Lately I have been feeling very messy.
By lately, I mean the last couple of months. It's been one of those seasons where it seems like anything that could "hit the fan" did and left me blinded by confusion, anger, and pain.
I feel like as Christians, a lot of feel like we're supposed to have everything together all the time. When Christ says, "bear one another's burdens" it means we're supposed to share our heart, but only in a nonimpact, limited way—we can't create too big of a mess. Grace and redemption only apply to our past, not our current situations or even our future ones to come.
"I just want to pour my soul out on someone and not have to worry about the mess I've made."
Here's where I think we go wrong.
We call ourselves "Christians" rather than Christ followers. I feel as though this label of Christian and the pressure we feel from the demonic-spirit of religion is what traps us into thinking we have to have it together all the time. If we start looking at ourselves as Christ followers, we'd see how rarely anyone in the Bible "had it together". We'd see how the people that followed Christ were messy people and the Lord never condemned them or made them feel ashamed because of that fact. He loved and cherished their hearts and prized them on their authenticity!
However much I see this, though, I can never seem to bring my broken, flawed heart to the Lord. I scramble around trying to pick up the pieces, applying a mess of glue and tape trying to mend it all on my own, making it even messier than before. What a great God we serve that merely laughs and smiles at my efforts, cleaning it up, refreshing it and making it new, whole, and better than before. I often wonder when my stubbornness will fade and I simply let the Lord take my heart when pain comes. Because despite how much I think my own efforts is what is going to heal me, it often is what drives me away from healing and redemption even more. My stubbornness comes out of fear that I will be too messy, too much for Him, and He will tell me what a burden I am.
How deceitful the heart and mind can be.
If only that fear were immediately replaced, I wouldn't push away truth and the understanding of who I am in Christ. I think I am too modest a person sometimes. I can never take a compliment and have difficulty seeing goodness in myself. Because of that, I can't understand or comprehend my identity in Christ—even though it's all through Him and nothing of my own works. The beginning of this understanding starts with the simple realization that I am not defined by my past. I am not defined by what I've done, what others have done or said to me, my mistakes or my triumphs, but purely defined by who Christ says I am. I am thrilled to be starting this journey with the Lord of finding out what He has to say! Because if I am honest, I have pushed for far too long and I am so weary. Maybe that's why I've been feeling so messy—when Lauren takes control, you can bet there will be a mess. I've fallen out of a moving car for goodness sake. I'm not exactly the best and the brightest.
When the Lord has control, there is rest. There is peace. There is the joy and understanding that I am not defined by my past and He is the one that defines my future.
As for the "someone" that I can pour my soul onto and not worry about the mess I've made, I know the Sunday School answer, it's just taken me awhile to realize that no person will ever be able to handle all of me completely. We are to bear one another's burdens, yes, and to be vulnerable and unrestricted in our messiness and complications and blunders but it's unfair to think that someone can handle two hearts. The only one that can ever hold your heart completely and never be overwhelmed by it is the One who created it.
"God who created your heart can most definitely heal it."
I am not too messy for Him. I am not defined by my past.
Freedom is found in our identity in Him.
Monday, December 16, 2013
Wednesday, November 6, 2013
Small Reminder
"Marry your best friend. I do not say that lightly. Really,
truly find the strongest, happiest friendship in the person you fall in love
with. Someone who speaks highly of you. Someone you can laugh with. The kind of
laughs that make your belly ache, and your nose snort. The embarrassing,
earnest, healing kind of laughs. Wit is important. Life is too short not to
love someone who lets you be a fool with them. Make sure they are somebody who
lets you cry, too. Despair will come. Find someone that you want to be there
with you through those times. Most importantly, marry the one that makes
passion, love, and madness combine and course through you. A love that will
never dilute - even when the waters get deep, and dark."
Passion.
Sunday, August 25, 2013
LA LUNA
This summer I was told to read Messy Spiritually by Michael Yaconelli. I could talk about this book for hours, but I'd like to focus on just a small part of what he wrote.
He wrote of a small, four-verse story out of Luke 21 where an old widow gives a meager offering of a few coins to the Lord:
"Which is what makes the story of the widow powerful. It isn't dramatic, spectacular, revolutionary, significant, or amazing. Here is a woman whom no one notices and, worse, whom no one cares to notice. In the world she lives in, she is part of the landscape, a blur in a crowd of faces, but she is a faithful blur, an inconspicuous lover of God who loves God every day and lives God every day. She doesn't care whether she is noticed; she cares about whether God is noticed."
