Settle down with me. 
You'll be my safety. 
I'll be your lady. 

A little bit of Christmas honesty::through another's eyes

"Last night I couldn't shut off the voices in my head. I feel so inadequate sometimes. I'm too hard on myself. I hate how I have the inability to feel. Sometimes I have stupid irrational fears. I'm constantly comparing myself to others. I don't see the point in investing in deep relationships because people always drift apart. I feel like I fail at my relationship with God. I'm not perfect. Really, I'm not. Sometimes I feel like I'm at war with myself and I just hate myself. Sometimes I just wanna cry, for once. You made me look at myself thru your eyes and I start to understand...maybe I can be loved. Maybe I am beautiful. But do you see who I am, deep inside? Beyond the surface?"

"Anna. I know who you are. I understand what you are saying. And it doesn't change one thing. No one is perfect. Nobody! Jesus was the only perfect person that has and will walk this earth. I truly love you, Anna, because I know who you are."

"But who AM I?"

"Anna. Life is about finding out who you are. It's not just going to appear overnight. Who are you trying to be? Who do you want to be? You won't be perfect, Anna. But you are perfect thru my eyes."

"Really, I don't think I deserve to be loved like this."

"Every girl deserves to be loved. Every girl deserves to be treated right."

"I have so much to learn."

"Well. Let me learn with you."

((because sometimes you just need to borrow someone else' eyes to see yourself)

Beloved Jesus...let me be so close to you I can see my reflection in your eyes. 

thoughts from the other side of the world

::sometimes I think to myself, "I don't want God's heart because it hurts too much. It hurts too much feeling what he feels." But then I hold precious babies in my arms, I listen to stories of Syrian refugees, and jump up and down with the children. I see the beaming smile on the proud father's face as his son learns to walk and the joy that glows in every household. And it reminds me. There is hope. There is always hope. And there is a Jesus who holds this children close and dear to his heart, so close they can hear this gentle breathing and soft heartbeat.

Will you hold me that close to your heart, oh, sweet Jesus? so close I can feel your heart beating and your

::practiced skits on top of the roof yesterday with the sound of the call of prayer in the background.

::the good thing about being afraid you'll screw up your relationship is it forces you to run to God, begging on your knees for wisdom. Determine to please God in your relationships. Only him. 

::next week I have the privilege of teaching kids about what it means to dream with God.

Show me, oh God, what your dreams for me are. more numerous than the stars are your dreams for me.

::you can't have these people, Satan. we'll put up a fight. he loves them too much.

"talk about jesus. don't talk about christianity. what are you passionate about? are you passionate about religion?" 

sometimes I think Muslims love Jesus more than Christians. and i wonder. will muslims be in heaven?

::have you ever taken a shower that is so cold it takes your breath away?

::sometimes I still feel like a five year old that is daily changing what she wants to do with her life. mostly i just want to love people. i have this crazy belief that's all that really matters, not what job you work at or where you live. 

Broken Beautiful

I'm looking in a mirror and all I can see is a broken reflection starting back at me.

A reflection broken by the how the world defines beauty.

By the outward appearance, as something you can see.

A reflection broken by the world's standard of perfection.

By the numbers on the scale or your size.

Teach me to see yourself through your eyes.

Cuz I'm looking in the mirror and all I can see is a broken reflection staring back at me.

Father God, when you look at me, are you disappointed with what you see?

With the tenderness of a lover, he replies, “You are the treasure I hold closely in my heart.

You are my mosaic, my masterpiece, a work of art.

If only you could see yourself the way I do.

So I am replacing the lies with what is true.

Dear Child, listen closely and you will understand.

I hold you tightly in the palm of my hand.

You are the rose, the rose for which I cried.

And these are the tears, the tears for you I cried.

Will you let me capture your heart at this moment in time?

Precious Child, will you be mine?”

Cuz now I'm looking in a mirror and all I can see is a beautiful reflection staring back at me.

Great-Great Grandma Emma

When she was 61 years old, my Great-Great Grandmother Emma Austin wrote about her life. My favorite parts are when she talks about her husband who she always referred to as “prince charming.” She called her five children “fairies.” Below is a couple clips from her story...The first is when she got engaged to prince charming and the second clip is when they got married and the last clip is when Prince Charming died. Sometimes I think that fairy tales really can come true...

