On This "Paleo" Journey [& the first twelve weeks]

Typically, I tend to shy away from this kind of posting, probably in light of my past. BUT-- after seeing the changes in my health, energy levels, sleeping, and mood over the past three months, I felt compelled to share!

Lately it seems you fail at life if you eat gluten or your workouts fall short of the infamous Crossfit methodology. For us all or nothing personalities, there is no dabbling. It's all in or all failure. Up until this point I have actually been quite careful to focus on health and lifestyle rather then bearing up under a title that holds so much weight. Literally.

But this journey has been teaching me that God really does desire to be apart of every aspect of our lives. Including our physical health and well-being.

¹⁹ Or do you not know that your body is a temple of the Holy Spirit within you, whom you have from God? You are not your own, ²⁰ for you were bought with a price. So glorify God in your body." [1 Corinthians 6]

I had the verse about us being His temple washed down my throat and wrung dry over the years I spent battling an eating disorder. It never meant a thing to me. In fact, even reading it now causes something ugly to flare up in me, because I think back to those dark, hard days where my whole world revolved around this broken temple.  I remember wondering how God could possibly think I could glorify Him with this lousey shack He'd given me. I begged for a mansion, adorned in tanner skin and smoother curves and less flop.

But instead He gave me the holy spirit on the inside. And somewhere in the process of that the glory of Him dwelling inside the temple became more significant then the temple itself. And that's still happening, that process, probably straight up until heaven, for me anyways.

As He became more and I became less, I also began to surrender parts of myself to His authority. (as if He didn't authorize all in the first place anyway, right?!) One of those huge areas I feel I am and will continue to have to choose to consistently surrender to Him is food. After spending over a decade enslaved to it, those cracks run deep along the foundation of this temple. The binding up is a process. And I've learned to be okay with that.

But this past winter I found myself wrestling with this temple yet again. I was tired and sick all the time. I was so busy that eating fit in where there was time--with whatever was convenient or sounded tasty at the time.  Not to mention, nannying three little guys is whole new taste of hard when it comes to the heaps of sweet and salty laying around. Christmas goodness lingered well through the chocolate of Valentines and the next thing I knew I was hating the temple. Dread filled at the thought of social events. The lies were consuming me yet again. Something had to change. But it was so much more then a number on the scale or a few new panes on the roof. It was very much spirit led from the start. And I think it must be that way to not taper off.

It has always been about control. Me or Jesus? His glory or mine?

So I decided it only made sense that giving up the control of food in my life meant I had to give it right over to Him. But in this case, not just hypothetically speaking. More so, quite literally.

Most of us have heard about eating as the bible depicts. There are actual plans, perhaps most notably The Maker's Diet or this raw revolution. While there is much wisdom to be grasped from these, I never felt led to follow a set out plan, but still applying many of the concepts. This time has been more focused on trusting the Lord in my food choices and allowing Him to help me discern. But also really seeking wisdom and doing lots of research about what I've actually been feeding my body all these years! For me, I don't think I knew how sick I really was until I glimpsed how healthy I could really be. Now, I really can't imagine going back.

So, how does this flesh out? Let's get practical.

While I have maintained a bit of a modified paleo eating routine, I beleive there is wisdom is simplicity and going back to the basics. God created certain foods to feed our bodies. We wanted to make them taste better, so we add and add and add until an apple holds no satisfaction in light of a bag of cheez-its in the afternoon.

For me, this has all been about getting back to the roots. If it is grown out of the ground it is good. If nothing is added to it, it's better.

At the beginning of March veggies and fruits quickly became my best friends. My consumption for the first few months was mostly built on these two food groups. I also ate chicken, ground turkey and salmon once a day/every other day. I chose to avoid most pork, beef and fish that feast on the bottom of the water, but that is mostly because I don't really like any of the above. And some things I'm learning in scripture continue to affirm this decision in my heart. But, most Paleo followers feast on meat!

I've learned a lot about grains and how much our way of processing them depletes them of the nutrients God created them with. So, I chose to eliminate all of them for a season, and might revaluate at some point, but for now I feel so much better making my own gluten-less recipes!

After a couple months I added in nuts, nut flours, seeds, dark chocolate, limited rice and corn based products, eggs, beans, gf oats, coconut oil, coconut flour, honey, maple syrup, and sweet potatoes.

Eliminating gluten and dairy has probably brought forth the majority of the transformation in my health, but I have also been challenged beyond that to specifically focus on simple ingredients and as raw and fresh as possible. Pinterest has really been the greatest gift to me through this--there are paleo-friendly recipes for EVERYTHING!! Really. I have rarely felt deprived of anything. They even have ice cream!