I can't begin to tell you what this has done to my heart.
I feel like sometimes as Christians we feel called to do big things for God! We're supposed to be "the change we wish to see in the world" and when that doesn't happen, we feel frustrated, insignificant, and just flat out tired.
But the Lord tells us to rest. He never called us to change the world; He already did that.
"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light." Matthew 11:28:30
If you're anything like me, I would read this verse and think, "Oh God, thank you! You know how much I need a vacation!" But running around, trying to make sure everything is prepared for our college ministry and making friendships and continuing others and balancing school, and worrying about work, I've realized that it's not a vacation the Lord is offering, but rest while you do these tiny acts of obedience. He lightens our loads by whispering, "You're not alone. Look at how much I'm apart of this. You're my vessel and my ambassador; I will do the work but I will bless you for being a faithful servant. I love you." It's amazing how refreshed I feel by just giving it to Him and resting in Him while the work is happening! Reaching out to students and starting conversations and stacking chairs and driving across town and whatever else needs to be done, I feel like I'm dancing and laughing with Him instead of grudgingly moving my feet in obedience.
And His blessings are so sweet when they do come.
Because when we listen to the movings of the Holy Spirit, He often takes us to sweet places once He has our attention. It might by hard getting to that point, but boy, He sure loves us and wants to spoil us with His love!
The other night He took me and one of my best friends (and let's be honest, sister) up to the bluffs to just stand under the moon and stars and just be in His creation to worship Him. I'm probably going to be really cheesy here but hey, I'm kind of a cheesy, sentimental person.
I couldn't stop looking at the moon. Even as a kid, I've always had a fascination with it. On long car rides from the Cities to Duluth with my grandparents, I would stare out the window and talk with "The Man on the Moon" until sleep finally came. But staring at it that night, I felt the immense weight of knowing that my Father created that and the stars around it and then looking down over all of Winona, He created that town and each car that drove by, each light that was turned off or on in a house, each person walking the city streets contained His child! That's why I love the moon and the night. Everything gets still and quiet so we can all just rest and the world just seems...smaller. Because under that moon are all of God's beloved and cherished children and He has infinite time for all of them. Time for myself and Abbie atop of the bluffs and time for His children in Czech, time for the suffering in Mozambique, time for each and every one of us on earth.
As we stood there worshipping and praising Him, Abbie mentioned how He tells us we are His, but He is also ours. How glorious! How wonderful! How...completely insane!
"The sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe."
Jesus died so we could breathe. So we could live. So we could rest.
It's insane and radical and I don't deserve it at all but I'm so thankful that He did and the ways He shows His love to me every day.
I couldn't stop looking at the moon. Even as a kid, I've always had a fascination with it. On long car rides from the Cities to Duluth with my grandparents, I would stare out the window and talk with "The Man on the Moon" until sleep finally came. But staring at it that night, I felt the immense weight of knowing that my Father created that and the stars around it and then looking down over all of Winona, He created that town and each car that drove by, each light that was turned off or on in a house, each person walking the city streets contained His child! That's why I love the moon and the night. Everything gets still and quiet so we can all just rest and the world just seems...smaller. Because under that moon are all of God's beloved and cherished children and He has infinite time for all of them. Time for myself and Abbie atop of the bluffs and time for His children in Czech, time for the suffering in Mozambique, time for each and every one of us on earth.
As we stood there worshipping and praising Him, Abbie mentioned how He tells us we are His, but He is also ours. How glorious! How wonderful! How...completely insane!
"The sun loved the moon so much he died every night to let her breathe."
Jesus died so we could breathe. So we could live. So we could rest.
It's insane and radical and I don't deserve it at all but I'm so thankful that He did and the ways He shows His love to me every day.
Thursday, August 22, 2013
Wednesday, August 21, 2013
"It is a happiness to wonder; it is a happiness to dream"
I only know her name is Katie.
Her name is Katie and she has been in Uganda since 2007. She is 22 and a foster mom to 13 beautiful girls.
A girl I have never met, and probably will never meet, and she has broken my heart in the most beautiful of ways. I'm crying just writing this!
There are some people that write passionately and uninhibited and with all the joy in their hearts coupled with wisdom beyond years.
Katie is one of them.
Her first post (that I could find at least) is her simple praise of how good the Lord is. From that point on, I was, and still am, completely captivated by her humble heart for Christ and her desire to love on all of His children.
