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.    

My Post-it Note Manna

Such a thing likely goes without saying when coming from a writer, but I love to write. I know, I know. You’re thinking that’s super obvious, right? I get that. It’s an easy assumption to make, even if you don’t know me any deeper than what you've read here. What might not be understood through these pages, though, is that even deeper than my passion for writing is my need for it. I love to write, yes, but really I need to write.

I’m not sure I can explain that; I just know it’s true. Writing to me is almost like breathing, as extreme as that may sound. I’m sure any artist or musician or creator of any type understands this, as if our specific outlet is something we can’t function without. I write all the time, and sometimes I think I’d fizzle out if I stopped. I love it, like I said, but I need it, remember? I need to write to process, to remember, to make sense out of the countless thoughts that roam around my brain. Writing to me is like emptying out whatever is going on in my head, pondering it enough to translate it into a language I can understand, and putting back the necessary components in an organized, simplified manner.

If I don’t write, I simply can’t think- my thoughts are much too jumbled on the inside. I don’t know why I work that way, but I do. I guess I was born to be a writer.

I've always been writing in some sense since I was a child, but when I began seeking God more intentionally and building a relationship with Him, I began writing more. All of a sudden there was more joy for me to reflect on, so I wrote about it; there were more conundrums for me to ponder, so I wrote about them; there was more relationship for me to document, so I wrote about it. For years I wrote nearly every day- journal entries, songs, poems, blog entries- so I could soak into my being the incredible, challenging, and unprecedented things that were going on in my life.

I had this feeling that my life would be lost if I didn't write out the events of it in some fashion- sometimes I still do.

I deeply enjoyed that aspect of writing: I could always go back and delight in or learn from what I had written about years before. Nothing was ever forgotten this way, either, and I liked that. When I first started hearing God’s voice, I scribbled down His words so quickly I’d always have to re-write them because I could barely read what I wrote. Post-it notes were some of my best friends in those days, as I would jot down what I heard Him saying and then stick it on the wall beside my bed. I wanted to surround myself with the words God spoke to me, and I literally did.

I still think such was a noble idea, but something happened once I had a decent-sized collage of notes covering the walls of my room: I stopped writing new ones. I don’t think it was ever an intentional or conscious decision I made, but it happened. I don’t think it was because God stopped speaking to me, either- I think I stopped listening. Instead of running to God for relationship, I ran to my wall. If I was feeling lonely, rejected, fatherless, or anything of the sort, I’d recall a note I had posted and I’d sit in my room and read it over and over. It seemed like a great idea at the time, and I couldn't understand why it was so unsatisfying.

“God, I don’t get it. I’m reading your words, and I've read all those verses- why do I still feel so awful?”

It wasn't until later that I understood what He saying at that time was, “Me.”

“Me, Mary. You need Me.”

Lately I keep thinking about the bible story about the Israelites being fed manna in the wilderness. I can’t get out of my mind the fact that God would only provide them with enough manna for a single day, and even if they gathered more for themselves than that, it would be molded and inedible by the next day.

“Then the Lord said to Moses, I will now rain bread from heaven for you; and the people shall go out and gather a day’s portion every day, that I may test them, whether or not they will walk in My law … and Moses said to them, Let no man leave any of it until the morning. But they did not listen to Moses, and some men left part of it until the next morning; and it bred worms and stank.” Exodus 16:4, 19-20.

I love this part of the story, because the post-it-writing, note-sticking version of me needed to learn what God was trying to teach them. You see, God is so powerful, mighty, and able, that creating a manna that never expires would've been just as easy as creating one that did. This isn't a story about how the food God provided goes bad and He has to keep making more because it just won’t last the whole journey. No- if He had wanted it to last, it would've. The manna going bad wasn't the point.

The point was that God is trustworthy and faithful. The point was that God has something new for us each morning. The point was Him. We need Him.

Yes, God has given me words and pictures and verses that I hold dear to my heart, but at the end of the day what I need is Him, daily and constantly. I believe God gives us those things because they do bring life, but I don’t think they were meant to sustain life- only He does that. God has something new for me every morning, and it’s not because what He gave me yesterday went bad, but because what He gave me yesterday wasn't meant to propel me for the rest of my life. I need a lifetime of daily manna, not a lifetime of one serving.

I have found myself these last few months writing down less and less of what God speaks to me. Compared to others I probably still write down a lot (I am a writer, after all) but compared to myself I write down much less than before. Amazingly, however, I am feeling more and more filled than ever before, and it’s because I daily fill myself with Him. It’s because of a relationship with Him- my God, my Father, my Savior, my Lord- and not with the collage on my wall.

I can spend time with God feeling satisfied and unafraid, no longer fearing His words will disappear and be lost in the depths of my mind, because I trust in His faithfulness. Instead of hurriedly scribbling words onto a sticky note, I am able to enjoy His presence and the food He has given me for the day, peacefully knowing more will come tomorrow.

