God Gives Great Gifts

By now it has become an obvious truth to me: God will surprise you when you least expect it. He has a way of making the ordinary extraordinary. Today as I began my journey home for Christmas, I expected nothing spectacular from my flight. God, however, had other plans.

Passengers were boarding the flight and I had already cozied myself up in seat 7A, trying to make the most of the overly-confined space I was allotted. I had my book out and my currently favorite song set on repeat. I was about to put my headphones in as the woman who occupied the seat next to me walked up. She was with her son and she seemed both surprised and worried to find the seat next to her already taken. 

She spoke aloud to her son about how they were supposed to be seated together. She noted her son's seat was also next to one that was already spoken for, so she couldn't just move up to where he was and claim the other seat. "But we were supposed to be together," she'd say, as if repeating this thought would help her find a solution. She spouted off her concerns in a way which conveyed that their sitting apart wouldn't be a good idea. 

"She's going to ask me to move," I thought.

It was selfish of me, but I hoped she wouldn't. I had no good reason for it either, except that I was already comfortable and I hate the aisle seat. Like I said, not exactly a good reason. Thankfully, the Spirit yanked me out of my self-centeredness, and rather than feel entitled I felt compassion. She was going to ask me to move- I knew it- and if she didn't I was going to offer it. Sure enough, she asked if I would mind switching seats with her son and I kindly obliged her request.

Really, it wasn't a big deal. I figured my routine would still be the same: put in my headphones and sleep during takeoff to avoid motion sickness, and then wake up thirty minutes later to read for the remainder of the flight. I'm not one to socialize much while traveling because I am so prone to motion sickness-it's all I can do to keep from getting sick.

Anyway, I walked over to my new seat and the man next to me offered a friendly "hello" as I got situated. I appreciated that he didn't ignore my existence as many airline passengers tend to do, and he seemed rather nice, so I decided to put off my isolation process for a moment. "Hi," I said. "Are you heading home for Christmas?" (I'm a great conversationalist, aren't I)? 

As it turned out, I never got around to shutting my eyes or putting my headphones in, and I wasn't the least bit disappointed or nauseated. Steve and I talked for the entirety of my nearly three-hour flight, and I was so blessed by it. I think he was, too. My airline friend was a father of three daughters, and he also happened to be a Christian. We spoke of many things such as life, family, school, the book I was reading, and most importantly, God. The conversation inspired me in so many ways, and I really can't do it justice but to say it left me feeling uplifted and rejuvenated. This seat, this conversation, and this man had certainly been a gift from God. 

I so enjoyed that God took what would've been a perfunctory flight and made it into a glorious, delightful present for His daughter. I couldn't help but notice, however, that He asked me to give first.

God does this, doesn't He? He asks us to give and to sacrifice, but He surely has joy to give in return. God asks of us, but always with a plan to give to us. If, though, in those moments we are stuck in our own world of selfishness, we can miss out on such beautiful gifts because we are too consumed with what we are asked to give up. 

I know this story is a silly illustration for this, but I believe the principle is still there. Sometimes God asks us to give up something much greater than the window seat on an airplane, but I believe He always has a purpose and that "in all things God works for the good of those who love Him," (Romans 8:28).

God will ask, but He will also give. He has wonderful opportunities and gifts for us, if only we are first willing to give. 

And let me tell you, God gives amazing gifts. 

Rejoice, People. He Has Come

This Christmas season, though still young, has been vastly different than any I've experienced before. There are a handful of reasons for it, I’m sure; one of which is the fact that it’s the first I've spent truly away from home. It’s also the first without experiencing freezing temperatures or any sort of snowfall. It is a season of firsts, that is certain, but what I've noticed most about this particular Christmas season is the great difference in my attitude.

Now, my mom always taught my siblings and me that Christ was the true meaning of Christmas, so I don’t mean to say that I've had a sudden revelation regarding the reason for the season. This year, however, I've been unable to get through a single rendition of Oh Come, Oh Come Emmanuel without shedding tears of thanksgiving and joy. I haven’t stumbled upon a new realization of what Christmas is all about, but I have found, I believe, a deeper understanding and gratitude.

This probably has something to do with the fact that for the past eight months I've been devouring the Old Testament, reading every day about the history between God and His people, the Israelites. For eight months I have read about how the Israelites continually turned their backs on God, and how God treated them with mercy, love, and compassion in return. I have read numerous stories about how devastatingly wicked these people had become, but how God was always calling them back to Himself through discipline in the midst of it. I have read chapter after chapter proclaiming it was too late for these people whose hearts were too hard, and that God had no choice but to destroy and scatter His people.

“Behold, the eyes of the Lord God are on the sinful kingdom, and I will destroy it from off the face of the earth …” Amos 9:8a.

Yet even in God’s act of destruction, I read of His mercy.

“…yet I will not utterly destroy the house of Jacob, declares the Lord. For surely I will command and will sift the house of Israel among all nations, as grain is sifted in a sieve; yet not the smallest grain shall fall to the ground,” Amos 9:8b-9.

Even throughout the entirety of Israel’s betrayal and wickedness, I read of promises about how God had a plan to restore His people.  

“Nevertheless, I will bring health and healing to it; I will heal my people and will reveal to them abundant peace and truth. I will bring Judah and Israel back from captivity and will rebuild them as they were before. I will cleanse them from all the sin they have committed against me and will forgive all their sins of rebellion against me. Then this city will bring me renown, joy, praise and honor before all nations on the earth that hear of all the good things I do for it; and they will be in awe and will tremble at the abundant prosperity and peace I provide for it,” Jeremiah 33:6-9.

Yes, He would scatter His people and desolate the land because of their wickedness, but He would also give a promise of hope and redemption.

“Behold, the days are coming, declares the Lord, When I will raise up to David a Shoot of righteousness; and He will reign as King and act prudently, and will execute justice and righteousness in the land. In His days Judah will be saved and Israel will dwell securely; and this is His name by which He will be called, The Lord our Righteousness,” Jeremiah 23:5-6.

