Kucheza Wimbo

Recently I ventured back to Kenya on a medical mission trip 3 years after my first trip there. In a way, it felt like going home. I left a big part of my heart there, and for so long my heart had been bursting to go back to reclaim the pieces I had left behind. I missed everything about the country. I missed the people and their smiles. I missed the smell of the crisp air in the mara. I missed falling asleep under a million stars to the sound of hyenas and elephants roaming in the night. I missed having red dirt in every crevice of every article of clothing I owned. I missed being the good kind of exhausted, the kind of exhausted where your bones hurt from working for a purpose. But I think what I missed most of all were the maasai children. 

The maasai children are very unique from any other group of kids I’ve ever encountered. They uphold a sense of honor for their elders. Whenever one approaches an adult, they bow their head and wait for the adult to place a hand on their head as a sign of a blessing. They are unceasingly grateful. They get excited over the smallest things- stickers, bubbles, bracelets, face paint, beanie babies, soccer. They love to play and play hard. Their energy is unmatched and contagious. And they especially love to sing. 

I learned some basic words in swahili in my time in Kenya. But probably the most important words I learned were kucheza wimbo: play a song. And when we wanted to keep going, I would say, kucheza wimbo mwininge: play another song. They would erupt in traditional maasai songs and even english songs about Jesus. And they would dance and smile and laugh with a joy so pure and wonderful. It was contagious. 

At first, I felt a little silly when they would ask me to dance and sing with them. But looking back on the experience, I’m reminded of something Rob Morris, founder of Love146, said once when he visited a safe home: 

“When the broken ask you to dance, you dance.” 

These kids really have so little. Many of them walk for miles to get to school and more to get clean water. They have just enough food to get by. Their clothes are few and torn. They have little access to medical care. They have no electricity, no running water. And many come from families of very broken circumstance. 

In the eyes of the world, these children would be considered very poor and very broken. But when I looked them in the eye while they were dancing, I locked eyes with the richest human beings on the earth. They were abundant in the joy of their father, of their mungu baba. I, the middle class American, was the one who was empty and hollowed by the mundane cycle of conformity to the western world. The broken asked me to dance, and in turn, my brokenness was exposed. But the sweet thing about dancing, is that when you dance, you dance with abandon. All brokenness is taken aside and healed when you dance in the center of joy with the Father. 

I’m so grateful the Father asks me to dance with Him. For the joy that was set before Him, He was broken for my sinfulness and conquered death so that I may have life in Him. So that I may dance with Him. He invites the broken to dance with Him in the center of joy. And in that perfect joy, that sweet dance on our Daddy’s feet, there is healing. He asks the broken to dance. And the broken are made whole. 

Press In

The two most dreaded tasks of babysitting are changing diapers and putting the baby to sleep. Changing diapers explains itself. But the true challenge comes in trying to calm a restless baby. They kick and cry and squirm. They muster all the strength a small human can gather to resist falling asleep. And all I can do in these moments is hold them closer, sing over them and try to calm them down. Regardless of whether it takes five minutes or thirty to soothe them, it feels like a life time before they finally give in and sleep. 

While it can be one of the most dreaded tasks, it can also be one of the sweetest moments. One of the best feelings in the world is when the baby finally gives into rest and presses her head into your chest. It’s the epitome of peaceful. You feel so content and accomplished because something you tried so hard to pacify is finally at ease. 

Sometimes I wonder if God gets the same sense of satisfaction when we receive Him and rest in His presence. It can be easy for us to fall into a trap of resisting rest as we pursue our own ways. We fight and kick against anything that feels restricting. And even when we fight against God, He still chooses to love us, still chooses to hold us. He sings over us and pulls us closer. And the sweetest moment comes when we give into His embrace and press into His presence. In the quiet of surrender, if we listen close enough, we can hear His heartbeat as our head rests against His chest. How sweet a moment this must be for both the Creator and the created.  

God delights in us when we choose to rest in Him, when we give into the call to simply be still and know that He is God. He takes joy in being our protector, in being our perfect Father. He holds all of the oceans in the hollow of His hands, and with these same hands He reaches out to calm the storms in our souls. There is incomparable peace that comes when we press into the heart that beats to the perfect rhythm of grace. All we have to do is be still, listen in as He sings over us and rest in His unmatched peace.

Red Dirt

Within the seams of one of my most well worn TOMS, there lays a streak of red dirt from my trip to Kenya three years ago. In a weird way, the sight comforts me. It’s just dirt, really. But it’s a small part of a place where I left a big piece of my heart. One week from this Wednesday, I’ll be venturing back to that same soil to reclaim my heart and give it up all over again. It’s a beautiful mess of a process where I lose myself and find myself all at the same time in a way I never imagined was possible. But that’s one of the sweetest parts of any adventure with God- losing yourself a little at a time, until a pivotal moment of grace hits you. In this sweet collision, you find yourself completely washed away as Christ wells up within you to show your true identity, true life. And the adventure doesn’t stop there. It’s only the beginning of His waves of grace crashing on our shores in new ways every day. 

As excited as I am for a fresh collision with Jesus on this trip, fears well up within me at the sight of the red dirt as well. Kenya has been assailed recently with terrorist attacks, and while it’s on the other of the country from where we’ll be serving, dark thoughts of “what if” still plague me. A war wages in my mind and heart as my imagination explores all the potential dangers. And the brave force I’ve tried so hard to edify within me breaks down as I become victim to my own thoughts. 

In the midst of this tangled mess of worry and excitement, I wonder what Jesus thought through all of His adventures. I wonder what variations of soil from different countries laced His sandals, and how worn they were from his journeys. And I wonder what He prayed before He stepped into the adversity He knew lay before Him. 

I read once in Romans 10 that beautiful are the feet of those who carry the Gospel of peace, who are sent out to speak truth. While I feel sent, I don’t feel very beautiful. I don’t feel very worthy. I feel very small, and a little scared. And it’s hard for me to wrap my mind around Jesus, whose sandals I’m not even worthy to unite, calling me out to arise from the dust and journey with Him in this adventure of grace. In the midst of all of my fear, insecurity and doubt, He whispers to me that He is, and always has been, the Way, the Truth, and the Life. That He will not lead me where He will not go. And that I said yes to this adventure with Him. I said yes. And in that yes was born the sweetness of new life. 

