On Hearing the Burning Bush

Yesterday, I was driving kiddos around and we passed by an old abandoned house with huge flames pouring out. The smell lingered for miles. I said a quiet prayer and kept on my way. [There were already firetrucks on the scene].

I was pulling into the Walmart parking lot a few exits away several minutes later only to smell the flames burning again. Being so far away, I knew it couldn't possibly still be the house we'd passed. I smelled my shirt, thinking maybe the scent lingered still. But the smell wasn't attached to me. I started looking all around me, with it being such a hot, dry day and all. We were creeping down the side-road towards Walmart, when something caught my eye.

God used a burning bush to talk to Moses. And today, He did that for me too.

That's right, one of those perfectly trimmed, fancy landscaped bushes was completely engulfed in flames, just a couple feet away. There was no audible voice calling out asking me to strip my feet bare prior to my approach.

Rather it was a still, quiet moment and I haven't heard Him so clear in months.
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Tonight, I finally told granny about my upcoming trip to India. She freaked. She told me that was a mean joke. When I told her I was leaving in July, she went off on one of my old roommates, how that girl filled my head with rubbish. Now that girl is a wife and new mamma, I reminded granny, so obviously it wasn't her that led me to this desire to live overseas. Well, at least she will have a nice life. With her lawyer husband and little family. That's right Courtney, she has a perfect, beautiful life. I guess it's just over for you, huh? You're throwing it all away. Clink. She hangs up.

I spent time with my adopted fam this week and the conversation of dating was brought up. One of the girls said she feels like the weird one even in a big group of church friends. And I feel it too. Even amidst fellow believers, I feel like I don't belong sometimes. As I watch my Jesus-loving friends date recreationally when I spend more nights at home, I wonder if I'm right in all of this.

Just the fact that you have more international friends then Americans, grandma says, is foolish. Eventually they will all leave you and then what will any of it matter, aside from winding up alone and old? she asks. Soon enough, they won't want to hang out with you, Courtney, you're wasting your prime years here. My uncle wants take me out of his will because he says if he leaves me his money, I'd give it all away and what a waste that would be. It's better to leave to his girlfriend, he says.

This is extreme, but I feel it elsewhere. Sometimes I even think my beleiving family thinks I'm a bit crazy--extreme maybe. After quitting secular university and moving in with a homeschooling family of eleven, I get it. And how to begin to articulate all God has done through these decisions this year, how it's all lining up as He changes my desires and vision for life. I just find myself speechless and miles away. So, for now the extremes linger I suppose. And I trust more?

Some days I just want to prove the world wrong. I wanna go be a missionary to unreached people in India for the rest of my life just to prove them all wrong. To prove I'm not throwing it all away. That sometimes obedience looks radical through the eyes of our culture--it's all relative really. I don't know. I just know it feels lonely. And then there are days like today. Where I actually wonder what I have thrown away, what merit or comfort in the world's eyes I've given up in pursuit of this outwardly countercultural and presumably extreme lifestyle.

And so here I find myself, wrestling with my white picket fence fantasies contrasted against this gospel call to obedience--and what the means for me. Is the promised 'well done' enough to quiet the lack of belonging and doubt that lingers today?

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And so I gaze across at the burning bush and He quiets me.

I see you, daughter. I see the trials and the doubt. I see the struggling in and around you. The suffering, I see it too you know? But I AM WHO I AM--I have come down to deliver you, all of you. I know you're a little more broken these days and I know you feel the burden of this world. I see the oppression and I am sending you, my suffering servant to tell them of my promises. Daughter, you have learned to hope beyond the pain and they need to know it too. I know it's lonely, but fear not for I am He who never forsakes. 

Who am I, oh Lord? Don't you see my own suffering seems unbearable at times and yet it cannot compare to theirs. My selfishness and pride are paralyzing. What could I possibly have to say?

But I will be with you. And this shall be the sign for you, that I have sent you:  when you have brought the people out of Egypt, you shall serve God on this mountain.
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The crazy thing is, the very first time God spoke to me so clearly He told me to go to the mountains and share the good news. At the time, I had other mountains in mind. Now I hear Him again. Calling me to these mountainous villages of India. You will see miracles and you will trust me more. Little by little, daughter. I am delivering you.

And I promise, when you taste the milk and honey these temporal sufferings will be washed away. When you hear my words well done, your grandmother's voice will be but a quiet melody. 

Oh Jesus, please blind these eyes to the flattery of this world. Train them to turn from the accusations and dreams unfulfilled. Bind them to you. That I might see through the filter of your gracious hand at work in my life. That furthering your kingdom would propel me heavenward with unshifting joy.

We shouldn't ever doubt right? We should hear and respond to God's voice pouring out of a burning bush with far greater faithfulness then to that of an embittered granny living miles away. And yet, it's hard. But Jesus told us not to be surprised if the world hates us. Because it first hated Him. We have to remember it's the gospel we share that is offensive.

Brothers and sisters, how do we live in this world and yet not of it? Better yet how do we align our thoughts and deeds with scripture but avoid extremes in our witness while maintaining our convictions?  What do you hear God calling you to this week?