If all the verses and symbolism have you asking, “Wait, who is Jacob and where is his house? And what in the world is a sieve?” then let me put it simply for you. God’s people, the Israelites, became so wicked and sinful that God could no longer withhold His anger from them (“I am full of the wrath of the Lord; I am weary of holding it in,” Jeremiah 6:11). He was going to pour it out on His people, thus afflicting and scattering them across the world to be slaves in other lands.  However, because God is full of love and mercy, He refrained from completely annihilating them. Though He still punished them, He promised them a day of healing, restoration, and redemption. He promised to them Jesus.

The Israelites became a people who didn't want God. They hardened their hearts against Him, disgusted Him with their sinful practices, and chose to live in a way that wasn't listening to, seeking out, or loving to God. They refused to repent or turn from their ways, further solidifying their distance from Him. They were so deep in depravity, yet God still entreated them not to be afraid, for He was with them to save them.

They said no to God, and He still said yes.

So He sent to the world His Son, Jesus, to live a perfect and holy life and die in the place of all the transgressions that were committed against Him. He offered Himself up to be punished in the place of the betrayal and the wickedness that once grieved and angered His own heart. Jesus came for His people. God so loved us that He sent us His Son, that once again He could be our God and we could be His people.

Are you getting this? Because simply writing this brings tears to my eyes as I attempt to find words to explain how awesome this is.

Before my eight-month stint in the Old Testament, I would've said Christmas is about celebrating the birth of a Savior who came to die for our sins, and that would have been a fair answer. Now, however, I find such glorious beauty in the first half of that sentence, I could celebrate all season on that simple truth alone: the birth of a Savior who came. It is about the birth of God who came for us. It is the birth of God. It is to celebrate the love of our God who was determined to have us as His own; they will be my people, and I will be their God.

God came for us, you see, and that is what Christmas is all about. God, despite being disregarded, disobeyed, and disrespected, ran after His people who forsook Him. He came to us because He loved us. God came for us, to us. This truth is blowing my mind this Christmas season.

Unintentionally I spent eight months preparing my heart for the coming of Jesus. I metaphorically lived in the world of the Old Testament that was unrepentant and far from the God who loved it. I lived in the longing for a Savior. And now, as I sing the Christmas lyrics, “Rejoice, rejoice. Emmanuel shall come to thee, Oh Israel,” I can’t help but be overcome by tears of thanksgiving and joy, and I rejoice. I rejoice, for it is true: He has come.

Thank you, Jesus, that you have come for us.

And to all of you out there reading this: Merry Christmas.  

“For a child is born to us, a Son is given to us; and all dominion is upon His shoulder; and His name will be called Wonderful Counselor, Mighty God, Eternal Father, Prince of Peace. To the increase of His dominion and to His peace there is no end …” Isaiah 9:6-7a.

We Need Him Like Water

I want to be honest with you: I didn't want to write this post. I was so discouraged, in fact, I wasn't sure I’d ever write another blog post again. I didn't think it mattered. Even as God prompted me to write this morning, I told Him I didn't want to anymore. Not like this, anyway.

I explained to Him how I felt it wasn't making any difference to anyone, yet it was emotionally draining and risky for me because I write with such vulnerability. I questioned why I should open my heart so much if it didn't even matter, and the answer I gave myself was that I shouldn't.

God patiently responded to me, but He didn't try to convince me that my writing mattered, that people were reading my blog, or remind me of the great importance of impacting even a single soul. Instead, He said to me, “Be faithful with little, and I will give you much.”

I wish I could tell you right now that I believe in my writing. I wish I could say that I believe what I’m about to write is important and it’ll change you. I wish I could say that I believe it is worth it. I can’t.  All I can say is that I believe in the God who speaks to me, God our Father and the Lord Jesus Christ, and I believe that He can (and will) speak to you as you read this, regardless of whatever words I choose to put on this page.

Maybe that’s all I need to believe, anyway, for my writing to make a difference.

So here I am writing when it’s the last thing I’d like to do, just to be faithful to the God I believe in, because I trust that He will move and speak and touch hearts even through my simple words. That is my prayer for you, friend. I hope and pray this matters.

............

God spoke to me this morning about my great need for Him, and He did so through my friend Fred. For this to make sense to you, I must let you know Fred isn't exactly my friend in the typical sense: he is my water bottle. Originally he carried a brand of water named Fred, and so I've jokingly called him such ever since. This bottle is super cool because it carries an entire liter of water, which means I only have to drink the whole thing twice to get my daily amount. I appreciate this, because Fred has been faithful in keeping me hydrated throughout a long week of work during which I’d usually become dehydrated. Plus, it’s a slim bottle, so it’s not awkward to carry around.  

Okay, back to my story: God using Fred to speak to me. So, I walked into the break room at work today consumed by great sadness. I was so full of hurt, anger, insecurity and discouragement that I didn't think I’d be able to make it through the day without crying out on the show floor. I knew I desperately needed to hear the voice of my Father if I were going to function at all today.  I sobbed as I sat at an empty table, repeating the same four words over and over again. “I need you, God. I need you. God, I need you.” I needed His light to break through the darkness that was surrounding me, and assuredly enough, God was faithful. He gave me the strength, comfort, and peace I needed in that moment.

My eyes started to dry and my burdens began to lift, and I praised God for His goodness. I sat back feeling better, yet still as if I weren't ready to face the day. Then God said to me, “It’s not enough.”

Huh?

“It’s not enough to come to me when you’re thirsty. That will not satisfy you. You must drink of me, of my life-giving water, continually every day. If you don’t hear my voice or feel my presence in the little things, the big things will never be enough.”

I began to cry (ironically, because I had just finished crying) as I understood how true God’s words to me were.

“I do God, you’re right! I need you all the time. Every day. In every moment! Not just the difficult ones. I need you like… like …”

“Like water.”

“Yes!” As He said it I knew He meant more than the mere similarity of survival. No, I was sure He meant the way in which I need water is also the way in which I need Him: constantly. 

If you’re not trailing with me at this point, let me explain. You see, we humans need a lot of water. The consensus is about 64 ounces of required water per day, which is equivalent to drinking a two-liter bottle of pop each day (but filled with water, of course). Plus, that amount is only the basic minimum. If you drink coffee daily, you need more water. If you exercise, you need more water. If you work outside, you need more water. Our lifestyles and the choices we make affect our necessary amount of water intake.