Ralph Waldo Emerson once said, “Do not go where the path may lead, go instead where there is no path and leave a trail.” I think there is so much truth in that call to action. Jesus is wonderful at taking us by the hand and leading us on unique journeys to places we never imagined possible. He leads us to the uncharted territories of life and calls us to leave a legacy worthy of His gospel. And He’s placed this incurable itch in my spirit to have a soul just as worn as the soles of His shoes- laced with dirt from the harvest and sweetly torn from taking the uncharted path. 

I may feel small and unworthy. I may be a little scared. But the One who is exceedingly worthy of all praise and breaks through all human boundaries lives within me and goes before me. So I’ll stand with the one who has overcome all fear and darkness and trust Him when He whispers this adventure is worth it. And I’ll revel in the sweetness of new life that is born from saying yes to Him.

The Adventure of Trust

Trust is such a sweet place to be but a hard destination to reach. Daily I struggle with trust- trusting others, trusting myself and even trusting God at times. One of the most impactful examples God lays on my heart when I wrestle with trust is that of Abraham in Genesis 22. God speaks to Abraham and tells him to sacrifice his only son to God as a test of his faith. Abraham gets up early the next morning, in prompt obedience to God's command, and travels to the mountain to sacrifice his son Isaac. Before he leaves for Mount Moriah, he tells his servants that he and his son will be back after the sacrifice is made. When Abraham reaches that pivotal moment where he raises his knife to slay his son on the alter, God sees Abraham's faith and love for the Lord and provides a ram in place of Isaac.

What amazes me about this story is that Abraham trusts God without limits. Before he leaves, he tells his servants that both he and his son will return, completely confident that God will provide. And when Isaac asks his father where the lamb is for the burnt offering, Abraham confidently answers again, "God himself will provide a lamb for the burnt offering, my son." Abraham has one son whom he loves dearly. For years, Abraham and Sarah struggled to have this son. And just when they think they have everything worked out, God asks them to give him up. That's how much Abraham loves God- to sacrifice even his only son for him. And that's how much Abraham trusts God- to know that God would provide a perfect offering in place of his son.

God saw the faith of Abraham and was pleased. God delights when we obey Him out of a place of love and adoration for Him. And seeing this faith of Abraham's, God provided a more perfect sacrifice in place of Isaac. God saw. God provided.

True trust is this: to jump off into the great unknown and fully expect that God will provide His living waters to catch you in the fall. Taking the jump is scary. The fall is even scarier. But the sweetest moment is when we are encompassed in His living, thriving waters that fill us with life. We may not know what the leap of faith may look like for us, but we can know that God has already provided a safe place for us when we step out of our comfort zone and into the great unknown where our faith truly comes to life. And the wonderful thing is, He has already provided the living water into which will we fall. We don't have to manufacture a safety net on our own to catch us. Every human effort to provide for ourselves on our own smalls in comparison to the all-sufficient provision of the cross. Jesus Himself laid down his life in place of ours as the perfect sacrifice, and when we say yes to the adventure of new life with Him, He provides his living water to catch us in our leap of faith.

God still sees. God still provides. And newer, richer depths await us when we step out of ourselves and into the adventure of trust.

The Present

"Not that I have already obtained all this, or have already arrived at my goal, but I press on to take hold of that for which Christ Jesus took hold of me. Brothers and sisters, I do not consider myself yet to have taken hold of it. But one thing I do: Forgetting what is behind and straining toward what is ahead, I press on toward the goal to win the prize for which God has called me heavenward in Christ Jesus. All of us, then, who are mature should take such a view of things. And if on some point you think differently, that too God will make clear to you. Only let us live up to what we have already attained." -Philippians 3:12-16

With graduation less than two months away, I'm entering into a new season of transition. Everyday I'm bombarded with hundreds of wildly exciting and scary thoughts of the future. I dream of college, where I'll be living, the people I'll meet and the places I'll see. But I also worry- about leaving my family, the mistakes I'll make and how I'll make it in such a huge city. And I dwell- I think deeply on my past, the good and the bad, what I'll be leaving behind and how all of it will shape me.

I get so caught up in this tug-of-war between the past and the future that I forget to live in the present. Pulled in a thousand different directions by a a thousand different thoughts, I struggle in this never ending limbo between what has happened and what has yet to come. Living as a vagabond between the past and the future, I deny myself of one of the greatest gifts God has to offer me: the present.

When I plan my life based on my past and what I expect for my future, I create a false allusion for myself that I have it all together. I think I know everything based on my past and that I've have everything mapped out based on what I think my future holds. But truth be told, I know absolutely nothing. I realize the utter bankruptcy of my soul only when God invades my heart and whispers, You don't have control over this. I do. Let go. And press into my presence.

So I'm letting go. I declare that I have nothing apart from God. But in Him, I have exceedingly more than I could ever ask or imagine. My goal is this: To press into His presence in each present moment. To endure for the joy that is set before me. And to live up to the grace I have already attained. For in Christ, there is no other standard to which we hold ourselves. I'm abandoning my efforts to compete with my past self and measure up to the image of me I want to attain. Instead, I'm living into the identity to which Christ has called me: Grace. Purely, simply Grace. I'm taking hold of that for which Christ took hold of me, to press into His mercy, to press into His sufficiency, and to press into His purpose for me in the present. His presence in this present moment is enough for me.

Choose the Adventure

 



When people found out that I got into the University of Texas, they were ecstatic. Everyone told me how proud of me they were, how hard it was to get into UT and what an accomplishment that was. However, when they found out that I was actually considering going there, they thought I was crazy. Absolutely out of my mind. So many people told me I would never fit in there, that they couldn't picture me there and that it was totally the wrong college for me.

In all honestly, even I think this is all a little crazy. But God has an incredible way of taking even the craziest situations and turning them into the most beautiful stories.