In Which I Tell You I Am India Bound

It's been nearly a year now. A year since I've traveled the world and seen God sweep through the mountains of Orissa as His Holy Spirit moves in the hearts and lives of these natives. I can so vividly remember walking through the security gate at the airport in the big city after a five hour drive out of the mountains, all our gear piled high atop the cars as we Americans don't know how to leave the bathroom sink behind. I had several bags across my shoulder and full waterworks streaming down my face, passport in hand. I turned around one last time as I was next to walk through security. I smiled big and motioned one final goodbye.

I remember walking forward, passing through the metal detector and putting my shoes back on. The same ones that were still raw with that glorious red dirt that held my frame those weeks, sweat seeping between my toes. I heard the holy spirit in those moments, as He simply told me This is is just see you later. Trust me now. The plane ride back and months to follow were full of wrestling with much fear and trembling. Wrestling with trust and patience and submission, wrestling with the abundance of stuff invading my life and this American culture luring me away from the gospel, with white picket fence and all. Wrestling with waiting, the feeling stuck, with the culture shock and my salvation too.

Then Pastor Sam came to visit a while back, and I wrestled some more.

These past months have led me into living away from these eleven, learning how to walk confidently in the sufficiency of Christ at work in my life. It's been ups and downs, but the ground is looking more level then ever before and I know the Spirit is at work. Meanwhile, a season of studying my nights and weekends away as the paychecks continue to sustain through the five o' clock hour is coming to a much anticipated close. I have two more classes to go and that is a miracle far beyond my capacity or ability--and yet, here we are!

I was accepted to Thomas Edison University last week where I will transfer all my credit and complete my final two classes to come out with my Bachelors in Social Sciences in June.

In fact, that's only one of the incredible prayers answered in my life through these recent weeks. That final night of these forty days where my friend Sydney and I prayed into the desert instead of fasting, we asked God to provide the money for my tuition, to make India come up unexpectedly through the week if we were supposed to go, and for a job in Arkansas so I didn't have to move to St. Louis. We prayed a lot of other stuff too.

The next day, I witnessed God's miraculous provision of the missing $800 needed to complete my tuition costs, just taped to my car literally the week it was due and after praying it would appear in that exact location the night before. By lunchtime that day, the phone rang from an odd number. I thought it might be a potential job interview, so I picked up. An hour long phone conversation would follow with an American currently living in India, whom I had met there last year, anxious to serve this Pastor and his ministry in greater depth. I hung up the phone completely in awe of how boldly God chose to answer our prayer. Beyond, that He also confirmed India that same afternoon in a clear way to Sydney through a conversation with her dad. Later that week, God also provided a job in Arkansas. 

We met later that night and looked at each other laughing, quite histarically actually, at the unreal realization that God was indeed calling us to India! I know when I pray, I must believe it, but so many of those weeks of prayer had been spent begging Him to help my unbelief. He didn't have to reveal Himself in such tangible ways, and yet in His grace He chose to and I am so thankful and in continual awe. The next step was asking God to provide the right group to send us. There were several options presented to us, and within a week God very clearly confirmed our home church, University Baptist Church, would be sending us.

We will be heading to India for the month of July to teach English to children at this school. Beyond humbling is the fact that simply our American bodies standing in that schoolhouse will bring much creditability and provision to the school, the ministry, and these kiddos futures. We also hope to offer several outreaches to women there, possibly through bible studies, medical clinics and sex-trafficking prevention courses.

For me personally, this month will be spent seeking God and specifically asking Him to show me whether or not I am to return long term to teach and serve within this ministry. Either way, I will be coming back for a year to pay off the remainder of my school debt and continue in international ministry before I can return long term.

We will also have the opportunity to write while in India, sharing stories of what God is doing and will continue to do through our time there, allowing you to see glimpses of our journey and continue praying specifically while we are there and giving to this incredible ministry as you are led.

You know, God's provision these past weeks has been overwhelming. It's like in Hebrews 6 when God promised Abraham blessing and descendants. Abraham waited patiently and then received what God had promised. I have been waiting (though not so patiently) for these requests. And now God provided a new job, the money needed to complete college just in time to go to India, and the path clear for India with a friend to join me.

But God didn't stop there. He continues in Hebrews to explain that He wanted to make the unchanging nature of His purpose so clear--so He gave an oath, a promise for His heirs to hope in. That's us, ya'll!!

He said we have this hope as an anchor for the soul, firm and secure. 

Do you ever feel as though you need an anchor for your soul? I sure do. Even now as kiddos don't obey and the dishes are piled high and the laundry sits in the washer still. I have a big test this week and am fighting a cold and I just feel like it's all out of my control--I need to be anchored in something! So what are we to anchor our souls in, beyond His immediate provision of things in this world?

Hebrews goes on to tell us that this promise enters the inner sanctuary behind the curtain, where our fore rummer Jesus had entered on our behalf. We are to be anchored in the promise of Jesus, the fore runner gone ahead and coming back still.

So as incredibly humbled as I am in God's provision of so much this week, I am realizing I can't hope only in this temporal provision He offers. We rejoice, yes!! But what if God chose to use me in St. Louis rather then Arkansas? What if God did not provide the money for school the next day, but it took several months? He doesn't always answer us the way we choose or expect. So we can't only place our hope in these answered prayers, even when He does chose to answer them in a big way for His glory.