I still make my post-it notes, of course, but I don’t rely on them as my source for the day- now they are simple, edifying reminders (which is probably the appropriate use of a post-it in the first place).

Yes, God’s food is good, but He Himself is even better. It’s all about Him. I don't need more of the gift; I need more of the Giver. 

My Fight to "Rest"

I think you can learn a thing or two about a person by asking what his/her ideal vacation would be like. Take my brother for example: you may know nothing about him, but you might get an idea if I told you his desire on vacation is to do nothing and see no one. He doesn't want to travel far to get where he's going, and once he gets there he doesn't want to do much until it's time to leave. 

If you don't know my brother, that could give you a small picture of his personality, and if you do know my brother, you probably know which of the five I'm talking about. 

I love my brother, and I actually admire the fact that he can sit around doing nothing in particular and still have the time of his life. I, on the other hand, can hardly even comprehend such a trip- I'm much too restless for that. When I go on a vacation, I go to do everything. When my brother goes on vacation, he goes to do nothing. That's just who I am and who he is, and that's just how we've both always been. 

Even throughout childhood I was always on the go. My mom tells me I would rarely allow myself to be held once I learned how to crawl; I wanted to be moving. When I was a kid, I remember playing "work" and pretending like I was going to my job where the office was made out of an old ironing board and cardboard boxes. I liked to work. "Doing" is inherently a part of who I am. I always wanted to be doing something. 

This is all fine and dandy I suppose, until God starts asking you to rest. To a woman whose idea of a long nap is 20 minutes, the thought alone of "resting" freaked me out. I don't rest, I do. 

It was roughly two years ago when I first started hearing this call from the Lord to rest. I didn't quite know what that meant, but I wasn't sure I wanted or needed to know because I didn't feel all that tired, so I just brushed it off and kept "doing." 

Whenever I felt like God was asking me to rest, I thought he was simply suggesting, like my friends had, that I slow down so I don't burn out. I genuinely felt fine, and so I would kindly take the words with a grain of salt and say, "Thanks, but no thanks. I'm fine." 

This is what my life looked like in that season: I was attending college full-time, working two different jobs full-time, leading a life group for my church, attending a separate life group, and dedicating at least one night a week to the church community. (I also did other things like maintain a serious relationship, exercise regularly, receive good grades, visit my family, remain an avid and up-to-date sports fan, read up to 25 books a year, maintain a social life, etc., but the former were more of my responsibilities at that time in life).

Needless to say, I was busy, but I loved every second of it. I'd say I was fine and I meant it. In actuality, I felt great. I thrive on busyness.

Though I kindly denied God's offer, He kept whispering to me about rest. I wanted to listen even if I didn't understand Him, so I quit one of my jobs. I thought rest meant I needed to stop doing as much as I was, so I figured working 20 less hours per week would be super restful. Truth is that it might've been, but really I just filled that time with more of what I was doing before. I assumed that because I wasn't working, I must've been resting.

I wasn't. 

Life went on like this for awhile. I'd feel God's pull in my heart to rest, I'd give up some responsibility in an attempt to find said rest, I wouldn't find it, and then I'd inadvertently fill the time I gave up with something else to do. I became frustrated and confused as I continued to feel God's tug and lacked any feeling of rest, yet I was giving up all the things I wanted to do and all the responsibilities I wanted to have.

To me, to rest meant to stop. Since I stopped and didn't find rest, I thought I might as well do what I want (which always meant busying my life once again).

At the beginning of this year when I moved across the country to attend discipleship school, I believed it was the perfect opportunity to find the rest that had been escaping me. I knew it would be a season in which I'd have no job to work, no college to attend, no roles to lead, no relationship to maintain, no social life to upkeep, no sports tv to watch, and no ability to regularly visit my family. I thought I'd have no choice BUT to rest, and that I'd surely find the rest God had wanted for me.

It wasn't long before I began to feel the affects of such a season, but they weren't feelings of rest. No, in fact, they were far from it. Instead, I felt more exhausted than I've ever been. I felt lethargic and depressed as I drowned in a sea of boredom, restlessness, and lack of productivity. I know this seems drastic, but I'm serious when I say there were days I paced throughout my house convinced I would go crazy. 

You have to understand: I used to be so busy I nearly had to schedule time to breathe, and I enjoyed it. (Somehow knowing your time is limited pushes you to make every second count). Finding myself in the completely opposite scenario felt suffocating. 

Many days I'd cry out to God in desperation, asking Him what I was supposed to do. I hated being so idle, but I felt unable to reach out for any of the things I occupied myself with before. 

I'd ask, "God, what am I supposed to do?" His response was always the same.

"Rest." 

