it's been a while. but, when my computer time is still set on eastern time from being home and in Haiti this summer... what more can you expect.
it's fall break. and that means one thing: my annual quarter-- err... closer to mid..... -life crisis is impending. it happens every year. things slow down long enough for me to breathe, reflect, assess, and begin to dream, and them BAM! it happens; that stir in my heart and that itch between my toes. i'm waiting out this storm, ironically enough, in New Orleans for a few days at the beginning of break. God's been speaking to me about what He's going to be speaking to me about, and something tells me i'm in the seat of a roller coaster that's about to leave the bay.
i realized i'm in my late twenties now. so, there's that. it took mumford and sons to tell me that. mainly, their new album is to my late twenties as dashboard was to my late teens, and then it hit me, late twenties. blech.
i bought a new car. as in, a brand new car. with a lonnnnggggg contract signed in ink at the very bottom with my name, and no one else's. it was pretty much the single-most adult-ifying moment of my life as to date. and, i have major commitment issues, so i may have slighted diverted a few panic attacks in the drivers seat by fiddling with the XM radio a bit (which i'm currently obsessed with!). its a new Hyundai Elantra, and i seriously love it so much. i'm thankful to be in a position where i can finally afford a car payment, even if it means Taco Bell becomes a luxury.
school has been a real challenge this year, to be terribly honest. i find myself physically exhausted at the end of everyday, and 3 of the 5 past nights have ended in a 9 p.m. bedtime, 2 of which aided by tylenol p.m.
i've miraculously (thank-you-Jesus!) rounded the bend in my anxiety, and don't really know where the turning point happened, but know that I am able to look back and not recognize that state of agony, although that doesn't entirely mean circumstances have changed or peace has come; it's more just a God's-got-it-and-clearly-i-don't sort of thing. that being said, i'm not overwhelmingly joyful in this season, but it's hard to exude happiness in refining fire.
but, praise God for the refining! praise God in pain, in storms, in trials, in failure. praise God that He can take my mess and turn it into testimony. and praise Him for allowing me to see simple glimpses of His unfolding plan. He's a good and gracious Father.
eager to tell you more after this week. grateful for a chance to breathe and spend with Him. amen and amen.
Friday, September 28, 2012
Monday, September 17, 2012
yappy yippy happy
i got home this evening, and was eagerly greeted by my sweet little yorkie, sebastian, full of wags and licks and more impressive jumps than i'd expect from and NBA all-star. he didn't even pay any mind to the bag of leftovers i'd brought home from my favorite burrito place and set on the bed.
typically, he's comfortable enough with me, that if there is anything remotely edible in my hand, he wants at it. the little guy knows when i'm cutting tomatoes in the kitchen, and will stand right at the edge of the kitchen cart waiting for the treats to fall.
but its this time, when he's uninterested in what i can do for him, what treat i have to give him, what he can sit there and beg, beg, beg for-- it's those times in which i see his pure contentment to just be in my presence.
how much more should we be excited to enter into the presence of the Lord? how much more should we be so consumed with him, that that mighty tasty left-over baja doesn't even cross our mind as our first priority and desire?
i'm all about approaching the throne in expectation and petition and thanksgiving, as He charges us to do. but i wonder, how much more pleasing it must be to him, when all we truly desire, all that truly excites us, is just being in His presence and licking His face.
typically, he's comfortable enough with me, that if there is anything remotely edible in my hand, he wants at it. the little guy knows when i'm cutting tomatoes in the kitchen, and will stand right at the edge of the kitchen cart waiting for the treats to fall.
but its this time, when he's uninterested in what i can do for him, what treat i have to give him, what he can sit there and beg, beg, beg for-- it's those times in which i see his pure contentment to just be in my presence.
how much more should we be excited to enter into the presence of the Lord? how much more should we be so consumed with him, that that mighty tasty left-over baja doesn't even cross our mind as our first priority and desire?
i'm all about approaching the throne in expectation and petition and thanksgiving, as He charges us to do. but i wonder, how much more pleasing it must be to him, when all we truly desire, all that truly excites us, is just being in His presence and licking His face.
Thursday, September 13, 2012
how deep the father's love for us.
behold the man upon the cross
my sin upon His shoulders
ashamed, i hear my mocking voice
call out among the scoffers
***
some days, i feel like the worst teacher in the world.
days like today. when i'm spending my "planning" period writing a blog instead of working on this week's PLC meeting notes that are due tomorrow. days like today, when my frustration level seems to increase with the frequency of their misbehavior; both inversely related to my patience levels. days when the projects i stayed after to work on til 6 last night, are torn to shreds, the laminate pulled from them, rendering the (expensive) velcro dots on the back useless in attaching them to the chart they are supposed to adhere to. when students yell "no!" on the carpet. when no matter how much love i pour out, or even pretend to pour out, it seems its not enough to cover their disrespect or trick them into following my direction. even in front of my evaluator.
just like i'm certain my evaluation today will reflect, i sometimes feel like i'm the worst teacher in the world. and not for your pity, or recompense of "you're fantastic!" i'm not. i'm broken. i'm hateful. i'm angry. i'm impatient. i'm spiteful. i'm fake. i'm so easily aggrivated. i'm worse than i am on day three of the daniel fast and suffering caffiene and chocolate withdrawls. i most certainly am the worst teacher in the world.
