In Which I am Silent—Again?!

Okay, ya'll.

I just need to rant.

Winter sickness and work weariness in full swing, there are less of us tonight. We gather up in a circle as usual and we chat lightly over some pizza and brownies. I think we're all a little exhausted this week and it shows. There more quiet then normal but not the awkward kind. I feel safe here in this crowd and I know God is at work among us. I see it even in the fact that I tend to run from these kind of things after a week or two, but not this one. In fact, on the weeks we don't meet I find myself wanting.

We're all young adults and generally post-grad. I might be one of the few execptions. But I love that. I love walking with friends who have gone before—what wisdom and grace they offer. We know all the names without tags and we remember to pray during the week. We talk about real life and it's messy sometimes. It's real community, ya'll and there is nothing sweeter.

So here I am sitting in this circle that connects us and the Word lays open on my lap and I lose my voice when it does. Like literally. It's not the thoughts I lose because the Spirit is continually prompting me to share. Over and over and over. It's just the ability to make sounds come off my tongue that suddenly ceases—every single week. Ridiculous I know. In fact I can't even believe I am writing about this, using words on it, but this is my battle and I am so sick of it reigning over me.

Anyone relate?

I label it all sorts of things and toss the blame around afterwards, as I drive home down those windy roads in frustration once again.

-If my dad hadn't messed me up so bad, well then I would trust people better and I would talk more about what I'm really thinking. It's all a trust thing and it's just not my fault. 

-Then there's the people pleaser blame game. Well, I guess I just care too much what everyone thinks. They obviously do fine without my commentary, so why mess up the flow with my awkwardness now? What I could I possibly have to say that they don't already know?

-Next comes the blame it on the personality that doesn't even believe the word extrovert should be in the dictionary. It's just who I am—I'm just a quiet person and it's okay if I don't talk as much as they do.

-I can also live in fear and blame it's masterhood over me for the silence. Fear of man and fear of rejection and fear of things I can't even name. Fear of sounding stupid and under-taught in my knowledge and understanding of scripture. 

I guess sitting in a circle half filled with brilliant seminary grads doesn't help the fear recant much.

After months of this building and no victory in sight, I got in the car last night and wept. Yep, I was pretty pitiful. It's a good thing the Lord is gentle and compassionate when needed. I cried out and begged Him to set me free. From what I don't even know, all of the above and everything underneath?

Then came the okay let's get past the emotions and be real here part of our conversation. That's when I confessed pride. That's the root, right?

Pride smothered in insecurity because that sounds more helpless and less my fault? Yep, I do that. I call it a lack of trust or fear or my personality just so that I don't have to tamper with that ugly "P" word that none of us want to claim and yet I think its a fight we need to engage in more offensivley.

At least I do.

So not wanting to be associated with the ugliness of my pride, not wanted to be a slave to it, I must simply walk obediently to the Lord—and look at things a little more objectively. Sharing my thoughts as the spirit prompts is obedience to the God. Not sharing is disobedience, {not always of course but in this situation for me personally}. Simple.

There is community lost and encouragement drowned in the silence. Not because I'm that great, just because God gives us more grace. That's why it says he opposes the proud but gives grace to the humble. I never knew the way my silence among others could separate me from God, but it has. 

Maybe this fellowship time is more about the strength rising up as our dozen comes together to love one another and speak hope in the messiness then it is about me. Surely a cord of that many is not easily broken? It's about loving one another in a way that shows the world we are indeed disciples of Christ.

It's about Him and all for His glory because someday that will be enough. Someday we won't grow tired of worship. Someday we won't be able to do anything but fall on our face before Him in awe.

My pride creates opposition, it blinds me from standing in awe of Christ like that. 

And in this messed up world I need more of that that, not less. These brothers and sisters remind me of the more that is to come as we talk out the word in love every week and part of the worshipping is the talking and I want to be apart of that because it's not about me.

Oh grace how sweet the sound. 

Naked Glory and All

It is cold and I crouch down atop a rock in the cover of the bush. I live in the shadow and no one sees me. Sweat drips down my cheek. Darkness conceals my figure so I linger a while.

The orange and red and yellow crunch beneath my steps. As secret as I try to be, my costume is unmasked but their ears are blind in the dark. My breath is heavy and my adrenaline fully alive. They don’t recognize the leaves crunching or my steps getting closer. The night sky is lit as the ball glows a little too brilliant to hide me.

