i love you

Let's not think we can earn the forgiveness, because if we're needing the forgiveness in the first place, I do not think we're capable of doing much good at all in the the eyes of The One who forgives.

Grace is freeing and not, all at the same time. Thank God I do not have to earn it, yet, when I'm recieving it, it almost doesn't feel "enough".

I want to do more, I want to show you my grief, my sorrow for my sins. I'll write you a note, I'll explain myself. I'll serve you, I'll give to you. Do you see me working for it? Working for your forgiveness? Is it...working?

It isn't working, it never will. But I feel useless just sitting here, trying and failing to live in the forgiveness I've been given. And why do I need it anyway? Because I suck (and I hate that word). I'm a dirty, rotten sinner, madly in love with Jesus Christ, yet unfit to be called His bride. And the desperate cry of my heart (and He knows this, because He searches it every moment of every day) is, "God, make me more like your Son!"

But it's still awkward, like your first date or tripping while wearing a dress. It's uncomfortable, waiting for it to "blow over". Maybe we'll forget about it, right? But I know we won't.

So in the meantime, what to do? Well, this I cannot answer, and I don't know that you can either. What I am here to tell you is that Jesus didn't really care about what I would do or say or do.

You know what He was concerned with? My heart. The beating thing in my chest that twists and contracts with each movement, physical and emotional. He used words to remind me that I am still very much so His beloved and loves me in spite of my selfishness.

God sees you.

He hears you.

He knows you.

He speaks to you.

He has thoughts about you.

He wants you.

He is making you more like Him.

 

 

These words were actually written to me by a friend not 24 hours after I had penned my desperate plea: "I want to be more like your Son."



He really is interested in calming your heart and your fears, lowering your anxiety levels and leaving you feeling as rested as you would be after sleeping for ten, uninterrupted hours. He's interested.
He's active. While we can only sit in the freedom and deal with the awkwardness that truly only lasts a short while anyway, He is concerning Himself with What can I do to make her believe Me when I say, "I love you,"?

I love you.

ok, I believe you.

awake

good morning.

The sun is peeking through the cumulus, laying it's rays delicately on my bed, across my face, awakening me.

It's a new day. It's a new breath. It's a new reason to live. The reason is different than yesterday's, with its own name, face, and personality. Who knows what it will be or become, but you can be sure that it will be or become something, for hasn't The Lord awoken me?

Yes, and all to live a new day, breathe a new breathe, have a new reason. 

"Satisfy us each morning with your unfailing love, so we may sing for joy to the end of our lives." Psalms 90:14

And when I live the new reason and breathe the new breath, look out onto the new horizons, I find myself singing new songs as I watch gold fill the sky and black blanket the earth. 

New days bring new praise. 

New days are coming for me, chasing me down, I sometimes feel. 

"Make this decision; know your plans; think about your future." 

I'm trying, I'm trying, and should it really be this hard? It's just new, and new always feels hard (for me). 

New suggests unknown, but is it really?

Doesn't He promise a hopeful future, a prosperous life? Doesn't He say it'll all work out fine, for my good even, because He's God? 

But new also makes my heart skip. New brings adventure and freedom knocking at my door. New: it's compelling, it's exciting. 

So I'll open the door and make the decision and live the new and accept the reason because He gave it. He gave me the new. 

And every good thing comes from His hand. And everything He gives can be boiled down to grace. 

It's all grace. The new, the unknown, the breath, the life- oh, especially the life.

Grace is freedom. 

And friends, freedom is where He lives. 

Here's to a season of new, my graduating/newlywed/first-time-parents/other-types-of-new friends. 

Here's to a remarkable season where you watch The Lord unfold your new and make it yours. 

Accept the new, accept the grace, and give the thanks. 

Amen. 

Live

To you who's wondering if it's ok:

It is ok. It is.

It's ok if you don't know for sure. It's ok if you're not totally prepared. It's ok if you're still a bit confused and move forward anyway. It's ok to take that job. It's ok to say, "no thanks." It's ok for your heart to mingle with two people at the same time....yikes! It's ok to jump in head first.

It's ok, because you were made to live.

You were made to live in this moment, in this age, in this year, in that house, in that car, with this president, with those friends, with that job, in that church, with these decisions.