***
it was my sin that held Him there
until it was accomplished
***
i lift my tear-filled eyes to Him, as He answers my desperate plea to rescue me from my own ugliness. i can't even look at Him, in my dirtyness. i'm too unclean to even pray through this, i think to myself. i have no place here, with these kids. i haven't the love for them like He tells me i should. i haven't the strength to even choose the high-road around 5-year-olds. Lord, how come i can not rise above this? why can i not choose love? why is it so hard? why was this morning a wreck? is it my fault? is it theres? how could i have avoided any of that stuff?
i reconsidered the details of my morning. i rehearsed my lesson in the shower. i talked through it start-to-finish during my morning commute, complete with every 'kiss your brain!' and '5 seconds to 5 star listener!' i figured i would need to interpose. i sacrificed my morning prayer time to practice my lesson, as if one more, one-sided roll-play within an utopian vaccum was really going to be what distinguished me as a "rock-solid-teacher," as they like to say here.
His Spirit spoke to my heart in the same way that listerine begins to burn your gums as you swish it about in your mouth; there was a sting, but, it's cleaning away the plaque. You sacrificed your time with Me. You spent time preparing for a lesson that looks perfect on paper; the way you truly would've taught it regardless if someone was in there or not. You couldn't have foreseen those issues. Nothing that happened today was anything more preparation would have saved you from. you could've spent your time with Me, soaking in the Peace of My presence. you couldn't predict what would happen, but you could prepare for how to respond. your heart and attitude is one thing you could've prepared, in order to respond in grace and patience. instead, you responded with your flesh. you responded by letting your own disappointment get the best of you. you let it eat away at the joy that was already depleated, and in need of replinishing from me. my desire was to give you peace, not as the world, or a good evaluation would give. but peace that would surpass the troubles of your heart and lead you confidently past fear of failure into My glory.
***
His dying breath, He gave me life
***
my head hung between my hands, as heavy as my heart. i'm so sorry Lord. I'm not only the very worst teacher, i'm also the very worst Christian. scratch that-- the very worst sinner. I can't even look at myself. how on earth am I ever going to be successful (in the classroom) this year like this? if it is consistently this hard?
just then, two of my students from last year walk in. i quickly dry my eyes and sit up proper at my desk. they are eager to share some of their writing from today; a book about dogs and a list of how to be respectful written on the back of a picture of two dolphins spouting off water from their blowhole into the sunset. little did they know, they were angels cloaked in crayola hues and tutus. a very tangible reminder of the progress that my kiddos will make. of the love that they will have for me, (and me for them) at the end of this road. as fabulous as those kiddos' new teacher is, she didn't teach them to write that book or come up with ways to help friends: that was taught in my class, last year. i watched as they learned how to form letters for the first time, as they took h-o-u-r-s to complete one illustration in their journal. these kiddos were once like the kiddos in my class (albeit a little better behaved), and look how they've progressed. see how they love? see how they remember you? how they even say, "how could we ever forget you?!" you've made a difference. you will continue to make a difference. as they hugged me goodbye, it might as well have been Jesus Himself wrapping His arms around my heart, reminding me of Love.
***
i know that it is finished.
***
the day is done. i made the long trek back to my room in the corner of the school from dismissal in the gym. as the sea of first- and second-graders swam downstream past me, i silently said to myself, the day is done, it is water under the bridge.
He chimed in, be like Noah; build a boat.
i say so often, it's water under the bridge. i say that it doesn't matter, hoping that will trick me into believe it. but to move on, i need to build a boat, and get over it. truly let it fall off, just like the sins and chains of my past. we've got to let go of the failures that shackle us to the cell of negativity. we need to see them, upon the sides and shoulders and exposed sinew of our Savior, and trust that He has spilled the blood for them already. we lay them down, so we can pick up the Peace, not the pieces.
***
i will not boast in anything
no gifts, no power, no wisdom
but i will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
why should I gain from His reward
i can not give an answer
but this i know with all my heart,
His wounds have paid my ransom.
***
i may have not suceeded at much today. i loosened my heart's tether to the Lord. i acted in bitterness towards my students instead of in love. i looked, and felt, like a failure in front of my administration. but there is one thing that gives me hope: Jesus Christ, and the fact that He has the victory. my worth is not determined on some scuewed five-point scale, in which 3 means rock-solid (truly, that's how it's set up). my worth is not wrapped up in a scroll cataloguing the list of my sins and failures and disappointments. i don't know why, but He values me more than those things, especially when we are a culture-- a human race, that prides ourselves in out-performing each other. He values me, in spite of the things that make me so ugly and feel so worthless. so much so, that He gave His life for it. so, for that, there's tomorrow. really, there's right now. there's this afternoon, and knowing that it is truly finished and no amount of worry or blood-infused sweat will change what transpired today. i do know this: tomorrow's drive to school will be filled with nothing more than worship of my King, and soaking in His presence before going about doing anything else.
my sin upon His shoulders
ashamed, i hear my mocking voice
call out among the scoffers
***
some days, i feel like the worst teacher in the world.
days like today. when i'm spending my "planning" period writing a blog instead of working on this week's PLC meeting notes that are due tomorrow. days like today, when my frustration level seems to increase with the frequency of their misbehavior; both inversely related to my patience levels. days when the projects i stayed after to work on til 6 last night, are torn to shreds, the laminate pulled from them, rendering the (expensive) velcro dots on the back useless in attaching them to the chart they are supposed to adhere to. when students yell "no!" on the carpet. when no matter how much love i pour out, or even pretend to pour out, it seems its not enough to cover their disrespect or trick them into following my direction. even in front of my evaluator.
just like i'm certain my evaluation today will reflect, i sometimes feel like i'm the worst teacher in the world. and not for your pity, or recompense of "you're fantastic!" i'm not. i'm broken. i'm hateful. i'm angry. i'm impatient. i'm spiteful. i'm fake. i'm so easily aggrivated. i'm worse than i am on day three of the daniel fast and suffering caffiene and chocolate withdrawls. i most certainly am the worst teacher in the world.