I try to only introduce one new food or brand of GF product or recipe at a time and spaced several days apart so that I can really tell how my body responds. Through this process there has been one occasion where I had to eat a meal with some gluten and dairy in a social setting among international friends--I never could have imagined the consequences of that! Just several bites in, my head started feeling fuzzy and I couldn't think as clearly. It was insane how quickly I felt the effects. After an hour my stomach was super upset. I felt the effects for three days, actually. Who knew? I've been much more careful since and so far God has really provided ways out of those tricky food situations where you don't want to offend the cook but also don't want to suffer the consequences!

So here I am, bearing this "paleo" title for the first time, though there is much grace needed! There are certain things I'm more relaxed about and others not as much---it's all about how my body reacts to various food choices.

I've also been running 2-5 miles at least five days a week. Soon I intend to get some toning exercises added in there too.

This has been a crazy journey, challenging me to trust Jesus more. And my life has been drastically different since that physical, emotional, spiritual surrender of my will, my fear, my pride and my temple to Him. God can bring such transformation many different ways--for me it was quite practically through changes in food habits and I am so grateful for His patience with me!

The heart refinement and surrender has by far starved me more then my stomach ever groaned physically. But there has certainly been a physical transformation as well, which has also been covered in much prayer and grace as the enemy lingers near, just trying to trip me up some days. BUT Jesus is greater and His spirit in me has enabled even me, a girl who was so bound by food and appearance for over a decade to freely follow Him, even when it comes to a lifestyle change that could trigger old habits and mindsets. May this never be about the number on the scale, so as to rob Him of the glory found in His redemption story. He is faithful to redeem, that I know.

                                                           Eight Weeks Difference

Mostly, I just desire to know Him and make Him known, and to glorify Him in my response to how He directs me. I am seeing those passions of my former ignorance being tossed off and becoming less binding. His Spirit is so very alive! So as He who called me is holy, may I also be holy!! [by grace abounding!]

That can look different for us all, of course. There is nothing more holy about this Paleo lifestyle then an alternative, but for me this is all about His glory and His reign over my ever-wandering heart. May He be praised for what He is doing in and through this messed up temple--may it continue that He may be known even more greatly--to me and to you! 

He was foreknown before the foundation of the world but was made manifest in the last times for the sake of you who through him are believers in God, who raised him from the dead and gave him glory, so that your faith and hope are in God.

(1 Peter 1:20-21 ESV)

On Learning The Three-Hundred [& His Glory in the Garden]

Ya'll, gardening is a dangerous endeavor.

As if the tilling of the soil and the arrangement of the plants and the actual back-breaking work of planting the darn thing, with multiple trips to Walmart covered in who knows what to get yet another bag of potting soil--as if all of that isn't enough, every hour I spend out there leads to some sort of spiritual revelation or conviction.

But let's be real, mostly the latter. And it's painnnnnfulll. 

Even more so then my fingers after spending every Saturday crouched over yanking on those pesky little weeds that seem to reproduce right under my eyes. That sea of green.

From my understanding, you have to uproot the weed completely to prevent it from coming back. And when we're talking thousands of weeds in such a wide space--well that just seems not possible. So I more often find myself swiping off the green shoots poking up that drive my eyes mad. For hours, I clear them out until theres a wide circle around each plant that boasts only brown soil and is fully purged of those life-sucking blades of green. Wow, that looks so much better. I think to myself. I can breathe a sigh of relief.

Until next week.

That's the problem with us though--we're looking at the surface and our sweet Savior is looking underground, at our hearts. Our solutions yield instant gratification and so often God's way requires (at times even painful) patience and trust.

If I cut into that soil and looked below the surface, I would surely find an entangling of roots. Deep, deep weeds rooting themselves into my plants. I would see the way they suck life right out of my slow-growing tomatoes. Like thieves in the night. The way the nutrient, moist and sun-filled patch feeds them to live. And I would see the consequences of avoiding the deeper issue---those pesky roots of the weeds.

So what if we cut into the depths of my heart and gazed beneath the surface? I guarantee there would be a thick entangling of life-sucking sin rooted down in there. And when I chose to feed it, it grows. When I feast on the truth I know and soak in His grace the spirit living in me gains weight while the roots of sin shrivel. It's really as simple as that.

But it can certainly be hard work. Christ makes us new of course, and yet allows us to remain sojourners on this earth and the wait can seem much like a war at times, a war waging beneath the surface of our hearts.