Up until early March, I was totally set on Baylor. I knew whom my roommate would be, where I would be living, how all the finances would line up. I was set. I was absolutely positive that Baylor was where I was meant to be. I never thought I would get into UT, so I never really considered it as an option. And even I thought that UT was the wrong place for me, that there was no way in a million years I would ever go there.

But then I found out I actually got in. I screamed into the phone when my mom called me and told me, mainly because I knew how hard it was to get in and I was mind blown that they accepted me. As much as I loved Baylor and in that moment believed that was the place for me, God kept placing UT on my heart in the days that followed. The more I researched it, the more intrigued I became and felt a really weird stirring in my heart that I should keep pursuing this path and see where it lead.

One night I called my sweet friend Laurena and asked her about her experience at UT. She told me all of the amazing things God was doing in Austin and how she had grown so much in her walk with God there. The stories of her faith encouraged me so much and gave me a little more hope that I might be able to thrive there.

Out of all the experiences and stories she shared with me, one thing she said stuck with me the most. She told me to choose the adventure, because that was where I would grow the most in my faith and as a person. And in that moment I knew UT was the adventure.

If you know me, you know I'm not typically an adventurous person. I can be pretty shy and quiet at times. I'm a huge over-thinker and worrier. I love to plan things out and know every detail of the next step I'm going to take. So when God laid on my heart that this was the adventure on which He wanted to take me, I flipped out a little bit. But this past weekend when I finally went to see the campus and explore the city and meet other believers thriving there, I knew. I knew that Austin was the place to which God was calling me, and that I could trust Him in this adventure.

Throughout this whole decision making process, God has reshaped my definition of adventure. When we say yes to God, we say yes to a life full of grand adventures with Him. We say yes to living outside of out comfort zone and diving into the infinite depth of His presence. We say yes to trusting that He is our provider, our comforter and our steadfast foundation through every season. We say yes to being completely dependent on Him and leaving no room for fear in our hearts. We saying yes to enduring through this marvelously messy journey for the joy that is set before us. And we say yes to boldly walking with Him daily, even when we don't know what the next step will look like.

So I'm diving into His deep, living waters. I'm drinking in all of Him in each present moment, expectantly awaiting this new season of my life. And I'm saying yes to this crazy adventure He's placed on my heart. Will you say yes with me?

Deep Calls Out to Deep

This week I had a chance to escape to the hill country with my friends, away from the suburbs and the concrete, away from all the stress and to-do lists. We laughed deeply around a fire and stared at the stars, and we goofed off like high-schoolers do (in the most responsible way, of course). We climbed Enchanted Rock and looked over all the rolling hills, and we explored Pedernales Falls in all its beauty. And I was able to really relax for the first time in a long time.

But the best part of the trip wasn't the loud laughter or the beauty of the land that left us all awestruck. The best part was the sweet quiet time I had with my best friend Ashley, in a secret place tucked away in the forest.

As the sun was rising, we set out to a viewing deck that overlooked a small waterfall flowing into a steady river. We plopped down on the deck and opened our bibles, reading and journaling away. I read Colossians 1, about how by Jesus all things were created, and in him all things hold together.  It was so sweet to just sit and soak in that promise at work in His creation around me. Everything around me proclaimed His faithfulness and His sovereignty, and it was our turn to do the same.

When we finished our quiet times, we stood up and marveled at the sunlight spilling over the hill and breaking into a million little rays through the branches. We talked about life and the sweetness of the moment. And randomly Ashley said, "We should sing!" So that's what we did. The two of us stood there and sang old hymns and our favorite worship songs, no one around to hear or see, only the depth of the river below and the height of the sky above as our audience.

As our voices carried over the trees and the falls, I thought about this verse that had been pressed on my heart a lot lately:

Deep calls to deep
    in the roar of your waterfalls;
all your waves and breakers
    have swept over me. (Psalms 42:7)

And I thought how sweet it is that our life can be like that moment in the forest, in the quiet and secret place. In the depths of our sorrow, in the depths of our joy, He hears us. No matter what is consuming us, no matter how strong the storm may be that is washing over us, when we call out to Him, He responds with an even deeper depth. For His presence is far deeper than all our suffering and all our joy combined. He is infinite and immeasurable in greatness. And when the infinite depth of His presence collides with the very limited depth of my circumstance, something miraculous happens. Suddenly, I am overtaken by a new kind of depth, and new waters rush over me. And these waters are alive with promise and fresh with hope.

So today I declare to live life like that morning in the forest, calling out to the Lord with reckless abandon. From the depths of my soul, I will call out to my Lord as the waters of a new day begin to rush over me. And I will stand there and watch as His waters come rushing in, drenching me in His grace and filling me with new life. This is the promise that spills over into our hearts every morning: That He is the all consuming God whose infinite depth never fails to cover over us. Rejoice in that today.

Someday...

About two weeks ago, I celebrated Senior Presentation along with the rest of the NCL Cypress Belles Class of 2014. For those of you who don't know, Senior Presentation is basically a big going away ball for the senior class in National Charity League, an organization where mothers and daughters volunteer together in the community. The night was magical to say the least.

It began with my brother escorting me onto the stage, where I then linked arms with my mom as a recording of a letter I had written to her was played. In case you're curious, this was the letter:

Dear Mom,

I can honestly say that over the past 18 years, you have been my best friend. You show me everyday what it is to be strong, courageous, humble and perseverant through everything life throws our way. In every season, you have been my comfort and my safe place to hide. I remember when we went to Kenya almost three years ago, and we were camping in the most remote location we had been to yet. There was a horrible rain storm that blew through and I was so afraid of the lightning and the wind and the rain and the huge river we pitched our tent next to. I was the most terrified I had ever been, and you held my hand and eased my fears. You even made me laugh at the craziness of it all. In 
that moment, I was embarrassed that at the age of 15 I needed my mother to hold my hand in a storm. But looking back on it, I am proud that I have a mother who reaches out to hold my hand through every storm to calm my fears and to bring me joy even in the darkest of times. You truly are the most incredible and inspiring woman I have ever met, and I could not ask for a better mom and best friend. I love you mom.