***
it was my sin that held Him there
until it was accomplished
***
i lift my tear-filled eyes to Him, as He answers my desperate plea to rescue me from my own ugliness. i can't even look at Him, in my dirtyness. i'm too unclean to even pray through this, i think to myself. i have no place here, with these kids. i haven't the love for them like He tells me i should. i haven't the strength to even choose the high-road around 5-year-olds. Lord, how come i can not rise above this? why can i not choose love? why is it so hard? why was this morning a wreck? is it my fault? is it theres? how could i have avoided any of that stuff?
i reconsidered the details of my morning. i rehearsed my lesson in the shower. i talked through it start-to-finish during my morning commute, complete with every 'kiss your brain!' and '5 seconds to 5 star listener!' i figured i would need to interpose. i sacrificed my morning prayer time to practice my lesson, as if one more, one-sided roll-play within an utopian vaccum was really going to be what distinguished me as a "rock-solid-teacher," as they like to say here.
His Spirit spoke to my heart in the same way that listerine begins to burn your gums as you swish it about in your mouth; there was a sting, but, it's cleaning away the plaque. You sacrificed your time with Me. You spent time preparing for a lesson that looks perfect on paper; the way you truly would've taught it regardless if someone was in there or not. You couldn't have foreseen those issues. Nothing that happened today was anything more preparation would have saved you from. you could've spent your time with Me, soaking in the Peace of My presence. you couldn't predict what would happen, but you could prepare for how to respond. your heart and attitude is one thing you could've prepared, in order to respond in grace and patience. instead, you responded with your flesh. you responded by letting your own disappointment get the best of you. you let it eat away at the joy that was already depleated, and in need of replinishing from me. my desire was to give you peace, not as the world, or a good evaluation would give. but peace that would surpass the troubles of your heart and lead you confidently past fear of failure into My glory.
***
His dying breath, He gave me life
***
my head hung between my hands, as heavy as my heart. i'm so sorry Lord. I'm not only the very worst teacher, i'm also the very worst Christian. scratch that-- the very worst sinner. I can't even look at myself. how on earth am I ever going to be successful (in the classroom) this year like this? if it is consistently this hard?
just then, two of my students from last year walk in. i quickly dry my eyes and sit up proper at my desk. they are eager to share some of their writing from today; a book about dogs and a list of how to be respectful written on the back of a picture of two dolphins spouting off water from their blowhole into the sunset. little did they know, they were angels cloaked in crayola hues and tutus. a very tangible reminder of the progress that my kiddos will make. of the love that they will have for me, (and me for them) at the end of this road. as fabulous as those kiddos' new teacher is, she didn't teach them to write that book or come up with ways to help friends: that was taught in my class, last year. i watched as they learned how to form letters for the first time, as they took h-o-u-r-s to complete one illustration in their journal. these kiddos were once like the kiddos in my class (albeit a little better behaved), and look how they've progressed. see how they love? see how they remember you? how they even say, "how could we ever forget you?!" you've made a difference. you will continue to make a difference. as they hugged me goodbye, it might as well have been Jesus Himself wrapping His arms around my heart, reminding me of Love.
***
i know that it is finished.
***
the day is done. i made the long trek back to my room in the corner of the school from dismissal in the gym. as the sea of first- and second-graders swam downstream past me, i silently said to myself, the day is done, it is water under the bridge.
He chimed in, be like Noah; build a boat.
i say so often, it's water under the bridge. i say that it doesn't matter, hoping that will trick me into believe it. but to move on, i need to build a boat, and get over it. truly let it fall off, just like the sins and chains of my past. we've got to let go of the failures that shackle us to the cell of negativity. we need to see them, upon the sides and shoulders and exposed sinew of our Savior, and trust that He has spilled the blood for them already. we lay them down, so we can pick up the Peace, not the pieces.
***
i will not boast in anything
no gifts, no power, no wisdom
but i will boast in Jesus Christ
His death and resurrection
why should I gain from His reward
i can not give an answer
but this i know with all my heart,
His wounds have paid my ransom.
***
i may have not suceeded at much today. i loosened my heart's tether to the Lord. i acted in bitterness towards my students instead of in love. i looked, and felt, like a failure in front of my administration. but there is one thing that gives me hope: Jesus Christ, and the fact that He has the victory. my worth is not determined on some scuewed five-point scale, in which 3 means rock-solid (truly, that's how it's set up). my worth is not wrapped up in a scroll cataloguing the list of my sins and failures and disappointments. i don't know why, but He values me more than those things, especially when we are a culture-- a human race, that prides ourselves in out-performing each other. He values me, in spite of the things that make me so ugly and feel so worthless. so much so, that He gave His life for it. so, for that, there's tomorrow. really, there's right now. there's this afternoon, and knowing that it is truly finished and no amount of worry or blood-infused sweat will change what transpired today. i do know this: tomorrow's drive to school will be filled with nothing more than worship of my King, and soaking in His presence before going about doing anything else.
Sunday, September 9, 2012
psalm one.
Psalm 1
1 How blessed is the man who does not walk in the counsel of the wicked, Nor stand in the path of sinners, Nor sit in the seat of scoffers!2 But his delight is in the law of the LORD, And in His law he meditates day and night.3 He will be like a tree firmly planted by streams of water, Which yields its fruit in its season And its leaf does not wither; And in whatever he does, he prospers.4 The wicked are not so, But they are like chaff which the wind drives away.5 Therefore the wicked will not stand in the judgment, Nor sinners in the assembly of the righteous.6 For the LORD knows the way of the righteous, But the way of the wicked will perish.
in a way that only the Lord can bring joy to your heart and tears of blessing to your eyes, the Holy Spirit spoke through these ancient words in the quietest and simplest of ways. so often, we miss the details, the little side-streets in the passing. it's not a bad thing; but sometimes, we just get the bigger picture. this morning, i missed the big picture. and that's how He planned it for me. my eyes hung long on that little added detail, noticing a beauty that had not yet been uncovered, revealed by the wisdom of His Spirit and the tiny whispering voice that brings comfort and peace to the weariest of souls.
