prepared his hands for battle and how the Lord has protected him. He is worshipping the Lord for the deliverance and salvation that He has provided. The Lord scattered the enemies, vanquishing opposition with the mighty thundering of His voice and the miracles wrought by His hands. David has pursued and conquered his enemies. In the midst of this victory-song, he doesn’t exclaim, “Wow, God, your strength makes me great!” Instead he makes a baffling statement that is perhaps one of the most powerful one-liners in Scripture: “Your gentleness has made me great” (v. 35). Not the Lord’s thunderings, not the Lord’s blaze of glory nor His raw strength, but His gentleness. In this statement, David captured an essential part of God’s nature. Relentless.
“We wonder sometimes when God is so great, so terrible in majesty, that He uses so little violence with us, who are so small. But it is not His way. His way is to be gentle. He seldom drives; but draws. He seldom compels; but leads. He remembers we are dust. We think it might be quicker work if God threatened and compelled us to do right. But God does not want quick work, but good work. God does not want slave work, but free work. So God is gentle with us all — moulding us and winning us many a time with no more than a silent look.” – Henry Drummond, The Ideal Life.
The gentleness of God is not a lesser part of who He is. When all falls apart, when sorrow threatens to destroy us and the darkness to overcome us, there are His arms, relentless and offering a big, squeezy hug that holds us securely in our need. He knows how fragile we are, and He knows all the depths of our needs. He knew all our days and moments that would ever be before time began, while we were just a design and treasure in the depths of His heart. We may kick and scream, we may fear and doubt, we may be drowning in an ocean of tears – and still He won’t let go. It isn’t in His nature to give up on you. Stronger than steel, from everlasting to everlasting is His grip. It would be terrifying in its fierceness if not for the fact that He remains wholly tender. His gentleness is keeping you, dear heart, and it won’t let you go. The excellence of His strength lies in His relentless gentleness – not that we may be afraid but that we may be made great. More relentless than hungry flames, more fierce than a lioness protecting her cubs, more tender than the sweetest kiss – His gentleness makes us great. Dear heart, do not fear the inescapable wonder of His gentleness.
“Never!” – an oath we make far too easily and carelessly. There are certain things that I said I would “never” be willing to do. Never, no, not a chance. I looked at my life, peered blindly toward the future, and declared, “Never will I ever!” Therein lies my conundrum. Years ago I told Jesus “yes” while silently attempting to add stipulations. My mouth claimed I wanted Him, but places in my heart were not yet surrendered. I ensconced myself in the safety of my Neverland, a place I could be comfortable and in control of, a place that was enjoyable and sweet – or so I thought. Ah, dear heart, have you ever done the same?
If you’ve watched (or read) the story of Peter Pan, you know that Peter and his lost boys want to stay in Neverland, the place where they will never have to grow up or stop having the comfortable, carefree fun they so enjoy. I confess that I had not understood the draw of Neverland. To me, it seemed like a place to hide. If things got too hard or growing up became too tedious, Neverland was the alternative; yet I always wondered if that was merely a shadow of a life fully lived. (By the way, I am a
fascinating annoying great movie-watching companion, if you appreciate an analytical dissection accompanied by running commentary.)
There are times when my conversations with God are laced with please-don’t-make-me cries. I’ll do anything You want, but please don’t make me ________….. – just fill in the blank. It’s my own indirect way of begging “never.” Then there are the times when I tell Him that I simply don’t want to do what He is asking. Being comfortable is easy. It’s familiar, and I can understand it. I’d rather play games in Neverland than grow into a mighty woman of valor, because on the horizon I fear an Adventure with Jesus that I can’t control, a future wild and unpredictable to my finite imagination. I don’t want to sing in front of people, don’t want to be a classroom teacher, don’t want to live in cold places, was never interested in traveling to India, don’t, no, never…. – or, at least, I thought I didn’t. So flesh conflicts with spirit as my head struggles to comprehend the stirrings of my heart.
Piece by piece, word by word, the Lord has been tearing down my every “never,” stripping me of excuses. My never-oaths hold no weight in the eyes of my King of kings. Recently having found myself frustrated by His lack of acknowledgement regarding these never-oaths, I declared to God, “There you go again, changing my heart to be passionate about something I didn’t even want!” Yet my indignance was born of my need to surrender – not of true frustration. Finally coming to the end of myself, I am giving up my whole heart to Him. In these moments, what else can we do but laugh? Life with Jesus is one surprise after another, and still we are totally safe in the constancy of His nature. To quote Graham Cooke, “God is unpredictable but consistent. You never know what He is going to do next, but you ALWAYS know what He is going to be like.”