It's like when Paul talks about wanting to do the one thing he knows he doesn't want to do but he still wants to. Even typing that makes no sense, and yet--welcome to the battle!

I've been rooted in Gideon's story these past few weeks. Today I'm at the point in the story where God tells Gideon to send home any of his soldiers who are "afraid and trembling" so as not to cause the rest enslavement to such fear. Much to Gideon's surprise, 22,000 of his soldiers heard that and just peaced out. Surely he decided in that moment his battle had just been lost, before it had even begun.

I might look at my thousands of weeds against ONE messy me:  hopeless victory. 

Unhindered fear would have become a more powerful weapon against Israel than the thousands of swords pointed in their direction. Look at how God is seeing things here--removing Gideon's eyes from the shoots sticking out in front of him (his large, enemy army) to see the even greater destruction that can come from the hearts of those standing right beside him.

It gets even better, of course. As if loosing all those men wasn't enough, He then tells him to separate certain men from his army based on how he observes them drinking water out of the stream. I can only imagine Gideon in this moment--God, are you joking me?!

This leaves Gideon with three-hunderd men. After starting off the day with 32,000 Gideon probably felt pretty alone and defeated.

But God knew better then Gideon, and He knows better then we do too. Even I would have told Gideon to go get some more men. But God is STILL looking at the heart over the circumstances. He knew Gideon's strength came from men that were not distracted by their flesh. Even if that was outwardly expressed in how they drank their water. These three-hundred knew they needed to drink, but not at the expense of their alertness and readiness for war.

Our thirst needs to be quenched--and it always is--but at what expense?

This past year I have seen my army of 32,000 fading away too. It has been a long, exhausting, and lonely season of roots being yanked hard. Uncertainty of the future, sin creeping back up, deep roots exposed, and a whole lot of waiting to see the victory.

But just as Gideon will eventually see the grace of God in removing the distracted soldiers that his army might bring more victory for the sake of God's glory, so also have I witnessed His spirit gaining strength inside of me, triumphing over the grave. 

Whether in an army or a garden or our hearts, the removal of the wayward roots is painful and scary. It can make us to feel isolated and confused about the future and even the very nature of our Father. You may not be particularly pleased with the three-hundred you've been left with. For a long season, I wasn't either.

But His power is perfected in our weakness. Only so we can boast all the more gladly of our inabilities.

I'm learning that the three-hundred is our secret-weapon. It's a battleground to show God's strength and glory. It's not the 32,000 we thought we needed, but its the three-hundred that God will use to bring the victory into our lives and the glory that is His alone. 

It's His love that surpasses the depths of the deepest, thickest root of sin which pierces it at its core. It's the same love that took away over 30,000 men from Gideon's army. And it's with that very same love that He desires the depths of our hearts--through all of which come the victory and His glory. 

In Which I Fall in Love [with the church]

Community is a word we throw around quite a bit down here in this bible bubble.

I've heard it used a million ways, I've been sharpened by it, and at times, deeply wounded too. After all, it does involve broken, sinful, flawed people trying to do real life together. It's bound to be messy--and glorious. I think God meant it to be such. For our good but mostly His glory.

From body to body, one life season to another, community has changed.

But as I go into my third year with this body of believers in this little corner of the natural state, I know more then this pretty picture. Ya'll, I get to experience the real deal. And even as these words pour out, the tears follow because God's grace abounds so richly in these brothers and sisters, adopted dads and mommas, grandmas and grandpas with whom He has surrounded me with.

It sounds perfect but it is far from. Just last night I found myself asking God why He has me here, committed to this body when I just keep seeing these flaws. I watch dear friends drift out and eventually  find community elsewhere. And I become frustrated with the routine. There are few in my life season and that can feel lonely too.

And then there are moments where I remember why. Why commitment to community, to a specific body, is so precious and valuable.

First off, it's biblical. God commands it. Check out these brief words from Piper. 

Secondly, we were created to do life together, in relationship yet serving as different parts of the body. Like last night when I was sitting across the table from this precious fifty-seven year old woman who is one of the most faithful I have known. We had my laptop open, hovering in close as we scoured Pinterest, discussing green ties, rustic table decor, and Japanese cakes while sipping hot tea and rejoicing that in just a few short months she is to marry for the first time.  I get to stand beside her.