So that’s a lot of water, right? I mean, a two-liter of water is pretty hefty. How are you going to drink all of that in one day? It’s simple, really. You’re going to carry around a water bottle with you everywhere you go and drink it one sip at a time. Maybe you’ll take a few big gulps in the morning to get you started, but if you do it throughout the day you’ll end up drinking more water than you even thought possible.

Do you see what I’m trying to say here? This is how we need the Lord!

Just as we wouldn't quench our thirst for the entire day by drinking a glass of water in the morning, neither can we quench our thirst for God by a mere hour of “quiet time” or bible study after we wake. We need Him as we need water: constantly. Maybe that looks like a day consisting of five-minute prayers here and a few short worship songs there, with a few intermittent chunks of bible reading. Maybe it looks like a simple, continual conversation with God throughout the day. I’m sure it could look like a lot of different things, to be honest, yet they all will look like carrying a water bottle around so you can drink from it perpetually.

This is what God was explaining to me today; that I desperately need Him, and I need Him continually. I need Him even when I don’t feel thirsty, just as we need water. (Side note: when you feel thirsty for water, technically you are already dehydrated). I need to hear His voice all the time, and not just when I need the affirmation. I need to feel His presence all the time, and not just when I need the strength.

It is the constant relationship with God that keeps me spiritually hydrated, not just the monumental moments.

The grand experiences with God are great and I don’t deny their significance, but I will always run dry if I don’t drink all the time. God isn't someone I need solely when I’m upset or hurt or afraid. He is faithful to me and present with me in those times, of course, but if I only seek Him in those certain times, it will never be enough. 

Indeed, it is true. I need God like I need water: constantly. 

A Stranger in a Foreign Land: This is Not My Home

"For this world is not our permanent home; we are looking forward to a home yet to come." Hebrews 13:14

I once heard it said that attitude is the difference between an adventure and an ordeal. I've loved the saying ever since, and have even quoted it to myself when tempted to entertain a poor attitude about circumstances, places, or life. I probably like it so much because it makes me feel like I can turn anything into an adventure with the right perspective- and I love adventure- but I also think it makes a good point about how greatly the right attitude can affect everything. 

I know, I know, you've heard this before. "Have a good attitude, blah blah blah." I get it. I'm sure it seems like I'm about to "beat a dead horse," as my mom would say, but I'm merely interested in telling a story; I only hope it's importance won't be lost on you. You see, my outlook has changed regarding a handful of things this year, and I've realized how vital perspective is. It's so powerful, in fact, that the other day I cried tears of joy over what I once scoffed. Perspective changes everything.

One of my many passions in life is traveling. I'm almost certain I've taken some sort of road trip every single year of my entire life, and I'm not talking about a "let's drive two hours to the beach or up north to our cabin" type of vacation. These trips were the real deal. I grew up traveling because my mom and dad loved it too, and once I was old enough to travel on my own, I did. One of the things I appreciate so much about going to new places is the change in perspective they always bring. Maybe it's because I think a whole lot, but new sights never fail to bring me new understanding. 

As you can probably guess, my outlook has notably changed in many ways since moving to California ten months ago. For example, I have a different understanding of what hot means. Yes, 115 degree cloudless, windless, moisture-less weather set quite a new standard for me. I now understand previously unfamiliar things like what it means to have a Michigan accent and what it feels like to be lonely. I also have an unprecedented appreciation for freshwater Great Lakes and the perpetual change of seasons. 

This is what different places, cultures, and people will do- they can change the way you view the world if you let them. 

I have gained many fresh perspectives throughout this year, but the one that has had the biggest impact on me has been the way I look at home. Home: even the word itself is much sweeter to me now. 

Before I moved across the country, I suppose I was more indifferent towards my home. I didn't cherish it like I do now. It wasn't that I disliked my family, my community, or my state- I deeply loved them all- but it was all I had ever known, and I guess I wanted something different. I looked forward to the day when I'd move away, and though I was sad to leave, mostly I was excited to move on. Back then, home was just where I had come from, but it wasn't where I wanted to stay. 

The longer I stayed in California, however, the more I wanted only to be home. It got bad, and consequently it got quite sad. I would become so homesick at times that I'd spend hours snuggled in my Michigan clothing as I flipped through pictures of my family and friends while the worship CD from my old church played in the background. I indulged in everything that had anything to do with my home, desperately wishing I was actually there. It's even embarrassing to type that out- I was certainly (home)sick. 

I once told my roommate I felt I didn't belong here in California. I was partly joking, yet mostly serious as I said to her, "I want to feel about this world as I do about the Central Valley- this place is not my home." She laughed, but my own words struck me hard. I felt a sort of desperation to say, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" It was as if I knew of this place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and where I was certainly wasn't it. Though in my mind I was thinking about my home in Michigan, I wanted my heart to be thinking that way about heaven. I really do want to feel this way about the world, I thought. Just as the Central Valley pales in comparison to my home back East (no offense), I want this world to do compared to heaven.   

This world is not my home. 

Last week I boarded a flight to visit home for eleven days. I could feel my heart beating quickly as I thought about my family and friends I'd soon be seeing, and the glorious weather I would soon be experiencing. I would catch myself smiling subconsciously, wondering if strangers had noticed my peculiarity, grinning at what seemed to them to be nothing. I couldn't wait to be home, and I spent the entirety of my flight in eager anticipation. I thought back to the times I had felt this way about traveling to California, and I thought it funny how much my heart and mind had shifted. 

After six hours and one layover, the plane finally began its descent into Detroit as the pilot announced the 56 degree, mostly cloudy day. I wish I would've timed how long it took us to fly through the clouds- I'm sure it was a good five minutes. We finally broke through and I cried as soon as I laid eyes on the flat-landed metropolis that lay under the thick blanket of cumulonimbus. It was far different than the exquisite mountains or canyons I had flown above on the way over, but it was better. It was plain- gray, almost- in the most beautiful way. It was home. As we neared landing I began to see the beloved features of Autumn as amazing hues of green, yellow, orange, red, and brown covered the landscape. There was nowhere else I wanted to be in that moment (except, maybe, on the ground).