"Rest? Look at my life ... I thought I was resting." At first I was confused because I had believed if I stopped "doing" all the time I'd find rest. Quickly my confusion became frustration, however, as I realized I had stopped doing all the time and God was still saying I wasn't resting. 

"God, I don't understand! What more do you want from me? Do you want me to literally sit there and do nothing? You know I can't do that without going crazy!"

This tension in my life only grew stronger as I continued to think God wanted me to be so still I would start gathering dust. My heart revolted at the thought. I didn't understand any of it- I only knew any time I tried to do what I thought was rest, I walked away exhausted and desperate for my old, busy life. I began to wonder if I was even capable of resting, and why God would ask of me something that seemed to contradict my very nature.

One day my emotions erupted, and I shouted through my confusion, "Why would you make me like this?!"

The question hung heavily in the air and I began to cry as it stared me in the face.

"God, I can't do what you're asking of me. I've tried and I just can't. To be frank, I simply don't want to try anymore. Why would you make me like this if that's what you wanted from me?"

Then, as clearly as ever, He said to me, "Mary, that's not what I want from you."

"Wait, it's not? But God, I thought you wanted me to rest."

"I do."

"But then ...?"

"I'm not trying to change you- I love the way I've made you." I didn't yet understand, but such a response was so sweet I let it play in my head like a song before I asked Him the next question.

"So, how am I supposed to rest, then? What does it look like?" 

God then went on to explain that rest doesn't come from having a contentedness to do nothing, but from being content in His presence. 

"I don't merely want you to rest," He said. "I want you to rest in Me." 

He told me of how rest is all about being with Him. It's coming to the Father, the source of Life, the Good Shepherd, and being with Him and being filled by Him. 

I was missing it when I was intentionally trying to be filled by letting things go- what I really needed was to hang on, hang on to the One in whom my rest is found. God spoke to me how I could spend time with Him and delight in His presence, and I'd be filled without even really knowing it was happening because I'd be too preoccupied with the joy of my Lord. 

"Ok, so you just want to hangout, huh God? Well, I think I'd like that." 

This revelation led into one of the sweetest times with the Lord. I say the sweetest, but maybe I mean the most fun. It was SO fun! He and I talked, we laughed, and we joked around like two friends would. I felt like a child; a care-free, lighthearted child. He spoke into my heart deeply in one moment, and had me giggling out loud with joy in the next. 

When this time together was nearly over, I sat down in awe at what I had just experienced. 

"Oh my goodness," I thought. "I feel ..."

"Rested? Satisfied? Full of joy?"

"... Yes, actually. I do!" 

Though I know my understanding of rest is still so very small, and I'm sure there are many different avenues to cover, God graciously opened my eyes to a piece of what it looks like to find my rest in Him. I experienced how the joy and adoration of the Lord can truly bring restoration and peace to my soul. This, yes this, I believe, is rest: to enjoy God, to love God, to be with Him enjoying and loving Him. It is only in His presence where I will find my rest.

Oh, do you want to know the coolest part? God had been speaking this to me for weeks but I hadn't realized it. The same day this occurred, I finished reading a chapter about prayer-filled living through which He was whispering all of this to me, and it said, "What is the prayer-filled life? It is a life that seeks to enjoy the presence of God and to adore Him. Why should we seek it? Because from it we find the divine rest that overcomes our alienation." 

As if my experience earlier that day wasn't enough, the book was further confirmation. Divine rest comes from enjoying Him! Rest isn't about doing nothing, but slowing down enough to simply delight in Him. 

God's Love Language: Obedience

I once heard it said that obedience is God's love language. Now, I don't know if that's true, but it struck me then and it strikes me now. It could be, after all, couldn't it? Jesus says if we love Him we will keep His commandments, right?

I've been thinking about what it looks like to be obedient a lot lately, and what that practically means in life. I've been thinking it's not so much about following rules like the Ten Commandments (though that is obviously obedience as well), but more about trust in God. I think a life of obedience to God must always be preceded by a foundation of trust- if you don't trust Him, it's likely you won't obey Him. 

Trust will lead to obedience, and obedience will lead to deeper trust. 

I was impacted by all of this the other day when I was reading a part of Elijah's story in 1 Kings.

"Now Elijah the Tishbite, of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As the Lord, the God of Israel, lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.” And the word of the Lord came to him: “Depart from here and turn eastward and hide yourself by the brook Cherith, which is east of the Jordan. You shall drink from the brook, and I have commanded the ravens to feed you there.” So he went and did according to the word of the Lord... (‭1 Kings‬ ‭17‬:‭1-5‬a)

When I read this I was stunned as I thought, "Ravens? RAVENS? That's not exactly the assurance I'd want from God, that birds are going to supply my meals." I sat there imagining what my response would've been had I been in Elijah's position. Would I have obeyed? I'd like to say yes, but to be honest, I think I would've been too skeptical and have convinced myself I wasn't hearing God correctly. 