Have you ever read something and not realized how rusty and decrepit your heart has grown until then? Like a car stuck in the ditch that you would like to repair and start to make anew again? Four of her blog posts in, the Holy Spirit started to gently sweep off the cobwebs from my dusty heart and whisper dreams that I had pushed aside until now.
"Sometimes working in a third world country makes me feel like I am emptying the ocean with an eye-dropper. And just when I have about half a cup full of water, it rains: more orphans from the north migrate to where I live, more abandoned and dead babies are found, more people are infected with aids. It is enough to discourage even the most enthusiastic and passionate person. And yet the discouragement lasts only a moment and God tells me to keep going. That He loves me. That he loves these people. That He will never leave or forsake any of us, not one. That my work is important, to Him.
I spent the day at the wedding of my friend Lydia. It was a beautiful celebration not only of our love for one another, but also the love God has for us. At the reception, there was cake and singing and dancing, just like at any american wedding. One thing that wasnt like an american wedding however, was the congregation of street children at the gate, all longing to join the party inside. Those who know me know that I am not the kind of person who can sit in a chair if others have to sit on the floor; I immediately felt suffocated inside the gates of the extravagant party. So for most of the reception you could find me outside with the raggedy, dirty street children dancing and laughing and cuddling. Most people were slightly appalled that I, a white person especially, was associating with these children, the lowest of the low, the outcasts of society. Many of the fancily dressed guest at the wedding even came and told me that I probably shouldn't speak to these awful children, let alone kiss them and let them bury their faces in my hair. "They are from the street!" the people would cry, as if it was some kind of sin, as if the children could help it. We had so much fun though. The children ate up every bit of attention I could give, danced as close to me as they possibly could and lavished me with love. We spun and laughed until we ached and had to collapse in the grass outside of where the reception was taking place. Those who had been shy at first (they are not used to adults talking to them, let alone mzungus) ended up snuggled close at my side, petting my hair or kissing my hands. The littlest ones fell asleep in my lap, despite the blaring music from the wedding. Those who could speak english wanted to know all about me and thanked me unneccisarily for spending time with them. They were so happy, I can't describe the new light in their eyes after all of our dancing.
It's that light.
It's that happiness.
It's that love.
My darling little friend Emily is asleep in my lap and I can feel her heart beating against mine.
It's that beat.
It's that warmth.
It's that love.
It's that love that is the reason I just keep filing up my little eye-dropper. Keep filling it up and emptying my ocean one drop at a time. I'm not here to eliminate poverty, to eradicate disease, to put a stop to people abandoning babies. I'm just here to love."
"I'm just here to love."
I pray from the very depths of my soul and with every fiber in my being that I can learn what it is to do that. I know at this point that I am so consumed with myself and my pride that I have a difficult time actually extending the love of the Father; the love that He so freely has given me.
So this is where the dreams start.
I want to go to a third world country. Mostly because I am terrified and want to stretch myself and I truly want the Lord to break my heart; wreck it into a thousand pieces until there is nothing left of me. I want to struggle but also feel the Holy Spirit work and allow me to lavish love on His beautiful children. I also want to go back to the Czech Republic. I want to teach and be a light that drives out the darkness there. Even sitting here, hundreds of miles away, my heart burns and aches to be with those beautiful people whom I have grown to love so much. It has been years since I have been with them and yet I still think about them everyday. Even here in Winona, I want to see students stray from all of the parties because they becomes tasteless and they taste the goodness of the Lord instead.
I just want to go. Go love and be with my Savior, lover, life-giver, strength, the One worthy of all my praise! I want to stand atop of mountains and feel my own insignificance and to still hear Him say how much He loves me, how He pursues me daily, and even with all the splendor around me and this great earth below my feet, and unending sky above my head, I'm His greatest and most beloved creation. Me, standing amongst all of that. Me, the being that comes and goes like dust in the wind. I want to stand in His splendor and worship Him with all the breath in my lungs and every fiber of my being; just sing the sweetest of love songs to the Love of my life. I want to weep with brothers and sisters across the world. To rejoice with them. Simply to walk with them in life. I want to be broken, molded, shaped, loved into what I've been called to do in this.
But for now, I will be in Winona and I will do what the Lord has been quietly urging me to do all along:
"I'm just here to love."
Her name is Katie and she has been in Uganda since 2007. She is 22 and a foster mom to 13 beautiful girls.
A girl I have never met, and probably will never meet, and she has broken my heart in the most beautiful of ways. I'm crying just writing this!
There are some people that write passionately and uninhibited and with all the joy in their hearts coupled with wisdom beyond years.