I want to feel this way about the world. I want to be so overwhelmed with the thought of going to my heavenly home that I am brought to tears. If that afternoon was even a fraction of what I will experience on the day when I get to go home to be with my God, I can't begin to fathom how incredible it will be. It will be so awesome, I can't even comprehend it now. I want to feel the same excitement and joy about heaven, and I wonder: do I really feel that? 

This is a difficult question for me sometimes, because I think this world is beautiful. Physically speaking, that is. I love traveling, remember? Many times I can get caught up in that. I say, "But God, what if I don't get to go here and there and everywhere before I die? You know I really want to see this and that," and I begin worrying about whether or not I'll see the sights I want to before I move on from this world to the next. In those moments, I forget where I'm going and, more importantly, who I'm going to see once I get there. I think it's similar to how I felt before I ever came to California: like nothing was as beautiful as what I'd see there. 

Being here has brought me new understanding, though, and it has shattered that illusion. California is beautiful, of course, but in a "this is nice but it's not my home" way. Wherever I may go in my travels will be beautiful, too, I'm sure, but those places will not be my home either. In the same way, I want to live in the knowledge that this world is not my home, and I want that to excite me. I want the very thought of going home to bring me to tears. I want to be so badly homesick that I spend hours indulging in everything that has anything to do with God and His kingdom. I want to live with a desperation for the Lord, for eternity, for heaven, and I want that yearning to propel me to actually say to others, "I'm telling you, this isn't all there is!" 

...

I'm telling you, friends, this isn't all there is. Oh, there is so much more- I barely have the words to describe it. I do know of a place full of extravagant love and beauty and happiness, and I can assure you it isn't this world. I've only seen glimpses of this place with no weeping, pain, or death, but even those small tastes are astonishing. It is a world unlike anything we've ever seen or experienced, and it is our home. 

And home... well, home is automatically a beautiful place.

"But our citizenship is in heaven, and from it we await a Savior, the Lord Jesus Christ." -Philippians 3:20

You Are Altogether Beautiful, My Love

“It is not the simple statement of facts that ushers in freedom; it is the constant repetition of them that has this liberating effect.” –Quentin Crisp

I have learned this year through experience that when God wants to speak something important to me, He will repeat it a handful of times until I really get it. He’s not one to brush over something quickly and hope I catch it the first time. No, when there is information He wants me to have or truth He wants me to believe, He will shout it continually until I listen. Even if I do listen, many times He will declare it again, just so I can be assured it was from Him.

I’ve witnessed this throughout the entire year in regards to a certain piece of truth God has spoken to me. I believe I was attentive to His words every time, but I don’t believe I was receptive, which is likely why He had to reiterate them constantly. This weekend God has confirmed His message to me so clearly that somehow it finally clicked. There is something about repeatedly hearing the same truth by God Himself that crushes any unbelief you may have and creates a stronghold of faith in your heart. When you realize how persistent He is in giving such a gift to you, you can’t help but joyfully accept it!

Well, that’s what happened this weekend. I feel like a foundation has at last been laid. The truth God has been giving me all year finally went from being just a nice idea to a song etched into my heart, and let me tell you, it has a captivating melody.

Allow me to share its wonder with you:

In early January, nearly nine months ago, God gave me two specific truths to hold on to for the year- one was about me, and the other was about Him. At the time when I received them, I thought they were simply what I needed to hear in that moment; I hadn’t realized these concepts were setting the stage for what God would be teaching me this whole year. They were neither extensive nor complex- in total they were a mere six words- but they were everything He wanted to cement in my heart.

“I am faithful, and you are beautiful.”

I suppose it was seven words if you want to count the conjunction, but still: it was simple, yet elaborate. God even gave me a few verses to go along with His message.

“I set My rainbow in the clouds, and it shall be for a sign of a covenant between Me and the earth. And when I bring clouds over the earth, and the bow is seen in the clouds, I will remember My covenant which is between Me and you and every living animal of all flesh...” Genesis 9:13-14

“And He who was sitting was like a jasper stone and a ruby in appearance, and there was a rainbow around the throne like an emerald in appearance.” Revelation 4:3

These first two verses demonstrated to me the faithfulness of God. I cherish them, too, because I love that the sign God gave to remind Himself and us of His faithfulness also wraps around His throne in heaven. It’s as if to declare: Here sits the one in whom faithfulness abounds. He is faithfulness. From before your time began and after your time ends- from eternity to eternity He is faithful.

Regarding the second part of His message- my beauty- He gave me this:

“You are altogether beautiful, my love, and there is no blemish in you. You have captured my heart, my treasure, my bride; you hold it hostage with one glance of your eyes …” Songs of Solomon 4:7,9.

God’s faithfulness and my beauty: these were two messages the Lord perpetually confirmed to me during the year, and He did so in various ways through a multitude of means. (This was much of the fun, actually, as I eagerly anticipated what God was going to do next to show me He is faithful or I am beautiful). It didn't take much time for me to understand, believe in, and see God’s faithfulness. I watched Him come through for me many times, and He demonstrated His character in even the littlest of things. Recognizing my beauty, however, was a different story. Despite my hesitancy, He continued to testify to me the truth that I am beautiful.

God’s affirmations about my beauty filled many of my days and journal pages, but doubt still lived inside of me, reasoning He was saying those things only to be nice. It wasn't really true, was it? I challenged the validity of it all only because the truth was so difficult for me to grasp. Nonetheless, God only ever disputed my apprehension with more of the same truth, and one day in particular He finally shifted my questioning.

I was playing piano that day, worshiping in awe of my Lord. I had begun to do this more often, and it became one of my favorite ways to have fellowship with Him. One morning as I was playing, God cut in to tell me that just as I lift up my voice to sing to Him, so He lifts up His voice to sing to me. I was singing about His beauty and how sweet it is just to say His name, and He told me He was singing the same right back. It was as if He and I were harmonizing together, yet each to one another. It was amazing, and it seemed the more I sang to Him the wonders of who He is, the more He sang back to me the beauty of who I am, proclaiming through song I was worth singing about.  

