With Arms Wide Open

It's that time of year again.  You know the one I mean. Christmas. Did you catch that? Christmas. There it was again.  Love.  Anticipation.  Hope. It's that time of year when joy and jingles are intertwined and happy and merry are in every ear.  Christmas morning was always my favorite.  More often than not I was awake at three and watching the clock until five.  (My poor parents.) There is something about a Christmas tree... wrapped up in lights... sparkling with ornaments... lit by a star... Shining over those things that had been taunting me for weeks.  Just a thin layer of paper between me and the things that my family had chosen just for me.   The gifts. The gifts are my favorite part. There's something about a person when they're given the perfect gift.  Something resonates within... and shines its way out.  There's something about knowing that someone loved you well enough to know what you wanted... what you needed... and picked it out j

Thursday afternoon, with my tummy full of food and my heart full of family, I stood at the bottom of a set of stairs I have looked up many times.  I didn't stand at the bottom for very long.  I took them two at a time- dodging the creaks like a thief.  It's funny how a set of stairs can bring back so many memories.  Amazing memories {racing down for Christmas mornings} .  Painful memories {missed steps and stubbed toes} .  Crazy memories {a brother just behind the corner, waiting to scare me} .  Bad memories {stomped feet and hurled words} .  Funny memories {Mom.  Seriously.  When are you going to paint these stairs??} .  Beautiful memories {a grand entrance for a senior prom} . Above those stairs was my bedroom.  My safe place.  The harbor of my dreams and hopes and ambitions.  It was my space.  It was the place where I carved the initials of all the boys I ever had a crush on into my bedpost.  It was the place where I hid all my stories and notes and words in the e

How many blog posts under the sun must center on Robert Frost's famous words... The Road Not Taken.   How many aspiring writers dream of penning a poem so well loved, so well remembered, so meaningful.  How many of us have claimed with pride, "YES!  That's my story!"  How many of us have slathered those words over old wounds... covered pieces of our past under that banner.  You know the one I mean... And yet, there's a part of that poem that often gets looked over.  We claim the last three lines for our own.  "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I-- I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." But what about the pause before the thunder... "I shall be telling this with a sigh somewhere ages and ages hence..." With a sigh.  Somehow, I don't imagine he meant a sigh of satisfaction. Maybe a sigh of longing.  Of regret. I can slather that picture over so many place in my life.  Places where two choices h

It was quiet in my mind that first time.  Peaceful.  Sorta like this: It changes.  Sometimes we meet here: Or here: (If you're wondering, I get the chair on the left because I'm His favorite.)  Once we met here: But then He remembered who He was dealing with, and we met here instead: (It's like He knows me or something.) Tonight we're meeting in my current favorite place: The last few days have knocked me to my knees.  Thankfully, that's right where I needed to be.  See, I have a litany of things to discuss, and this might take a while.  I'm not going to feel better until I get this off my chest, and He's pretty patient about that kind of thing.  A friend reminded me tonight that He desires truth in the innermost being... and it's in the hidden places... the secret place... that He will make me know wisdom... Wisdom... which is first of all is first of all pure; then

I marvel at Your power, Lord.  I am in awe of what You can do.  I love and fear the work of Your hands. I ache for the people displaced from their homes.  I pray for peace and love and mercy on the East Coast. And every time I turn on the news, I see what You're doing in my heart. I watch people run from what You are capable of, and I know the pull and stretch of those muscles.  I see boarded up shops, and I feel the hammer in my hand nailing boards over the doors of my heart.  I look at the people lined up watching the water from a safe place... curious and awed... envious of those who are brave enough to get a front-seat view.   I have felt your ocean rising up over my feet... and I have pulled them out of the water. I can feel the brewing of a storm. I'm not running this time. Father, I will meet You on my knees in this city in my heart .  You correct, chasten, discipline, scourge those You love.  I know that it's a good work. The depth of Your love... it