I well remember the day I drove away and left my brother David and "Prince Charming." We just looked at each other - no goodbye. I think then it came over me how much he meant to me and what life would mean without him. Things went on very quiet and peaceful after the big Indian scare excitement and one day in July (yes, I remember the day and date - July 25, 1885) "Prince Charming" and I and some others were out on the prairie picking sand plums that grew wild on little bushes. And some way "Prince Charming" and I wandered off from the others, and he told me he loved me and asked me to be his wife.

I had known I think from the first that I loved him so I did not need to ask for time to think about it so I said "Yes," and then he kissed me for the first time.

***

Prince Charming and I decided to get married in September. My Mother and brother would not hear of me going away far. They persuaded us to build on this 120 acres deeded to me so just 40 rods from my Mother's house, "Prince Charming" build a house. It was 14 x 16', had shingled roof, real siding, was lathed and plastered, had three large windows that opened, two boughten doors, a real hard pine floor (not rough wide boards like most had), doors and windows were cased. It also had a mop board all around the floor, was painted in and outside, and a cellar under the whole room.

It was a fine castle "Prince Charming" had to take his Princess to. There were only three other houses in all that country that were built that way: the Jim Murrays and Mr. Tull and W. S. Hustins. "Prince Charming's" brother Frank and my brother helped him do all the work. The lumber and all the material cost $87 and it was hauled from Attica, Kansas. There were no announcement parties or showers or luncheons for the bride. Everything went on very quietly. We raised a lot of onions that year and one day in August my brother and I pulled 15 bushel and went to Medicine Lodge and sold them at a general store for one dollar a bushel. Oh! what wealth!

I got me a white pattern lawn dress, embroidery, and all in the pattern had sold early in the summer for $5 but as it was late in the season, it was selling for $3 - my such a wonderful bargain. I got a white corset for 50 cents, some lace and white ribbon for $1.00, a pair of black cotton hose for 20 cents and my outfit was complete. I had lots of nice underwear. I made my dress myself. I had a nice pair of black toe slippers that "Prince Charming" got me for a present early in the spring.

"Prince Charming" never sent me costly flowers and fancy boxes of bonbons. We did not go to ice cream parlors. Instead he bought a cow and traded his nice set ring he had for a cow and his gold watch for a horse.

I think I will mention this right here that one day in the early summer of 1886 he came over while I was washing and wringing the clothes out by hand, and he said his mother had a clothes wringer. And a few days later he came from Medicine Lodge one day and gave me a clothes wringer. I think I appreciated that gift more than most girls today would a dozen large American Beauty roses. I used that clothes wringer many many years. "Prince Charming" said I looked very sweet to him in my new white wedding dress. 

***

We were planning on a happy Christmas with Mary and family, but on Christmas evening at 9 o'clock, December 24, 1925, my dear "Prince Charming" bid me goodbye and went home to God. His last words to me were "I am ready to go."

No one but my God knows the heartache and loneliness, but I will try and be brave and go on to the end, and try and live each day so I can say when He calls me, "I am ready."

Our little home is broken up. I am at my daughter Mary's. They are good and kind to me, and I feel God is good and I knew He will not forsake me. I feel that He has touched his hand on mine when my dear "Prince Charming" left us, and as I have written all this bit of history of our early life, his face and form as he was younger, is ever before me.

My thoughts seem to go back in the past, and they are the pictures that are plainest. He was 65 years old when he left me, and I am 61. And now as I come to the end of this story, my one thought is that God was good to us all the way. 

It's a beautiful night

We're looking for something dumb to do

Hey, baby, I think I wanna marry you

Is it the look in your eyes?

Is it the dancing juice?

I think I wanna marry you

Take Me Into the Water

Fear is a wall.

Brick by brick, I've built this wall.

I am afraid of some of the places God will ask me to go, the people and things he will ask me to give up, and the things he will ask me to do.

Fear is not from God. I realized that in worship today.

But my fears come from an improper understanding of who I think God is.

Why is it we think that God will send us to some terrible place or take all of our friends away if we surrender?

God is a loving Father who simply wants the best for his children.

If we could only grasp how much God loves us, it would change everything.

A.W. Tozer once said, “What comes into our minds when we think about God is the most important thing about us.”

Why? Why does it matter how we perceive God? Because the way understand God determines the way we live. I'll be honest, I struggle so much with trusting God. But bit-by-bit, God is taking me out of the boat and into the water.