Suddenly, I began to consider the validity of what God was saying. “He’s singing that I’m beautiful… Maybe this really could be true, couldn’t it?” Call me crazy, but something about having the God of the universe sing about how the sound of my name brings Him delight made me think He was telling the truth. Maybe I am beautiful, I thought. I wasn't wholly convinced, but I was getting there. Regardless of what I thought about myself, I continued to sing to the Lord about His beauty, and He would always chime in to sing about mine. It was apparent that He cared what I thought about myself.

Really, He did care. God wasn't satisfied with my “maybe.” He wasn't going to settle until I confidently accepted what He was speaking over me.

This weekend I attended a women’s conference at my church, and it was there that God’s message, as I told you in the beginning, finally became a foundational truth in my heart.  The first session was all about how God is beauty, and when we gaze upon His beauty we find our own; how Jesus took all of our ugliness and gave us His beauty, giving us a crown for ashes; how we are intrinsically beautiful because we are God-breathed. Basically, that we are stamped by God’s beauty. All of it kept stirring in me thoughts about that day at the piano when God spoke to me in song, and my heart was bursting with excitement as I felt I finally understood what God had been speaking to me all year.

“God, this is what you were trying to say to me, wasn't it? Not only that you love me enough to sing over me, but that as I gaze upon and proclaim your beauty, my eyes will be opened to my own. Because my beauty is your beauty- it’s your handiwork, your redemption, your sacrifice- I must first look to you, and when I do that, I’ll recognize the beauty you've given me. That’s it, isn't it, Lord?”

I was sure He said yes, but He went a step further and confirmed it to me through a stranger. I always enjoy when He does that.

After the session, a woman I didn't know prayed for me. Halfway through her prayer she began crying and said, “Mary, God wants you to hear that it is when we gaze upon His beauty that His thoughts about us come.” I thought it was good to hear, certainly, but also that we just learned it, so maybe she was just saying that. (I tend to be quite skeptical). She continued, however, and I knew it was from the Lord. “This love,” she began, “this wonder is a continual song- you sing to Him of His beauty, and He sings back to you of yours. He sings over you continually, Mary. Yes, He sings, You are altogether beautiful, my love; there is no flaw in you. Look to Him and you will see it.”

I sat down amazed that this woman had reiterated precisely what God had spoken to me a few weeks ago (along with the verse He gave me nine months prior), and I smiled as God whispered to me, “You are beautiful, my darling.”  For the first time, I didn't argue with Him. I didn't doubt Him, either. I simply nodded and said, “Yes Lord, I know. I believe you.”

For the first time, I honestly feel like I do. It’s no longer a “maybe” or a nice idea- I know I’m beautiful, but not because I had some wild revelation about myself and how cool I am. No. I know because I've had a revelation of His awesomeness and of His beauty. He is beautiful- unfathomably so. It truly is when we gaze upon Him that our eyes are opened to our own beauty, worth, and identity. It makes sense, after all: my beauty comes from the Lord. How then can I comprehend my own beauty if I don’t understand His?

I sat in awe of everything I had heard from God that day, and I felt so light I could have floated away. This was freedom, I thought, to be sure that I was beautiful, while also sure it had nothing to do with me.

“God,” I laughed. “Freedom; this is freedom.”

“Yes,” He said. “You came here for freedom, remember? I am faithful, and you are free.”

My heart danced for freedom, for faithfulness, and for promises of joy. God graciously gave me exactly what I asked for this year, and then some.

A foundation of faith has at last been laid. The truth God has been giving me all year finally went from being just a nice idea to a song etched into my heart- it is a melody singing that God is faithful and that I am beautiful, and now I am free.

“The Spirit of the Sovereign Lord is on me, because the Lord has anointed me to proclaim good news to the poor … 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 in Zion- to bestow on them a crown of beauty instead of ashes, the oil of joy instead of mourning, and a garment of praise instead of a spirit of despair. They will be called oaks of righteousness, a planting of the Lord for the display of His splendor.” Isaiah 61:1-3

From Anorexic to Vegetarian to Over-eater to Normal (Whatever That Means)

I’ll never forget the first time someone ever told me I was an extremist. The moment itself wasn't exactly monumental, but the words that were spoken have stuck with me ever since. I was an extremist, she said, and it was all or nothing with me. My friend said it, but I didn't doubt it. I knew it was absolutely true.  Always and never were uttered in the majority of my sentences (which is a habit I’m still trying to break), and in my mind there were no grays in life- only black and whites.  I say I was an extremist, but I suppose I still am in many ways.

The middle ground, so to speak, isn't something I do very well. I typically can’t find it, I don’t understand it if I do, and I can’t comprehend how to walk such a path. I mean, I can’t even grasp that there is a spectrum of things in life. To me, it’s all either good or bad, fast or slow, healthy or unhealthy, truth or lies, black or white … you get the point. I did, too. Once it was pointed out for what it was, I knew I had a radical, all-or-nothing mindset, and I began to see how I had swung between extremes in my life because of it, seemingly incapable of landing anywhere in the middle.

This “swing” has been most prevalent in the area of my eating disorder, and possibly even more so in the process of healing from it, as I've jumped from one side of the spectrum to another. Needless to say, anorexia was on one end- complete control, eating nothing- and binge eating on another end- a loss of control, eating everything- and I have regrettably been on both sides, plus some. My eating disorder has taken many different faces.  

It’s difficult for me to relive those dark, suffocating phases in any way, but because I believe one must know the tragedy before truly appreciating the triumph, I want to share them with you. 

I will show you the ashes first, but I promise to end by showing you the beauty. Hang in there- it’s coming.

I was anorexic for nearly two years before I even recognized I had a disorder. I spent those two years literally starving myself, and yet I managed to believe I was just being choosy about what I was and wasn't going to eat.  I was utterly blind to the fact that my mirror was running by life, and my vision was so warped that I couldn't comprehend why my loved ones were worried about me. If anything, I thought, they should’ve been proud of my level of control- I certainly was. Back then, anyway. It wasn't until one day when I fell hysterically to the floor in tears after a glance in the mirror and a snap of the rubber band on my wrist (to convince myself I wasn't hungry) that I realized I had a problem.