He created you to worship him right now. You know how you do that?
You give thanks and enjoy the gifts.
You live.

You do that thing and talk to that person and go on that date and take that job and work in that nursery and ace that test and go for a bike ride and skip down the street and sing to loud music and dream really big dreams.

There's a reason he is supernatural and we are not. As we live, the Holy Spirit works through us. We can't do his part. We have to do the living part.

This does not totally sum up our roles as Jesus lovers, but if you find yourself fretting over little things, and big things even, please come back to this thought.
Live.
Don't wish you were someplace else with someone else doing something else.
Live now. Here.

Tomorrow doesn't exist.

"Don't worry or be anxious about anything. But prayerfully, with thanksgiving, tell God what your heart desires. And His peace that cannot be understood will wash all over you and calm your heart and mind."


This is the place I most often find myself. I wish I could tell you I was a few years (moths, at the very least) older with plans to marry soon and foster all the love-starved babies of the world.
I really wish I could tell you that.
Or maybe tell you that I know how to discern this situation with this person because then I might could predict the outcome and prepare better.
Or maybe still tell you that I know what I want to pursue in college and I'm totally ready for that new chapter and I'm not second-guessing myself at all.

But I can't tell you those things.

What I can tell you is that I'm still very much so a senior in highschool waiting eagerly like a child for that diploma I've worked so hard for. I have no idea what to expect in every relationship and I'm still waiting for mr. future husband to come along and love on the babies with me. I haven't a clue as to what I'll be majoring in come this fall and I don't know if I even want to go to college but what else would I do anyway?

It's ok to have my problems or problems like them. It's called living.
And when you're living for the Creator of the very breath you take, trust me- you're doing it right. Just keep on living.

contentment is trust

How to find the joy?

Learn to give the thanks.

How to be genuine in giving the thanks?

Learn to trust.


Isn't it the root of it all? Lack of trust? Unfortunately, yes. Oh yes.
And why don't I trust? Hasn't He always provided the manna, the life-giving bread that leaves me full, satisfied, not wanting anything?
But the manna isn't always tasty, soft, easily swallowed. It's crispy sometimes, a little burnt, not so sweet.

Is that manna still what satisfies me? keeps me living? provides the life?

Yes, but it doesn't always feel that way. And so I begin the longing for other manna, more pleasant manna.

And Jesus whispers, "Don't forget that all manna comes from me. Tasty or not, easy or hard, it's all still manna. I'm still providing the life, every stage of it."

Mmmm, bitter-sweet Truth.

So let's give thanks for all the manna, because Jesus has always been faithful to provide it, to care for us like his treasured little sheep. And doesn't that make you thankful?

And when we can find the thanks in all the manna, we will find the joy. We will. How can we not? Can we not remember the most important manna, the manna that was nailed in the veins and crushed in the skull with the thorns that the manna created himself? Is that manna not enough to satisfy for eternity?
It is. It always is.

All other manna is blessing manna. The
tasty manna, the crunchy manna.

After all, it's not even about the manna. It's about manna-maker, manna-giver.
It's about the good Jesus, the Best Friend, the Bride-Groom, the Lover, the Sacrificial Manna.

The Bread of Life.

scatter those seeds

"Who did you vote for?" she asks me.
Her voice is quiet and tentative. She's curious; I'm not sure why. And wowzers!- what a topic for a 12ish year old to bring up while playing on the tire-swing!

"Well, I'm not old enough to vote yet. Still 17, only a few months short of 18 actually. I'm barely missing the election," I answer.

I try to avoid talking about the government/election/romney/obama at all costs. i'm pretty sure i know where she stands-- it's more-than-likely the same place her parents stand, and their beliefs are probably the same as a lot of folks in that neighborhood. I'm not being prejudice, those are just the facts, and I love those sweet people- black, white, hispanic, rich, poor, old, young, clean, or dirty.
She stays put, still standing beside me, twisting her foot, playing with her hands. She finally looks at me.
"Who would you have voted for?" Her smile is silly and I know she really is simply curious. It was, after-all, the hot-topic this week, and maybe she wanted to feel a little "grown-up" talking about these grown-up matters with a "gown-up".