I saw it two years ago when I was dealing with some tough stuff and a family from church told me to come live with them so we can walk through it together. They taught me how to shoot a gun, love the country, share a room with sisters, and more then I ever wanted to know about snakes. Somewhere in the process they taught me to trust too. Jesus' love had never been more real to me as it was through their sacrificial love for me. They made me want Him more. This adopted mamma gave birth to her tenth baby a few months ago so our latest heart to heart happened sitting in the car, in a parking lot over sonic while nursing this new little one. This is just community, right?

When we gather to corporate worship on Sunday, our voices humming the same tune, despite all of our flesh and failure, I sense it. The desperateness with which we praise Him. The lifting of the weightyness of the week as those words knit us tighter. Someday it will be every tribe and tongue and I cannot imagine. This glimpse is just grace.

When I didn't have a job two years ago, a part of my community gave me one. When they had to let me go after a tough year for the company, someone else in this community taught me to counsel clients and serve as they came through the doors or our church's ministry to those in need while I waited on God's provision of a new job. They knew idol time to be a great burden. They protected me, when I didn't even know I needed it. And everyday, they encouraged me in the word and held me in prayer.

Last week I took the little guy I nanny to play with the kiddos of a mamma in my community. We talked real life while they tossed balls and built leggos. That's what this really means, I think.

Community far exceeds the doors of a building or a set apart day of the week.

This community sent my sweet friend and me to India last year. They prayed us over there and back. Much of the funding came from them too. Then they held us while we wrestled upon our return. When God called me to missions several months ago, they laid hands and prayed. Then we met one on one, me and a pastor, as he encouraged me in this calling and they committed to teach me and someday, be a part of my going.

I don't think there has been one international event this year that my "young professionals group" of friends hasn't served at when I present the need. We are the most random group and Jesus unites us. There are challenges and differences, but they teach me so much.

There are generations in this community. A grandpa who spent years in Africa for the sake of the gospel, and still praises Christ in spite of burrying a child overseas and contracting polio as a teen. He cares for his ailing wife with this love so true it could pierce at a glance. He lets me call him a grandfather, he comes over for dinner sometimes. He always tells me about how we're just waiting for the best one [refering to whoever it might be that the Lord has for me to marry], he tells me this man is gearing up, getting ready. Oh, and sometimes he plays the guitar.

There's a ninety-three year old that we all call grandma. She has traveled more countries then I could dream and tells stories like no other. A couple weeks back we gathered at the hospital waiting for her to come out of a surgery when the future was quite unclear. We prayed a lot and reminisced. She lives cancer free. A couple nights ago I changed the dressing on her incision, as her daughter wanted me to "practice being a nurse." I don't think grandma was such a fan of being my guinea pig.

Once a month I watch these kiddos durng big church. They are busy and halarious. I realize they get to grow up in this community. What a covering, what a blessing. It's the generations to come. It's the ones who have been around for quite awhile. It's the ones in the middle. The ones studying at university, the ones from the other side of the world pondering those big questions.

I see pillars, this legacy God has given. I am so underservng. And yet He is so deeply magnified in our weaknesses, as a body simply meeting to know Him and make Him known. He fixates our wondering hearts on Him in asking us to do life together as we wait. It's like a refining fire, a constant reminder. And I always come out with a greater understanding of my dependency upon Him.

I see it again and again. My need for these brothers and sisters continues to humble me. And His glory displayed in me being apart of them too. And I never thought I would love the church like that.

Praise God!! Only He could use such an imperfect and fallible people to make us want Him most.

When the Wait is Hard, Ya'll

The wait is hard, y'all.

We know the right way despite the draw of our flesh towards sin. It got me thinking about the way I look at my own sin.

I can deposit my paycheck laying in bed Friday night. Immediately, some of the money is at my disposal. Instant gratification defines our culture. That's why we watch sex on the internet instead of waiting. It's how we justify the removal of a baby and call it unwanted tissue. It's why every single year, women are bought and sold at the super bowl. It's why I drive through Chickfila after a long day instead of heading home to cook dinner. Our culture wants everything now. Instant gratification. 

I believe it seeps into our waiting, it sinks in deep and carves out crevasses. It hardens us to the promptings of the spirit and weighs us down. Cracks form and pieces shatter and we are so blinded by the here and now, that the future seems bleak at best. Hope drifts. Joy fades. And suddenly the sure foundation wobbles around a bit. And so also, do I.

It always drives us to despair. To shame. To fig leaves. When we let it.

But like many things, sin is a choice right? What we believe to be true is too.

I've been frustrated and saddened by the way my sin creeps back in, even after all these years of knowing what sets me free. I've followed the twelve steps, logged thousands of hours in counseling sessions, worked my rehab programs, and committed endless scripture to memory on the topic. And yet it hasn't disappeared. The thoughts and desires creep in like the thief in the night. Often.