When you read the story of Peter walking on water, there's a couple things that are important. First, the reason that Peter was crazy enough to attempt walking on water was because he knew Jesus. He deeply, intimately knew Jesus. If a stranger had walked up to him and said, “Yo, Pete, come walk on le water,” chances are, he wouldn't have. But Peter trusted Jesus enough to do something insane, something wild, something that was absurd to the other disciples.

How much do you trust Jesus? Enough to walk out on the water?

The Bible says that when Peter saw the wind and waves, he became afraid.

My question is...what should be be afraid about?

Peter was afraid of the wind and waves.

I want to be more afraid of the comfort of the boat and cushy Christianity than the wind and waves.

I want to jump simply because he promises he will catch me.

I want my eyes to be so locked into Jesus' that I don't even notice the wind and waves.

Stop asking yourself, “What will happen if I do?” Ask yourself, “What is at stake if I don't?”

There is too much at risk not to risk.

Because He. He is worthy.

So pull me a little closer

Take me a little deeper

I want to know your heart

I want to know your heart

Cuz your love is so much sweeter

Than anything I've tasted

I want to know your heart

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?

Bittersweet

Bittersweet. 

If I were to describe life in one word, it would be bittersweet. Life is so beautiful...yet so painful. But you know what's funny? Sometimes the best moments and the most painful moments are intermingled, creating this precious moment.

Life is glorious and magical and fun. Yesterday after youth group, a group of friends and I went to the dock at the lake and opened a couple bottles of sparkling grape juice in the fading twilight. We toasted to my new adventure in Colorado, my best friend's football year, and that we would be friends forever. And we laughed and freaked out when a cop pulled up by the dock even though we weren't doing anything wrong. Life is beautiful because it is full of laughter, rain, mid-night conversations with my cousin, water parks, friends, and horse back rides-each a precious gift from Jesus. Life is beautiful because I am blessed immensely.

But life. Life is hard. 

I'm not sure how to say good-bye when I leave. How do I leave the home, the only town, I've ever known? I'm trying to cling on and enjoy each moment but why? So that it will be a little  only more painful when I leave?
Life is hard because a eighteen-year-old from my youth group is pregnant and my heart breaks for her. Because I know how weak I am. Because I know I am no holier than her, that we're all in the same boat. Together. My heart breaks because I desperately want to reach out to her and love on her but she is pushing people away. She wants to pretend that after she gives the baby away everything will go back to normal but it won't. It can't. My heart breaks for her because, if I were in her shoes, I would be suffocating under the weight of shame and fear.
Life is hard because it is full of painful goodbyes. Yesterday my best friend and I stood by his truck and started talking about me leaving next month. Then we just hugged for a very, very long time as if hugging could make the pain go away and stop me from leaving.
"Why do you have to make this so hard?" I asked him.
"Because you made me your best friend," he replied. And you know what? He's right. I don't care what Disney says, but love hurts. People-sometimes even the people you love the most-hurt you, ignore you, use you, break your heart. But oh.
It is so, oh so, worth it.
Just because it hurts does not mean it is not worth the price.
I echo the quote by Tonya Timmons that says, "It's weird...you know the end of something great is coming, but you wanna hold on, just for one more second...just so it can hurt a little more."

Life is full of beauty and brokenness. Pain and perfection. Hurt and hope. But here is the promise that we can cling onto: even when life is not good, God is. Yesterday at youth group we played the worship song called "Whom Shall I Fear" by Chris Tomlin:

I know who goes before me
I know who stands behind
The God of angel armies is always by my side
The one who reigns forever
He is a friend of mine
The God of angel armies is always by my side

Wisdom from Winnie the Pooh

 "Some people care too much. I think it's called love."

 "How lucky I am to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard!"

 "I knew when I met you an adventure was going to happen."

 "If you live to be 100, I hope I live to be 100 minus one day so I never have to live a day without you."

“If there ever comes a day when we can't be together, keep me in your heart. I'll stay there forever.” 

“Sometimes,' said Pooh, 'the smallest things take up the most room in your heart.”

“Promise me you'll never forget me because if I thought you would, I'd never leave.” 

“Promise me you'll always remember: You're braver than you believe, and stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think.”

Shambles

I stood praying in the rain today.

“God, wash it all. Wash it all away.”

Because when I look at my life, who I am is not who I want to be.

When I look in the mirror, who I see is not who I want to see.

Instead I see shambles that represent a broken life.

I see anger, fighting, never ending strife.

Glimpses and flashbacks of my life make me wince.

A pile of nothingness represents my existence.

But they tell me...you can take a life of shambles and make something beautiful.