I imagine it would require an immense amount of trust in God to willingly rely on birds for your food. Elijah must've had that trust, because he obeyed what God had instructed. Not only this, but he obeyed without defiance or grumbling- true obedience doesn't contain such mental rebellion anyway. There didn't seem to be any of that, but instead there was a humble, trusting act of obedience: he went. 

Trust will lead to obedience and, just as in Elijah's case, provide God with the opportunity to display how trustworthy He is. Thus, obedience will lead to deeper trust.

This kind of faith-filled obedience doesn't contain stipulations or yield only when things make sense. It is unconditional and meek; wholly dependent on the faithfulness of God. 

I wonder to myself if I have within me this kind of obedience, and I assure myself I must. I heard God tell me to do another year at my discipleship school, and I'll obviously submit to that. I mean, it's GOD. Of course I'd obey Him. That's what I tell myself, anyway, that I'd be unconditionally obedient, but I suppose such an example isn't difficult to adhere to. 

It's much easier to obey God when what He is asking of you is simple or enjoyable, but what about when it's not? This question pierced me when I thought of it in regards to one of the deepest desires of my heart: mission work. What if God asked me to give that up or redefine it in a way I wasn't happy with?

"What if God calls you to a place that you would rather die than go to? What if God sends you somewhere abhorrent to you so that every fiber in your being revolts against the very thought of it?" -Living Water, Brother Yun

What if? What would I do? To be honest, the idea of such doesn't exactly make me jump out of my seat with a readiness to obey. This question makes me hesitate. 

You see, sometimes I still subconsciously think that if I'm a "good girl" God will just give me what I want. Somehow I've convinced myself that obedience to God concerning missions will be easy because doing mission work is in my heart. But what if God doesn't call me to the places I've always wanted to go? What if He doesn't call me to go, but instead to stay? What if my mission field was the very last city in the very last country I'd want to be in?

What if obedience meant doing the exact things and going to the exact places I never wanted?

It was when I asked myself these questions I realized trust in God is vital if obedience to Him is ever to manifest in our lives. Trust- it is all about trust.

It is trust in God that not only enables us to obey Him, but to do so with a light and joyful heart. When we wholeheartedly trust God, it creates in us a faith that will follow Him at all costs.

As the end of my first discipleship school year nears, I can see how trust in God will be the only thing to give us strength when He is asking something difficult or frightening of us. Why? Because the "what ifs" have become reality, and God is asking of me something I don't want to give.

In just one month, the offseason will begin- a time of four months between each school year- and I have been looking forward to going back home to Michigan for this season. My heart was desperately excited to once again be working and be amongst my family, my church, my friends, and my favorite season of the year (a beautiful Michigan Autumn, of course). I hadn't felt God's peace about this for months, however, and I knew what He was saying to me; that didn't stop me from avoiding it for those months. 

One night I finally approached God about it through tears and asked (though I partly knew the answer already) if He wanted me to stay in California during the offseason. The only thing I heard in response was a firm, "Yes." Nothing more, nothing less.

"Ok," I whispered. "I'll stay." 

I would be lying if I said there wasn't a sadness in my heart, but I'd also be lying if I said there wasn't a deep peace- a peace that comes from trust in the Lord. It is trust in Him alone that can bring peace amidst this, because trust says that God knows what is best. Its trust that says God will be enough wherever I am and wherever I go. Its trust that says God's presence will bring more joy than anything else I may have wanted. It's trust. And when you trust God enough to give a "yes", He will always come through and give you so much more. 

I am afraid and saddened, of course, but obedience isn't about a lack of fear, sadness, confusion, or hesitancy anyway. This is what I've been trying to tell you: obedience is about trust. 

Trust will lead to obedience, and obedience will lead to a deeper trust. 

It's trust in God that allows us the strength to give the "yes" when we want to give a "no." It's trust in God that allowed Elijah to follow God's word to the brook of water, and it's trust in God that will lead us into the same kind of obedience- an unconditional, meek obedience wholly dependent on the faithfulness of God. 

The Pit of Anorexia, and the God Who Pulls Me Out

I can still remember what they would tell me:

“You've got to realize that your body doesn't matter.

“You ought to be loved for what’s on the inside.”

“The right man won’t care about your body.”

These people loved me, I know, and I’m certain they were genuine in their desire to help me. Yet here I am years later- still struggling, still broken, still hurting- and I feel as if I've actually been more wounded through these words than healed. As I reflect on the thoughts of those who, with good intentions, wanted to guide me through the healing of anorexia, I wonder how such statements were supposed to help. They were all about the supposed irrelevance of my physical appearance, suggesting that once I realized no one cared about my body, I would be free to also not care about my body.

I was fed this idea that no one noticed my appearance (nor did they care), and if somehow I could get myself to believe that, I would be free. I remember how hard I tried. Desperate for freedom, I tried to convince myself that my physique went unnoticed and that appearance didn't matter.