Sometimes they lure and entice me into action. Convince me of a different worth then that which is found in Christ. We war, continually. And it can be confusing and consuming.

I think we all desire to be free. We want to feel it, to live it, to know it. We don't desire to be entangled to those former ways of ignorance. My former ignorance-- an eating disorder, among a colorful palate of other sin for sure. But you fill in the blank. It's all the same.

So why are we so often finding ourselves back there?

"I'm realizing that having a normal relationship with food is not the end goal here--holiness is. And my holiness is ultimately not contingent on the reversal of my dysfunctional thought processes about food or myself." 

God decides which thorns stay and which thorns go, for His glory. This might be a battle I fight the rest of my life on earth. There will be change, of course, as I dethrone food and replace it with God's holiness. I know I'm not so enslaved as I once was. I don't find much gratification in hanging my head over the toilet like before. I am attentive to the separation brought by my sin. And yet there are moments when the lies still latch on and try to persuade me otherwise. This is the slow process of sanctification, and really it must become an inevitable change of knowing Christ. Though it might or might not include complete release from my eating disorder in this life on earth. And I forget, even this is for His glory to be more greatly manifest in my weaknesses.

And yet I am neither driven to despair nor found behind a fig leaf ONLY because of the fact that life on earth isn't in fact the end. There's more. And that is where my hope is found. This body is always going to let me down. To lie to me. To lust after everything but Christ.

Thus, I have to choose where I will SET my hope during this waiting.  

Set your hope fully on the grace that will be brought to you at the revelation of Christ, Peter urges us. Don't be conformed to the passions of your former ignorance, but be holy like Jesus. (1 Pet. 1) It's hard for me to imagine that the fullness of grace won't be totally revealed until Heaven. I am so dependent on it now. And He gives more and more. And yet, it's like we ain't seen nothin' yet!

We have to long for THAT day. By thinking rightly about reality.

I think I'm learning that means glory over gratification. And even grace over grief. 

And it's hard. But I don't see hope anywhere in this world apart from Christ. I've looked. Everywhere. And had never been nearer to death then in that searching.

The search ended and life began when Jesus revealed Himself to me, in His death for me.

His glory is not magnified in my sin or shame. His glory is manifest in His redemption of my life. And as such a recipient, my radiance is reflective of Him not me. And praise Jesus for that!

So now I let Him pluck the thorns as He may (or may not), because the end goal is no longer about me. It's just about His glory, His holiness, His power which will be most greatly magnified in what is to come. Eternal, forever, never-going-back, free, joyous redemption.

May we wait with hope as our eyes are fixed on such things.

On the Day I Committed These Feet to Go Anywhere

By the fourth day, my brain seemed to have reached its capacity. I was sure I couldn't possibly pack away one more page of notes to take home and soak in. The room was packed full and my hair was in a ponytail. I went for a run during the lunch break that day, just begging the Lord for several miles to allow this flood to sink in. I asked Him to just show me what in the world all of this means for me?

Going into this missions conference, I knew very well what would likely happen. God would stir up my love for the nations and it would boil over with me boarding an airplane and heading off to the next place where people need to hear, tomorrow preferably. And surely, I wouldn't come back. I knew it would lead to my withdrawal from nursing school and an early termination of my lease. The night before the conference, I cried at the thought of giving up my little dog.

For about three years now, I believe God has been moving my heart towards the nations.

Opening up the conference, Piper asked "Is it God's worth or man's rescue driving you here? God's glory or man's soul?" He explained that the catechism should use the word IN instead of AND. That the chief end of missions should be the supremacy of God IN the joy of all peoples," as he re-phrased it. "And becomes in because you dare not choose between the two," he concluded.

And it opened up an area of my heart that I didn't know existed.

It's always been about the souls for me. It's been about faces and names and hell forever. Or not. A simple choice between life and death, one that I knew about. One that I needed to tell about, in hopes that a life might be spared eternally. And it's legitimate, of course. And yet, it has been much more dependent upon me then the Lord. Me needing to go, me needing to speak the language, me needing to give up a whole lot, me needing to win over the souls to avoid everlasting death for that smiling face which I had come to love.

But that's not really accurate. It's so much bigger. And it's nothing of me.

As one South African pastor shared, "The big problem here isn't translation of bibles. The problem is the wrath of God against us." Or as Kevin DeYoung said, "People who haven't heard the gospel ever, aren't condemned because God is bad...they're only condemned because they're sinners and the wrath of God wrests on them."