But we CAN hope in the unshifting promise, the provision, still coming--JESUS. And it is with that desire we fly across the world to bring the good news. The news that Jesus is the one to fulfill, the one who allows us to hope in the inner sanctuary. That Christ is anchoring us in Himself until He comes.

In His grace He offers us glimpses--like making a way for us to go to India. But ultimately we hope in the promise that He is coming!!

You can catch up on clips of my India journey last year through this South Asia link. There will be support letters coming soon and we are are so grateful for the way the body of Christ continues to surround us, pray with us, and confirm what God is doing.

              My sister, friend, and the one crazy enough to join me on this journey to India!! 

Focus on Your Pain, Your Past, & Your Parents

So, this world is pretty messed up. 

Everyone I know has some kind of hurt in their life which still opens fire every once in a while. Or every day. There are those deep waves beneath which we toss and turn, those wires that feel mismatched sometimes. I think we all feel it—this underlying brokenness that was never supposed to be. 

We all fight to attain the image in which we were originally fashioned, though often times we cannot articulate it just so. And sometimes, the battle in the waiting isn't so pretty. 

How do you fight when you don't know just what you're fighting for? And how do you know that you're not the only one when we all keep quiet in our searching and tell ourselves it's just us longing and no one will relate?

My growing up years were plagued in pain and hurts that still send me flailing about into adulthood. My past is ugly and shameful and dark. I screwed up and lot. My parents both love me but it has taken years to believe it because they didn't show it. I blame a lot of the pain on them and some of that is fair. 

I have friends that had amazing parents. Some who grew up rooted in purpose and established in love. Others who had an unnatural peace with their purpose in this world and they lived it intentionally. Not everyone has flopped around so much, but each of us has more pain. Even the most loving parents screw up. And I have never met one person to claim life-long perfection. So here we are, all of us focusing our attention on something. 

I remember the midnight searches that defined my youth, in the basement sitting behind that lit up screen, desperately scrolling through page after page trying to find any indication that I wan't the only one. Anything to tell me who I was because I heard who I wasn't all day long. That someone else was messed up too. I remember spending Friday nights at Border's, hours consumed in the self-help shelves, just searching. 

Was there was another girl anywhere in the world that didn't feel loved and hated herself for it? Desperate to know someone else tried to fill the void with food. Someone that thought to cut themselves to numb the pain before I did?Anyone who doesn't have it all figured out? Anyone? Knowing someone else was hurting too gave me hope, this odd confirmation that it wasn't over for me, this sense of belonging. We all want to. 

Soon enough, I belonged. An unknowing victim led astray via the self-help of the world. 

Our solution:  pile the shelves floor to ceiling with self-help books, just give her a pill (we can figure out what's wrong later), and maybe you should go to a counselor—for the next twenty years-ish. 

I still have a shelf or two of those books, I've been on pills for the pills over the years, and I sometimes I think I was raised talking to strangers on those couches that always seem to smell like grandma's. 

And truthfully, I dream of writing books that help girls and studied several years away in pursuit my very own smelly couch. I have a best friend that is about to go for her Master's in counseling and I encourage it because it's not all bad. 

And so we hunger for answers, fixes, and wholeness. In our desperation, we blame because it makes more sense that someone caused it then it does that it's just this abstract feeling that we can't get a grasp of, that something is broken but what? We are an instant gratification society and we want answers. We want quick fixes. And we want to be on top of the next best. We want to save the world and ourselves too. Today or tomorrow. If this is gunna make me feel even less, I'll take it. If reliving those years of his abuse will make it hurt less, I'll do it. If telling her I forgive will erase the memory, I forgive!

In counseling all those years it was most often breath spent focusing on these three. It's a funny triad, a three tiered web of intertwined madness. Especially when I focus on it, I go crazy. 

It's been four years this month—four years since I walked through the doors of Mercy, the place that really challenged me to think about what I think about. Does that make sense? 

I had spent nearly two decades focused on my pain, my past and my parents. Generally (with a few exceptions of course) every website, every book, every counselor and doctor—their approaches differed yet their solutions coincided—look deeper within yourself because that's the only way you'll overcome the pain, relive your past until it explains why you do the things you do now, oh and most of it is your parents fault, but you should forgive them just never forget. 

In other treatment programs and hospital stays, I had always been encouraged to share the depths of my darkness from the past and present. I can remember being reprimanded in one inpatient stay for saying that I didn't think my bulimia was all my mom's fault. We bonded over our issues in treatment, and competed. I never would have known how to abuse laxatives if it weren't for another girl in treatment teaching me. I called them friends but we all just used each other to prove who could be better at dying. I don't think I ever would have come that close if they hadn't paved the way, encouraged me deeper into myself, my very messed up self.

But now this place was telling me I couldn't bond with the others over my past sin. In fact, we were encouraged not to tell one another why we were there until graduation, a day of celebrating God's redemption of the pain. Living in a home for young women with life controlling issues would make it so easy to find hope in others' brokenness, the way I had much of my life, to go down together, so to speak. I think this is one huge reason for Mercy's 93% success rate. They simply change the focus. There is a time and a place for wrestling through the pain, the past, and parents. But that time comes once a week in the wisdom of a counselor with a different focus. 