Have you ever been around one of those people? You know the ones I mean. The peaceful ones. The holy ones. The ones who reek of Jesus. The ones who are so close to the Lord that your sins bubble to the surface just by being around them. The ones who can tell what's going on inside... just by looking at you. The ones who bring you to a place of confession before you see them because you know what will happen if you don't. I am not one of those people.  I'm one of the other ones.  I am the one crying in my car because someone called me for prayer and how can I pray over her knowing what else came out of my mouth today?   Here I am again.  Wearing my heart condition on my sleeve.  A great pastor spoke this week to remind a church packed full of young people who are intent on knowing Him that repentance is not just wiping the slate and asking God to change your heart.  It is more than just turning away.  It's more than a one time prayer and a cont

Yesterday I was thinking about Bicknell First Baptist Church home. I was wondering who I would be if I had not wandered through those doors... at just the right time.  I was wondering what might have happened with my life if I had not pulled on my bandana and taken off my shoes and settled down in the pew like it was my couch. If I had not let them see the wounds.  If I had not opened to the healing... responded to the Healer. Sometimes it takes knowing who I'm not to find out who You are. The power flashed first.  And then it went dark.  Three whole breaths of still air.  And then the lights crashed back in.  Just long enough to stumble.  Just long enough to have to feel for the boundaries of the shapes around me. Just long enough to know that beyond everything I am... is everything You are. When I try to grasp it... try to bear it... try to understand it... How can we rally behind one child by the thousands... and not fall on our faces before the One who is hold

“I do not understand what I do. For what I want to do I do not do, but what I hate I do. ” –Romans 7:15 Paul, you were so wise. Why, oh why, Father, do I have to write about the ugly things?   Lord, you know my heart.   You know every inch… every corner.   Why this part?   Because intimacy starts with transparency. (For the record, I didn’t like that answer.) You may as well know now that I am not perfect.   (It will be a lot easier to carry on reading if you pick your chin up off the floor.) Why do I do the thing that I hate?   Why, when the Word makes it clear that I am not to do that thing , am I so drawn toward it?   Why do I stand in a circle and let my lips be used for something that, not only fails to bring God glory, but actually scores a point for the other team ? Why do I have so much of a desire to be included that I bend?  At what point does that choice come... that deliberate choice... to stop listening to You ... to stop abiding i

In July of 2010 I started on a journey...  a crazy, exhausting , beautiful journey.  I went back to school as a Social Work major.  I know.  Didn't I say?   Crazy.  After all, no one looks at this and says, "Yep!  That's for me!" But I knew.  I knew what God wanted.  And my choices were pretty clear:  yes or no. I was either all in or all out. These lives we lead... they take courage to live.  It takes courage to get up out of bed and face an unbelieving world.  It takes courage to live in a community that thinks differently than you.  It takes courage to talk about Jesus .  It takes courage to plan your life around His dream for you . .. to know that people are going to tell you that you're crazy. (Follow those links to meet some beautiful women who are every day teaching me how to walk this out.) It takes courage .     en·cour·age verb (used with object) 1. to inspire with courage, spirit, or confidence dis·cour·age verb (u

She sits at the head of the table:  still-     except when she's moving. And then she's grand... but precise.  Her hands dice and sweep the air- does she practice?  It's working. They're captivated. Some of them. The one on her left- she fidgets.  It's constant.  She's easily distracted by her hair, movements around her.  Her feet dance.  Her chair adjusts itself minutely.  You talk.  She dances. And beside her, in perfect stillness, the listener.  She's reclined in her chair, eyes heavy-lidded... gaze fixed on the sky.  Her hands are folded in seamless lines across her body.  She is storing every word. Next to her, the pretender. Her eyes on your face. Her head nodding, sometimes when it's supposed to. Her laughter somtimestooquick.    s o m e t i m e s t o o s l o w. Her mind a million miles away. On the other end of the table- the anchor.  The analytic.  The one who has words buzzing on the tip of her tongue that she holds back ou

"Sometimes I think this is what Heaven will look like," he says from across the lake.  In the darkness, I imagine his arm makes a sweeping gesture I have seen before...  fingers extended to pass across the air in front the Body of Christ.  I can feel the Sword in his hand, dividing soul and spirit...   And for a second, I think I can see what he means.   I think I can see what He means. What Heaven might look like. A host of us gathered before the throne... One nation under God. One nation.  Under God. Citizenship. Can I even fathom that? I have to take stock of my heart...  to seek Truth ... to find humility. Because I am cut in half. Flesh/Spirit.  Bone/Marrow. Divided. Where does my loyalty lie? Whose banner do I stand under? I have to take an honest evaluation, not of the answer I want to give... but of the truth of the matter. Could I lay down my personal freedom if it meant another would walk in eternal freedom? Could I lay d