Maybe I always knew, but that day I finally admitted it. I could no longer deny that I had an eating disorder, and I immediately knew I didn't want to be anorexic any more.  So what did I do? I became an extreme vegetarian.

I’m not sure if it was because I was still afraid of being fat, because I didn't know what it looked like to eat normally, or because I felt guilty for what I had done to my body, but in an attempt to flee anorexia I swung myself over to what I thought was the next best thing, and I became an obsessive and controlling vegetarian. I buried myself in nutrition books and documentaries as if somehow they would bring me freedom, but all it did was deepen my fear of food and put a different face on the same disorder. I thought that because I was actually eating I was healed, but I was still afraid, I was still controlling, and I was still bound. Vegetarianism was merely a different jail cell, though it took me months to see it that way.

As time passed it became apparent to me that I was still trapped in the prison of control, and I hated every second of it. I didn't want that anymore, not any part of it, and so I did what I thought was the best thing to do: I ran as far as I could to the other end of the spectrum. I didn't want control, so I decided not to have any. Extremist, remember? I told myself to eat what I wanted, when I wanted, as much as I wanted, and I vowed I would no longer tell myself no. You want that brownie for dinner? Go for it.

This lovely idea, as you can probably imagine, led to a cycle of immense binge eating, emotional eating, unhealthy eating, and then depression- each aspect a precursor to the next. At first, I binged on a regular basis because my body was so nutritionally deprived that I couldn't help myself. Sadly, there were numerous times I made myself physically ill because of how much I had eaten in one sitting. It was then that I became so upset with myself for binging, that I began to eat out of my emotional need for comfort, stuffing my face with brownies, cookies, and sweets. Quite naturally, I gained weight, which led to a hopeless depression because deep down in my heart I was still the anorexic who was terrified of becoming fat.

Then, because I was depressed I would binge, and the cycle repeated itself all over again.  

It’s ugly, isn't it? What’s even worse is that I continued to swing back once more into overly-controlled vegetarianism, and then back again into my no-control zone. There was nothing freeing about it.

Ok, I think you get it. Let’s get to the beauty.

Throughout the years of my struggle to become free from anorexia, I knew that God was with me and that He was guiding me through the process of healing, yet I was immobilized by fear. I knew my disorder was both a physical and mental issue, and I couldn't understand how I could walk in the healing of one without hurting the other. If I focused on adjusting my eating, I thought I’d likely fall into depression as I gained weight while fear still controlled my heart. However, if I focused on healing my heart, I’d likely continue a binge and purge cycle of eating because I simply didn't know how to eat in a balanced way.

Going after both aspects seemed overwhelmingly impossible, and so I chose what I thought was best: I told God I wanted to go after healing my heart. God was faithful to me in that, and you can read about some of the healing that I've experienced in my heart here, but God has also been calling me to something else lately, and I've finally found the courage to take Him up on it.

All year I have felt God asking me to deal with the choices I make regarding food, but I've been too afraid to even think about it. I feared I’d fall back into control and I thought it was better not to think about food at all. I believed I was forever done being anorexic, but I also knew there were still pieces (maybe even chunks) of fear in my heart, and so I allowed myself to be crippled by it and told God I wasn't ready. My heart had been progressively healing, but my body was being treated the same. There was no control, and I could physically feel the consequences of that as my body was weak, sluggish, and unhealthy. Something needed to change.

Not long ago, I spent my day binging on some of the unhealthiest foods I could get my hands on. I, once again, made myself physically ill due to an overload of food, and I cried tears of fury because my actions. I was tremendously frustrated, and my extremist mentality broke out and screamed, “That’s it! I’m done with this! I’m going all the way back to vegetarianism and I’m going to do it right!” Fortunately, God’s voice broke out in that moment, too, and I felt peace fill me as He calmly spoke, “There is grace for you to walk in the middle.”  

"The middle?” I asked, perplexed. “I have no idea what that looks like, God.”

“Let me teach you how to have self-control without being controlling. There is grace for you to learn.”

“Okay, Lord,” I agreed, and teach me He has.

Though this walk hasn't yet been long compared to the entire journey of healing I've been on, God has taught me so much already on this path of intentional, healthier eating. Primarily, He has shown me that self-control and manipulation are two very separate things. Self-control is a discipline born out of wisdom and discernment, while manipulation is a poisonous behavior born out of fear and selfishness. I am learning that I can tell myself no and decide to skip dessert, and it doesn't make me anorexic or controlling to do so. I can have self-control without being controlling, and that realization has brought me a much-needed freedom. Suddenly I feel like I can breathe.

On another level, God has shown me through this experience that His presence alone truly can drive out all fear. He squashes fear like a bug! Because it was He who asked me to walk down this road, I know He is walking it right beside me, and that brings me an unfathomable, unshakable peace. God is in this with me, and that knowledge alone gives me the courage to keep going. I used to be so afraid of meal times that I’d do anything to mentally distract myself from whatever I was eating, and I wouldn't cook (or learn to cook) because it took too much thinking- God has given me the bravery to face both of those things. Not only are meal times less intimidating, but now I intentionally think about them, fearlessly planning with God what I should prepare. In fact, if I find myself not consciously aware during a meal, I stop myself to think about it.

Lastly, what God has spoken to my heart thus far, is that all things truly are possible through Him, real healing is coming, and He isn't done with me yet. I know I've experienced a lot of healing in regards to my disorder, and I know I’m no longer the girl I wrote about in the beginning, but I also know I have a lot of distance left to cover. Graciously, God keeps whispering to me, “Don’t worry, it’s coming. Keep walking with Me, and I will show you.”

God truly is a redeemer, for He has taken the once darkest, scariest, most devastating part of my day and turned it into joy; because yes, my healing is coming, and it comes with every meal. 

It Is Only Him, Always and Forever.

If you haven't yet noticed, or don't know me well, I'm a bit of a words person. I love words. You'd know this if you ever saw one of my rough drafts for any paper I've ever written- I can't explain to you how many scribble marks, word substitutions, and arrows exist on those papers. I obsess over which word to use and when to use it, and I tend to change my mind a handful of times before I ever decide.

Let's just say the way a sentence is built is a big deal to me, because words matter.