The true adventure is found not in my self-satisfied Neverland but in the Wilderness with the Love of my life. True adventure is utterly terrifying. I am now in a place that I had not expected, a point in life I never wanted to be. And I find it beautiful. This is the difference in doing life with God. What we so often miss is the power of our own choice. When we choose Him, He sets us free – but He’ll never force us to walk in that freedom. He wants His best for us – but He’ll never force it on us. It isn’t about Him forcing you into a life you don’t want. It isn’t about your becoming His henchman, obligated to cater to the His mysterious and changing whims. In fact, He alone is the One from whom all good things come (Jas. 1:17), and He doesn’t change – ever (Mal. 3:6). His ways and wisdom are no mystery, for He “has revealed them to us through His Spirit” (1 Cor. 2:10). So if God isn’t some vague, unknowable force, waiting to strike us down or toss in a shocking plot twist just for thrills, if He truly doesn’t strong-arm us into choosing His best, what IS this all about? It is about allowing Him to change your heart to desire the things He desires. As your heart changes, you will sincerely long to see His will done on earth and in your life as it is in heaven (Mat. 6:10): the full-blown picture of His glory and goodness.
God didn’t demand that I go to India, a country about which I had always shrugged my shoulders and declared I had no particular intention of visiting. Instead, He brought people into my life, offered opportunities, and began to speak to my heart about this new place and culture for me to love. He began to reconcile my heart to His, causing the desires of my heart to match the desires of His. Like a checkbook being balanced, all the columns began to add up correctly and the totals make sense. It was an Adventure born of my decision to say “yes” to the One who alone is good in all His ways.
God did not demand that I teach classrooms full of students. It began years ago when He whispered to my heart, “This is what I’m doing. If you want to do what I’m doing, you’ll do this” and I found myself attending college for Elementary Education. Reconciling. In the four years since, I continued to say that I would never be a regular classroom teacher. Yet now I find myself eager to take on classrooms of bright-eyed and belligerent students alike, falling completely in love with every student as I see the Father’s heart reflected through each one. I cannot resist the intense compassion and desire to nurture that swells within me as I teach. It has been an unexpected but freeing journey for me to admit that my never-oaths were holding me back from the fullness of what God has for my life and His glory. Reconciling my heart to His.
Sometimes we don’t understand the depths of His freedom until we comprehend the depths of our own bondage. I chose to surrender. Every day, every moment in which I forget that choice – I choose again to surrender, letting Him reconcile my heart to His. Hand in hand, He’s leading me out of my Neverland into a wild place with Him. The cry is no longer “Never!” but rather, “Here am I!” (Is. 6:8) – and all the wild, glorious adventures that follow.
As we begin to step out of our Neverlands, we walk into greater freedom. We become free in our laughter and our loving, free in our dreaming, free even in our hurting and our longing. The loveliness of life lies in allowing yourself to dream with Him. The Adventure is in the limitless of His kind nature and the richness of His heart toward you. In what areas of your life have you been holding back? Where is the Neverland that you’ve been hiding in? Is it fear keeping you there – or is it just the comfort? What dreams would you dream if your heart was truly free? Where have you chosen “safer” or “easier” or “less risky”? Where have you told God “no” or “never” – and what might you be missing because of that? Do you truly long for the things He longs for – do you really desire His best in your life? Talk with God about it; ask Him what He has to say. These are not easy answers, but honesty is the birthplace of freedom in our lives.
Join me in the journey out of Neverland, braveheart. No more hiding. It all begins with one decision: say yes to Him. This is a life without regrets, a life lived in freedom. The one “never” I can proclaim with confidence is that it is never too late. May our hearts be reconciled to His, one in desire and aim, because there is no other Adventure worth living.
“How was India?” This has been the question of loving and curious friends, family members, classmates, and acquaintances in even the few days since I returned from India. That question is so broad to encompass all the precious things God has worked (and is working!) in and through me from this journey. So, I will graciously answer this ubiquitous question with some stories and snippets of a time happily spent.
On my arrival in India, the people I was with were surprised, saying that they’d never had any visitors adjust so flawlessly to the time change and strain of travel. Apparently my “flawless adjustment” didn’t extend to the return trip, as I am currently in possession of my first true (and rather severe) case of jet lag. As I sit very still with a bowl of (dry) Cornflakes, I’m trying to pretend that my ever-loving dad didn’t just attempt to offer me such a stomach-churning item as milk to put over top of them. But I digress.