This idea that we must look deeper into ourselves to find strength needed to overcome is actually quite contradictory if you think about it. If I am born with a sinful nature (no one ever has to teach me how to lie), then would it really make sense that the strength to overcome could come from somewhere deeper down? Personally, I don't think so. I don't know about you, but the deeper down I get into myself, the more I realize just how messed up I am! Strength to overcome myself has to come from something greater, someone bigger then me. Someone not so messed up like me. Reliving the pain over and over again just makes me hurt more. And focusing on the past only keeps me from experiencing God's grace which is sufficient only for today. And truthfully, dwelling back there makes me forget to live now—it makes me forget who I am now and the way that God is redeeming. The past can blind us.

I came home from St. Louis last week really obsessed with food again. I tried a few days down that road too—well, it still didn't work. This was all after my mom paraded my slimmer body around and told me how jealous she was. After she told my step-dad to look at me and marvel. All I heard was how ugly I must have been before I lost some weight. It was a man admiring my beauty that made me want to eat it away. It set something off in me, something engrained in my deepest pain, my past, and both of my parents. 

These days, freedom for me is coming in "forgetting" my pain, my past, and my parents and "focusing" on the only one bigger then myself, the only perfect one—the one who formed my inners in the darkness and has been light ever since. 

It's not that I never think about this triad or will forget it all together. I talk about it when I need to, but not like I used to. Thinking too much is always destructive, I'm learning. Sometimes we just have to stop thinking and proclaim what is true. The Truth is active now, no matter what used to be so we have to fix our eyes on something more because the past isn't changing—it might never hurt less and your parents might always have something to do with it and yet there is a way out. 

When the Israelites were headed to the promise land, they got mad and cursed God. Why have you brought us out of Egypt to die in the desert where there is no food? They cried out. So God sent venomous snakes among them and many died. Moses prayed for the people and God told him to make a snake and put it on a pole. Then anyone who got bitten can look at it and live.

When this journey out of the past seems hopeless and when your parents spew venom that stings, fix your eyes upon the man nailed to the pole. When you look at Him, you will live. 

In Which I am Learning to Be Set Free

I went back to my hometown last week for a baby shower. I found myself driving down Manchester Road as glimpses of a life long past flashed before me. At some point, I had to pull over.

I sat there in front of Target towards the very edge of the parking lot where my mascara-drugged eyes wouldn't scare little children as my frustration pent up began to flood through my desperate pleas. God, why did that girl from France have to die before she heard the gospel and why did you have to send her to hell? Why does it feel like nobody cares? That nobody cares there are thousands of internationals among us desperate for any sort of Truth and they leave with ten extra pounds a few new phrases and assurance that we all love the same God and it ends happily ever after.

Why are my some of my friends, the ones that God has called me to, why aren't they getting it? Why are we all so messed up and WHERE ARE YOU? Why is sin so rampant around me and freedom such an abstract concept? Why do you allow a tsunami to kill thousands, many of who don't know you?

And as I drive down this road and remember the good ole days, how could it possibly be that at least two-thirds of those friends, the same ones that waned me from milk and food that lasts, how could they walk away? How could you let them? They loved you and I know it was genuine—but salvation lost is impossible so I don't understand? So few of us are even crawling to the finish line, and as I near graduation the world just looks a lot darker then it did fresh out of high school.

Oh sweet Jesus, I believe. Help my unbelief.

Anyone relate or am I crazy here? Do you ever question God or wrestle with the darkness?

Habakuk questioned God too—and even longed to see justice.

Oh Lord, how long will I cry to you for help?
Cry to you 'violence' and you will not save?
Justice never goes forth!

And the Lord replies,
Look among the nations and see;
wonder and be astounded.
For I am doing a work in your days
that you would not believe if told...

Then God raises up the most merciless nation to shame the next worst nation.

"How can we be happy in such a messed up world? All the while trying to please God and know Him?" the pastor asks this week and my heart quickens. Did he hear me yelling in the car outside of Target? No, of course not Courtney, you were in another city. You're losing it. As chill bumps wind themselves up my skin, I realized a simple solution—maybe God actually heard me that day and was about to talk to me so very audibly through this man behind the pulpit. Just maybe.

"We must realize He has a plan--and we must rejoice in that plan," He explains.

I've been in Job these days, but I didn't even see it until He said it to the congregation. There is no fault found in questioning God—but at the end of the day the answer doesn't really matter because He can use whatever He wants, however He wants, whenever He wants to do whatever He wants. In other words, He could lead my international friends to Christ through the death of Lucie or through our weekly bible study—it really doesn't matter how He does it, so that can't be our only desire in asking.

Your aim in asking God questions should be how you can praise Him in the midst of the trial or doubt because this is the only answer that will sustain you. {Pastor Mike, UBC}

And God continues..
Write the vision; make it plain on tablets, so he may run who reads it.
For still the vision awaits its appointed time; it hastens to the end--it will not lie.
If it seems slow, wait for it; it will surely come; it will not delay.

So are you meaning to say that even if the world seems dark and it doesn't seem to be letting up even in the weeks that are passing, well you just want me to wait—not only wait, but praise you while I do?