Obviously, there were some water works shed:

 

 

After we had our special mother-daughter moment, my mom handed me off to my dad to be presented around the ballroom as my accomplishments were read along with my plans for the future. Walking around the ballroom with my dad at my side, I was beaming with pure excitement. 

 

As we finished our walk around the ballroom, my dad let me go to walk to the end of the stage on my own as my favorite bible verse was read (1 Peter 5:10), and the speaker announced, "Ladies and gentlemen, Miss Madelynn Marlow." In that moment, I felt more radiant than I ever had in my life.

 

The whole night was marvelous in everyway. It was better than I ever imagined it could be. And as I floated through the night, I couldn't help but hope that this was a little glimpse into what heaven will be like. Someday, I'll get to stand before my father, dressed in pure white, and my whole life will be there for Him to see. My entire life's journey will be laid before Him, and I'll be presented before His heavenly court. And I hope by then my life will have been full of adventures for His kingdom, a life full of brave pursuits of my purpose. I hope He'll look at me and see someone who lived beyond her comfort zone, who trusted Him with no limits. I hope He'll see someone clothed in humility who walked with a confidence in her identity as a daughter of the Risen King.

 

My heart bursts with longing expectation for the day when I stand alongside my brothers and sisters in Christ, linking together to form His beautiful, immaculate bride. With all our sins and scars washed away in the light of His abundant grace, we'll be presented to Him on that glorious day. And my ears ache to hear the words, "Well done, good and faithful servant," declared from the lips of my heavenly father as we are unveiled before His heavenly court.

 

I'm so far from all the things I want to be when I reach heaven. There's so much more life for me to cultivate, so much more I've yet to experience. And while I know I still have many mistakes before me, I know my Father will be there to pick me up every time I fall, and I pray that those words will forever be engraved in my heart, pushing me toward my destination:

Well done, good and faithful servant. Well done.

Brave

2013 was a bittersweet year for me. One thing I found as I walked through the valleys and the peaks of this past year was that more and more people kept calling me brave. Some even the bravest person they had ever met. And this struck me as odd because I had always viewed myself as a little cowardly. I'm often very soft spoken and timid in nature, and I'm definitely not known as a risk taker. I'm the epitome of indecisive, the queen of over thinking. I worry. A lot. And sometimes I let fear hold me back from moving forward. I can string pretty words into sweet truths and stories, but when it comes to acting on those words? I freeze. I'm quick to avoid discomfort and awkward situations, staying in my cozy little bubble of complacency.

So to say I was confused when people called me brave is an understatement. I was dumbstruck. How could someone like me ever be considered brave? As I thought on it, I remembered a quote I had stumbled upon a while ago:

 

"I learned that courage was not the absence of fear, but the triumph over it. The brave man is not he who does not feel afraid, but he who conquers that fear." -Nelson Mandela

If there's anything I learned looking back on 2013, it's what it is to be brave.

Being brave is looking fear in the face and saying, "You don't own me. You have no power over me."

Being brave is trusting without borders. Even when those borders are a little outside your comfort zone.

Being brave is surrendering your heart to the one who is Freedom.

Being brave isn't being strong. It's letting God's power be perfected in your weakness. It's letting His strength be at work in you.

Being brave is listening, really listening to that still small voice of the Holy Spirit and acting on it. Even when it hurts. Even when everything in you tells you to go another way. It is better. And it is worth it.

And being brave is being Love. Purely and simply Love. When we pursue the one who is Love and reflect His heart, that is when we are our bravest. Because love is not easy. It is difficult and messy at times. But when we step into loving each other and immerse ourselves in Love Himself, we find ourselves face to face with the creator of courage, the one who holds bravery in His hands. For when He was pierced for our sins and showed the greatest  display of love by laying down His life for the least of these, that was the peak of all bravery. And it is from those same scarred hands we receive our courage.

So was I really that brave in 2013? Probably not as much as I could have been. But in those moments when I shied away from being brave and stepping out of my comfort zone, God stepped into my insecurity and uncertainty and showed me what true bravery is. He is my source of courage when I feel cowardly to the core. 

My only resolution going into the new year is this:

To be brave.

Closer

Last week I visited the Lanier Theological Library in Houston for the first time. And let me tell you, I was in book nerd/bible nerd heaven. The smell of old books to me is intoxicating (go ahead, call me weird), and there were hundreds of them. And I just about died when I saw the C.S. Lewis collection. It was a struggle for me not to scream in my typical over-excited teenager squeal when I saw all of his handwritten letters on display in a library where you are supposed to keep everything to a whisper. Honestly, I was the epitome of giddy.

As my friend Lauren and I perused the library, utterly in awe of its magnificence, we stumbled upon some artifacts on display.  The artifacts dated back hundreds of years, some even back to the time when Jesus walked the earth.

"I know it's a stretch," I said to Lauren, "but what if Jesus actually touched one of these pitchers, one of these bowls? How cool would that be?"

"It's almost makes you feel closer in a way," she responded. "It's something tangible from his time, something we can actually grasp and feel. It's hard to describe, but it just makes you feel closer."

And it made me think about how we all crave that feeling of "closer". If we could just see God in the flesh, touch His hand and audibly hear His voice, then we would feel closer. Then we would really know He's there. We crave the security that tangibility offers us, and sometimes it's really hard for us to wrap our minds around a God we can't see or feel.

We get so caught up in searching, so caught up in trying to do more and be more so we can get to God, we forget to be still and see that He is right in front of us and all around us. He meets us where we are- there's no searching, journeying or working to find His presence and attain salvation. He is right here. And He wants you to receive Him and allow His Holy Spirit to bridge the gap between you and Him. He wants to close that space, to abide in you and you in Him. He wants to provide for you that need to be "closer" until the need is filled by the life of Jesus poured into every crevice of your soul, every fiber of your being.