I wear the brush and tall grass a disguise and I think of Eve in the garden. I feel the weight and I am so thankful it is not mine to bear and yet I do so often. Even under my layers of fabric I feel a little shame, even now.

They pass in squeals and whispers and I crouch down low to the dirt. I came from the rib that came from this ground and laying here I remember. The shame distracted by purpose. That rib had a purpose and now so do I. Oh glory!

I wait. Wait for it. Breathe. In and Out. The seconds counted with pulse and my mission is sure. I linger in the dark a bit longer.

Then, finally. They hit the dock and I take off running...

Okay, maybe it wasn't so movie like. Maybe it was more stumbling my way through the dark woods with a great limp on my left and adrenaline thrusting my body into some summersault of forward motion. I trip and rise and the prickles wedge beneath my flesh but none of it matters because my mission is light and the end is getting brighter.

Along the way there is a clamor of screams as their skin splashes across that cold water and then silence.

They are under and drowning in the rush of nakedness beneath the lake and I think they are being set free down there. Chains unlatched and shame unscrewed as I watch the fig leaves float away. I remember and I want it. Heads begin to bob and arms are reaching and voices are raised with praise as their breath filters in puffs through the cold air.

My feet tap across the dock and I make a clean sweep for the towels and a shoe lingers somewhere too. A few are pulling up onto the dock now all clothed in glory and I pivot and run back into the darkness, arms full as I am swallowed up once more.

I drop it all in the dirt just at the edge of the dock but they don't know it. I wanted to take it all the way back but that would be mean. And slightly hilarious. But this is enough.

I hear them, their heated whispers and scrambling shuffles as the panic spreads. The dock shakes some and I chuckle in the disguise behind the shadows. Success. Watching them realize they cannot cover up their nakedness brings me to the ground in laughter.  Soooooo funny.

And then the spirit touches me like a match to a wick and I get it, fire aflame deep inside because the enemy himself is just up that hill behind the tree laughing at me in the dark, the fool who wouldn't jump off that dock, the one who wouldn't strip down to my skin because the shame is too much to bear.

Because without fig leaves I want to hide in fear as I hear his footsteps gaining. Oh, I wish I could have jumped. 

Satan is the father of lies, a thief in the night and most of the time you wonder around in the dark just waiting for him to remind you of which tree you cannot eat, only so that you give yourself permission to take a big ole' chomp. You want to be like God on the outside but your heart is clothed in shame. He is sneaky and hides in the darkness, and yet his tactics are nothing new.

And so often that is me—too busy trying to free myself by covering up that I don't even hear the enemy prowling in the night. 

It is the reason that even under all these fall layers and brown boots, covered in color on my face and curls around my neck—even in these glory moments where I breathe in the fearful and wonderful of my making, even here I bear the weight of the shame because he is a thief in the night and I have missed his footsteps and let him steal my covering over and over again. 

We feel the weight of the apple and the nakedness and the shame. And so, we hide in the trees because it's safer then jumping in naked. I am thankful for this weekend with these sisters who jumped and joyfully watched their fig leaves float off into the morning rising. So thankful.

I deserve to return to dust and instead He makes me garments and clothes me in righteousness. Then He protects me from eating the apple of eternity, that someday I might be free from my shame, shame that ultimately He never intended for me to bear. He gives an end to the shame {a way out} and some day fig leaves will be a fashion of a life long past.

Too often, I forget that He made me a covering and gave me death that I might have eternity to wear it. 

And at the sound of His coming, let us not be found hiding in fear and covered in shame. Let's wear righteousness like a gown and maybe then the shame will fade as we endure on this earth,

and then one day soon dirt turned rib turned woman can be redeemed to naked glory and all.


And the LORD God made for Adam and for his wife garments of skins and clothed them.
(Genesis 3:21 ESV)


He drove out the man, and at the east of the garden of Eden he placed the cherubim and a flaming sword that turned every way to guard the way to the tree of life.
(Genesis 3:24 ESV)

On Why I Kissed Dating Goodbye {Part 2}

Please read Part 1  HERE before you continue…

So, here we are broken hearted from boy and holy spirit dwelling richer. Truth sits in front of me and I can’t blink enough to miss it, though those most close to me could tell you that I tried…I really tried.