As my eyes are opened to what is written, I see the way this vision turns the abstract longing into flesh it out day to day freedom. Let us remember that God sees the evil of the world and in fact is using these enemies and darkness to fulfill His plan, just as He did in Habakuk—and answers or not faith comes by hearing and hearing by the Word.

I see darkness where I am and I lose hope. But when I see where I will be, I praise. So, let us learn to praise God in the darkness for the light that is coming as though we were already there. I think this is where the abstract freedom is chipped away so we can know the real stuff. It changes you, ya know?

As this battle continues to rage within me today, I am praising because the assurance of my hope is not in this messed up world, but rather in the one to come—freedom, no matter the circumstance.

Oh friends, the Lord is in His holy temple.

If I Am Unfaithful (Part 2) & Wrestling with Death

You can read PART 1 back HERE. 

It was several months ago and I had an event out in those country hills. It was an open invite for many interantionals and you can read about it back here. There was a group of three and they came together. In all of the chaos of the day, I actually forgot to pick them up and had them waiting outside their apartment for nearly an hour. Regardless when I finally rounded the corned, they piled into the packed van with smiles big and they even rode seated on the floor until we could meet up with another van. They never complained though—just seemed happy to be together.

I remember talking with one as she sat packed tight on the floor just behind my seat. I was frustrated because I wanted to look her in the eye as she told me about her family in France and her journey to Fayetteville. As she quieted I remember feeling overwhelmed by all of these new international friends at once. How will I even try to connect and pursue each of them after this event? I remember wondering.

At the time, I don't think I gave enough thought to these girls (and guys)—the places they've come from and the hurts they've endured. I think I forget sometimes that the whole world is broken and dark—and not even a language barrier could conceal that. Sometimes I glory more in the sound of my own voice then in the actual work of God within them though. Probably because it is hard. And they don't always get it. Then you get scared to risk relationship for the sake of pushing more gospel and some days I just wonder what in the world I am doing. Some days I keep quiet. And sometimes the defeat comes in the workers being too few to build relationship with them all, in your own time becoming a restraint.

And even when one loses her life completely unexpectedly and I never had time to build relationship or share the gospel and then my brain stretches in all kinds of crazy—even then I just have to endure, and remain faithful to those God has placed close.

"The saying is trustworthy, for:

If we have died with him, we will also live with him;

if we endure, we will also reign with him;

if we deny him, he also will deny us;

if we are faithless, he remains faithful—for he cannot deny himself." 2 Timothy 2

IF we endure this messed up world, we will reign with Him. We play a role. A conditional promise. 

IF we are faithless, he remains faithful. Not matter what. An unconditional promise.

We have to endure. Broken marriages and babies lost too soon. Little girls being sold for sex and cancer robbing life too fast. Dads failing to protect and moms too busy climbing the corporate ladder to notice. Little ones getting shot in the classroom and teenagers broken enough to stand behind the gun. International friends here one day and gone the next. His promises are still true. 

"If there is a pattern in your life, where you get no joy from the cross and there is this ongoing pattern of selfishness that controls you, I think it would be foolish for you to not at least consider that maybe you are not in Christ." -Chan

I can remember the pain being so great I wanted to escape. No one understood my life. The temptations I fought or the battles that raged inside. How can I ever fight this for the rest of my life? I remember thinking often. It's never going to get better. 

The answer: God gives life to dry bones. His promises are true. He fights and ultimately the victory has been won.

I know some of your lives are difficult...the abuse, the lies, the betrayal, the loss...and God is saying you can trust me. If you endure you can reign with me.

Some of us have a hard time believing in God's faithfulness because of things that we have done. Because of things other people have done to us. How could he still offer relationship to me? Our actions don't change Him. You can't change God. I am who I am and I am faithful, He reminds us. When I promise something I mean it. 

For some of us eternity could be tomorrow. It could be next week. Is that going to change how we live now? Is it going to squelch the fear and inadequacies that tell us we could never make disciples? Sometimes, I share and I don't actually expect the spirit within to speak words that have power to move eternity for another human being and I don't believe it matters right now—for there is always next time?

Her blonde locks hung deep and her eyes spoke loud. She was quiet at first but in good company I could see her craziness coming out. She was a terrific model for the camera, always goofing off with her friends and keeping me belly laughing behind the lens. Later in the day, we built Egyptian pyramids with our bodies piled high and she found her place right above me, her knees performing a balancing act across my back. Yes, we were quite impressive if I do say so.

She got sick just before she went to France to spend the holiday with her family. Just several days after arriving back, she died. Just like that. And as I watch hundreds of internationals return to campus this week, I realize she is not in the crowd. I can't get my brain around it truthfully.

She was on my list of students to reach out to—to know better, to encourage, to love—and now she is just gone. The feeling of my own helplessness piled atop the very fierce reality of her lack of faith in Christ leaves me wrestling with eternity here on this earth, on this very broken, very dark, very fallen earth and today is one of those days that I really wrestle with God's promises—because if I proclaim the ones His overwhelming love, I have to holdfast to the ones of judgement too.

I guess my question then, becomes when is it enough? When are we really going to believe God's word for what it says—both promises of victory and promises of judgement? I think I have failed to articulate the full expanse of God's word accurately and I think my faith has been watered down in His love and ultimately it all higes on it at the same time—so I wrestle while I cling to His promises. 