I invite you today to lay down all your efforts to work for your salvation, all your efforts to journey to God. God hasn't called us to trek towards Him and work to find Him. He stands right in front of us with open hands calling us to open our hearts, to allow Him to meet us where we are and drench our souls in His grace. This is the "closer" we crave. And he has come to fill it.

When I Grow Up...

I've come to the age where I'm starting to make what the little kids I babysit would call "grown-up choices." I'm enrolling in college. I have a job. I'm having to manage my time and money more on my own. And in about 16 days I'll embark on the "golden" age of 18, the age envied by every child in a hurry to grow up, the grand age of independence. It's all a little scary because the question we were all asked as children of "What do you want to be when you grow up?" is a question I'll soon have to answer. And in all honesty, I have no idea.

Yesterday as I was babysitting, a paleontologist came on the TV screen to talk about dinosaurs and digs and all the things paleontologists do that kids find fascinating. I looked over at little four year-old Audrey, who was intently watching the screen, and asked her if that was what she wanted to be when she grew up. She responded no.

"Well," I asked her, "What do you want to be then?"

"I want to be Audrey." She responded with confidence.

I was expecting anything but that answer. A ballerina, an artist, a doctor. Anything. But instead she responded with the best possible answer: herself.

I feel like so often I get caught up in who I want to be that I forget who I really am. I forget that God fearfully and wonderfully crafted me out of the dust into His beloved creation. I forget that He is using me right where I am, and that he'll lead me where I'm meant to be. And I forget that I don't have to focus on creating my "perfect" version of me, but rather be rooted in my God created identity.

In those moments where I find myself despairing over my future, I hear God saying that He already has it written out. He calls me not to worry but rather to receive Him in this moment and trust that he has plans to give me a hope and a future. Daily He unwraps a little more of who He has created me to be and shows me just how much He truly treasures who I am. He has crafted each of us as jewels in His hands, and I feel like His heart breaks as He watches me be critical of His creation, of me. There is so much peace that comes in resting in our God given identity in this moment and trusting that daily He is shaping us according to our individual kingdom callings.

The crazy thing about trusting God with our identities is that as we trust Him more, we find that we look less like ourselves and more like Jesus. When we accept Christ into our hearts and die to ourselves, we find ourselves being molded more and more into the image of Christ. While we will never be perfect, we become more Christ-like and find that is where our true identities lie, in Christ. As I journey deeper and deeper in the search for myself, somewhere along the way I lose myself and find Christ. And in losing myself, I find who I was meant to be: a daughter of the Lord and a reflection of Christ.

So what do I want to be when I grow up? Not a psychologist. Not a missionary. Not an author or any of the other dreams I've conjured for my future.

I want to be me. Purely and simply me. The me that God has created me to be, the me that looks less like myself and more like Jesus. And I think that's that best thing anyone could want to be.

My Declaration

At the beginning of the school year, I was assigned to write a personal declaration of independence from something in my own life that I had grievances against. I felt it pressed on my heart to declare my independence from sin and my dependence on Christ. Reading over it again, I was reminded to press harder into Christ and be completely dependent on Him daily. And I'm hoping these words might serve as a catalyst for others to make their own declaration as well.

{My Declaration}

Having been caught in the snares of the supernatural strikes against my soul, I am left no choice but to make a desperate declaration of independence from the sin that suffocates me. Since birth I have been in bondage to a darkness not of this world that has invaded the ill-guarded territory of my heart. I refuse to be a slave any longer to this insatiable master of sin. I not only declare, but demand my independence.

I proclaim that my life will be a declaration of the promises straight from the mouth of the one who embodies Truth. His life giving words will be etched into my heart so that the unwavering truth of my freedom will be self-evident to every fiber of my being. No longer will I be pressed under the heavy thumb of an all-consuming darkness; rather I will be wrapped in the life-giving light that is my Savior and Creator. My identity will never again be broken, forgotten, insufficient, and unloved. The identity to which I've been entitled under the authority of grace is redeemed, beloved, restored and set apart. 

Daily sin has beleaguered me in a relentless pursuit. Until this day of my declaration, sin has severed the relationship with Christ I was destined to obtain. Sin unswervingly served as the opaque veil that stood between my savior and me over the course of my life. The remedy prescribed since the beginning of time has been the sacrifice of perfect blood to atone for the wrongs to which I've been enslaved . But my blood runs thick with impurities that invalidate the sufficiency of any sacrifice I could offer. God looked at me in my broken and tainted condition and had compassion on my heart which He fearfully and wonderfully formed. Deeply loving me and the rest of the sin enslaved world, He sacrificed the only person whose blood could ever rightfully atone for sin: His son. The formula for the remedy to my seemingly incurable maladies was God in flesh sacrificed on the altar of a rugged cross. He paid the price I deserved to pay for my sins and bled the blood that was I supposed to bleed. And he was resurrected to life so that I might walk in newness of life with Him, free from the snare of sin. His remedy is purely and simply grace. And He offers it to anyone who would receive it. 

The grave could not hold Him and death itself could stop Him. And He has set me free that I might proclaim these grievances against sin so that it would no longer serve as my feeble crutch but rather so my dependency would lie solely in Christ.

Sin sucked the marrow from my bones and made me void of any true life.

Sin bound me tightly in chains that wore calluses on my soul.

Sin made me feel as worthless as the dust from which I was created and to which I will return.

Sin stripped me of my God ordained identity and eroded me to the core.

Sin robbed me of every ounce of self worth until I was no longer a diadem in the hand of the King but rather the remains of useless ashes.

I have pursued every mean of action to rid myself of the effects of these grievances listed. I have performed every good deed, I have worked myself till exhaustion and explored every logical method in the world. I pushed myself into the ground trying to earn my own salvation, and I was never enough. Everything I did only amounted to a pile of ash and a desperate, empty heart. In my moment of desperation, there was only one thing left to do: to receive the grace that is more than enough to sustain me and redeem me from the pit. No longer am I caught in a vicious cycle of aimlessly attempting to save myself. I declare that I am free from sin and that darkness has no power over me. My independence from sin also serves as my declaration of complete dependence on my Savior. I will walk the straight and level path paved for me by Christ, and rejoice unfettered by any malicious maladies.