Actually, I'm convinced words are a big deal, period. Not just to me, but in general. In fact, someone's words are what sparked this entry. The comment itself was small, but I think it represented a big issue in our understanding of who we are and who God is.

Ok, so let me tell you what happened. I was with some friends one day and one friend in particular was sharing an epic experience he had the night before when another Christian man prayed for him. My friend told the incredible story of the night, which involved angels and supernatural power, and many of us sat in awe of his words. Just as he finished telling his story, a few others exclaimed, in reference to the man who prayed with my friend, "He is so prophetic."

I think I got what they were trying to say, but all I could think was, "No, no he's not."

Maybe it's because I've been reading so much about the Holy Spirit in the book of Acts recently, but I couldn't accept that it was this man who was prophetic-it was the Spirit. Is it not the power of the Holy Spirit working through him that allows such signs, and does he not have the same Spirit that has been given to me, to my friends, and to all who accept Him? I thought.

Now, I'm sure those in Christian circles would argue, "Well of course we know it's by the power of the Spirit! We just say that." Yet, intentionally or not, by assigning such labels as "prophetic" on individuals, it's as if we don't know it's the Spirit because our words are giving credit to a human being.

We do ourselves a disservice in this way, somehow making it about what we've done and what we can do. It results in the subconscious belief that, even when we know it's the Spirit, He'll only "show up" in powerful ways if we've done something right, or holy, or religious. We make it about us when it's not, and we make it about others when it's not. 

The truth is, it's not about any of us- it's about the gift of the Holy Spirit, the love of God that gives it, and the sacrifice of Jesus that allows us to receive it.

"But Peter said, 'Silver and gold I do not possess, but what I have, this I give to you: In the name of Jesus Christ the Nazarene rise up and walk.' And he seized him by the right hand and raised him up; and instantly his feet and ankles were made strong ... and all the people saw him walking and praising God ... and while he was holding on to Peter and John, all the people ran together toward them greatly amazed. And when Peter saw this, he replied to the people, "Men of Israel, why are you marveling at this? Or why are you gazing at us, as though by our own power or godliness we have made him walk?" Acts 3:6-7, 9, 11-12

Peter says by faith in the name of God, in the name of Jesus, that it was He who made the man strong and whole in health. It wasn't Peter, but the Holy Spirit within him. Paul and Barnabas echo the same truth later in the book, proclaiming to be no more than mere men, when an entire people group begins to worship them as if they were gods.

Through the hands of the apostles came so many signs and wonders, that people began to carry the sick and crippled out into the streets in hope that even the shadow of an apostle would overshadow and thus heal them. Despite the obvious power that was upon them, these men never took credit and instead always boasted of the Spirit and His great power. They recognized it all for what it was: a gift, and a power not their own.

Yes, the Holy Spirit is a gift, and we can't offer His healing or deliverance if we have not yet received Him. You see, not only are we incapable of producing miracles, signs, and wonders by our own strength, but we also have nothing to give that hasn't first been given to us. My favorite passage illustrating this entire concept is one in 1 Chronicles when the people were presenting an offering to God:

"Yours, oh Lord, is the greatness and the power and the splendor and the victory and the majesty, indeed all that is in heaven and on earth; Yours, oh Lord, is the kingdom, and You are exalted as Head over all. Both riches and glory proceed from You, and You rule over it all. In Your hand are power and might, and it is in Your hand to make great and to give strength to all. Now therefore, our God, we thank You and praise Your glorious name. But who am I, and who are my people, that we should have strength to offer so willingly in this way? For all things are from You, and from Your hand we have given to You." 1 Chronicles 29:11-14

Everything is from God, and even as we give, we only give what He has first given us. We can't even give love- yes, love- without first receiving, for "we love because He first loved us (1 John 4:19)." Nothing we offer is truly ours, as whatever we give- time, money, prayer, power, even our talent- all comes from the Lord.

So, with all due respect, I believe it is His Spirit within us that is prophetic. Not you, nor me, nor him, nor her. No, Him.

"For from Him and through Him and for Him are all things. To Him be the glory forever! Amen." Romans 11:36

Let's Just Say I'm a Californian Michigander ... For Now.

I remember the first time I traveled a considerable distance outside my home state of Michigan on my own: I was 21 years old and I flew to San Diego, California. I was in my senior year of college and I had the travel bug bad. I've always had a fire in my heart for traveling, but it was at that time of my life when I couldn't contain it any longer; I simply had to go somewhere, and California was a dream I’d been waiting to make a reality. So, on a whim, I bought a ticket to San Diego and just a week later I was en route to the west coast.

I had an incredible time while I was out there, and I learned a few cool things, too. Well worth every penny I spent, that trip is actually one of my favorite weeks to reminisce about- I've gone back in my mind and my journal many times. Needless to say, it’s not unusual for me to travel back in time to my first experience in California, but today … well, today has been a different story.

It’s about two years later and I sit admiring the waves crashing on the shore, and their soothing melody which never grows old. I’m in a different time and a different place, yet my mind keeps taking me back to San Diego. I see myself walking on the beach in Coronado, standing on the cliff edges of Cabrillo, and running through the beautiful streets of Balboa Park. I try to fix my eyes on the book or the waves in front of me, but they only serve as a backdrop to the memories playing in my head. I feel I can’t stay in the present even if I try.

Cabrillo Cliffs, San Diego, 2013.

I wonder why I keep going back, and why I’m thinking about it right now. I don’t think I’m feeling nostalgic, nor can I think of anything that would've triggered it. I don’t really want to think about it, to be honest, because I want to be here; I want to be present.

Just then, I feel God speak to my heart, “Remember what I told you back then,” and James 4:13-15 comes to mind. I realize that it is God who wants me to remember, so I take myself back to the day in San Diego when God first spoke that verse to me.

I was sitting outside a coffee shop with my cinnamon latte and bible, ready to spend an afternoon with God. I scattered all of my things across the table, and dove in to the Word, my journal, and the book I was reading at the time. During my entire time there, I kept feeling directed to James 4:13-15. I didn't really know why, but after I had spent hours doing everything but follow such prodding, I finally opened up my bible to the short passage.