Like most times, I am a slow learner and like to trudge through the thick of it when the straight and narrow is well within sight. It just doesn’t seem to stop me from paving my own way, from chasing control to death—literally it seems at times.

In God’s grace it only took me two or three months after sending him home on the plane to realize that he was not mine. It took him longer and his promises to wait forever for me left me always hanging on, clinging to something I knew wasn’t mine. But I hung onto the idea of him and me, the feelings, the moments, the future—I clung to it like a monkey to a tree.

And let me tell you, it took that darn tree falling flat to the ground before I unlatched. But when I did, Jesus was there among those broken branches and leaves turned brown and He held me. Gentle and patient as ever.

A week later this man who waited for me to throw my hair down, he texted to tell me he was in a relationship. FYI—it wasn’t with me. A little broken and a little relieved, I kept trudging through my jungle.

A few months later, nearly one year after I sent him home on that plane, he proposed. FYI—the ring wasn’t for me.

Not gunna lie—I cried. Yes right there on the couch by myself, I wept like a baby as the blizzard outside poked at my heart a bit. And eventually one friend just laughed at my foolishness and the tears faded into giggles and thanksgiving. Yes, I was actually thankful that it wasn’t me—deep, deep down I was thankful I obeyed, even when I felt my world turn. I was thankful, I kept saying it and soon my heart believed too. 

Then the holy spirit began to convict again. He showed me this picture. This picture of me and him together that morning, his arms holding me tight.

I looked at it and I wept for an hour. This time, it wasn’t because I missed him. Rather, because I stole from him, I stole from his wife to be and I handed him over things that weren’t his to have either.

Here’s the thing—our lips never touched that year. Our hands collided only several times. We were rarely alone and we sought wisdom from our elders. He asked my dad if he could date me months before I even knew he was going to pursue me. We were pure, we did it right—so I was convinced, we were doing it right.

It wasn’t until I found this picture and I saw him holding me and I heard him singing to me and remembered our long drives and endless conversations about family and Jesus and our future together that I realized I was a thief in the night.

Last month, the boy married his bride and their wedding was beautiful. Once in a while, the tears still fall as I see her holding his hand because I remember all that I have, all that I just wish I could give back. So much I wish I could give to her, so much I wish I had never taken. 

I hate that I stole those moments from her. 

I hate that I didn't see it—that as a sister in Christ, I took those moments from him, my brother, moments that belong to his wife—now forever mine.

So sisters, how do we reconcile this? How do I know all of this and yet still enter into another dating relationship?

Real quick, let's clarify some definitions:

--Dating: finding the right person for me, intimacy before commitment, pretend like you're married to see if it will work, just enjoying each other and waiting to see what happens, no time constraint.

--Biblical Courtship: being the right person to serve your spouse in glorifying Christ in your role as man or woman, commitment before intimacy, commit your way to the Lord and marriage will work, intentional time to decide if marriage is in the future or not, either you're it or you're not.

1.)  Let us be in the world but not of it.

What does dating look like when filtered through verses such as these?

•        For whoever is ashamed of Me and My words in this adulterous and sinful generation, of him the Son of Man also will be ashamed when He comes in the glory of His Father with the holy angels. -Mark 8:38
•        Religion that is pure and undefiled before God, the Father, is this: to visit orphans and widows in their affliction, and to keep oneself unstained from the world. -James 1:27
•        But you are a chosen race, a royal priesthood, a holy nation, a people for his own possession, that you may proclaim the excellencies of him who called you out of darkness into his marvelous light. -1 Peter 2:9
•       Do not be conformed to this world,[c] but be transformed by the renewal of your mind, that by testing you may discern what is the will of God, what is good and acceptable and perfect. -Rom. 12:1-2
•        We who are strong have an obligation to bear with the failings of the weak, and not to please ourselves. Let each of us please his neighbor for his good, to build him up.  -Rom. 15:1-2
•        For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant[a] of Christ. -Gal. 1:10

When we, as women in the love with Jesus, walk around holding hands with our man, how are we not in some respect reaching even deeper into our culture with each grasp we take? We say we want to be a light, to be a generation that rises up, to walk in our newness. So how do we date no differently from the world but not think twice? Okay, so maybe we don't kiss until our wedding day or have a short engagement or cherish our virginity.

These are honorable pursuits, ones that very much impact, so I ask—is it enough?

 2.) Our hearts are deceitful; we must learn to guard.