Melt

"Yet to all who received him, to those who believed in his name, he gave the right to become children of God- children born not of natural descent, nor of human or a husband's will, but born of God." -John 1:12-13

I am innately an independent, strong-willed, stubborn person. I often push myself to ridiculous limits thinking I can handle all I have weighing on my shoulders on my own. I like handling responsibility and feeling strong and accomplished about all I've done. What I don't like is the feeling of dependency. It's such an uncomfortable place to be for me. Dependency requires me admitting my weakness and need. It requires confessing that I can't do it all on my own, that I can't handle everything weighing on my shoulders, and I need help.

Sometimes I get so caught up in my cycle of stubborn independence, I feel almost like machine. I feel like I'm made of cogs chiseled out of stone, constantly turning and moving, only slowing down from rust and erosion from being over worked. I end every day feeling exhausted and burned out with nothing left to give, only to wake up another day and give my all again. And I am tired of churning and cranking out the products I think will please the world. I want so much more. I need so much more.

What I need is for my heart to melt. I need Jesus to come in with His all consuming fire and melt my heart of stone into a heart of flesh that is beating to the rhythms of His grace. My whole spirit cries out to be melted, to break free from the vicious cycle of independence and find rest in sweet dependence on Christ. I need Christ to come and put to death this relentless machine monotonously cranking within me and resurrect in me His refreshing, sustaining life.

One thing I so admire about the children for whom I care is their unashamed dependency. They never hesitate to recognize their need and ask for it. They ask boldly, unabashedly, and confident that they will be provided what they need because they trust that I can provide for them. When I received Christ, I was adopted into His kingdom as a child of God, and He declared me His daughter. I was designed from day one to be dependent on Christ and lean into His Holy Spirit daily through relationship. And He desires for me to come to Him, abandoning my shame attached to my independent spirit, and boldly trust Him with my every need. When I dare to be dependent and step out of my comfort zone, it is then that I find rest. It is then that I fulfillment.

Singleness of Heart

Jeremiah 32:37-41

I will surely gather them from all the lands where I banish them in my furious anger and great wrath; I will bring them back to this place and let them live in safety. They will be my people and I will be their God. I will give them singleness of heart and of action, so that they will always fear me for their own good and the good of their children after them. I will make an everlasting covenant with them; I will never stop doing good to them, and I will inspire them to fear me, so that they will never turn away from me. I will rejoice in doing them good and will assuredly plant them in this land with all my heart and soul. 

I have a confession.

I have cheated.

I'm not talking about in school, although I'm sure every person who has lived through high school can attest to having shared answers at some point. I'm talking about in my walk with God, the most important relationship in which to stay faithful. While proclaiming God as the Lover of my soul, I've entertained the affections of the most unworthy of suitors.

I have loved pride.

I have loved worldly approval.

I have loved my selfishness.

I have loved having control.

And I have been completely consumed with doubt.

These suitors, while innately dark and gnarled with sin, whispered beautiful things to my soul. They told me I could do it all on my own, that I was strong and self sufficient enough to barrel through life as a completely independent person. They told me that measuring up to the standards of this world was a reputable thing that I should pursue for the sake of an ideal identity. They told me that I knew best and that I needed to look out for myself. They told me that I could have power over my circumstance if I pushed myself hard enough. And they told me that the solid truth in which I had rooted my life was a shaky foundation and that trusting in anyone but myself was a risky gambit. All these voices harmonized in my mind to fabricate a glorious image of myself, one that I naturally craved to attain.

These deep desires turned into insatiable needs that competed with the One true need I had professed to wholeheartedly pursue: Jesus. When I accepted Jesus, He called me out upon stormy waters, and asked only that I keep my eyes on Him and simply believe. With eager anticipation, I stepped out in faith and began my pursuit. But then I saw the clouds. And the waves. And the rain. And the lightning. And those voices began to speak sweet lies to my soul. The second I took my eyes off of Jesus, the second I doubted and believed in voices other than His, I sank.

As I deservedly drowned in the stormy seas to which I had become helplessly enslaved, He did something incredible: He reached down and pulled me out and set me back on solid ground.

That is grace. Purely and simply grace.

When I deserve to drown in the fury of the storms, He never fails to bring me back to the safe refuge of His embrace. When I deserve complete and total separation from Him, He unites me with Him in a grip of grace where He eternally abides in me and I in Him. He has declared me His daughter and He my God. And though my wayward heart is tempted to succumb to look to the world, He instills in me a singleness of heart solely set on pursuing Him. And because everything we do flows out of what we believe, He provides me with a singleness in my actions as I walk the straight and level paths He has set before me. He challenges me to rise up as one in a generation of many to leave a legacy of undivided faith to those generations to follow. His promise stands true to never stop weaving our story together for our good and ultimately the good of His kingdom. He passionately rejoices over us as we pursue Him and taste His goodness. And with the entirety of His divine heart and soul, He pours into us and plants us in the peace of His presence.

He is good. He is all I need. And I have returned to Him to forevermore proclaim Him the only true lover of my soul.

Madelynn

Scars and Stories

I'm passionate about many things, but about writing especially. Most nights I stay up until early hours of the morning journaling and blogging and reading the writings of older, wiser minds. I drink in words like a caffeine addict drinks coffee- deeply and dependently. I lie awake at night dreaming of marvelous stories that have yet to be breathed into life on the empty canvases of my journal pages. Stories have always had a way of evoking a deeper part of me I keep buried too often, a part of me that cries out to be cultivated with pen and paper. So when God speaks to my heart that He's already written out my story, my heart stops for a moment.

Being so strongly attached to stories, I have a deep desire to write out my own. In my mind, there's no better dreams than the dreams I've already conjured, and there's no better story that the one I've already written out in my heart. So often I get to a place where I become so consumed with bringing my life-story to fruition and trying to edify my perfect version of my future that I forget to pause and focus on this present moment I'm in. I forget to receive this present moment as a gift from God, and take Him at His word when He whispers to my heart that this life is not my own, that I wasn't designed to direct my own steps (Jeremiah 10:23). That always has been and always will be His job. He's hemmed me in- behind and before, and His sovereign hand guides me and protects me. All the days ordained for me were written out in His book before one of them came to be (Psalms 139: 16).