"He will be like a tree, firmly planted by streams of water, which yields its fruit in its season..."
Do you see that? You are a tree. Stop chiding yourself for having your roots deep into the stream and not yet seeing fruit. Fruit is yielded in its season. You have just been pruned. You are not in a season of fruit-producing. You are in a season in which you need to drink Me in, from the source. to be replenished by my love. Your fruitless season is one of beauty, not shame. Rest assured, this is a season. and I am the River of Life that flows effortlessly beside you; I shall not be moved, and I shall cover your needs, forever.
be the church.
since returning to nashville, i've had to make a few decisions regarding my church home. this post will not chronicle the process, nor really comment on it; instead, that will just serve as the diving board of obsession that has sent me into a tail-spin tizzy in making sure i was in 'the church God had for me.'
and when i call it an obsession, i mean nothing short of the word. the process was vile, and not accompanied with the peace of the Lord. the not knowing, the un-assuredness in the decision making was torturous in the most unholy of ways. i went back and forth more often and unpredictably than a game of badminton, and let's be real, badminton can get reeeaaalll rowdy.
and then, God called me out on it.
it began on my knees in front of my couch two sundays ago. i "slept-in" til 7, and was wide awake, so i got up and did a few things around the house, until my spirit was totally arrested by the Lord in the best way possible.
stop fighting me. stop looking for me in "church". if you think i'll only be pleased with you if you choose the "right" building to call "home," you're doing this wrong. you're putting all the emphasis on what shall be your "covering;" don't you know, I AM your covering? (Psalm 91:4; Hebrews 4). I AM your High Priest that goes before you, to whom you are accountable. if your faith is in your church, it will fail. if your faith is in your pastor, he will fail. if your faith is confined to four walls, in which you feel better about because you affectionately call them home, they will fail. I will not fail you. Daughter, put your faith in Me. be consumed with Me. let Me show you that I am not limited to a building you call church.
i've realized that it actually didn't begin, nor end, there, on my knees before the Lord. He certainly has made a point to not be contained to my ideals as to what church should resemble. instead, He's shown up in the most ironic places; teaching me that if i only recognize His presence in a building with a title that ends in "church," i'm doing it all wrong. He's breathed conviction and reconciliation of truth onto my heart in a McDonald's drive-thru. He's spoken to me more humbly and personally on the bed of a tattoo parlor than any church pew as of lately. and He's been ever present in the midst of a Saturday-marathon of taco dip, pajamas, and the first chill of fall. He knew one Sunday i would've missed it if I were sitting with my Bible taking someone else's sermon notes. so, He had me skip church, yet inadvertently meet Him with a revelation of freedom and flautas on the patio at Chuy's in Mid-town.
in these moments, these places, i've brought Him more glory than I could at the foot of any alter. I've heard more clearly than I have in moments of fervent prayer. i've seen his Hand more visibly at work than in some of the conquests we slap His name on. church is important. family is important. but, if it becomes about solely church or family, we have simply missed the Biblical call to be the church in the world. His charge for the great commission said go into the world, not the church, and make disciples. i'm slowly learning the balance, without limiting Him to a place or time penciled in on my day planner.
that sunday morning, He met me before church even began. and truth be told, it will forever mark a turning point in this walk marred with difficulty in this leg of the journey. He has turned things around, and given me a new perspective on the size, and billboard, of His kingdom.
and when i call it an obsession, i mean nothing short of the word. the process was vile, and not accompanied with the peace of the Lord. the not knowing, the un-assuredness in the decision making was torturous in the most unholy of ways. i went back and forth more often and unpredictably than a game of badminton, and let's be real, badminton can get reeeaaalll rowdy.
and then, God called me out on it.
it began on my knees in front of my couch two sundays ago. i "slept-in" til 7, and was wide awake, so i got up and did a few things around the house, until my spirit was totally arrested by the Lord in the best way possible.
stop fighting me. stop looking for me in "church". if you think i'll only be pleased with you if you choose the "right" building to call "home," you're doing this wrong. you're putting all the emphasis on what shall be your "covering;" don't you know, I AM your covering? (Psalm 91:4; Hebrews 4). I AM your High Priest that goes before you, to whom you are accountable. if your faith is in your church, it will fail. if your faith is in your pastor, he will fail. if your faith is confined to four walls, in which you feel better about because you affectionately call them home, they will fail. I will not fail you. Daughter, put your faith in Me. be consumed with Me. let Me show you that I am not limited to a building you call church.
i've realized that it actually didn't begin, nor end, there, on my knees before the Lord. He certainly has made a point to not be contained to my ideals as to what church should resemble. instead, He's shown up in the most ironic places; teaching me that if i only recognize His presence in a building with a title that ends in "church," i'm doing it all wrong. He's breathed conviction and reconciliation of truth onto my heart in a McDonald's drive-thru. He's spoken to me more humbly and personally on the bed of a tattoo parlor than any church pew as of lately. and He's been ever present in the midst of a Saturday-marathon of taco dip, pajamas, and the first chill of fall. He knew one Sunday i would've missed it if I were sitting with my Bible taking someone else's sermon notes. so, He had me skip church, yet inadvertently meet Him with a revelation of freedom and flautas on the patio at Chuy's in Mid-town.
in these moments, these places, i've brought Him more glory than I could at the foot of any alter. I've heard more clearly than I have in moments of fervent prayer. i've seen his Hand more visibly at work than in some of the conquests we slap His name on. church is important. family is important. but, if it becomes about solely church or family, we have simply missed the Biblical call to be the church in the world. His charge for the great commission said go into the world, not the church, and make disciples. i'm slowly learning the balance, without limiting Him to a place or time penciled in on my day planner.
that sunday morning, He met me before church even began. and truth be told, it will forever mark a turning point in this walk marred with difficulty in this leg of the journey. He has turned things around, and given me a new perspective on the size, and billboard, of His kingdom.