How was India, you wish to know? It felt like going home. Until I am in other places and other cultures, I rarely feel just how pseudo-American my own culture (and that of my family) is. I have had to repeatedly admit to myself just how much not only my faith and my family but also the places I’ve lived have influenced the woman I’ve become and the values I hold dear. Just because I look (and sometimes sound) like a Midwest-American, Dutchy girl from Michigan, that is not the setting that makes me feel most myself. The sunshine, the smells, the languages, the people, the spicy food, the ministry, even the traffic – I was so wholly well. In changing my environment and reaching out to others, I regained my perspective and found again my quiet place with Jesus. It’s amazing how looking past yourself and breaking from rigid monotony (even of “good” tasks and endeavors) can refocus your eyes on the most important aspects of life. So allow me to give you a tiny glimpse of India through the eyes of a girl who fell instantly in love with the beautiful country in which the air truly does smell like spices….
From a Mother’s Wisdom
Apparently, no matter what culture or country they are part of, mothers provide some of the most reasonable advice. While staying in Hyderabad with a friend’s family who welcomed me with astonishing kindness and love, I was given my favorite piece of advice. This moment was made all the more splendid by the fact that I speak practically no Telugu and Mama speaks practically no English. As we rode in the car one afternoon, Mama admonished me to not spill my coconut water on my saree, as the stain wouldn’t come out of the fabric. This admonishment to be cautious was accompanied by miming of what I should, under no circumstances, do if I wanted to keep my saree in good repair. For this white girl wearing her first saree, it was a much-needed piece of motherly advice!
In the Tradition of India
Yes, you read correctly above – I really did wear a saree, and not just one I’d picked up and attempted to put on in tourist-like fashion. My friend’s mother chose sunshiny-yellow (how could she have possibly known it is one of my favorite colors?) fabric and had all the proper pieces of a true saree made for me. Mama and sisters laughed and flocked around as they all fussed and pinned, dressing me in the true tradition of India – not as an outsider but as a guest and one of the family. I’m not sure who enjoyed it more – me or Mama! Secretly I have always wanted to wear a saree, but I would never have had one made for myself. Utterly comfortable in my own skin and appropriately garbed as a daughter of India (complete with a full set of bangles!), I enjoyed the day exploring Hyderabad with the family. I never realize how much I stand out at times, but among only Indian people wherever I went, I (especially with my blond hair) was quite a novelty.
As Only the Holy Spirit Can Do
I was invited to share at the family’s church in Hyderabad, having met the pastor and zealous children’s and youth leaders the previous week during the awesome leadership-ministry training which I helped facilitate. (It was neat to build new connections there simply by knowing friends in the U.S.!) There was some discussion: perhaps I would guest-lead the children’s ministry that Sunday, or perhaps I could introduce the ministry model for the congregation and share a bit about myself. So what actually happened Sunday morning? When I arrived, I was handed a microphone and invited to preach the Gospel, minister to my brothers and sisters in Christ, and explain and implement a whole new ministry model of listening prayer and learning to hear God’s voice. As my dad would say, it was my first “full preach” – my first time acting as teacher-pastor for the whole church body. Oh, and it was beautiful! God had been preparing my heart with a message, and I was prepared to be flexible in whatever was asked of me and whatever God wanted to do.
I was blessed to have an effective translator to support my weak area (i.e. my current non-command of Telugu). Though he had as much prior notice about his task as I did mine, I was truly humbled by his willingness to take on such a daunting job for the first time. In that sun-warmed church, my heart was awed afresh as I watched the Holy Spirit do what only He can do, ministering directly to the hearts and needs of each of God’s children, be they grown or small. As we moved into a quiet listening time as a church, waiting to each hear what God was speaking to us, the Holy Spirit spoke in ways that these brothers and sisters could understand. Visions, descriptions of colors, and precious new prayers poured forth as we began to share and pray into the things God spoke through His Spirit. Though I began the morning tired and deeply saddened by the long-distance loss of my beloved great-grandmother the previous night, there was nothing more refreshing than to place myself in the community of brothers and sisters in that place. God is so faithful to meet us in each moment! (Feel free to ask for more specific stories, as I’d love to share!)
Good Morning, India!
Though the weather during my first week was certainly more cloudy, I enjoyed waking up to twittering birds, sunshiny warmth (rising beyond 80 degrees Fahrenheit on many afternoons), and the sounds of trade and traffic stirring for a new day. While in Hyderabad, I had the further pleasure of enjoying the sounds of family waking, as well as the 5:45 A.M. call to prayer from a nearby mosque – the quirky alarm suited my love of early mornings!