Don't deny Him, friends. Because His promises really are true and eternity is not always a lifetime away. 

If we confess our sins, He is faithful and just to forgive us our sins and cleanse us of all unrighteousness. (1 John 1:9) 

Do you live that? Do we live clean and righteous? Do you want it? Because brothers and sisters, in Christ we are forgiven and cleansed and eternally free to reign with Christ. Let's endure for He is faithful.

There is a memorial service for Lucie today at Holcombe Hall at 4pm, find more info HERE. 

If I am Unfaithful {Part 1}

This weekend I moved into my new apartment. I've only slept there one night but my stuff getting up those three flights of stairs is a step that way. I met the new roommates and it is all happening and I know it is so, so good.

And then of course there are the tears shed in leaving a family that has become so dear. And in a sense, grieving the loss of that life which has become so normal this year. And so here I am entering a week where I learn to cook for myself again. Where I just wash a handful of dishes rather then a dozen. Where eleven goodnight hugs and I love yous are happening miles away and the void seems catastrophic in this quiet little room.

This is the week where faith comes by hearing and hearing by the word because my heart is just feeling all wacky. I think that part of the chaos deep down is just a lack of trust. It is the voice that says God is one way out under those country stars and that He will never work on the third story of this apartment building the way He did out there. God could never redeem the way He has this year...again. That without this mamma and daddy, perhaps His protection is limited.

So I exhale to the strum of doubt and I melt beneath the weight of myself because me is a mess.

Why is it so hard to trust Christ even when we see His sufficiency and grace abundant over and over again? We forget. So quickly, we forget. Some wise words from Chan at Passion this week have led me to wrestle here.

I think unfaithfulness is is a curse passed down and we learn it. 

We grow up watching our parents promise forever and then it ends. Our best friend says things will never change and then they do. Our dad names us his forever baby girl and then he hurts us. Mom says she will never be like grandma, not to worry—and then she's an addict. Dad says if you don't eat your veggies at dinner, they will become your breakfast but when the morning comes, he pours your cereal like any other day.

And at the time watching your parents marriage crumble or eating cereal when you should have been eating veggies may not seem life-chaning. And yet I am learning that this lack of trust in man can feed into my relationship with God. And when you add in decades of those little things...well I think it matters a lot. It primes us to become desensitized to it—and before we know it, the curse seeps into our offspring too.

Days come when I find myself wondering if a loving God would really send people to hell. I wonder if Heaven is going to be all it's cracked up to be. I wonder how much God means it when He says He loves me because there was another man I trusted who once said that too. I wonder if I could make it apart from Christ and some days I really think I could.

And yet somehow I always find myself falling short. And I'd like to say that when my dad landed in the pit from his alcohol addition yet again this year and tore our family in all kinds of ugly directions, I loved him through it the way the Lord does with me. But that would be a lie. I was mad and hurting and I needed time. A lot of time. In fact, I still havn't talked to him in nearly a year. When someone is unfaithful to you, it affects you. We all respond one way or another and personally—well, my flesh ain't pretty.

But God can't stop being who He is. 

"Know therefore that the Lord your God is God, the faithful God who keeps covenant and steadfast love with those who love him and keep his commandments, to a thousand generations..." Deut. 7:9

I might not walk through the pit with my dad or show up to my bible study every Sunday...
but Christ can't go back on what He promises. Even if I am unfaithful.

So as I lay my head down this first night in this little room and I listen to the wind blow fierce across the window and I let fear twist up through the cracks, I fight the floods streaming down my cheeks and I send desperate texts begging for any sort of instant reprieve and none comes. So I finally cave into the weight of it all and I realize just how wind-tossed and wave-ridden this unfaithful heart of mine can be. How easily swayed and lacking of trust. How forgetful.

And I think I begin to see glimpses of my need for His promises that are true. I see that I need them enough to defend them and I want to go down fighting. I see the way my kids are going to need them even more. And something once overcome by fear and failure gains hulk strength inside. I spit out a few desperate words with origin across the expanse of the Psalms and He quiets me and sleep comes.

With the morning comes light of His unfailing love and I learn He is trustworthy in a whole different realm escaping anything I could find through a few words on a screen or even deeper inside of myself.

He is who He is in spite of my unfaithfulness—and this promise is binding me up today.

And Here is Where I Wrestle with Resolutions

I made it back into the gym this morning and I was shocked to see the parking lot so full. Then I remembered the high of the new year—the sense of worth and fulfillment brought forth with the onset of January 1st. It's almost a ceremonial cleansing of sorts. The past is washed away and we press onward towards self-betterment or something of the sort. I can see us walking around all gowned in white and feeling new.

I think the New Year drives us away from the birth we just celebrated.  

I think it empowers us—merely to seek strength within ourselves. To do better and be better and not look back. And somehow, I fall for it again. I want to eat healthier. I want to fit into those old jeans. I want to actually finish my read the bible in a year plan this time around. I want to save more and spend less. I want to memorize a book of the bible. I want to love my mom better. I want to meet my husband.

I actually found myself sitting to make a goal list like last year. I even coated them in holiness and set them high by throwing in a few about my walk with Christ. But then a couple days in, I find myself worshiping this idol of working all the while forgetting to be set free by the birth and hopeful in the trumpets that will someday sound.