He's already fearfully and wonderfully woven together a story far better than the one I cling to so tightly, the one I fight so hard to preserve. And He gently looks on me in my broken condition and whispers, "Let go. I've got this. You weren't made for this, Daughter. I've already written it all out. I'm here fighting this battle for you."

So I let go. I listen to his voice. And I learn what it is to receive this present moment as a gift and cherish that I have a God who loves me enough to have already written out my future for me and provides for me in this moment. I rejoice that my identity is set in Him and I don't have to be a product of my exhausted, inadequate efforts. I am His. And He is enough.

Just when I think that I've been humbled enough, that I've been laid as low as it gets, He takes me a little deeper. He shows me that He hasn't written out my story in the way I perceive writing. He hasn't penned down the details of my life with an ink pen on paper that can be ruined in a downpour or charred in a flame. The life and identity He's laid out for me is not wavering. It's been set in stone. For He's engraved my name and my identity on the palms of His hands (Isaiah 49:16), and He is the eternally unshakeable rock (Isaiah 26:4), the cornerstone upon which all life is founded (Isaiah 28:16 & Ephesians 2:20). And my name is written on the same palms that were pierced with nails and scarred by the sacrifice paid for my sins.  In those palms, in those scars my identity is found. For from those scars blood poured in place of my own so that the price I couldn't pay for my sins would be paid in full. In those scars, I've received life and healing. In those scars, I find proof that I am beloved. And that is my identity. That is my story boiled down to one word. Purely and simply beloved. And it is a far better story than I could have ever written.

My Name Is...

 Isaiah 62:2-5 & 11-12

…you will be called by a new name
that the mouth of the Lord will bestow.
You will be a crown of splendor in the Lord’s hand,
a royal diadem in the hand of your God.
No longer will they call you Deserted,
 or name your land Desolate.

…as a bridegroom rejoices over his bride,
so will your God rejoice over you.

The Lord has made proclamation
to the ends of the earth:
“Say to Daughter Zion,
‘See, your Savior comes!
See, his reward is with him,
and his recompense accompanies him.’”
They will be called the Holy People,
the Redeemed of the Lord;
and you will be called Sought After,
the City No Longer Deserted.

 For too much of my life, I was rendered voiceless under the pressing weight of the identities given to me by others and the titles with which I identified myself. I was caught in the chaos of a lifelong identity crisis, torn by all the things I was told I should be, the things I wanted to be and the things I wasn’t. I was empty and longing for a fullness of purpose I thought an identity could provide.

I wanted my name to be Good. Smart. Composed. Talented.

I wanted my name to be Beautiful. Beloved. Treasured. Valued.

And most of all I wanted my name to be Enough. I wanted to meet the standards set for me by myself and by others. I wanted to feel like my works were sufficient and pleasing to those who mattered to me.

Instead of Enough, my name became Empty and Insufficient.

Instead of Beautiful, my name became Rejected and Unwanted.

And instead of Composed, my name became The Mess.

I felt helpless under the weight of all the identities I carried around daily. I would constantly look for new ways to discover myself and create myself, to become the perfect version of me I’d always dreamed I would be. My pursuit for freedom in perfection became the thing that enslaved me. I was caught in a vicious cycle of seeking fulfillment and stability in an empty and unstable world.

As my heart began breaking under the pressure of my pursuits, God looked down on me, and His heart broke with mine. When I cried out in the midst of my desperation, He reached down through the darkness and restored my life. He erased every shame bearing name chained to my heart and breathed His life into me. And with this new life, He also gave me a new name.

No longer am I called Deserted or Desolate.

My name is Daughter of the King.

My named is Redeemed of the Lord.

And my name is Sought After by God.

I am precious in His sight. In His eyes, I am a crown of splendor in His hand. He treasures my heart and He desires all of me. He loves me with a divine and reckless love; as a bridegroom delights over his bride, so the Lord rejoices over me. The same mouth that breathed the stars into being also sings songs of praise over me. The same hands that laid the foundations of creation and wove time itself into being are the same hands that hold my heart. And His Holy Spirit whispers to my heart daily that I am beloved by my Creator, and that is solely where my identity lies.

Each of us is named His Beloved, no matter the names we’ve held in the past. And He longs for us to rest in the infinite peace of His presence in which our true identity is found. He hears our every desperate cry and His heart breaks along with ours. And He desires to restore our breaking hearts to new life and write on them a new name: Redeemed.

My Undoing

I have an innate desire to have control. While it's something I give to God everyday, I will always be in a battle with my flesh to put to death that natural desire that tempts me. And because of this desire, I strive to obtain the image of myself I want to see, to keep my composure controlled and comfortable. I like being what others consider put-together, and I push myself to meet unrealistic standards. I go into this vicious cycle believing the lie that I will come out empowered, and instead come out of it tired and empty with all of my human efforts exhausted.

In the midst of attempting to weed through in my mind what are lies and what is truth, I remember the one truth that brings me to my knees every time.

Christ did not come and die for my salvation so that my Earthly composure and image would be maintained. He came to wreck my earthly self to the core.

Christ came to be my undoing. For when my earthly life is unraveled, the life I try so hard to weave together on my own, space is created for the Holy Spirit to come and weave together a story far greater than I could ever create.

I was not created to be put together by my standards. No, rather I was created for a holy destruction that could only lead to the edification of the image of Christ in me. When I die to myself, Christ is resurrected in me. I was not born again as a daughter of Christ to refine myself and become a better version of me; I was created anew to be a mirror of Christ, to reflect Him in everything I do so that more people draw near to Him and not to me.

He meant it when He said He is the "Alpha and the Omega, the First and the Last, the Beginning and the End" (Revelation 22:13). He is the eternal God who always has, and always will be. He is the Sovereign God who chooses to come and live in us. He is our undoing, but in our undoing His Holy Spirit weaves us together into something incredible: the reflection of His son.