They tell me that you can take something broken and make it whole.

They tell me that you can take something worthless and give it value.

They tell me that you can take something weary and old and make it new.

So I'm clinging onto you and never letting go.

I'm following you in in the high and low.

Because here is the truth no matter what we think or feel.

When Jesus died, he paid it all with his blood-it was a done deal.

And he says, “Where you see brokenness, I see beauty.

Though you're forgiven, why do you live your life as if guilty?

Because there is no condemnation in me.

And slowly, bit by broken bit, I am making you into

who I want you to be.”

Oh, Nepal...how you still capture my heart.

They say a picture is worth a thousand words.

I still remember this day...

Everyone else was eating lunch.

Peanut butter and jelly.

But I didn't feel like eating.

Instead, I played with these three beautiful girls.

I picked them up and spun them around.

Beautiful brown eyes.

Flashing smiles.

Laughter.

It made every penny I'd worked so hard for worth it.

I. fell. in. love.

Outlaw

I used to stare at the picture of Jesus hanging in church.
A ((white)) man with a brown beard and sad, sad eyes.
Jesus, I'm learning, isn't who he think he is.
You know what frustrates me?
When Christians think they have Jesus all figured out.
Because here's the deal.
Jesus?
Well...he's full of surprises.
It really frustrates me when people say,
"Jesus wouldn't watch that movie."
"Jesus wouldn't get a tattoo."
"Jesus wouldn't listen to that song."
The list goes on. And on.
Of course, we can't forget the classic WWJD?
I don't think that's a bad question.
I just think we get the answer all wrong.
Jesus is full of surprises.
And us?
We're full of assumptions.
We assume Jesus wouldn't get a tattoo, go to parties, drink, or listen to secular music.
I'm not saying he would, either. I'm just saying that maybe we need to rethink who Jesus is.
Sometimes Jesus makes me laugh.
Because Jesus?
Well. You see, he was kind of an outlaw.
A homeless rabbi, you could say.
He made wine at a wedding.
He called God his father.
He forgave people's sins.
He hung out with prostitutes.
Ate with tax collectors.
Turned money tables in God's holy temple.
And we have the audacity to imagine Jesus as a quiet, soft-spoken man with a perfect beard and sad look in his eyes like the pictures always display.
Correct me if I'm wrong, but something tells me that's not how Jesus was.
Now let's get something straight. 
I'm not saying that Jesus was a madman.
I certainly don't want to disrespect Jesus!
But I think we disrespect Jesus when we fail to understand who he actually is.
When we're so engrossed by who we think he is that we stop searching for the truth of who he actually is.
Not who we imagine him to be.
Not even who we want him to be.
So please.
Stop trying to fit Jesus into a mold you've made.
Stop making assumptions about Jesus.
Let him loose.

{sisters}

 Lord, help the mister...

 who comes between me and my sister...

 And Lord, help the sister...

who comes between me and my mister

#hipsterdreams

i want. to be. a hipster. 

#hattersgottahate

So go ahead.

Love me.

Or hate me.

But I refused to be defined by what you think of me.

Three years ago. This week. I met one of my dearest friends. Nick loves chocolate milk and hates pickles and bacon and loves scary movies and is a stellar football player. He loves sweet onion chicken sandwiches from Subway and somehow has the guts to teach me how to drive stick shift and trust me to not wreck his truck. We've done countless wild things together and laughed and sat on the swings at the park and tried to figure out life. I used to think that three years wasn't that long, but now, looking back, I realize it is. In high-school, so many have "best friends" have come and gone. I'm so thankful to have a pal whose stuck with me through the thick and thin.I am amazed how God places people in your life just when you need them. I'm not sure how I would have survived the past three years of living in my town without Nicholas! He's the coolest kid on the block. 

"How lucky I am to have something that makes saying good-bye so hard." ~Winnie the Pooh

Father, forgive them...

Lately I've been watching The Bible dvds. If you're not familiar with them, it's a series of Bible stories from the creation up to the book of Acts. Today I watched the crucifixion & it moved me in a beautiful way.

I found tears running down my cheeks as I watched the Roman soldiers beat Yeshua until he could barely walk. I felt my chin trembling as I watched Yeshua pick up his cross, lean forward, and gently kiss it. I swiped tears as I watched Mary, obviously distressed, run out to her bloody and battered Son. I was overcome with emotion by a story I've read and heard a thousand times before. 

But this time? It was real.

You see, I was there with them.

