Ken and Barbie

 In today's culture, we point to photo shopped models plastered on billboards and declare that is what beauty is. We are told that if you don't live up to that certain standard of perfection, you are not beautiful. We are taught that beauty is defined by our size, by the numbers on the scale. Sounds ludicrous, right? But tell yourself a lie long enough and before you know it, it becomes the truth. Eventually the lie starts to creep into your life and bit by bit, begins to destroy you. But it doesn't stop there. It won't be satisfied until it kills you. Statistically speaking, 20% of girls and women who struggle with anorexia will go on to die prematurely from it. We are being brain washed with a lie. Just like Eve, we ate the lie. Also like Eve when she ate the forbidden fruit, the lie is killing slowly but surely killing us.

    Something I can't stress enough is how much power words have—even if you're “just joking.” I remember times when people would jokingly say I was fat. It didn't help that I already didn't feel good enough, I didn't feel like I lived up to the culture's harsh standard of perfection. I thought I had to look a certain way, be a certain size, be a certain height in order to be accepted. It didn't help that I already struggled with insecurities and their teasing words only added to the mountain of self-image issues. People don't understand how much power words have. It was because of their words that I almost developed an eating disorder because I didn't think I was “good enough” (whatever that means). I remember how I would weight myself so, so much and try to watch my calorie intake. Those of you who know me well are probably really surprised by that part of me you didn't know. It's not something I'm proud of, but it's the truth. Never underestimate the power of words.

     Even these days, I sometimes still struggle with believing it when someone tells me I'm beautiful. I am tempted to believe this warped truth that if I'm not perfect, then I'm not beautiful. The culture and media has successfully sold a lie disguised as the truth and we have hungrily devoured it up. When I was talking to Nick about beauty the other day and how I didn't feel like I lived up to the standard of life sized Barbie dolls, he replied, “Ahh, Anna, but you're looking at beauty with your eyes. You have to look with your heart.” Beauty in it's truest definition is not something we can merely see with we eyes. It is something we see with we hearts. “I think,” Nick told me, “the definition of beautiful is something that makes the world a better place.” Like Nick went on to say, the world has corrupted the definition of beauty. We get fake tans, fake hair, fake nails, and call that beauty.

     Maybe. Just maybe beauty is more than that.

     I beg to offer that beauty is authenticity.

     It's not just enough to get recognize the lie and get rid of it, though that's a good starting place. You must replace lies with truth.

    Fact: Your beauty is not defined by what you see in the mirror.

    Fact: you are beautiful.

    Fact: Your beauty is not defined by the numbers on the scale.

    Fact: You are beautiful. 

    Fact: Your beauty is not measured by lies from your past.

    Fact: You are beautiful.Nothing can change that.So own it.

My Alter

Sometimes I feel like I am suffocating in the doubts and questions of the future, the unknown. Sometimes I just wish I could shut my brain off and stop thinking. Sometimes I hate thinking because when I think, I start to sink. Sometimes I cling onto things and people, afraid to let go, because I am afraid of what will happen if I do.

I struggle.

I fall.

I doubt God.

But I am learning.

I am learning that I must hold everything in an open palm.

But I know that I am not the first who has struggled with surrendering everything to God.  

So I crack open my Bible to read Genesis 22 where God tells Abraham to surrender his son on the alter.

God says, “Take your Son.”

As if that's not enough, he says, “Your only Son.”

Then if that's not enough, he adds, “Whom you love.”

And what does he say next?

“Sacrifice him.”

Abraham...take your Son. Your only Son. Whom you love. And offer him as a burnt offering.

If you don't understand the significance of this, let me rewind.

God promised Abraham that he would have a son.

He promised Abraham that his descendants would be a numerous as the stars.

Isaac was Abraham's dream. He was the fulfillment of the promise. He was the answer to Abraham's prayers.

And now...God was asking him to give up his dream.

God was telling Abraham to lay his dream, his answer to prayer, his only Son whom he loved on the alter.

What does Abraham do? Early the next morning, he gets up, packs his donkey, grabs his son, and they're off. It's easy for us to read this story because we know how it ends. We know that God's angel steps in at the last minute and tells Abraham to lay down his sword, but you have to realize that Abraham didn't know that.

I can't help but wonder what was running through his mind as he journeyed with his son. I wonder what he was thinking when he raised his knife to kill Isaac. His only son. Whom he loved. Imagine the relief he felt when the angel commands him to put down his weapon.

Unlike Abraham, sometimes I told my “Isaac” with a clenched fist. I'm afraid to give it to God and lay it on the alter because I am afraid that God will take it away. I know that God is a loving Father who only wants what is best for me, yet I still struggle to trust him completely. So I hold on to my Isaac, unwilling to lay my doubts and questions on the alter. Unwilling to trust. Because sometimes faith feels a lot like falling. Instead of trusting God with the future, I stress and worry about it. And then the unknown because an Isaac and God tells me I must lay it on the alter. I must surrender my Isaac.

Despite how uncomfortable and awkward it feels, I slowly gather the stones required to build an alter. Stone by stone, the alter takes shape. Then I heap my worries, my questions, my fears, my doubts on the alter.

Today I am laying my Isaac on the alter.

I am jumping into the unknown simply because God promise He will catch me.

I am trusting the One who holds the future instead of trying to figure it out.

Because, like Abraham, I want Jesus more than I want my Isaac.

Because I love Jesus more than I love my Isaac.