"Well.." now I'm the tentative one. "I'm not sure. I think I would have picked the one I thought would live the most like Jesus."
She nods...and smiles again. "You would have picked Romney, huh?"
I laugh. "Oh I don't know. I would have studied hard on Mitt Romney and Barak Obama both to make my decision."
She nods again.

I feel compelled to reciprocate........sue me.

"Who would you have voted for?" I ask, in good fun.
"Obama," she answers. No hesitation.
"Really? And why's that?"
"Um, I don't know."
"Well, why do you like him?"
"I don't know," she can't give me an answer.
"Well, when it comes time for you to vote, make sure you know why you like the candidate you want to win," I say, laughing.

from some reason, I feel lead to share more of my heart wih this girl.

"One topic I would have looked very closely for in both candidates' set of beliefs is abortion. I think it should be illegal." And that truly is my heart.
"What's abortion?" she asks.
I realize this could get messy and for a second, I regret bringing up this subject. But again, I feel a peace about moving forward, a gentle shove, a fearlessness.
She's confused, but interested, so I explain. I explain knowing that I'm talking to a girl who will soon be (and wants to be soon) a woman, while remembering that her heart could still be very innocent in some ways.
"Abortion is what happens when a woman gets pregnant, but decides she doesn't want to have a baby anymore. She has a doctor go in a kill the baby while it's still in her belly, that way she doesn't have to have the baby anymore." That was the shortest long-answer I could come up with.

My heart hurt as a looked at her face. It wasn't just horror and disgust that claimed her reaction- it was sorrow. Her eyes were saddened; abortion broke her heart.

"I believe that abortion is wrong and should be illegal," I continue. "I believe that the Lord creates each little baby and it is not ok to kill any person God has created."
She nods in agreement, still shocked, I believe.
"So, I would have picked the candidate who also thought abortion is wrong. And actually, Mitt Romney does believe it is wrong and wants to make it illegal too, but not everybody feels like that."
Her eyes got a little bit wider. I knew what she was thinking. I didn't want to answer her next question.
"Obama thinks it should be illegal too, right?"
"No, he doesn't," I say. I know the truth hurts and confuses her, but I can't help but feel like a veil is being lifted, chains being chipped away at.
"No, he thinks it's ok to kill those babies. And that's not right. That's why it is so important to pick the guy who is going to live the most like Jesus, and vote for him."
She nods as kids beg to continue being pushed on the swing. We both get back to pushing squealing, smiling, and sometimes arguing, children.

 

That conversation has stuck with me everyday since it happened.

 

The point I'm trying to make here is not a political one: I do not hate Barak Obama or Mitt Romney. In fact I love them both, because the Holy Spirit has opened my eyes to see them as creations of God, made in His likeness. I am just as sinful as both of them and just as in need of a perfect Savior as both of them.

I'm also not trying to condemn anyone who has had or will have an abortion. Jesus' blood covers a multitude of sins, all of them actually-- the killing ones, the lying ones, the terrorist ones, the cursing ones, the back-stabbing ones...yes, all of them. I cannot judge you, because without Jesus, I am capable of every sin mentioned above.

Want to know why I wrote about this?
Because I think a seed was planted that day. A seed of newness; a seed of hope and empowerment for the future generation (who will be able to vote in 10 years-time, by the way); a seed of Truth, no longer a mystery, fully available for that precious girl to grab onto, take hold of, claim for herself, and change the world.

All of that from a seed, you ask?

"If you had faith even as small as a mustard seed, you could say to this mountain, 'Move from here to there,' and it would move. Nothing would be impossible."

matt.17:20

 

Did you catch that?

Endless possibility from a seed, rooted in Christ Jesus.

  

As you go throughout your Friday and the weekend, I challenge you to think about the seeds you're planting. Don't loosely scatter, but intentionally and powerfully plant each one as the Holy spirit leads you and helps you. You can change the world.

 

Think about your own beliefs. Where did you get them? See if you can trace it back to the seed it started as...I know I can.

 

I love you all, dear friends!

enjoy your weekend!