I also remember how I never could; I always failed because it’s just not true. The world won’t let you forget that looks matters.

I couldn't avoid it no matter what I did. In fact, the more I tried to avoid this the more I felt the world shoved it in my face; each time I felt as if I’d been sucker-punched. I had based my journey of healing on the belief that appearance didn't matter, and when any instance suggested otherwise, my heart collapsed. It didn't have to be grand things, either- some of the smallest moments caused the biggest rifts and the deepest pain.

To tell someone with an eating disorder that appearance doesn't matter is to simply swap one lie for another. Looks do matter (I think we’d be fooling ourselves if we were to say they absolutely don’t), but my issue wasn't that I needed to believe otherwise. In actuality, my brokenness manifested when I believed that looks were everything.

The lie in my mind wasn't that appearance mattered- it was that nothing else did.   

I was convinced that looks were everything, and I say that without exaggeration. I had no belief in a love that could look past my appearance, and I was certain that my rejection or lack thereof was directly related to my body. If someone told me they loved me on a “skinny day,” I was more prone to believe them because I’d think, “Of course they do: I’m skinny today.” If someone told me they loved me on a “fat day,” I’d hardly believe them after assuming, “No one could love me like this.”

It was all about my body. If my boyfriend told me I was beautiful, I thought he was talking about my body. If a man even spoke to me, I assumed he wanted something from me sexually. If a woman didn't like me, I figured it was because she was either intimidated or disgusted by my appearance. How ironic it is that such a deep insecurity wasn't always evidenced by such, but instead oftentimes by pride. (Sometimes we may think we’re too insecure to possibly be prideful, but our insecurity is actually what makes us so).

What I described is a picture of what it looked like for me at my darkest hour, and though I've grown greatly in certain areas of my life and heart concerning my disorder, I’m still struggling in that pit. (It’s a tough one to get out of, let me tell you). Thankfully, I have a God who is determined to bring me out of it, and He has been setting me straight on a few things. He has spoken truth, actual truth, to me about myself and my body, and it has healed me more than any words I've heard before on my journey.

The first piece of truth is that appearance does matter, but not in the way I think it does. The human body is a beautiful thing, but God made it to be! Should I be angry at what He created? The thing is that I don’t understand its beauty. The human body is complex and unique, thus worthy of admiration. Just as God made a flower to be pleasing to the eye, He has made our bodies as well- our bodies are beautiful simply because He made them so.

“There are also heavenly bodies and there are earthly bodies; but the splendor of the heavenly bodies is one kind, and the splendor of the earthly bodies is another. The sun has one kind of splendor, the moon another and the stars another; and star differs from star in splendor.” 1 Corinthians 15:40-41

When God shared this with me I still felt some anxiety about the explanation (and I do still simply writing it out), but then God challenged my way of thinking and brought more light into this truth.

One morning I was spending time with the Lord, and I heard Him tell me I am beautiful and that He loved everything about me. I smiled, said thanks, and then quickly began thinking about how I’d lost weight recently. No different than when anyone else told me I am beautiful, I associated it with one thing: my appearance. Immediately God corrected me and said, “Don’t you know when I say I love every single part of you, I’m not talking about your body?”  

I was taken aback by that, especially considering the truth He had recently shared with me about the beauty and awe of a human body. I questioned Him on it, and He responded, “Yes I made it and yes it’s lovely, but when I say I love you I’m talking about you. What you don’t understand is that your body is just a necessary vessel for this earth- in heaven you will no longer have this same body, and yet you won’t be any less you.”

As He said that, I got a picture of a type of gift box, like one you would see on Christmas morning. It was the perfect analogy for me to see that, yes, there is pleasure and delight in the shiny wrapping paper and the sparkly bow on top, but truly the treasure is what is inside the box- that is the gift. As I finally began to understand, God concluded by saying, “When I say I love every part of you, I’m talking about your heart, your soul. Those things are you- precious, beautiful you.”

At last I see that there is in fact a love that can look past my appearance (though still acknowledging it’s raw beauty) and it is a deep, unwavering, satisfying love that will never end.  As I allow the depths of this love into my heart, I realize that the only true healing from my disorder can come from God and God alone. No strategy, inspirational quote, or nutritionist could minister to the wounds in my heart the way God can. Only He can restore and rebuild what the world has broken. Even better, He will.

“If there is a natural body, there is also a spiritual body. So it is written: ‘The first man Adam became a living being’; the last Adam, a life-giving spirit. The spiritual did not come first, but the natural, and after that the spiritual. The first man was of the dust of the earth; the second man is of heaven. As was the earthly man, so are those who are of the earth; and as is the heavenly man, so also are those who are of heaven. And just as we have borne the image of the earthly man, so shall we bear the image of the heavenly man.” 1 Corinthians 15:44b-49 (emphasis added).