I was there as they were screaming “Crucify him!”

I felt my heart breaking as I watched the Romans beat Jesus until he resembled a piece of raw meat.

And I nailed him to the cross. Not physically, of course, but it was my sins-our sins-that nailed Jesus to that tree.

As the Romans whipped Jesus, I found myself wanting to scream, “He's innocent, don't you see? He didn't do anything wrong!” It hit me for the first time how...pure and innocent this God-man was. As I watched the soldiers mock Jesus and yell at him on the cross, I wanted Jesus to come down. I wanted him to show them who was boss. I wanted him to display his might and power! Anything but hang on the cross without replying to their harsh comments.

All he said was, “Father, forgive them. For they know not what they do.”

Father...forgive them...For they know what they do.

Jesus forgave the men who murdered him.

Why is it I struggle to forgive the people I love who hurt me?

Instead, I want to make them feel sorry for what they did, hear a sincere apology, then forgive them. But that is not the way our Teacher showed us.

And so every time I struggle with forgiving someone who has wronged me, I think to myself... “Jesus forgave the men who nailed him to the cross. How can I do anything less?” Make it a little more personal, if you want. “Jesus forgave me. How can I do anything less?”
I guarantee you will be hurt in life. Not just by your enemies, but also by those who love you the most. You can either let bitterness and resentment overtake you or you can forgive them. Remember forgiveness is not a feeling; it's a choice. 

But after all.

How can we do anything less?

Let me tell you a little something about the eagles

Skies are crying
I am watching
Catching teardrops in my hands
Only silence as it's ending
Like we never had a chance
Do you have to make me feel like
there's nothing left of me?

I want to be an eagle when they face the storms of life. The eagle flies to a high spot and will simply wait for the storm to come. When the storm eventually hits, the eagle sets its wings and allows the storm to pick him up. Then something beautiful, something incredible happens. The eagle rises above the storm. It doesn't try to escape it-it simply soars above it. In essence, it uses the storm to lift it higher. I love that. I want to be like an eagle. I want to rise above the storms of life. Instead of running away from the storms, I want to use them to lift me higher.

"When a storm comes, all other birds seek shelter.

The eagle alone avoids the storm

by flying above it."

You can take everything I have
You can break everything I am
Like I'm made of glass
Like I'm made of paper
Go on and try to tear me down
I will be rising from the ground
Like a skyscraper 

Goodnight

This Cross of Mine

I run my hand over the rough wood stained with blood.

His words echoing in my mind... “If any man come after me...”

I think back to that moment in time, how I'd felt my pulse racing.

I, I wanted to follow him. I felt like cheering.

Then he continued.

…“he must deny himself...”

I paused. Deny myself?

“...and pick up his cross...”

Pick up his cross? What was this rabbi talking about?

“...and follow me.”

A murmur spreads through the crowd followed by an awkward silence.

The rabbi knew what the cross meant.

The cross meant torture. Death. The worst, most cruel death the Romans had yet created.

And Yeshua was telling the crowd to pick up their cross?

I felt a lump in my throat...A cross meant certain death.

Yeshua was asking us to die to ourselves.

Confused, I found myself walking away with the majority of the crowd.

I hesitated, expecting, hoping that Yeshua would follow us and say,

“Alright! If that's too much to ask, let's work out a bargain.”

But...he didn't.

I glanced over my shoulder to see the teacher surrounded by his twelve disciples.

They looked as bewildered and lost as I felt.

I tried to ignore the Rabbi's words and push them from my mind.

And yet, I couldn't.

The words kept coming back to me...almost haunting me.

“If any man come after me, he must deny himself, pick up his cross,

and follow me.”

I knew what that meant: if you wanted to follow Jesus, it would cost you.

Everything.

Possibly even your life.

For years I wrestled with his words...I wrestled with my doubts and questions.

Was it worth it?

Did I have what it would take?

The stakes were high. I wanted to count the cost.

I kept that mindset. Until one day.

The day my God died.

On a tree.

On the cross he had spoken of.

I ran up to the cross.

Tears blinding my eyes.

Reaching up, I run my hand over the wood.

Feel the wood.

Feel the blisters piercing your skin.

Run your finger over the blood.

It was in that moment I saw it.

I saw the great love he had for me. For everyone.

I saw that even though the price to win our hearts was great, he paid it nevertheless.

I realized that just because the stakes are high doesn't mean it's not worth it.

And I realized.

The stakes? The cost? They so, so small because he is so, so worth it.