“Now listen, you who say, ‘Today or tomorrow we will go to this or that city, spend a year there, carry on business and make money.’ Why, you do not even know what will happen tomorrow. What is your life? You are but a mist that appears for a little while and then vanishes. Instead, you ought to say, ‘If it is the Lord’s will, we will live and do this or that.’” James 4:13-15

I knew immediately where God was going with this. I was in such a restless season of my life back then, and I was constantly looking to and making plans for the future. I remember feeling trapped by the plans other people were making for my life, and relief was found only when I planned things even further, as if somehow I’d feel less suffocated that way. I was hardly living in the present, if at all- I was too preoccupied with my future and how I could plan around everyone else’s planning.

God spoke those verses to me that day in a coffee shop, and I knew He was telling me about a different way to live. He told me He didn't want me to be living in the future, nor to be obsessively mapping it out. He said that doing so wasn't really living at all, and that it was only stealing life from me. He expressed that He not only wanted me to live in the present, but to enjoy it- He wanted me to accept whatever and wherever He has brought me with joy. He wanted me to trust Him with my future, and He promised He would lead the way.

I could recall the day and all He spoke to me clearly, but I still didn't understand why He was bringing it up.

“I remember all of that, God, and it was really good. You spoke some great things to me that day, but why are you bringing it all back up now?”

“Because you’re doing it again.”

”Wait, doing what? Living in the future? No way!” I was stunned. I thought about all the ways I had let go of my planning and my futuristic thinking this year, and I honestly felt like the last thing I was doing was repeating such a way of life. “God, you know I trust you with my future now. I know I’m not perfect at it, but I don’t think I've gotten obsessive with plans and assumptions again. Have I?”

“I know you trust me, and no, you haven’t. But you’re still not living in the present. Now you’re living in the past.”

Once again, I knew exactly where God was going with this. It’s easy to know when God is hitting on something that is big in my life, because I know precisely what He is talking about when He brings it up. I suppose I knew I wasn't living in the present, but until He said it, I wasn't quite aware I was living in the past, either. God gently reminded me of all the moments throughout the past eight months in which I refused to allow myself to live in the present, showing me how I missed out on the gift He had for me each time.

Looking back to the Michigan
state line on my way to
California, 2014.

When I moved to California eight months ago, my life completely changed. Most days it felt like my previous life vanished and I started all over again, which I guess is what people say happens when you move somewhere new, right? That’s fine I suppose, unless you actually liked your life before. I loved my life in Michigan, even though I was indeed excited for new sights and adventures. When I arrived to California, however, it felt like a different life, not just a change of pace, and I was afraid that if I embraced this new life, I’d be losing the old one.

Because of that, I spent the year clinging to what once was. It wasn't so much that I hated the present, but that I really loved the past. I thought somehow I’d be replacing my life, my friends, and my home if I accepted and enjoyed where I was, so I convinced myself not to. In my mind it was all temporary, and eventually I’d return to the life, friends, and home I once had.

God showed me a handful of moments this year wherein I missed out on friendship, joy, and family because of this; my own resistance was a factor in my perpetual loneliness. He said He understood that I didn't want to replace my home or friends, but assured me none of those things could ever be replaced, anyway, only added to.  He also asserted that I can’t allow fear to dictate my actions and run my life, regardless of circumstance, and He called me to live in today.

As God was explaining all of this to me, I understood that I stole life from myself this year in an attempt to preserve what I once had. I knew I couldn't go back and change any of it, though, so I asked God what He wanted me to do with all of this new-found understanding.

“You’re about to do it again,” He said. “Don’t.”

It took only a moment of thought for me to comprehend what He was saying. I instantly thought back to the times others asked if I would be going home to Michigan between school years and I answered, “I’m staying,” with a distasteful tone. Again, it wasn't so much that I hated the present- I didn't even think I was that upset about staying- but that I had a life back in Michigan, and the longer I was away the less I felt like it was even my life anymore.

“Don’t you see?” He said. “You’re still living there in your heart, but what I have for you today is to be living here, in California. It’s okay to love it, but I've asked you to leave it.”

Now, I realize that this isn't a rebuke about loving my home state, my family, or my friends. It’s not God asking me to forget the things of the past and move on as if my life there had never happened. No, in fact, He’s actually reassuring me that those things will always be a part of my life and my heart, and that they cannot and will not be replaced.  

I hear quite clearly what God is saying, has said, and may say to me again: live in the present. Live in today. Take whatever I have given you for the day with joy. Just as I wanted your trust for the future, I want your trust in your past and in your present. Trust that you are right where I want you for today.

I stole a lot from myself these past eight months, and I probably stole from others, too, because I wasn't willing to wholly be here in my heart. I missed out on many friendships because I didn't want to open my heart to people who were only temporary in my life- maybe if I had they wouldn't have been temporary. I missed out on joy because I was too busy thinking, “It’s nice, but it’s not like home.” I was stuck in comparison and my past always had the upper hand. Maybe if I had accepted this place for what it was, I would've enjoyed it much more. I missed out on feeling like I belonged, either to this place or this family, because I insisted I belonged in my life back in Michigan. Maybe if I had let go sooner, I would've belonged here, too, and I wouldn't have felt so isolated and lonely all year.

Yes, it’s justified for me to miss home. It’s justified for me to miss my friends and my church. It may even be justified for me to dislike the salty ocean when compared to freshwater Great Lakes, but nothing justifies living in the past when God calls us to live in the present. When we try to live anywhere else but today, we’re not really living, anyway. We’re robbing life from ourselves in our attempt to preserve it and, if we’re stuck in the future, in our attempt to plan it.

I’ll always be from Michigan, and it will always be my home, but maybe years from now I’ll be able to look back on California and know that it too, for a season, was my home. And maybe I’ll even have another place to call home after I leave here and another after that. Maybe God will bless me with the gift of families and homes all across the country, and maybe even the world! What an amazing gift that would be, yet one I won’t receive if I’m always living in Michigan in my heart. Living in the past traps us, and living in the future depresses, stresses, and inhibits us. It is only in the present where we can live life abundantly.

So be wherever you are. Receive whatever gift God has for you in this moment, in this place. Don’t look back, and don’t look ahead; look up, and there you will find life for today.