My Jesus. My only Jesus. Whom I love.

Sweet Jesus

((11:59 a.m))

Jesus.

Sweet Jesus.

This is my prayer.

This is my plea.

Will you please, oh will you please hold onto me?
Because I have no strength left.

I feel like I have nothing more to give.

Sometimes I feel like I can't take one more step.

I tell myself, “keep going. You are a fighter.”

But what happens when you have no more strength to fight?

I'm craving you because they tell me that you can heal.

I want to run after you and yet I have no more strength to run.

So I am crawling.

I am clawing the ground, dragging my bruised body up the hill that leads up to your cross.

But I refuse to give up because I want you more than anything.

Because you are the only one who makes life worth living.

I will run after you.

And if I cannot run, I will walk.

And if I cannot walk, I will crawl.

And if I cannot crawl, then I will drag my body.

But Jesus.

Sweet Jesus.

No matter what it takes, I will not give up.

Because you tell me that when I draw near to you, you will draw near to me.

You tell me that you strengthen the weary and give power to the weak.

You tell me that when I am weak, you are strong.

That is a promise I am staking my life on.

That is a promise I will run after.

And if I cannot run, I will crawl.

Oh and Jesus? Sweet Jesus, I have nothing to offer you.

Nothing but my broken, weary heart.

Nothing but my false Christianity

Nothing but my hypocrisy.

Nothing but my lies and deceit.

Nothing but my endless burdens.

As I drag my body up to the foot of your cross, I hold my breath.

For what will I find at the cross?
Condemnation for my hypocrisy and false Christianity?

I hang my head, shame filling me.

But at your blood stained, beautiful cross, I find rest for my soul.

I find freedom. I find love. A love that cannot be measured.

It is there that I leave my false Christianity, my heavy heart, my hypocrisy, and burdens.

And it is there I ask you. No. I cry out. I scream with every ounce of strength in my weary body. I beg.

Begging that you will take this life of shambles and make something beautiful.

Begging that you will touch my life.

Begging that you will see through my hypocrisy and love me the same.

And Jesus.

Sweet Jesus.

Will you hold me close to your heart? So closely that I can hear your heart beat?

So close that I can hear you when you shout and so close I can hear you when you whisper?

Dearest Lover of my soul, I have little to offer such a worthy King. I have brokenness and burdens. I have pain and problems. I have frustrations and facades. But you want it all. You don't just want the perfect, the beautiful, the right answers, the smiles, the whole.

Because how can you heal something that doesn't need healing?
How can you make something whole that is not broken?
How can you make something beautiful if it is not ugly?

I am leaving it all. All at the cross. How great, dear Lover, is your love for me. Love is not something you do. Love is your name. Love is who you are.

So I am running after you.

And if I cannot run...

I will crawl.

Second Best?

This is my sweet Nicholas. You know what I love about Nicholas? It's because I know that, compared to me, every other girl is second best. If there is one thing Nick has taught me, it's never settle for someone who treats you like you're second best. Never. Believe me. I've fallen for people who treat me like I'm second best. More than once, actually. It always hurts because you realize you're not who that person really wants. Always. But believe me when I also say that there is someone out there who will treat you like the treasure you are. Yes. You are a treasure. You deserve to be treated like one. Nick is the boy who has loved me for three years, who has told me I'm worth waiting for twenty more years, and still thinks I'm beautiful without makeup. I echo the words of Oscar Wilde, “Never love someone that treats you like you're ordinary.”Never.

It's the little things...

::laughter with my beautiful sisters

::naps

::meeting new people

::milk shakes, conversations on the tailgate of his truck, and a walk in the sunset with my boy

::God's promise that he will renew the strength of those who hope in Him.

::Someone who tells me I'm worth waiting for

::music on nine hour road trips

::phone calls with the lovely Rachel Ojeda and sweet Jenae Connolly

::going back and reading my journal

::seeing my beautiful friend from Georgia

::the verse in Isaiah 40 that says God will hold us close to his heart

::real street conversation with mama

::the words "I love you"

((never forget how blessed you are))

Take my hand

I'll teach you to dance

I'll spin you around

Won't let you fall down

Suddenly I'm feeling brave

Don't know what's got into me

Why I feel this way

Can we dance real slow?

Can I hold you, can I hold you close?

Leftovers

"These people come near to me with their mouth and honor me with their lips, but their hearts are far from me. Their worship of me is based on merely human rules they have been taught."  ((Isaiah 29:13))

Does it break your heart, God, when you give us your best and we give you our leftovers?
Does it break your heart, God, that you gave your precious, only Son and we smile and nod and say, "Jesus died for me? Yeah...that's nice..."?
Does it break your heart when you are perfect in faithfulness and we are perfect in faithlessness?
How do you feel, God, when you tell us to pick up our cross and follow you and instead all we do is a wear a cross around our necks?
Do you become sad, God, that you created people with free and yet we choose to become robots in our worship?

But check out the first part of the next verse...

"Therefore once more I will astound these people with wonder upon wonder.."

Astound.

He hasn't given up on us. God is saying, "Even though these people are robotic and consumed with the outward appearance instead of the heart, I am going to blow their minds. Check out what I am going to do!"

Someone recently told me that God is a gentleman.
He is willing to wait for us.
Yes, he yearns for a relationship with us.
He wants to woo us with his love, give us the best he has.
And yet. Because he loves us. He chooses to wait for us. 

The question is...if God gives us the best He has...then why are we still giving him our leftovers?