***
Ephesians 4:20-25 NLT
20 But that isn’t what you learned about Christ.21 Since you have heard about Jesus and have learned the truth that comes from him,22 throw off your old sinful nature and your former way of life, which is corrupted by lust and deception.23 Instead, let the Spirit renew your thoughts and attitudes.
24 Put on your new nature, created to be like God—truly righteous and holy.
25 So stop telling lies. Let us tell our neighbors the truth, for we are all parts of the same body
Royalty
I am royalty.
I have destiny.
I have been set free.
I'm gunna shape history.
With an anemic melody, I sang along with the words; just another voice in the hundreds present for the worship night with Jesus Culture, a Spirit-led worship group out of Redding, CA.
That's funny, I thought. I sure don't feel like royalty. And as of lately, my destiny looked a little bleak, more or less just trying to get by. And being set free? Well. Yeah. But i feel more like fake-it-til-ya-make-it right about now. Shaping history? That's for people with doctorates and lots of money, which I wouldn't mind either of those but don't see them in my near future.
You see, this funk has really been bending the truth.
I know somewhere in my heart these things to be true. But feeling them, believing them for right now? I've got some progress to make on that.
The lead vocalist stopped singing and began exhorting.
Do you feel like you don't fit in? Do you feel like you weren't made for this? It's because you're not. We're not made for this world. We're made to look different, to sound different, to act different. Stop singing these words like a church choir. Sing them like you mean them. Like you know your Father is the King of Heaven. Let Him transform your heart, your life. Go deeper, higher, than ever before.
As He finished his charge to us, the Lord began to speak to my heart as I sang these words from a new place.
You ARE royalty, Rhiannon. Your Daddy is the High King of Heaven, the Holy of Holy's. You are a daughter of mine. You have inheritance in My Kingdom. You have not been excluded. Your destiny, it's what you're doing in this very moment. To live honestly, open to My Holy Presence. To worship me, from exactly where you are. And my dear, you have indeed been set free, Consider all the things I have brought you out of, into your full purpose in me. And don't you worry about shaping History; you already have. For every person you have loved out of My love. For every word of truth youve spoken to change the tone of someone's day. For every orphan you've hugged and loved and shown that they matter, to this world and to Me. You are changing history for those I love. That's better than any History book you'll find in school.
With a fresh dose of His peace, I sang the words, confident in my identity in I'm once again. It's not always easy. I forget more often than not that I'm not the person I see in the mirror, that I'm not a sum of my past mistakes any longer.
I am royalty. I have destiny. I have been set free. I'm gunna shape history.
I have destiny.
I have been set free.
I'm gunna shape history.
With an anemic melody, I sang along with the words; just another voice in the hundreds present for the worship night with Jesus Culture, a Spirit-led worship group out of Redding, CA.
That's funny, I thought. I sure don't feel like royalty. And as of lately, my destiny looked a little bleak, more or less just trying to get by. And being set free? Well. Yeah. But i feel more like fake-it-til-ya-make-it right about now. Shaping history? That's for people with doctorates and lots of money, which I wouldn't mind either of those but don't see them in my near future.
You see, this funk has really been bending the truth.
I know somewhere in my heart these things to be true. But feeling them, believing them for right now? I've got some progress to make on that.
The lead vocalist stopped singing and began exhorting.
Do you feel like you don't fit in? Do you feel like you weren't made for this? It's because you're not. We're not made for this world. We're made to look different, to sound different, to act different. Stop singing these words like a church choir. Sing them like you mean them. Like you know your Father is the King of Heaven. Let Him transform your heart, your life. Go deeper, higher, than ever before.
As He finished his charge to us, the Lord began to speak to my heart as I sang these words from a new place.
You ARE royalty, Rhiannon. Your Daddy is the High King of Heaven, the Holy of Holy's. You are a daughter of mine. You have inheritance in My Kingdom. You have not been excluded. Your destiny, it's what you're doing in this very moment. To live honestly, open to My Holy Presence. To worship me, from exactly where you are. And my dear, you have indeed been set free, Consider all the things I have brought you out of, into your full purpose in me. And don't you worry about shaping History; you already have. For every person you have loved out of My love. For every word of truth youve spoken to change the tone of someone's day. For every orphan you've hugged and loved and shown that they matter, to this world and to Me. You are changing history for those I love. That's better than any History book you'll find in school.
With a fresh dose of His peace, I sang the words, confident in my identity in I'm once again. It's not always easy. I forget more often than not that I'm not the person I see in the mirror, that I'm not a sum of my past mistakes any longer.
I am royalty. I have destiny. I have been set free. I'm gunna shape history.
Ephesians 1:7-14
7-10 Because of the sacrifice of the Messiah, his blood poured out on the altar of the Cross, we're a free people—free of penalties and punishments chalked up by all our misdeeds. And not just barely free, either. Abundantly free! He thought of everything, provided for everything we could possibly need, letting us in on the plans he took such delight in making. He set it all out before us in Christ, a long-range plan in which everything would be brought together and summed up in him, everything in deepest heaven, everything on planet earth.
11-12 It's in Christ that we find out who we are and what we are living for. Long before we first heard of Christ and got our hopes up, he had his eye on us, had designs on us for glorious living, part of the overall purpose he is working out in everything and everyone.
13-14 It's in Christ that you, once you heard the truth and believed it (this Message of your salvation), found yourselves home free—signed, sealed, and delivered by the Holy Spirit. This signet from God is the first installment on what's coming, a reminder that we'll get everything God has planned for us, a praising and glorious life.