I don't often enough praise Jesus for standing between me and the wrath of an almighty God (that I deserve). And I offer freedom from sin in the gospel conversations I get to have, but often neglect discussion of his wrath upon that individual apart from the intervening of Christ.

I had never experienced a particular draw to the 6,000 unreached people groups in this world prior to this conference. But as God continues, even now, to guide me, I can honestly say I would go anywhere for Him.

"...I make my ambition to preach the gospel, not where Christ has already been named, but as it is already written, 'Those who have never been told of him will see, and those who have never heard will understand...'" (Rom. 15:18-25)

Is it me wanting to save the world or God's glory? 

The speakers continued to bring up areas of Calvinism that might detour us away from missions. Some might think "well, if God has already chosen who will be saved and who will not, what's the point of going to share the gospel?"

But then I ask, why would you go UNLESS some HAD been chosen by God? 

Kevin DeYoung put it best in saying, "Election gives you confidence in the sufficiency of God to do the work. Definite atonement is in fact better news for bigger glory!"

Man's rescue or God's worth?

And then the Lord began to tie some strands together for me. These people, these men and women are out there. Right now. Set apart before they were born! And if I trusted Him to save ME, then how could I not trust Him to lead me? Even if it means resting in the great commission...

"And the gospel of the kingdom will be proclaimed throughout the whole world as a testimony to all nations, and then the end will come." (Matt 24:14)

David Platt concluded the conference on the last night. He commented that there are two billion people whose knowledge of God is only sufficient to damn them to hell. They've never heard of Jesus, Savior. He walked through Acts 13 talking about Paul's missionary journeys. He reminded us of the importance of a home body of supporters, the value of the goers, and the promises of God that alone sustain the stayers. He showed a map of the reached areas on each of Paul's journeys. And then one of modern day. The impact of this one man, hundreds of years later is unreal.

I thought right away, Lord just make me like Paul.

But then I remembered what Paul says to the church at Corinth for example, "When I came to you brothers, I did not come proclaiming to you the testimony of God with lofty speech or wisdom. For I decided to know nothing among you expect Jesus Christ and him crucified. And I was with you in weakness and in fear and much trembling, and my speech and my message were not in plausible words of wisdom, but in demonstration of the Spirit and of power, that your faith might not rest in the wisdom of men but in the power of God."

And it was sitting in this dark room with thousands of my peers, as Romans one to eight was being read off, and God was speaking to me, that I knew undoubtedly for the first time that His glory was driving me to commit my life to making the gospel known, wherever.

So at the end of the hour, as he had promised in the opening, Platt asked anyone in the room who knew God had begun this work in their hearts to be a stayer overseas to stand up. There was no hesitation for me. I stood with a few hundred others and was prayed over, encouraged, and challenged to go back to my church family and share what God was doing.

This past Sunday I got to stand up before my church family. They prayed and we worshipped. I praise Jesus for these people. The way they come around me and intercede on my behalf. The excitement they have shared in getting to send me. It is such a gift.

I pray that one day I can share with some college student contemplating God's calling of them to the mission field, of all the glory he has received as He's allowed me to spend years knowing nothing but Him wherever He might send me.

"So even to old age and gray hairs, O God do not forsake me, until I proclaim your might to another generation, your power to all those to come!" (Ps. 71:18)

God used these four days at CrossCon to solidify that working which only His holy spirit could muster, and I am so thankful. And don't worry, I'm not leaving tomorrow. And Winston isn't up for grabs just yet either.

After the final night, exhausted and thankful

I never, ever would have imagined I would get the privilege of saying yes. I never planned it out. I never even dreamed it. He is just doing it. And all I can do is trust His leading and promise Him I'll follow Him anywhere for the sake of such glory which belongs to Him anyway.

I've loved Jesus for seven years now. But I don't think it is until now that I have really counted death gain. (Phil. 1:21) And it is setting me free from fear of anything. He is what I want. It's ALL grace.

Though most of my Arkansas family has gotten to share in this excitement, I wanted to share with the rest of my friends and family as well!

So practically, what does this look like? For me, right now--it looks like a whole lotta studying and a whole lotta long hours in the hospital learning how to be a nurse. The Lord used five different people in four days to confirm the desire He gave me to pursue my nursing degree. I am praying that if the Lord would lead me to a closed country, the nursing degree will be my ticket in. I am also trusting that He could allow me to use it to sustain myself financially overseas in the future. And lastly, that such studying and acquired skills would be a blessing to any people group He leads me to. And of course, precious time to share the gospel while stitching up wounds!  