What exactly is in our heart?

•        He went on: "What comes out of a man is what makes him 'unclean. For from within, out of men's hearts, come evil thoughts, sexual immorality, theft, murder, adultery, greed, malice, deceit, lewdness, envy, slander, arrogance and folly. All these evils come from inside and make a man 'unclean.' " –Mark 7:20-22

Is the heart always bad?

•        Then the LORD saw that the wickedness of man was great in the earth, and that every intent of the thoughts of his heart was only evil continually. –Genesis 6:5
•       The heart is deceitful above all things and beyond cure. Who can understand it? –Jer. 17:9

How do we guard our heart?

•         Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it. Keep your mouth free of perversity; keep corrupt talk far from your lips. Let your eyes look straight ahead; fix your gaze directly before you. Give careful thought to the paths for your feet and be steadfast in all your ways. Do not turn to the right or the left; keep your foot from evil. Prov. 4:23-27
•         Do not let your heart envy sinners, But be zealous for the fear of the LORD all the day. –Prov. 23:17
•        Trust in Him at all times, you people; Pour out your heart before Him; God is a refuge for us. –Ps. 62:8
•        But I have trusted in Your mercy; My heart shall rejoice in Your salvation. –Ps. 13:5

Why is does it matter?

•     You also be patient. Establish your hearts, for the coming of the Lord is at hand. –James 5:8

What is the result of guarding our heart and abstaining from the world?

•       Blessed are the pure in heart, for they will see God. –Matt. 5:8

Okay, so maybe we get the physical part of dating down. Maybe the being together but not really being together the way we were created to is silenced for a bit so that we can just date. What about the heart of it all? Ladies, we all know it is deceitfully wicked—add that to our emotions, our biological clock ticking a little quicker, our Facebook feed plastered with new relationship statuses and big ole' rings, and our Pinterest-planned wedding and then what? Can we truly guard our hearts adequately inside of a dating relationship in the culture we live in? I thought so.

See, a battle in ever dating again for me is this—because we are just dating with no indication of anything more intentional, essentially that could be YOUR husband holding my hand. 

 And in this situation, this boy who I sent home on the plane, he thought I was his. I thought he was mine.

Sisters, how do we reconcile this? Even in a friendship, how do we devote hours to primping and prodding our hair up to the ceiling and cover our faces with color because we know our "friend" is going to be there tonight, but tell our roommate we really are guarding our heart—it's a group party and we are just friends. Really?

By design, I don't believe we were created to be in close friendship with guys. Think about it—do you ever see a girl in scripture just be friends with a guy where it doesn't lead to sin?

 3.) We really can’t miss it—we can’t screw it up.

If I don’t date, I will never meet my husband.

•         But seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you. Matt. 6:33
•         Your eyes saw my unformed substance; in your book were written, every one of them, the days that were formed for me, when as yet there was none of them. –Ps. 139:16
•         I will instruct you and teach you in the way you should go; I will counsel you with my eye upon you. –Ps. 32:8

People will think I’m crazy.

• Let no one despise you for your youth, but set the believers an example in speech, in conduct, in love, in faith, in purity. -1 Tim. 4:12
•   For all that is in the world—the desires of the flesh and the desires of the eyes and pride in possessions—is not from the Father but is from the world. -1 John 2:16
•  “For I know the plans I have for you,” declares the LORD, “plans to prosper you and not to harm you, plans to give you hope and a future.”  (Jeremiah 29:11)
• Are not five sparrows sold for two pennies? Yet not one of them is forgotten by God.  Indeed, the very hairs of your head are all numbered. Don’t be afraid; you are worth more than many sparrows.”   (Luke 12:6-7)
• Peace I leave with you, My peace I give to you; not as the world gives do I give to you. Let not your heart be troubled, neither let it be afraid. John 14:27
•    And to love Him with all the heart, with all the understanding, with all the soul, and with all the strength, and to love one's neighbor as oneself, is more than all the whole burnt offerings and sacrifices. –Mark 12:33

On the Nations & Learning to Laugh

They teach me to belly laugh from somewhere called joy and the world looks different through this lens as the sun dances across my skin. They ask questions and I remember His goodness  in the little things. Sometimes, English leads us all astray but we know what it means to laugh and kick the soccer ball. I remember it is the quiet moments hiking through the woods together where I hear His voice speak right to my burden and the weariness fades with each step I take. Step on, daughter, step on.