Katie is one of them.
Her first post (that I could find at least) is her simple praise of how good the Lord is. From that point on, I was, and still am, completely captivated by her humble heart for Christ and her desire to love on all of His children.
Have you ever read something and not realized how rusty and decrepit your heart has grown until then? Like a car stuck in the ditch that you would like to repair and start to make anew again? Four of her blog posts in, the Holy Spirit started to gently sweep off the cobwebs from my dusty heart and whisper dreams that I had pushed aside until now.
"Sometimes working in a third world country makes me feel like I am emptying the ocean with an eye-dropper. And just when I have about half a cup full of water, it rains: more orphans from the north migrate to where I live, more abandoned and dead babies are found, more people are infected with aids. It is enough to discourage even the most enthusiastic and passionate person. And yet the discouragement lasts only a moment and God tells me to keep going. That He loves me. That he loves these people. That He will never leave or forsake any of us, not one. That my work is important, to Him.
I spent the day at the wedding of my friend Lydia. It was a beautiful celebration not only of our love for one another, but also the love God has for us. At the reception, there was cake and singing and dancing, just like at any american wedding. One thing that wasnt like an american wedding however, was the congregation of street children at the gate, all longing to join the party inside. Those who know me know that I am not the kind of person who can sit in a chair if others have to sit on the floor; I immediately felt suffocated inside the gates of the extravagant party. So for most of the reception you could find me outside with the raggedy, dirty street children dancing and laughing and cuddling. Most people were slightly appalled that I, a white person especially, was associating with these children, the lowest of the low, the outcasts of society. Many of the fancily dressed guest at the wedding even came and told me that I probably shouldn't speak to these awful children, let alone kiss them and let them bury their faces in my hair. "They are from the street!" the people would cry, as if it was some kind of sin, as if the children could help it. We had so much fun though. The children ate up every bit of attention I could give, danced as close to me as they possibly could and lavished me with love. We spun and laughed until we ached and had to collapse in the grass outside of where the reception was taking place. Those who had been shy at first (they are not used to adults talking to them, let alone mzungus) ended up snuggled close at my side, petting my hair or kissing my hands. The littlest ones fell asleep in my lap, despite the blaring music from the wedding. Those who could speak english wanted to know all about me and thanked me unneccisarily for spending time with them. They were so happy, I can't describe the new light in their eyes after all of our dancing.
It's that light.
It's that happiness.
It's that love.
My darling little friend Emily is asleep in my lap and I can feel her heart beating against mine.
It's that beat.
It's that warmth.
It's that love.
It's that love that is the reason I just keep filing up my little eye-dropper. Keep filling it up and emptying my ocean one drop at a time. I'm not here to eliminate poverty, to eradicate disease, to put a stop to people abandoning babies. I'm just here to love."
"I'm just here to love."
I pray from the very depths of my soul and with every fiber in my being that I can learn what it is to do that. I know at this point that I am so consumed with myself and my pride that I have a difficult time actually extending the love of the Father; the love that He so freely has given me.
So this is where the dreams start.
I want to go to a third world country. Mostly because I am terrified and want to stretch myself and I truly want the Lord to break my heart; wreck it into a thousand pieces until there is nothing left of me. I want to struggle but also feel the Holy Spirit work and allow me to lavish love on His beautiful children. I also want to go back to the Czech Republic. I want to teach and be a light that drives out the darkness there. Even sitting here, hundreds of miles away, my heart burns and aches to be with those beautiful people whom I have grown to love so much. It has been years since I have been with them and yet I still think about them everyday. Even here in Winona, I want to see students stray from all of the parties because they becomes tasteless and they taste the goodness of the Lord instead.
I just want to go. Go love and be with my Savior, lover, life-giver, strength, the One worthy of all my praise! I want to stand atop of mountains and feel my own insignificance and to still hear Him say how much He loves me, how He pursues me daily, and even with all the splendor around me and this great earth below my feet, and unending sky above my head, I'm His greatest and most beloved creation. Me, standing amongst all of that. Me, the being that comes and goes like dust in the wind. I want to stand in His splendor and worship Him with all the breath in my lungs and every fiber of my being; just sing the sweetest of love songs to the Love of my life. I want to weep with brothers and sisters across the world. To rejoice with them. Simply to walk with them in life. I want to be broken, molded, shaped, loved into what I've been called to do in this.
But for now, I will be in Winona and I will do what the Lord has been quietly urging me to do all along:
"I'm just here to love."
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