Please join me in praying three things:
1.)  That He would provide an awesome, bible-teaching, missions-minded church in St. Louis where I can plug in, be equipped, and eventually sent!
2.)  That as some of this "high" fades and day-to-day life kicks in, I would continue to find great joy in His presence.
3.) That as my time in Arkansas comes to a close, I would get spirit-led opportunities to continue sharing in Jesus and relationships with my international friends--and that I would be able to leave well.

"How then will they call on Him in whom they have not believed  And how are they to believe in Him of whom they have never heard? And how are to hear without someone preaching? And how are they to preach unless they are sent? As it is written, 'How beautiful are the feet of those who preach the good news!'" (Rom. 10:14-15)

On Level Ground & My Dad

I saw him this Christmas and it never became this big deal. It's been a couple years since we've stepped into a room together and I am not the same. He's been sober for awhile now and for that I do rejoice (after I question that this could really be true, of course).

A few people have asked lately, so I started to think about it.

I don't really think about him much anymore, my dad that is. Sometimes I will wonder about all the could haves and would haves long lost. I catch myself dreaming up the past all pretty and perfect. I stop myself  because it's a silly waste of a future, I think. And more often I dream of my wedding day, but it is never him there beside me.

And it's okay. 

God has made Himself known to me. We're walking this thing out and my eyes don't see Him so skewed any more. He has offered up a handful of faithful fatherly figures who take great intention with my life, and I know the love more today then I ever have. And I need it less. What grace, ya'll. What unfathomable grace. 

It's okay to be free, right? To not doubt or fear or condemn?

Because over these years, I pictured this dramatic slow-mo scene of me running into his arms. I think there were daisies too. And green grass. And the sun, the blue sky of course. But in reality, it was frigid and dark outside as I wondered up the sidewalk with an armload of presents. It was Christmas Eve and the whole fam was gathered. I didn't see him at first. And he didn't rush right in for an embrace.

I got situated and then made the rounds. I hugged him and he trailed behind much of the night, asking for glimpses into what has been my life and where it is headed. It got a bit frustrating at one point, so I plopped down between sisters on the couch and soaked it all up.

Here we are celebrating this God birthed into flesh and knowing Him more greatly then the father of my own flesh had indeed set me free. Glory to God alone, for He really has molded my heart to love and trust Him most. And in the process, He's put pieces once shattered back together. He has redeemed.  He still is!

This has just been a season of level ground concerning these daddy issues and I don't quite know what to do with it. The past decade or so has certainly been a roller coaster of mountains so high and valleys so deep. Straight and narrow suddenly doesn't seem nearly as enticing. 

Teach me your way, O Lord, and lead me on a level path.

That's been a life verse that's finally taking on flesh and I'm praying for joy to follow. He promises it will in Him. 

You make known to me the path of life; in your presence there is fullness of joy; at your right hand are pleasures forevermore. 

We wrestle in these completely unbearable (apart from that little detail of grace) and unfair circumstances, and we claim He is fighting and our faith becomes our eyes and its the hardest thing ever but we put one foot in front of the other and claim the victory. Some days thats enough. Others we wallow and wait and beg Jesus to show Himself and whisk us away already. These last years have brought majority of the latter.

Today, I am thankful for a Lord who redeems and repairs and makes me new--and for level ground.

And a brief side note---I am so incredibly thankful for and blessed by my brothers (and bro-in-law) who have sought after, confronted, directed, cared for and loved the heck outa our dad through these past several years. What a sweet blessing from the Lord that He would position these men to intercede for me and bear the brunt of the burden of our dad for me (and my sister) as I just needed time and space--and Jesus.

And by His grace, they actually showed me all three.

In Him alone is great joy found.

On Setting Hope [somewhere]

It’s been quiet over here for awhile, as life has left me in an unbroken chain of go, go, going. I’m not sure how consistent these next weeks will allow me to maintain, but I’m here today putting pen to the paper [or keys to the screen I suppose] and it feels like fresh air.

The last month or two back on American soil has left me a little bit confused and a whole lot of broken. It’s been overwhelming and I am learning a lot about rest and trust. It’s not the time to write it out and I don’t know that it ever will be, but Jesus is here and I know he is fighting. So I am learning to rest and ease the script continually running through my head filled with to-do lists, failures and what nots with Truth.

There hasn’t been a day this week that the Lord hasn’t brought me to this passage. What patience and grace he has for us! Even when I doubt him and pull back, He is quick to remind me it is not of my strength or willing that the dead come back to life. Hmmm. Ouch?