And sometimes, I really am my own worst enemy.

Here I am more concerned with crossing off those thirty minutes on the treadmill this morning as I walk out the door, that I don't even know which lady was standing behind the counter at the gym today—nor did I smile. I go to bed wondering where I put my read the bible in a year plan, so frustrated that I decide I can't even open the word without it, as if having it could amp up the holiness of the book or something. And a couple days into it, I find myself a couple days behind. Welp, there goes my year. It's like these resolutions make me forget how to use my brain.

I forget that the law is but a shadow and these resolutions don't atone for sin.


For since the law has but a shadow of the good things to come instead of the true form of these realities, it can never, by the same sacrifices that are continually offered every year, make perfect those who draw near. Otherwise, would they not have ceased to be offered, since the worshipers, having once been cleansed, would no longer have any consciousness of sins? But in these sacrifices there is a reminder of sins every year. For it is impossible for the blood of bulls and goats to take away sins. 
Heb. 10:1-4

Honorable pursuits at times and yet I think we make the new year too much about us and these resolutions just feed it. And I think that's why we fail. Give it a month or two or three and the gym parking lot won't be quite so full before the sun wakes. And at some point, the excuses fade and we are met with defeat. I guess I just don't want to step into what I foresee coming just because it's the norm. And right or wrong, I think God is being honored more in steadfastness no matter what time the year then in the heights of new beginnings and depths of goals unfilled. I think He wants to teach me that because I suck at it.

Contrary to popular belief, historically the rate of suicides rise in late spring and early summer. This is very much a stretch I am not qualified to make, and yet something to ponder—I wonder how the self-defeat and failure of such resolutions by the end of spring going into summer might impact such an increase?

As the white robes of a new year spoil in soot and lose their glory—what are we left with? Ourselves?

Knowledge beyond a few reliable google finds, is not mine to claim, and yet there is this time from celebration of the birth to the resurrection season and somewhere in between in which perhaps we lose hope enough to remember He is risen. I would say from experience adding this failure to meet goals and this hum of inadequacy in which we all hear, perhaps the pit of darkness just isn't that far of a slide for any of us anyhow.

If I'm left with myself I'm sure to end up down there sooner rather then later.

And this is why I just can't enter another year hoping in anything or anyone but Christ. In birth and resurrection and trumpets blaring, He was and is and is to come—the only sure promise in my life. 

So, my resolve for the new year is to avoid self-defeating resolutions. Even for the mere sake of avoiding being my own worst enemy.

And maybe, by the time April rolls around I will remember the resurrection rather then a long list of boxes unchecked and goals unmet. Maybe then I will hope only in Christ risen that He might return, rather then perish in worth faded and failures strung long. 

Maybe the birth and resurrection are actually enough. Maybe we don't need resolutions in-between. Maybe we just remember the birth and the resurrection and we fix our eyes on the author and perfecter because resolutions or not—His promises are true.


Therefore, brothers, since we have confidence to enter the holy places by the blood of Jesus, by the new and living way that he opened for us through the curtain, that is, through his flesh, and since we have a great priest over the house of God, let us draw near with a true heart in full assurance of faith, with our hearts sprinkled clean from an evil conscience and our bodies washed with pure water. Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for he who promised is faithful. Heb. 10:19-23


And this is why PROMISE is my word this year.

And this is my sense of humor...

Twenty Twelve and the Promise to Come

I look back on this year in awe of His faithfulness and I don't really know how to articulate it all. God has allowed me to go back and reflect on some simple moments over the year, moments that I believe He has used to bring me to here and now. Little by little moments which I believe will change everything about the future He has called me to.

In Exodus when God is promising the conquest of Canaan, he says he will drive out all of their enemies but not in a single year lest the land becomes desolate and the wild beasts too numerous. He promises that little by little he will drive them out until they have increased enough to possess the land.

God used this chunk of scripture to cast vision and hope in my life several years ago and today I see Him actually doing it and His grace is overwhelming. Little by little that we might be equipped to walk in the victory rather then be overcome by it. 

Here are some glimpses into my 'little by little' of the year...and with them all compiled here I see Him driving out beasts and equipping me to possess the land promised. 

Moment One
It was a little's birthday and it was just a week or so after I moved in. I dressed differently and I wore shame like a scarf wrapped tight through those cold winter months. He'd gotten a soccer goal and we decided to go out and play as a family. There was a chill in the air and the clouds were close enough to reach. After the game ended, K got out a four-wheeler. He urged me to jump on the back of it.

I remember panicking because I'd never ridden one of those. I remember being scared of riding on it with him too. I think the kids might always tell tale of the thrill ride that was to follow. Let's just say it ended with mamma pointing her finger at dad—he was in trouble. So, we might have gone a little too fast. I knew that I might fall off on one of those bumps and yet I don't think I will forget that moment. I got off that four-wheeler and I knew that God was just beginning something. I remember thinking maybe there was something different about K, like I just really wanted to trust him. It's funny to think the Lord could use a four-wheeler ride to cast vision for the future and yet looking back, He did just that. 