At the Heart of Family
I knew some of what to expect from extensive conversations in which my dear friend graciously answered dozens of odd questions ranging from how best to exchange currency to how I should address his various family members. Still, even armed with so much knowledge, one must be ready to go with the flow and learn through experience. Even knowing how much my friend loves his family, I was struck by how close-knit the family was. I met dozens of aunts, uncles, and cousins, being bolstered by the aid of brothers who acted as impromptu interpreters and the recipients of my many, many more questions. Much more so than American culture, family is at the heart of Indian culture – and the heart of family is in togetherness and care for one another. With the little cousins crawling on me and calling me “big sister” in Telugu (akka), I was reminded of just how precious a blessing family is – and how much there is to learn from other cultures.
At Meal Time
As I learned when I arrived, the Indian states of Andhra Pradesh and Telangana (together as the single state of Andhra Pradesh until a couple years ago) are known for the spiciest food in all India. I almost started dancing with glee – bring on the flavors of India! Other than the fact that I couldn’t consume a satisfactory quantity of food to please the family I stayed with (love = lots of food), I enjoyed the new textures and spices. There are enough types of curry to boggle your mind, and I was blessed to enjoy delicious homemade meals in both areas where I stayed. Very little beef or pork is eaten in the area, if at all, based primarily on the general religious beliefs and customs. Chicken, vegetables, or lentils provide the base for many types of curries. Biryani and tamarind rice are two special types of rice dishes made for special occasions, and they have very specific spices that each cook prefers to use. And if the heat gets to be too much in your mouth, don’t worry – most meals are served with curd, a type of cool, thin yogurt-sour cream, that you can mix with your curry or eat at the end of the meal with rice to soothe your palate. If you get really delightful curds, like I tasted, there might even be freshly sliced bits of red onion and cilantro mixed in – yum! (And no, I do not really have any photographs of food. That is too millennial-hipster for me, and it is hard to photograph something when you already literally have a hand in it!)
Did You Know…
In the areas where I was, families eat together while simply sitting around comfortably, often without a table. (Where I was, the lack of table simply made more space for family to crowd close and enjoy the meal.) And, coming from a part of Hindu culture that has permeated India in general (whether Hindu or not), you eat particularly with your right hand – no utensils. I actually became fairly good at this in a short period of time, helped by the fact that rice is a main staple and provides an excellent tool for “sticking” the curries together. I used a spoon the day after I got back to the U.S., and it seemed a bit foreign at first!
Beep, beep! The horns on vehicles in India are not merely accessories. They are, in fact, vital and constantly-used tools to let other street traffic (whether wheeled or otherwise!) know where you are and where you want to go. After living in Nairobi, Kenya, for a couple years, I found the traffic of India comfortingly familiar in its hectic bustle – and not nearly so shocking as I was preparing myself for!
And Just Because Traveling Can Be Amusing…
Upon being escorted to the airport at the end of my trip, I was happy to have my friends wait with me until my flight was boarding. As we sat sipping on a variety of hot and cold drinks (definitely a cold one for the MI girl who felt like it was summer in the winter of India!), an elderly British man walked past, and I stared in bewilderment. Much to the amusement of my companions (who were looking at me oddly), I began to laugh, because, just as he looked like an anomaly to me, that was how I probably appeared to everyone else. I just hadn’t seen any white people in some time, and it was difficult not to stare! It’s amazing how unobtrusive I felt after only a handful of days, even walking the streets with my friends.
After two weeks in India – and hearing almost exclusively Telugu for the second week – I was traveling back to the U.S. (albeit somewhat reluctantly!). As I waited in the Paris airport, a flight attendant asked me a question about my checked luggage. I stood staring blankly at her, trying to translate in my mind what she could possibly mean – until I realized that she had spoken in accented but flawless English. It took several minutes for me to understand that I hadn’t recognized my own language being spoken!
Speaking of the Paris airport, I was made to remove all my bangles form my arms while going through security (not a quick task, I assure you!). As I somewhat grumpily removed them, I started to laugh at how different the Indian airports had been in regard to security measures – after all, what good reason would there be to remove all one’s jewelry?! Even though it seemed silly to me after the places I had just come from (and to others coming from other parts of India or Africa), with stern Parisian TSA officers staring me down, I decided it was best to follow directions.