We will never be perfect; our human condition hinders us from being perfect mirrors. That is what grace is for. But once we realize our purpose as a mirror, that our lives can only be woven together when they come undone, it reshapes everything. We become more intentional to not only be Jesus to people, but to see Jesus in those we encounter everyday. For Jesus said, "Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers of mine, you did for me" (Matthew 26:40).

Every person is the least of these. Every person is hungry for something greater than themselves, for a need they cannot provide. And once we take on life in Christ, we are called to intentionally meet the least of these where they are as Jesus did, and treat them as if they were Jesus, as if we were pouring into and loving on the Son of God Himself.

Let Christ be your undoing and your becoming, where you end and where you begin. Being overwhelmed in the aftermath of Grace is a beautiful place to be. And it's where our identity lies.

The Author

Hebrews 12:2

Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God. 

So often I hear people say, "Just give God control of your life," and I hadn't really thought about what exactly that meant until recently. I'd say it in my prayers all the time, that I was giving God control. And then I thought about it- it's really impossible for us to give God control because we can't give to God what we never had in the first place. We have never been in control of our lives. It is not us that ordain the universe or write out the scripts for our futures. We don't breathe life into existence with a single sigh or number every star and know them by name. That is and always has been God. So why do we so often say that we are giving Him control?

Each of us has an innate desire to have control over our lives; we've had it since the day we were born. When we give our hearts to Christ, it becomes a daily struggle to surrender the war to have control over our lives and realize that He is truly in control. The greatest peace we could ever experience comes when we surrender the war for control and find victory in Christ, who is the author and perfecter of our faith and our lives. The desire for control can be something we can become so easily enslaved to, and when we fight for control over what we desire we end up caught in a vicious cycle of sin because our desires are never pure and perfect like God's.

The good news for those like me that have been enslaved in the battle over control- Christ came to set us free.

He took on the cross and bore the shame we were supposed to bear to pay for the sinful cycles we succumb to and conquered death so that we would be free from sin and free from all that enslaves us. And He took it all on with joy, knowing that His sacrifice would bring freedom to you, His beloved. He sits at the right hand of the throne of God today as the divine author and perfecter that He has always been.

We don't have to be enslaved any longer. Freedom comes in surrendering the war for control to the one who has had control all along. Freedom comes when we stop trying to steal the pen from the author who is writing a far better life story than our minds could ever conjure.

Be brave. Surrender. And live in His sweet freedom today.

The Fixer

Psalms 145:13-14

The Lord is faithful to all his promises, and loving toward all He has made. The Lord upholds all those who fall and lifts up all those who are bowed down.

I am a very, very self critical person. Probably one of the most self critical people you will ever meet honestly. I have a horrible habit of beating myself up whenever I mess up, even in small ways. I constantly think of ways I can fix what I did or how I can improve my actions in the future so the mistake I made won't happen again. I am innately a fixer at heart. While my desire to fix broken things in me and around me can be a good motivator to do better sometimes, it ultimately exhausts me at the end of most days and leaves me more stressed than satisfied.

I had one of these self-critical moments when I was running the other day (which is a rarity with my schedule and energy level). I hadn't run in months, so I had to stop and take a break in the middle of a two mile run. As I sat on a bench to catch my breath, I beat myself up over how I'm so weak, how I used to be so much faster, how two miles shouldn't kill me like this, how I should keep going instead of stopping.

And then God gently whispered to my heart in that moment in only the way He does. Not in an audible voice, but rather a stirring in my heart that breathed wisdom into my soul.

"Daughter- when you were a child and you were learning to walk, did your Father scold you and punish you when you fell and scraped your knee? No- rather he lovingly picked you up and helped you start walking again. It's the same way with me- you're still learning to walk through life, and you always will be learning. I will lift you every time you fall. Have grace for yourself the way I have grace for you."

And then a peace came over me. It's so hard for me to have grace for myself when I fall. I want blame myself so I can fix it. I muddle through the guilt that builds up everyday until it becomes to much. But in the stillness of the moments when my heart rests in His presence, I am reminded that I am not a fixer, nor was I designed to be. That job belongs to God alone, and I'm learning to lay at His feet every little thing I can't fix. And I'm reminded that guilt is not from God, that shame comes from the enemy. In God there is no guilt, only grace, only love.

Have grace for yourself today, and let God be the fixer. Let the truth of His fatherly grace settle in your soul and bring you peace.

Madelynn

Dance

Psalms 149:3-4

Let them praise his name with dancing and make music to Him with the tambourine and harp. For the Lord takes delight in His people; He crowns the humble with salvation.

Today I stepped outside and let the rain soak my skin for a few minutes. I don't know why, but this is something that always soothes my soul. It makes me smile just to think of fat raindrops exploding on my skin as the trees around me dance and bend to the sound of thunder. I danced along with the rain and the trees for a moment, like the childish five-year old at heart that I am.

As I danced in the rain, I thought about how I used to long to dance with a boy in the rain, a boy who would sweep me off my feet and make me whole. I would dream about this boy as a young girl, and my expectations kept getting bigger as I grew older and waited for a prince charming who would take my hand and dance with me through storms and walk with me through life.

As I danced and thought about these things, God gently whispered through the storm, "Dance with me, daughter."

I smiled at the sky through the rain and thought how good it is to have a God who not only waters the ground beneath my feet but the soul beneath my skin as well. I marveled at how incredible and humbling it is that the mighty God of the universe who breathed the stars into their place chooses to communicate with us in simple whispers through the rain. And I thought about how divine His love is above any other, how no earthly relationship could ever compare to the deep love that is experienced in drawing close and dancing with the Father.

God desires to dance with you, His beloved child. As you humbly step away from your busy life that divides your attention and draw near to Him in an intimate relationship, He graces your heart with a crown of salvation. His love is far greater than any love any person on earth could offer us.

Dance with your Father today. Rejoice in this divine love you have with Him as He delights in you, His beloved.

Madelynn.