Moment Two

I was stressed and overwhelmed by life. Something had to give if I wanted to walk free but everything seemed to have a place. My life was measured by the world and looking back it was suffocating. She told me pull out of a class or two and it all made sense. I knew it did and yet all I heard was failure—you can't even be a good student. You are such a mess. She asked me what I wanted to do with my life—what I felt God was calling me to. What is your vision for the future? I remember her asking. 

I don't really know what I said but I remember fighting for an answer. I really didn't care—all I could see was the misery of my reality here and now. I knew I wanted to be wife and mom—I knew I wanted to be free. She helped me align my time with things that would lead to both—freedom and future homemaker. She held me tight when many close thought I went off the deep end when I pulled out of college and moved in with her family of eleven. She equipped me to follow through though—she has challenged and strengthened my biblical convictions. Praise Jesus, she is not perfect and those moments she has shared have set me free from myself. She has given me vision for being a helper to my husband and disciple-maker of my children and this has eternal weight that will seep down for generations to come. And I think someday I will convince her to let me write a book. 

This conversation started it all and she opened up a whole world of hope. She paved a path lit bright enough for me to see the future in the first place. Then she walked with me. 

Moment Three

We were sitting at the dinner table one night and I was struggling. I didn't want to eat what was on my plate and voicemails from my dad in the other room were playing like a resounding chorus of failure in my head. I just wanted to be alone. I wanted to cry and sleep and hole up behind my door. I wanted to figure it all out—how I could save the world and my dad. I wanted to pay for not being able to. But instead I was sitting at a dinner table with nine bustling kiddos and a plate of food and eyes all around. I forced bites down and I didn't look up much. Then I heard him say my name and it might as well have been the very voice of God himself. 

Courtney, stop thinking. It's like you're not even here. And that was the day I learned that sometimes the most holy thing you can do is go play a board-game with an eight year old. 

The way this spiritual dad has challenged me to avoid holing up and getting lost in myself when life gets tough has been one of the most freeing lessons of this year. And God has been faithful to provide my outs through the process of retraining my mind—all things from a board-game with lil guys to a walk in the woods to scrubbing dishes for an hour. I have learned ultimately my own worst enemy is often me. God has used this family to train me to guard against myself. 

Moment Four

We were driving in the car, headed to the airport where K would board a plane headed to India for the next 2 weeks. With him gone M would bear a lot of weight over the weeks to come and there was a difficult decision to make. K opted for one choice while M was hesitant to agree. She knew it was for her own good and yet felt guilty if she followed through with it. The battle inside of her was building as the miles to the airport grew fewer.

She was quiet and he turned to glance at her. Eyes back on the road, he stuck out his hand. 

Do you trust me? he whispered across the seat.
There was a moment and I still think that time might have stood still. The car was loud and bustling with nine littles and a movie blaring in the back but those four simple words seemed to suck up all the noise and air in that van because I still get chill-bumps remembering. 

A few seconds had passed but it could have been hours. She reached out and grabbed his hand. Sometimes the words unsaid speak louder then anything the voice could ever make sense of. 

Sitting just a row back watching this moment unfold God spoke to me and I don't think I will ever forget it. Trust me. Submit to me. I am for you. This is how it is suppossed to be. Do not fear. I am not your earthly dad. Not all men are bad. Here is your hope and your future—now take my hand. Remember the vision because this is what I have for you. So start learning to trust me because one day I will ask you to trust the man I have for you too.

Moment Five
It had been a hard month or so and the ultimatum was laid out. I had a choice and I was stubborn. I didn't fully trust and I had a plan that sounded better. I thought they were overreacting and I wanted them to know it. We went back and forth late into the night and eventually I quieted, my pride puddling at my feet. I hurt so much and I was angry with them, angry at myself. I didn't like where sin had landed me and yet I wanted to choose life under all those layers. 

I turned to leave the room after agreeing to their plan because it was better then the alternative. I was mad and broken. He stopped me in the next room and she came up close too. He hugged me and just lingered a minute, with mom there too. I cry just remembering because I felt the desperation of a dad figure that loved me so deeply in that moment. And something in that moment restored a cord long tattered inside. This was when I trusted K as an earthly representation of my Heavenly father. This was the moment the fear lifted fully and I remember feeling so exposed and vulnerable yet so completely safe in their protection. I think this hug was the moment that changed a whole lot of things.

In the beginning of the year, my hope was shackled in failure and my future was drowning in my past. 

This year, God changed all of that. He used this dad and mamma to teach me to have vision—for the hope and the future Christ gives. They've taught me to submit & trust to the little by little while walking onward through the depths of the sea boldly proclaiming the promised Canaan.

This year I would say God has wounded but also bound up. He has restored me to Himself through an earthly dad and mom who have shown me much grace. He has taught me what it means to submit and trust. He has healed so many of my daddy issues. He is preparing me for marriage and motherhood. He has allowed me to catch vision for the future. He has provided a hedge of protection and much-needed discipline. He has given me time to rest and retreat and flip the calendar. He has restored so much childhood that was stolen. He has provided a solid foundation and wise counsel. He has given me a tangible picture of His own love for me daily. 

I see this year a road towards Canaan and I choose my word for twenty thirteen—promise. 

Because He who promised is faithful.

What's your one word?

See that what you have heard from the beginning remains in you. If it does, you also will remain in the Son and in the Father. And this is what he promised us-even eternal life. -1 John 2:24-25