Monday, September 3, 2012
little nuggets of wisdom
sharing my struggles as of lately, i have received tiny little nuggets of wisdom that have really given perspective and shed much light on this journey.
i hope to catalogue some of them here, for reminders sake.
my sweet friend Leah, whom i met while in Haiti in 2010, is a wealth of wisdom. without hesitation, i shared my difficulties and she offered word after wise word. as i sorted out my thoughts before her, she said a few things that really stuck out (of course, now that I actually get to blogging them, I can only remember one...!): "you're really good at transitioning into; you just can't quite seem to transition back."
she's so right. i've mastered the book-a-ticket-and-go in three weeks time. i can pack and get outta here faster than you can say, m'ap veni! but returning is a different story. it's not that i don't love nashville, or my friends here, or whats going on within the church here. its not that at all. its just that usually when you travel to a new place, your eyes ignite with excitement as they take in the previously unforeseen sights. more than that, i seem little phased by them. they seem, familiar. like home. more like home than coming home felt. and that leaves me feeling, well, homeless.
I've also gotten really accustomed to living out of a suitcase. there's no sense of permanence. this drives most people mad. and admittedly, i felt the same while i was in Haiti. i longed for a closet. for the rest of my wardrobe. but relinquishing my limited supply to choose from for an unending amount of clothes is a difficult transition, when all you want to do is burn everything you own, or give it away; but then you think of how much you really do like those white linen pants and how you forgot about that precious dress from H&M.
this post is not shaping up the way it did 2 weeks ago when i pre-drafted it in my head.
after sharing with a friend of mine that called the other day, he said something that i think my heart has caught onto quicker than my head. "just keep doing what you're doing. go with what you know, and God will make it clear if there's a path you're supposed to take."
so i'm doing that. in so many areas of my life, i'm doing that. i'm barely holding on in some places, but I just keep going, until God says otherwise.
serving in the church nursery yesterday, Philipians 4:6 was in no less than 19 places in the room. i don't think it was a coincidence, considering i started with the babies, was moved to the toddlers, and wound up in this room of 2's and 3's and do-not-be-anxious-in-anything's.
"God says three things: yes. no. and wait," Ms. Candy repeated over and over and over to these little ones, as the Holy Spirit repeated it over and over and over to my little heart.
so, if He's not saying yes ... and he's not saying no ... i guess i know what He's telling me to do. but wait does not mean sit on your hands and do nothing until you hear. it means keep moving. I'll tell you when to switch paths.
small nuggets accounted for today. many more to come.
i hope to catalogue some of them here, for reminders sake.
my sweet friend Leah, whom i met while in Haiti in 2010, is a wealth of wisdom. without hesitation, i shared my difficulties and she offered word after wise word. as i sorted out my thoughts before her, she said a few things that really stuck out (of course, now that I actually get to blogging them, I can only remember one...!): "you're really good at transitioning into; you just can't quite seem to transition back."
she's so right. i've mastered the book-a-ticket-and-go in three weeks time. i can pack and get outta here faster than you can say, m'ap veni! but returning is a different story. it's not that i don't love nashville, or my friends here, or whats going on within the church here. its not that at all. its just that usually when you travel to a new place, your eyes ignite with excitement as they take in the previously unforeseen sights. more than that, i seem little phased by them. they seem, familiar. like home. more like home than coming home felt. and that leaves me feeling, well, homeless.
I've also gotten really accustomed to living out of a suitcase. there's no sense of permanence. this drives most people mad. and admittedly, i felt the same while i was in Haiti. i longed for a closet. for the rest of my wardrobe. but relinquishing my limited supply to choose from for an unending amount of clothes is a difficult transition, when all you want to do is burn everything you own, or give it away; but then you think of how much you really do like those white linen pants and how you forgot about that precious dress from H&M.
this post is not shaping up the way it did 2 weeks ago when i pre-drafted it in my head.
after sharing with a friend of mine that called the other day, he said something that i think my heart has caught onto quicker than my head. "just keep doing what you're doing. go with what you know, and God will make it clear if there's a path you're supposed to take."
so i'm doing that. in so many areas of my life, i'm doing that. i'm barely holding on in some places, but I just keep going, until God says otherwise.
serving in the church nursery yesterday, Philipians 4:6 was in no less than 19 places in the room. i don't think it was a coincidence, considering i started with the babies, was moved to the toddlers, and wound up in this room of 2's and 3's and do-not-be-anxious-in-anything's.
"God says three things: yes. no. and wait," Ms. Candy repeated over and over and over to these little ones, as the Holy Spirit repeated it over and over and over to my little heart.
so, if He's not saying yes ... and he's not saying no ... i guess i know what He's telling me to do. but wait does not mean sit on your hands and do nothing until you hear. it means keep moving. I'll tell you when to switch paths.
small nuggets accounted for today. many more to come.
Sunday, September 2, 2012
step one: unpack.
You may not have noticed my absence, but trust me, it's been intentional. I've been ignoring you in worse ways than I used to find any menial thing to do before writing a paper in college (hey, at least then that meant my house was spotless and my kitchen full of every baked good you could ever crave!)
I'm not sure why I've not been ale to write. Even when I haven't had the time, I've still had moments where I really could've done it. I've opened up this page half a dozen times, but the words never came, or they came too many at once, and it's a million times easier to click that little "x" at the top of the page than it is to sort through any of them.
I've been home from Haiti for over a month now. Back in Nashville for four weeks already. For the better part of that time, I've been dealing with an enslaught of emotion from reentry. Knowing it wasn't as long of a time, nor was it as dramatic of a change this second time around, I really didn't anticipate being so depressed coming back. But I was, perhaps still am, and it's been really hard to shake if we're being honest. Which, by God's good grace, I've been able to be real honest. To just about anyone that asks. #sorryboutit.