Sometimes I despise this body... its frailties... its imperfections... its weaknesses . Somestimes I despise this mind... my wandering thoughts... its lack of organization... the fixation on the inane... and the overlooking of the One thing that matters. Sometimes I despise this heart... this heart that tears in half so easily.  This heart that yearns so deeply... that longs to please. I. Am. Flawed. I am broken.  This world is broken.  Human love is broken. And it's hard. It's hard not to push away when it hurts.  Not to build a wall around my heart.  A fence of offense.  It's hard not to sink into the desire to be self-sufficient.  It's hard not to hear the line... "You don't need anyone.  You don't need Anyone. " It's hard to close my ears to the lie. In case you missed that... It's a lie . The Truth is I Am. I am complete . Created in His image . Not alone.  The truth is that I am covered by a Jesus who falls on H

I spent a few hours today carefully               (yes.  I can be careful.)                        taking picture frames down from my best friend's walls. A favored daughter's ballet photos.                   A prized son's personality caught in a moment on film. My friend has a decorator's heart and true  talent.  I love visiting her home.  Her modest walls are covered in beautiful family photos.  But  God answers big dreams , and my friend is packing up her starter home of fifteen years and moving to a bigger home with her family. What a privilege it was to examine each picture as I took it down and carefully wrapped it... to wonder at the memories trapped behind the glass and the parts of their life that happened way before I came along.   As each picture came down, my eyes were captivated more and more- not by the pictures themselves, but by the bare wall left behind. My mind wandered out of their tiny town and to the apartment I share with

I have that heavy heart feeling.      You know the one I mean? The one that feels like someone kicked a hole in you... and the pieces of what's left are settling on the floor. It's been one of those days... Mama said they were coming. The dark kind. The kind that leaves a cold ache.  And a need for something to fill that hole right back up. So I turned to those things. You know... those things. First, I went shopping.  I wandered.  I tried on.  I wandered.  I tried on.  There was a new find every other aisle!  It was a great trip. Then, the chocolate.  Chocolate chip cookies for dinner!  Oh boy!  (When the hubby is away it's anything goes!)  Yummy. Last, I went for the TV.  If I bury myself in my favorite drama series, nothing about my life can possibly be that bad .  Right? Except here I am. With a hole. Feeling like you're full of holes?  Join me in the Word tonight. Music for Life: Fill My Cup, Lord

A friend who delights my heart spoke to me last week about how God was stretching her...    stretching her... in ways she could never have anticipated. And those words struck hard. A sensation I could remember feeling... a work I knew the Lord had done in my life.  But He is faithful to only give us what we're ready for. And I wasn't ready to know. I wasn't ready to know how BIG He is.  Or how wide.  Or how deep.  Or how vast.  Or how holy.  Or how perfect.  Or how beautiful.  Or how terrifying.  Or how just.  Or how true.  Or how merciful. Or how small i was in comparison. Sometimes He has to make us bigger so that He can fill us up.  I only have the capacity to hold as much of Him as He allows.  Sometimes He has to make more room.  Because He knows me. He knows I live a life less thankful.  My small mind is focused on my small problems.  I lose sight of HOW BIG HE IS.  I lose sight of how good and true and constant He is.  Sometimes He has to take

A new start.     more of the same... A fresh slate.         more of the same... A blank page.             more of the same... Don't misunderstand me.  I cannot deny this God who gives new starts and fresh slates and new mercies moment by moment. I cannot deny His power that called this hopeless wretch out of a Walmart parking lot and into the LIGHT OF HIS LOVE.  He's a God who changes and restores and takes my brokenness and makes something beyond new.  Something wholly different... something striving for holy... I watch others celebrate a new year and a new season.   And my heart is singing with them.   God, You are holy, and You are doing a new thing, and You are wise, and You are good, and I trust You.   But my heart knows... for me it is more of the same.  One twitch of a number... a one turns to a two.  And God tells me... more of the same. I expect that more numbers will change.   24 to 25 .  I expect that names will change.   Ramsey to Estabrook .  I