I am a doer of the Word and I hear them laugh and the doing tastes sweet, like honey.

We work all day, me and my dozen. The ideas keep coming and I have to drag myself away and clean myself up. It takes two hours extra to load up the vans and yes, I am way late to my own party. So I ask her where she is from and we talk into the whole hour of lateness until it simply doesn't matter anymore and I watch the control slipping though my fingertips and I just laugh. I needed to be here more then there, just for that hour and it is good.

We make it home to the country and the crowds fan out from the big white vans and the green grass holds many tribes, tongues and nations now. I stand high and gaze out in awe for a minute. Then the to-do list kicks in and I greet and explain and smile a lot. We are here and it is happening and this is a glimpse of heaven right here in my own backyard. I was created for this, for these relationships, for these nations, for this moment right here—that together we might glorify God.

We play soccer and horse shoes and frisbe. I stand on the wobbly chair and take photos by the barn for hours. The girls love it, all of it. I try new angles and only wish I had the talent of a photographer because it is so much fun to watch the colors story-tell right on the other side of this lens. Moments captured, joy overflowing caught on pause forever. I attempt to edit later on and just laugh. So much laughter and I am lighter and God is bigger.


























The photos blur from the barn to jumping to making Egyptian pyramids and I totally forget about the hard-boiled eggs and the ropes. The three-legged race and egg toss I had planned fades with the daylight as all fifty or so head down into the woods and gather around the flames. We eat and laugh more and for some they have never experienced this before. The way a hot dog tastes crisped black right off the flame, the way the marshmallow jumps across your face and the chocolate tastes better triune. Some pack up and hike up the hill back into the city. Others linger as the darkness drapes over us and the flame is brighter. I take a picture of it and I pray my life will resemble this flame, right here in this darkness sitting around me.
For the first time in the night, I just sit and stop directing and smiling. I sit and lock eyes and remember names and majors. I sit with several from the other side of the world and we talk. We talk about the government and the hot dogs and the way humanity is born sinful. We ask each other questions because we just want to figure out why we are here on this earth, why we are sitting around this fire sharing this moment. Eventually I talk about the cliffs and the bridge that leads to the other side, the only way to God through Christ. We ponder ultimate Truth together and she tells me about confucianism and how no one is perfect so we must pick and chose truth we believe, because there are always lies. The air thickens and the darkness brings a chill.

We are interrupted and we have to hike up to the house and load up the vans once again. God is at work on this mountain, in the big white van I drive through the dark winding roads late at night—He is there too. He is. I feel it and I see it and I am so thankful. I drop of the last one and its just me and a friend heading back up the mountain and we talk about how the Word really does just reveal itself and trying to be the holy spirit is draining. She testifies to the spirit dwelling and I am thankful because we all need to remember.

The same power that conquered the grave lives here inside of me.

My international friends teach me to joy through the laughter and to recognize the light in the darkness and to take goofy photos and to wrestle through the meaning of life together and eat burnt hotdogs and to let the spirit dwell richly inside.

They teach me to glimpse heaven and stay there because it is coming and I want to laugh with them there too.

Friendships: On Hobbling into Eternity

I drive down the windy road, covered in darkness and flashes of light. I pass the street and I remember.

I haven't driven these roads much over the past four years, as it seems for most with our high school diplomas in hand, off we fly—all in different directions of course, without looking back. 

And then four years later, another diploma in hand you find yourself driving down that road and walking in that house and seeing that momma, a little more wrinkled and grey—you see and you smell and you breathe those moments all over again. Then you cry because of the promises unkept and the relationships lost and you swear you didn't see it coming, though you were given fair warning. 

I remember walking down this road, ten feet deep in layers of hoodies and scarfs and socks, the ones that go up to your knees, the ones that are tie-die, boasting all the colors of the rainbow. Leggings and sweatpants miles deep. Oh, and yes, I thought I was the greatest thing on earth in those socks. I remember walking and looking up, gazing at those little white lights as we wiggled our way down the curves. 

The road ahead seemed clear and narrow, lined out with the moon glimmering off the crystal white surrounding. We walked in linked arms and we knew the road would be long and hilly, we couldn't exactly see beyond the night, but we had the same vision and we held on tighter. I remember watching my breath come out into a puff of exhaustion and joy all steamed together. And I remember hiking up the hill after we flew down it, the greatness of it all, the way we all talked with our eyes and knew in our hearts we would raise babies together one day.