This post alone is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions mixed together, and unable to separate, like two colors of playdoh that have been forever swirled into one. You can thank my kinders for that illustration. Perhaps I haven't written, because the thought of sorting through my thoughts and feelings and the sources of them is too overwhelming on its own. Much like just about every part of life I've been dealing with. Much of my wardrobe is till strewn about the house. Tubs still remain in the attic, my dresser remains half-empty, and the clothes I spent 10 weeks in this summer are still piled not-so-neatly in the living room.
Facing reality has been overwhelming. I'm literally only able to do it one baby-step at a time. It seems that I make huge advances, only to be followed by a wall of obstacles the next day that remind me that this is a war, and each day is only a battle. Last weekend, I ventured up to the attic, at the God-sent-request of a friend to host a yard sale. I went through a majority of my storage tubs into the wee-hours of Saturday morning, accompanied by a pot of coffee and Ferngully (both consumed in full). After sorting through tub after tub of my belongings, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of clothes I had procured over the years. There is no way these all fit in my room, as they are barely contained in their space in the attic! I must've purged half of what I own, knocking my pants and jeans in half. That thought of the initial cost and value of everything I carelessly tossed in the take-it-out-of-my-life pile made me nauseous.
Cleaning up after the garage sale was another huge task to unveil. After getting everything out of my house, I now had a surplus of stuff that didn't sell that I didn't want to return back in, for fear it might never leave again. (reminded of that verse about casting out demons and cleaning house, only for them to return seven-fold, and how it would've just been better to never cast out the one in the first place. Well that's encouraging.). Even though I had sorted through and purged the excess, I couldn't find the strength to actually return the rest of it to my room. To actually un-pack it and deal with it. I'm so cognizant of the physical-spiritual-emotional manifestation of parallels in this situation.
i've been avoiding writing like the plague. i've had enough to deal with, that dealing with thoughts that weren't already presenting themselves has seemed like waking a sleeping bear while you're on the dead-end-side of his cave. waking scary, negative things when real life has been admittedly scary and negative, is, well, scary. but writing somehow proves to be an antidote to many of life's problems; sort of like an IV as its pricked into your hand, releasing the flow from the drip bag of just what your body needs.
i'm realizing there is a fine line between laziness and apathy, and being so overwhelmed that you literally can't deal with it. healthiness does not reside with either of those; however, sometimes you just have to do what you can to survive. and that is what i am doing. what i can.
i don't want this to come off super debbie-downer. i don't want you to worry about my soul (saved by His grace), my mental state (i know when i need help), or my ability to discern between enduring the storm and succumbing to the seas. but i don't think we talk about it enough when we are in the midst of the battle, and can't confidently proclaim the hope that you know in the stillest, smallest places in your heart still exists. we hide in depression and anxiety. we go to bed on it at 6 p.m. and pretend like all is well to the outside world. but the Bible tells us to walk in light, that whatever we put in to the light is no longer in darkness. and praise Him, because i used to be super private. i hid the secrets of my heart like a secret stash of dark chocolate. i hid my struggles for fear of rejection. all until one day, that i realized to live as if i truly have been redeemed, i needed to walk redeemed. i needed to walk in my identity as a redeemed daughter of God.
and walking in that identity means i have to be honest. i have to get out all the thoughts that are eating my brain. and it means that i don't walk in anxiety or depression as who i am, not at all. the enemy wants me to believe this is who i am, that it is inescapable. but my Daddy tells me different. the victory on the Cross tells me otherwise. my identity is a redeemed daughter of the King. and even the redeem walk through seasons of battles against their mind and circumstance. but what a powerful army we have walking with us. prayer warriors and angels, guardsmen of God.
step one: unpack. don't keep everything boxed up in the attic. shed some light. dust off the cobwebs. open up each storage tub carefully. beware of spiders, but don't be paralyzed by the fear that they are there. ask for help; you can't carry some of those things down the stairs by yourself. sit down when it becomes too much, but get back to it. don't give up. don't give in. set small goals. like, putting away your tank-tops. you can do this, by the grace of God, you can do this. but you can never do this without Him. lean on Him for your strength. crawl in His lap when the afternoons are hard, instead of just in your bed. unpacking doesn't mean putting away quite yet; sometimes you just need to survey everything all at once.
I'm not sure why I've not been ale to write. Even when I haven't had the time, I've still had moments where I really could've done it. I've opened up this page half a dozen times, but the words never came, or they came too many at once, and it's a million times easier to click that little "x" at the top of the page than it is to sort through any of them.
I've been home from Haiti for over a month now. Back in Nashville for four weeks already. For the better part of that time, I've been dealing with an enslaught of emotion from reentry. Knowing it wasn't as long of a time, nor was it as dramatic of a change this second time around, I really didn't anticipate being so depressed coming back. But I was, perhaps still am, and it's been really hard to shake if we're being honest. Which, by God's good grace, I've been able to be real honest. To just about anyone that asks. #sorryboutit.
This post alone is a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions mixed together, and unable to separate, like two colors of playdoh that have been forever swirled into one. You can thank my kinders for that illustration. Perhaps I haven't written, because the thought of sorting through my thoughts and feelings and the sources of them is too overwhelming on its own. Much like just about every part of life I've been dealing with. Much of my wardrobe is till strewn about the house. Tubs still remain in the attic, my dresser remains half-empty, and the clothes I spent 10 weeks in this summer are still piled not-so-neatly in the living room.