God Isn't Always "Nice"

“Now while the children of Israel were in the wilderness, they found a man gathering sticks on the Sabbath day. And those who found him gathering sticks brought him to Moses and Aaron and to the whole assembly … and Jehovah said to Moses, ‘The man shall surely be put to death; the whole assembly shall stone him with stones outside the camp.’ So the whole assembly brought him outside the camp and stoned him to death with stones, just as Jehovah had commanded Moses.” Numbers 15:32-33, 35-36.

If someone were to ask you to name a few of God’s characteristics, I would wager that “loving, kind, and compassionate” would be near the top of any list. “Patient” would be another, and probably “gracious” as well. Powerful, merciful, gentle- these are traits we feel good about, right? They’re those that give us some type of “nice, warm, fuzzy feeling” about God.

But what happens when we continue listing his traits and come to “vengeful, jealous, and wrathful?” What do we say when we read stories like the one above, or verses like Nahum 1:2? “Jehovah is a jealous God and One who avenges; Jehovah avenges and is full of wrath; Jehovah takes vengeance on His adversaries, and reserves wrath for His enemies.” If I may, I’d say this is when we begin to ignore or simply “forget” about that side of God. People don’t like these characteristics as much, and so they are pushed aside, never really talked about, and sometimes even denied by the notion that God is “nice,” and a nice God couldn't be full of wrath.

I’m no expert, but I've never seen a verse in the bible that describes God as nice.

I've been consumed by reading much of the Old Testament these past few months, and I have been engrossed by the tingle of contradiction my heart feels when I see God’s wrath displayed and wonder, “How is this loving?” This is our dilemma, isn't it? We know that God is love, and so when we read or see Him do something that seems unloving, we are confused by His actions and character and struggle to understand how two such things- wrath and love- can coexist. Many times I believe this causes us to write off the more undesirable aspect of God’s character as if it weren't a part of Him, and just run back to the truth that God is love.

In no way do I think it is bad to cling to such truth, but I do think such a mindset has disabled us from understanding the entirety of who God is. While we’ll never be able to fully comprehend His greatness on this side of heaven, we’re not helping ourselves any by ignoring a portion of His character. God is the epitome of love, but I think we misunderstand what this means. Part of the problem is that we are convinced loving someone means making them feel good all the time, which right away keeps us from understanding what God does.  

I have come across countless stories in the Old Testament where I've seen God’s judgment and jealousy, and there indeed were a few that have triggered my questioning and confusion. I wondered why, at times, He seemed so quick to anger if He is patient. I contemplated why, for something I thought insignificant, He seemed graceless if He is gracious. I had a host of conundrums regarding God’s character as I read, but one day God told me I was missing the whole point.

The truth is: I’m not going to understand God- not fully, anyway. I’m just not. God is way too great for my mind to fathom, and His ways are not always going to make perfect sense to me. If I become obsessed with my questioning, I miss out on the opportunity to know Him more.

Reading the bible isn't about enabling yourself to predict every move God is going to make or to wholly comprehend everything God does. In fact, the more I read the less I feel capable of doing so (God is a very complex being). I began picking up the Old Testament not for such wisdom, but so that I could get to know God better and see more of His character revealed to me- it’s not about answering all the questions.

So yes, sometimes they can stir in me more questions than answers, but I love delving into stories about God’s wrath and judgment. It’s not because I’m sadistic and enjoy watching people perish (because I’m certainly not and I certainly don’t) but because I enjoy seeing more of God, and when I read the bible that’s exactly what I see.

The thing about God’s wrath is that it paints a clear picture about what God hates, and how deeply He hates it. I don’t think these stories were meant to scare me or fearfully preoccupy my mind, but rather to humble me, instruct me, and display to me that God isn't indifferent. He cares, and He cares a lot. They were meant to illustrate that God doesn't just dislike sin- He hates it- and we should treat the sin in our own lives with the same type of disdain. That’s not to say we should be stoning people (please don’t do that) but to look at our own sin and be just as hateful and intolerant toward it.

When I think about the man who was killed for picking up sticks on the Sabbath, I don’t see an irrational or impatient God; I see a God who hates pride and disobedience. I mean, really think about it: the man was picking up sticks. How important could that have possibly been? Maybe it was, maybe it wasn't, but either way I’m sure the man was aware of the law of the Sabbath, and yet he purposefully disobeyed it. The way I see it, he must have been too disobedient to listen to what God said, or too prideful to care what God said. Either way, God didn't appreciate it.

More than any matter-of-fact verse could've shown, this simple story revealed to me how deeply God hates pride and disobedience, and how seriously God means what He says. When He told them not to do any work on the Sabbath, He wasn't kidding (as you can see). This could be intimidating I suppose, sure, but I think it’s totally awesome. 