My hair was brown then and I laughed louder and I hugged boys without thinking and I didn't care what people thought so much. Life seemed so complicated, relationships messy but in hindsight, it was all oh so simple. 

Little sisters, ride on the simplicity of it all because one day you will blink and it will all look a little uglier, a little more complex.

Mostly, I remember being with her. I remember the others too, the ones that have since long faded into Facebook photos and random status likes over these four years. I remember her because we made it—we passed the test time and time again and I don't understand it but I don't ask because in the mountaintops and the pits of life, she has remained, arm linked in mine. 

I envy those people who just attract friends with a wink. It's not like that for me. It's a labor and a lifelong one. I think too much and try too hard. I invest my whole heart and when it breaks, my life crumbles and I cry a lot. 

I expect a lot too. I love deep and I try to be real because sometimes the mask gets too hot. 

Even tonight as I saw her but a minute, I drove down that road remembering and I walked in and I looked into her eyes and I saw the past six years and I remembered and it felt safe, even in the doubt I trust because she's earned it. The smell of her house floods my nostrils  as we sit—with moments that somehow summed up my life outside of the high school classroom all rushing in because they were most often here, here in this place where the spirit still grips my heart so tight. 

I can't decide if I should laugh or cry so I smile. I grew up with her, mostly right here in this basement where we first met and she fed me milk as I became a new creation and learned to chew solid food. I fell in love with Jesus and tried to run away a million times and she's watched it all, talked me back with her bold words more then a handful. We have to take planes to link arms now, and it happens way less then I ever thought possible, but somehow God's grace has been enough. We used to tell stories with our eyes and now we use our lips more often then not, but yes, someday we will raise babies together and when I look in her eyes I know her right into eternity. 

Life keeps going and most of the friends you have now won't walk down the aisle in front of you on your big day like you're planning, but it's life and He's good, so hold fast. You will learn to let go and trust more. It will humble you and challenge you to die more and love better, less about you really. You will learn from the mistakes and make new friends and some of will last forever. Not all of them will walk the straight and narrow road, some of them will fall off and it will shake you to the core of your own faith and this too, is good, so hold fast. It's a messy journey, one that is so worth it because we were created to be in relationship, first with the Lord and then with each other. 

The ones worth keeping will see the mess and grab a broom and look into your eyes and tell you the gospel with a single glance and you will be better because of it, and so will she and into eternity you hobble, arms linked. 

The 6 Fs of Friendship:

1.) Fellowship in real life, not behind a screen. When your midnight rolls around, and you don't know what to do, your friend behind the screen isn't going to come running so find one who will. Don't waste your time in fake friendships that hide behind typed words and never go anywhere but back and forth. It's not worth it.

2.) Forget about Facebook.  The number of friends you have, the posts on your wall, the weddings and babies and events—live in the here and  now, your own here and now because that's all you're promised. Facebook friends are great when you have an hour to kill at the airport or ten minutes waiting in line, but get out of cyberspace and invest in some real people, face to face coffee dates and all.

3.) Find your few and pursue them. Focus your attention and time. Invest in people where you are. Stop trying to get everyone to like you, stop trying to hold up some image. Just talk and be real and learn and love because that's how you are going to find the ones worth holding onto—that's where the push comes to shove and some stick around and others don't.

4.) Figure out what works for you. Are you the kinda person who needs one or two besties for life who know you better then you know yourself and even with distance that's enough or are you one who gives chunks to a handful of chosen friends wherever you are at for that season or are you one invests deeply in a many and they change with life? Figure out what works for you and pursue that.

5.) Forge ahead and stop looking back. The past it over and we can't live there. There is no way the past can fulfill current needs. Life keeps a goin' and we change and grow and wonder with it—whatever season of life you are in now, I guarantee you won't be the same person next year so surround yourself with friends who are growing and learning and moving with you. When you lose friends, press on. 

6.) Find grace and forget it. We are all sinners learning to do life together. That means it's gunna be hard and messy so give more grace then you take and forget the little stuff once in a while. Grace can sustain you through a lot, so know it better then you know the hurts and the changes and the fears. Give it freely, lavish it often.