Facing reality has been overwhelming. I'm literally only able to do it one baby-step at a time. It seems that I make huge advances, only to be followed by a wall of obstacles the next day that remind me that this is a war, and each day is only a battle. Last weekend, I ventured up to the attic, at the God-sent-request of a friend to host a yard sale. I went through a majority of my storage tubs into the wee-hours of Saturday morning, accompanied by a pot of coffee and Ferngully (both consumed in full). After sorting through tub after tub of my belongings, I was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of clothes I had procured over the years. There is no way these all fit in my room, as they are barely contained in their space in the attic! I must've purged half of what I own, knocking my pants and jeans in half. That thought of the initial cost and value of everything I carelessly tossed in the take-it-out-of-my-life pile made me nauseous.
Cleaning up after the garage sale was another huge task to unveil. After getting everything out of my house, I now had a surplus of stuff that didn't sell that I didn't want to return back in, for fear it might never leave again. (reminded of that verse about casting out demons and cleaning house, only for them to return seven-fold, and how it would've just been better to never cast out the one in the first place. Well that's encouraging.). Even though I had sorted through and purged the excess, I couldn't find the strength to actually return the rest of it to my room. To actually un-pack it and deal with it. I'm so cognizant of the physical-spiritual-emotional manifestation of parallels in this situation.
i've been avoiding writing like the plague. i've had enough to deal with, that dealing with thoughts that weren't already presenting themselves has seemed like waking a sleeping bear while you're on the dead-end-side of his cave. waking scary, negative things when real life has been admittedly scary and negative, is, well, scary. but writing somehow proves to be an antidote to many of life's problems; sort of like an IV as its pricked into your hand, releasing the flow from the drip bag of just what your body needs.
i'm realizing there is a fine line between laziness and apathy, and being so overwhelmed that you literally can't deal with it. healthiness does not reside with either of those; however, sometimes you just have to do what you can to survive. and that is what i am doing. what i can.
i don't want this to come off super debbie-downer. i don't want you to worry about my soul (saved by His grace), my mental state (i know when i need help), or my ability to discern between enduring the storm and succumbing to the seas. but i don't think we talk about it enough when we are in the midst of the battle, and can't confidently proclaim the hope that you know in the stillest, smallest places in your heart still exists. we hide in depression and anxiety. we go to bed on it at 6 p.m. and pretend like all is well to the outside world. but the Bible tells us to walk in light, that whatever we put in to the light is no longer in darkness. and praise Him, because i used to be super private. i hid the secrets of my heart like a secret stash of dark chocolate. i hid my struggles for fear of rejection. all until one day, that i realized to live as if i truly have been redeemed, i needed to walk redeemed. i needed to walk in my identity as a redeemed daughter of God.
and walking in that identity means i have to be honest. i have to get out all the thoughts that are eating my brain. and it means that i don't walk in anxiety or depression as who i am, not at all. the enemy wants me to believe this is who i am, that it is inescapable. but my Daddy tells me different. the victory on the Cross tells me otherwise. my identity is a redeemed daughter of the King. and even the redeem walk through seasons of battles against their mind and circumstance. but what a powerful army we have walking with us. prayer warriors and angels, guardsmen of God.
step one: unpack. don't keep everything boxed up in the attic. shed some light. dust off the cobwebs. open up each storage tub carefully. beware of spiders, but don't be paralyzed by the fear that they are there. ask for help; you can't carry some of those things down the stairs by yourself. sit down when it becomes too much, but get back to it. don't give up. don't give in. set small goals. like, putting away your tank-tops. you can do this, by the grace of God, you can do this. but you can never do this without Him. lean on Him for your strength. crawl in His lap when the afternoons are hard, instead of just in your bed. unpacking doesn't mean putting away quite yet; sometimes you just need to survey everything all at once.
Saturday, September 1, 2012
shepherd's pie
the next few posts will be a bit like shepherd's pie. a little bit of this, a little bit of that. all your thanksgiving feast left-overs thrown in a casserole dish and baked again.
unfortunately, these leftovers have been sitting, fermenting rather, in the fridge for, like, a month now. they've lost a lot of original flavor. i promise i'm not a bad cook. it just takes me a while to grow my motivation to try my hand at a new recipe.
i've managed to start and quit this post 4 times now. now that it's 11:35, and my eyelids are about as heavy as my stomach after consuming that pumpkin nutella bread i whipped up instead of writing, i've decided to try to attack it just one more time.
the problem is, there are so many left-overs in the fridge. tupperwares cascade down the shelves when i even begin to crack the door to peer inside. most of it doesn't look the same, and everything has developed a slightly funny smell as you peel back the lid.
but it's time. it's time to clean out the fridge. to organize the mess. to see whats still edible, and to make a new grocery list based on everything thats purged. and once i throw it all out, it's probably best to wipe it down with a thick layer of lysol disinfecting spray.
guess it looks like i have some writing to do tomorrow after church. that, and legitimate unpacking and cleaning, and cleaning out the fridge. the literal one.
unfortunately, these leftovers have been sitting, fermenting rather, in the fridge for, like, a month now. they've lost a lot of original flavor. i promise i'm not a bad cook. it just takes me a while to grow my motivation to try my hand at a new recipe.
i've managed to start and quit this post 4 times now. now that it's 11:35, and my eyelids are about as heavy as my stomach after consuming that pumpkin nutella bread i whipped up instead of writing, i've decided to try to attack it just one more time.
the problem is, there are so many left-overs in the fridge. tupperwares cascade down the shelves when i even begin to crack the door to peer inside. most of it doesn't look the same, and everything has developed a slightly funny smell as you peel back the lid.
but it's time. it's time to clean out the fridge. to organize the mess. to see whats still edible, and to make a new grocery list based on everything thats purged. and once i throw it all out, it's probably best to wipe it down with a thick layer of lysol disinfecting spray.
guess it looks like i have some writing to do tomorrow after church. that, and legitimate unpacking and cleaning, and cleaning out the fridge. the literal one.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)