Maybe it’s because I grew up thinking God was a pacifistic being who didn't care, and I love seeing His passion. Maybe it’s because it incites within me a strong intolerance and hatred for my own pride and disobedience- it teaches me to hate what God hates. Maybe it’s because I recognize how miserably deep in sin I live, and yet I know how God pursues me and loves me. When I read these stories and see how much He hates sin, it says a lot about how much He loves me.

Whichever it may be, ultimately I see more of God when I read through these stories, and I want to know Him. At the end of the day, I want to know all of God, not just the “nice, warm, fuzzy” parts of Him.

The great thing to remember, too, is this: God's wrath doesn't make Him any less loving, nor does His love make Him any less wrathful.We may not understand how seemingly contradictory traits can coexist and work together, but that doesn't make God any less of either. He is who He is, period. 

Lessons from Leviticus: Not Your Everyday Sermon Source

Sometimes I have a lot I could say, which means oftentimes there is a lot that I want to say, but then I suppose not all of it needs to be said. I am confused by this occasionally because in my head I'm convinced every word is important (I think I enjoy detailed details), but I'm learning, at times, to express myself much more concisely.

This entry was intended to be one of those times, and somehow it just didn't turn out that way ... funny how that happens.

So I've been reading through Leviticus lately and just recently finished the strange book. I say "strange" because I suppose most people think it is such, and there is a lot of strange in it, but I thought there was so much more, too! I won't pretend like there aren't some odd verses or things I don't understand in Leviticus, because there certainly are, but as I read through it those things didn't seem to stick out to me as much. Instead, as I read I felt that God's mercy, compassion, and greatness were emphasized to me. 

To my surprise, I learned much about God and life reading this book. The lessons are so good, too, and I've wanted to write about many of them for weeks. There are a handful that could be an entry of their own, but (like I said) I'm trying to be concise, so in one entry I want to share a few hidden treasures that amazed me in Leviticus. I hope they amaze you, too- this book is actually really cool!



First things first about Leviticus: it is a book full of instructions and demands. I mean, it's called the book of law quite appropriately. I like to color code the underlining in my bible, so whenever I want to underline something that is a command, I use the color red- Leviticus is full of red. This book is twenty-seven long chapters of commands about sacrifices and offerings, illnesses, feasts, and holy living. 

So here is Leviticus lesson 1: Grace is amazing. Be awed by the freedom it brings. 

I know you must be wondering why I think all the red in my bible is cool. It's simple, really: grace. It's grace! We are no longer oppressed by these rules, which makes reading the rules great. I barely made it through the first chapter without interrupting myself to thank God for His saving grace. Though it is only a fraction of its power (for grace does much more than just relieve me from sacrifices), whenever you see a piece of the picture it has saved you from, praise and thanks seems to be an immediate, natural response. Thanks, Leviticus. 

Leviticus lesson 2: God is patient and compassionate, and His everlasting love can be seen in even His most mundane actions. 

In chapter 13 and 14, God details the process of how to deal with leprosy. These seemingly odd chapters are probably what a lot of people think about when they think of Leviticus. Leprosy and sacrifices. What many people don't know, however, is that these two chapters beautifully illustrate the patience and compassion of God. 

When I first started reading these I thought it was all just ridiculous and pointless, but I don't think God does anything without purpose, and if He did it probably wouldn't be important enough to put in the bible. So I read it over again asking the question, "Why? What is the purpose?" I'm sure some bible scholar could answer the "why" with some super symbolic metaphor, but I'm not a bible scholar, and sometimes I just like to be practical. 

So here's what I think: I think those people probably had very little medical knowledge. I think they didn't know the difference between leprosy and a scab, nor what to do about either- they certainly couldn't google their symptoms. I think Leviticus 13 and 14 are simple, specific words from God meant to educate His uneducated children. God has compassion for His people and wants to prosper and care for them, so He instructs them how to treat these ailments. 

I like to imagine how monotonous and boring it is to read all of this, and how much more so must it have been for God, who is all-knowledgable in every way, to explain it. Yet He still took the time to do it!

God, who knows everything about all there is to know, explains the mysteries of scabs and baldness to His children, noting that neither of these are leprosy. (Apparently they did not know the difference). God is full of patience and compassion toward us, even in the mundane. 

Leviticus lesson 3: God calls us to a different way of living apart from the culture of our world. His kingdom is greater. 

One of the verses that stuck out to me in this book is Leviticus 18:3, which is in regards to holy living. It states, "You shall not do as they do in the land of Egypt, in which you dwelt; and you shall not do as they do in the land of Canaan, where I am bringing you, nor shall you walk in their statutes." This verse is followed by chapters on how God's people should live to be holy.

As soon as I read it I thought, "God is so outside of culture." It's true! I love that God's kingdom is not swayed by popular culture, and He calls us to be the same. This reminds me of Romans 12:2 that tells us not to be conformed to the pattern of this world. Just as God is outside of culture, so should we be as His followers.