 



 

 

yellow tuesday

traffic.

traffic and rain.

traffic, rain, a less-than-fabulous doctor report, a missing father, fatigue, a hurting friend, homework over-load, tears, lots of tears, low blood-sugar, frustration, confusion....i'll stop there.

my life isn't terrible; really and truly, it's not.

but there's only one thing that keeps it from becoming terrible.
one thing that keeps everything from falling apart.
one Truth that permeates every section of my life, my family, my heart, and keeps everything worth it.
it's the Truth of sweet Jesus that declares "nothing can separate me from the love of Christ."

no matter what happens, my life is hid with Christ on high, he keeps me safe beneath his wings, and my home is being prepared somewhere in that glorious place where my Jesus now dwells.


monday was gray, and depending on who you're voting for in the presidential election, it could still be gray today.

however, for me, today has been a yellow tuesday. the sun's been shining, the air's been crisp, the coffee was good, my headache only lasted for an hour-or-so, and my Lord still reigns.



happy tuesday, friends!
keep the faith and walk in grace!

"Then they believed his promises and sang his praise."

Psalm 106:12

 



you hold me now

A warm breeze swirls around me. It tussles my hair, tickles my face. My arms are wrapped around my legs, tucking them close against my chest, protecting my heartbeat. My chin rests on my knees.
"I just want someone to hold me."
My whispered words seem to fall straight to the ground. They soak into the damp soil, where the earthworms will find them.
"No, Daughter. Pick it up."
His voice is soothing and smooth as cream, but his words aren't pleasant.
"I'm tired of doing that."
I tighten my hold, bringing my legs even closer. I shift around, a little uncomfortably. Is it getting cooler out here? The hair on my arms stand all the way up and chill bumps soon appear, like prairie dogs popping out of their holes, watching and waiting.
"No, it's just your heart. It's turning colder."
It's futile to hide my dismay and foreknowledge of that fact. The more I desire, the more that I long, the colder I become.
"But will anyone ever love me?"
The tears that begin to slip down my cheeks  keep me from saying anything more. But it's okay, because he can hear my heart. I hear him clear his throat, take a few breaths, seem to stutter.
"Why don't you let me hold you, love you, and keep you warm, my Daughter?"
Oh, how his words sound as if he were pleading with me! Curiosity begs me to lift my eyes and look at him, and so I do. But, oh. I see he was pleading, as a misty film covers his eyes and threatens to spill over onto his tan face. Those eyes- they hold such deep compassion and tenderness. Those eyes know me and love me. I cry harder, my chest gets tight, and my thoughts are very unclear.
"But, I've done that already. And I love it, I really do, but I want human love too."
My body trembles and my own sobbing is all I can hear. This is absurd! I have all that I need, why do I want? Or is that really my issue?
"Haven't I promised you a life of abundance, Daughter?"
He hears my thoughts.
"Yes, you have."
Understanding slowly fills me, like I'm being hit with a ton of bricks, only one brick at a time. I have been afraid. Fear has wrapped itself around my heart, keeping out the warmth he gives while keeping in my cold, human aspirations. It's wrapped itself around my mind, hijacking my thoughts, driving them into minefields where their only hope is to crash and burn, leaving me broken and pitiful.
"Do you trust me?"
This is the root of it all, isn't it?
"I thought I did."
Now I'm starting to doubt. Shame, regret, and sorrow flood my soul. I feel myself sinking deeper and deeper.
"I know that you do. You just forget sometimes that you can't entrust your desires to me and hold on to them at the same time. You must choose, Daughter."
Confusion and frustration grasp at my reigns, fighting for control.
"Well, of course I choose you. I'd choose you everyday, but that's the problem. What about tomorrow, when my heart grows cold again and I become afraid? It know it will happen. I can't seem to stop it."
Through blurry vision I see the sweetest smile -a half of one, actually- forming up the right side of his face. Some kind of sad whimper that is partly a chuckle comes from his throat.
"Daughter, that's why I never leave you. I know you will need me again tomorrow, and very soon after that too. And we can do all of this again. It will be my delight to make your heart warm again and remind you that there is no need to be afraid."
The same, warm breeze picks up again, adding swooshing sounds to our brief silence. He scoots closer to me and props my legs up against his own. His arms encircle me and I find one of his biceps to cling to. My head rests on his shoulder, his head rests on mine. I inhale deeply the scent of his loveliness, his beauty. This is perfect. I sit there, curled up in the lap of he who loves me and holds me when I feel totally unlovable, unreachable, and I know. I know that this is where I belong.






God bless your weekend!

i love you all,
Shel