In the Blink of an Eye

Today I was sitting in class listening to my teacher lecture in his deep Nigerian accent, chuckling often as he fought to articulate his thoughts in English. Truth be told--I don't think I will ever tire of hearing him speak. Anyhow, he was lecturing about forecasting, when suddenly he stops. For a moment I thought perhaps he just lost his English, as this happens every once in a while.

But as the pause grew in time…5 seconds...10 seconds...15 seconds...I see him begin to navigate up the steps to the back of the room, a steadfastness across his face. As I turn to see the source of his distraction for myself, I am met with an image that continues to plague my mind, turning over and over as I try to understand.

There is a girl that always sit in the back—she is actually in three of my classes. Instead of sitting in her seat taking notes like the rest of us, she has fallen out of her chair and is laying on the ground. The rest is a blur now. Her friend calls 911 and tells them she has a heart condition—they need to hurry. As someone tries to explain exactly where we are located—in the basement of the Agriculture building, she attempts to rise to her feet.

She begins down the steps with a friend supporting her on each side. She is right in front of my desk now, in the front of room. She whimpers, much like a dog in great pain. She collapses right in front of me. The collision of her feeble body against the cold, hard ground continues to echo in my ears, even as I write this many hours later.

I sit and stare, unable to process that this is real life—and not some nightmare. Like a broken record, she cries out—its my heart, my heart. She curls into the fetal position and begins to quiet. Her silence is abnormal and concerning. It was like her body became jello. What do I do? I can’t just sit here—and stare, like everyone else in the room.

My Nigerian professor is pacing back and forth, deep in thought—and prayer. Suddenly the boy next to me—a solid man deep his twenties—jumps out of his seat and walks to her seemingly lifeless body. He tells her that he is going to pick her up to carry her to meet the help. No response. She fits into his arms and he quickly glides out the door, like a daddy holding his hurting little girl.

After several minutes, the professor attempts to resume teaching, but the sirens begin to plague all of our ears. Suddenly, his beautiful language lacks it’s usual comfort in my ears. Instead, all I hear between the sirens are my thoughts. Each of us probably wondering the same thing—will we see her again? Will they be able to help her? Did we do enough? What were supposed to do? If she doesn’t make it—well—how could we live with ourselves? I wish I could have helped—I wish I knew what to do in such a crisis.

In my next class, some of her close friends suggested is was a heart attack, brought on by some acute blockage. Others seemed to have lost their speech all together. And the rest, still quite shook up.

Today, reality collided with the preciousness of life on earth. A deep ache continues to linger in my soul—did she know you, Lord? Was her life different because of your name? That first day of class, the day she plopped down in the seat beside me and smiled—why didn’t I care more about her need to know Christ then I did my own insecurity of opening my lips to return the warm welcome altogether? Why do I hesitate, so often, to obey the leading of the Holy Spirit moving inside of me? Perspective says that a moment of feeling insecure is meaningless in the grand scheme of heaven and hell. My flesh says otherwise.  

We don’t know how long we have on this earth. I often cry out to the Lord to send His Son to return for us, His Bride sooner rather then later. And yet the struggle of it all is this exactly—will I be found glorifying Him in that hour and who is coming with me? Today, I am reminded to speak with an urgency and purpose in sharing the gospel. To surrender my fears and insecurities because it could all be over today…tomorrow…this year. And when I finally get to meet Him face to face, what will He say about my life—about my time here purposed to bring Him all the glory, honor and praise?

Will He say, “Well done daughter, well done my good and faithful servant”? I must remember that what He says about my life on that day matters more then what any girl in my class, guy checking me out at Walmart, or non-believing friend of mine might have to say about a seemingly radical faith in Jesus Christ and a life that obeys His commands.

You know, this life is like the blink of an eye compared to eternity. The blink of an eye.

Today alone, you will blink at least 17,000 times. And yet, in comparison to eternity with Christ, our life here in this world is simply a single blink. Oh friends, let us not forget the urgency with which we must live out our blink.

Today, I blinked and the preciousness of a young woman’s life flashed before me—a young woman who I didn’t pursue out of selfish ambition and vain conceit. Her blink could be over—or not. Either way, I pray that today, this week, this year—I would remember with each blink of my eye how meaningless and fleeting this life on earth really is, apart from knowing Him and making Him known. Oh Lord, engrave it more deeply upon this ever-wondering, ever-distracted, deceitfully wicked heart of mine.