Oh, and the chapters on holy living are totally awesome, by the way. It's another round of the "amazed by grace" trip I wrote about earlier. Check them out and let yourself be amazed, because God and His grace are so good. 

Leviticus lesson 4: God plans to provide, but if we are His tools, our disobedience can throw a wrench in His plans. 

So here we are, 18 chapters of commandments later, and God is still rolling out the instructions. He's speaking to Moses about how the people can walk in holiness and then he dishes out this verse:

"When you reap the harvest of your land, you shall not wholly reap the corners of your field, nor shall you gather the gleanings of your harvest. And you shall not strip your vineyard bare, neither shall you gather the fallen grapes of your vineyard. You shall leave them for the poor and for the sojourner." Leviticus 19:9-10. 

I love this picture of how God provides! He is commanding His people to reap their harvest in such a way that there is always extra provision for the poor and sojourner. I mean, that's just so cool! The obvious variable in this plan, however, is the farmer. If those who lived off their land were selfish and disobedient, they could opt to reap every bit of it and leave none for the poor. Could you imagine them doubting God, wondering why they're going hungry and He hasn't provided, when in actuality He desired to set a satisfying table before them?

Think about it: our obedience has the power to put God's plan into motion, and our disobedience the power to disturb it. 

I am thankful to know God is always bigger than any of our disobedience, and He can always make a way for those in His care, but it is obvious that plan A would be better than plan B,C, or D. Disobedience doesn't only affect you- strive for obedience so God's plans can flourish. 

Last, but certainly not least, Leviticus lesson 5: God's chastisement is not without mercy. His desire is not to harm, but to correct.

So at the end of the book God lays out what will happen if the people follow His commands, and what will happen if they rebel against them. He starts with the blessings, and basically if they obey they are set for life. Their crops will prosper, they will have peace in the land, and no enemy will overcome them. 

But then He switches focus onto what will happen if they are unfaithful to Him, and it ... is ... crazy. I can't be certain, but my jaw may have dropped the first time I read through it. Just as the blessings were great, so were the consequences. Im convinced, though, that first impressions aren't always accurate, and so I read it over again- this was when I saw God's mercy.

I noticed there are three different levels of chastisement in this chapter, each one greater than the last. What's amazing is that these levels aren't just God's wrath and rampage reaction when His children walk away from Him, but they are the corrective ways of God who, in His mercy, hopes they will cause His people to turn back to Him. 

"And if after these things you will not listen to me ... And if by these things you will not be corrected by me ... And if in spite of this you will not listen to me, but walk contrary to me, then I will walk contrary to you." Leviticus 26:18, 23, 27. 

Each time God punishes, He waits in hope that it'll cause them to walk again obedience and blessing. 

It's like this: God metaphorically spanks His children once, hoping it'll be enough for them to realize their wrongdoing and stop taking the metaphorical cookie out of the cookie jar. It doesn't. So he spanks them again, but this time twice as hard, once again hoping they'll forget the cookies. They don't. So he spanks them for a third time, this time even harder than the last, hoping it'll be the last straw. It's not. At this point it is evident they want the cookies, and so God stops spanking and turns His face away. 

God's spankings weren't full of wrath but of compassion, hope, and mercy. Even when they sinned, His desire was still for His people. 

My favorite (and the best) part of this passage is verse 40-42. It says,

"But if they confess their iniquity and the iniquity of their fathers, in their unfaithfulness which they committed against me ... if then their uncircumcised heart is humbled, and then they accept the punishment of their iniquity; then I will remember my covenant with Jacob, and I will remember also my covenant with Isaac and Abraham, and I will remember the land." 

So after all that they have done- rejected and abhorred God, hating His ways even after discipline- God is ready, willing, and quick to forgive. All He asks is a humble heart that admits its unfaithfulness, and God is ready to bless and prosper His people as incredibly as before. 

What great grace, mercy, patience, and compassion this is! Even though I know factually God is forgiving and gracious, it amazes me to read it and see it in action. I also think it's a great thought to think of God mercifully calling us back to Himself in situations that get worse and worse, rather than just seeing the circumstances. 

So what is the overall Leviticus lesson? God is awesome, and His greatness is craftily hidden in even the "strangest" books of the bible. 

I like it. There's something fun about finding the glory of God for myself in a passage I haven't heard quoted my whole life. You know? 

As you can see (if you've made it to the bottom of this), being concise for me is still a work in progress- a very slow progress. Is it possible for one to be incapable of conciseness?! That'd be a cool excuse, if it were. Well, maybe I'll try again some other time ... maybe.

"Yet in spite of all this, even when they are in the land of their enemies, I will not reject them, nor will I abhor them so as to destroy them utterly and to reveal My covenant with them; for I am the Lord their God." Leviticus 26:44