“For we do not want you to be unaware, brothers, of the affliction we experienced in Asia. For we were so utterly burdened beyond our strength that we despaired of life itself. Indeed, we felt that we had received the sentence of death. But that was to make us rely not on ourselves but on God who raises the dead. He delivered us from such a deadly peril, and he will deliver us. On him we have set our hope that he will deliver us again. You also must help us by prayer, so that many will give thanks on our behalf for the blessing granted us through the prayers of many.” (2 Corinthians 1:8-11, ESV)

I’ve had to ask myself many times, even today, where is your hope set, Courtney?

And this conscious effort of warring against my hope being set anywhere else has actually provided the words I’ve been asking God to give me for several weeks now, as I am in the process of applying to nursing school and the following is part of a personal statement I was asked to submit.

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I was just on the back end of those preteen years, when I started struggling with an eating disorder. It didn’t take long before I spent more time in hospitals then outside of them.

I remember laying in that hospital bed again that year; it was Christmas and underneath all the hardness, I was just a little girl. That morning was the first time I saw her, hobbling in through those big ole doors. She was from down south somewhere and she just plopped herself down on the bed beside me, like we were best friends or something. I sat up slightly taken aback and wondering if I’d seen her here before. “What are you doin’ in here sweetie? You should be out there livin’, girl!”

I had had some amazing nurses over those years. But Miss Cynthia, she sure was something. As I cried an hour or so at the sight of breakfast, she just sat there with her arms around me. At one point she turned to me and took my cheeks into her wrinkly grip. Made me look her square those big brown eyes of hers. She told me to stop this. That she knew God didn’t put me here on this earth so that I could starve myself out of it. She told me that wasn’t up to me. And I could keep wasting my days trying—or I could live life fuller then that. She babbled on about my beauty and purpose and sweet spirit.

She fed me my cheerios that morning, like a momma to a baby girl. Little by little. I ate them too. Every bite I swallowed, nourished more then those bones of mine though. She fed my spirit something and it changed me. She fed me hope.

That’s it I think—nursing is so much more then antimony, bed pans, and IV pricks. It doesn’t begin at the start of a new shift or end pulling out of the hospital parking lot. The commitment to the practice of nursing takes all of that head knowledge and practical skills and morphs it into this joy-filled giving of self for the hope of another human being to be rekindled in the midst of great pain and discouragement. It sure isn’t easy, I would imagine. Yet, I just see such an overwhelming reward that comes with the commitment to this filed of study.

We all have more hurts and heartaches then one could imagine, and we’ve all been on the other side. A nurse is the mamma hug and words of truth when you forget what they sound like. I marvel at how far medicine has come and how miraculously doctors can heal the human body. I think some nurses go right for the soul.  

Every morning Miss Cynthia came back. She gave more then her duty detailed and ten years later, I still remember everything about her. I wish she could know I am living life with hope that far exceeds myself. If only I could let her know the impact she had in my life, the way I’m here applying for nursing school because I know there are other patients that need a “Miss Cynthia” to just be that safe place and stable voice for them too.

So I continue to dream of nursing, as it’s an opportunity for me care for others and meet them where they’re at. I believe God has really given me compassion and empathy for others in painful and difficult situations. I am a relational person and sitting behind a desk all day just wasn’t for me. Moving around and interacting with many different types of people and co-workers seems like it would fit me well. I just love helping people. I enjoy learning more about the design of the human body and how it can heal so miraculously.

…..

Someday I would love the opportunity to continue my studies in nurse-midwifery, but in the meantime the prospect of obtaining a BSN through an accelerated program, coupled with lots of much-needed experience is what I am hoping for!

I know the next twelve months will be brutal. I know my life won’t really be my own and I may often find myself on information over-load. But what an incredible opportunity it would be to spend this next year acquiring many skills and so much wisdom in how to better love, serve, and offer hope to those in need.

I am so thankful for the tough stuff I was allowed to walk through as it has led me here, to this place of knowing that hope triumphs all else. And we all need it.

________________________________________________________________

We all need hope. The older I get, the more I see the need around me and inside of me. I am so thankful that the gospel isn't just a Sunday morning song. Praise the Lord He is alive and active, continually working in us and through us that we may know Him and speak of the great hope found only in Him as well. 

**And yes, I have applied to three different accelerated BSN programs. One acceptance and two in the process. For now, I just know my commitment remains to Jesus first and where He leads me, I just want to follow [even if I drag my feet all the way back to the classroom].