For Christmas this year...

Christmas day comes with great expectations of laughing families gathered around the glittering tree, taking part in age-old family traditions, eating grandma's perfect home-cooked something something something for dinner, warm fuzzy feelings, gay happy meetings, stories around the fireplace of Christmases long long ago...

Well, this year, Christmas day began with me crying like an idiot in front of my whole family (we were stuck in the van so I couldn't escape and blubber in solitude), then the van broke down when we were halfway to St. Pete where we were going to spend Christmas with my Dad's family.  Instead of eating Christmas supper with the grandparents, we had to stop at McDonald's, where we proceeded to converse about the moral ramifications of suicide-- a holly jolly Christmas for sure.

We did end up making it to St. Pete (after driving back home, dispersing into our two remaining vehicles, and starting the journey all over again.)  But while we were stuck in McDonald's, and I had given up all hope of an "authentic" Christmas, David made an insightful observation: "Well, at least we like each other!"  As a family, we certainly don't always get along, but it's true, we like being together, even if that togetherness happens to be in McDonald's, centered around the topic of suicide.  So maybe this Christmas wasn't legendary ( I mean that only event-wise. EVERY Christmas is legendary in celebrating and remembering the coming of Emmanuel!), but being with people you love doesn't require special events to make it meaningful; there's meaning simply in the togetherness.  And I'm so thankful I get to do real life with these 5 crazy people!

Blessed

“Let us hold fast the confession of our hope without wavering, for He who promised is faithful.” Hebrews 10:23

The blessings of the Lord… who can adequately describe them?  Who can adequately thank God for them?  

Not a soul.

I just listened to an incredible podcast from Don Brewster, director of Agape International Missions.  Don talked about evil in the world (and he should know, he rescues children from the flesh trade in Cambodia), but He also proclaimed the goodness and loving kindness of our God.  The blessings God has given and promised to give us are of infinite value, yet how often we forget them, ignore them, despise them!  I constantly let the temporal replace the eternal.  So often I don’t live in light of eternity.  The Lord has promised us incredible blessings, so incredible that, in light of them, all else melts into meaninglessness, all else cannot prevail to discourage us or cause us to lose hope.

I want to hold fast to His promises, to know them as reality more real than oxygen.  If I really clung to God’s Word as true, what could this life do to me?  What would I not do to glorify God?  Who would I not love with Christ’s overwhelming love?  I have Christ, nearer than a husband, more faithful than a comrade.  He has made me clean, not only clean but one with Him.  I can boldly declare that I am my Beloved’s and He is mine… WHAT ELSE COULD POSSIBLY MATTER?

"Say ye to the righteous, that it shall be well with him."

--Isaiah 3:10

“It is well with the righteous ALWAYS. If it had said, "Say ye to the righteous, that it is well with him in his prosperity," we must have been thankful for so great a boon, for prosperity is an hour of peril, and it is a gift from heaven to be secured from its snares: or if it had been written, "It is well with him when under persecution," we must have been thankful for so sustaining an assurance, for persecution is hard to bear; but when no time is mentioned, all time is included. God's "shalls" must be understood always in their largest sense. From the beginning of the year to the end of the year, from the first gathering of evening shadows until the day-star shines, in all conditions and under all circumstances, it shall be well with the righteous. It is so well with him that we could not imagine it to be better, for he is well fed, he feeds upon the flesh and blood of Jesus; he is well clothed, he wears the imputed righteousness of Christ; he is well housed, he dwells in God; he is well married, his soul is knit in bonds of marriage union to Christ; he is well provided for, for the Lord is his Shepherd; he is well endowed, for heaven is his inheritance. It is well with the righteous--well upon divine authority ; the mouth of God speaks the comforting assurance. O beloved, if God declares that all is well, ten thousand devils may declare it to be ill, but we laugh them all to scorn. Blessed be God for a faith which enables us to believe God when the creatures contradict Him. It is, says the Word, at all times well with thee, thou righteous one; then, beloved, if thou canst not see it, let God's word stand thee in stead of sight; yea, believe it on divine authority more confidently than if thine eyes and thy feelings told it to thee. Whom God blesses is blest indeed, and what His lip declares is truth most sure and steadfast.” 

-Morning and Evening, by Charles Haddon Spurgeon

And THIS is what God promises us!

Bless the Lord, oh my soul, and forget not all his benefits, who forgives all your iniquity, who heals all your diseases, who redeems your life from the pit, who crowns you with steadfast love and mercy, who satisfies you with good so that your youth is renewed like the eagles.

     Comfort, comfort my people, says your God.  Speak tenderly to Jerusalem, and cry to her that her warfare is ENDED, that her iniquity is PARDONED, that she has received for the Lord's hand double for all her sins.

     He does not deal with us according to our sins.

But now in Christ Jesus you who were once ---far off--- have been brought (near) by the blood of Christ.

     He sent from on high, he took me; he drew me out of many waters. 

God, being rich in mercy, *because of the great love with which He loved us*, even when we were dead in our trespasses, made us alive together (with Christ)- by grace you have been saved- and raised us up (with Him) and seated us (with Him) in the heavenly places in Christ Jesus, so that in the coming ages he might show the immeasurable riches of his grace in kindness towards us in Christ Jesus.

     None who wait for You shall be put to shame.

The Lord your (God is in your) midst, a mighty one who will save; he will rejoice over you with gladness; he will quiet you with his love; he will exult over you with loud singing.

     It is the Lord who goes before you.  He will be with you; he will not leave you or forsake you.

For He satisfies the longing soul, and the hungry soul he fills with good things.

     Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

I will not leave you as orphans; I will come to you.

     Peace I leave with you; my peace I give to you.  Not as the world gives do I give to you.

So also you have sorrow now, but I will see you again, and your hearts will rejoice, and no one will take your joy from you.

     In the world you will have trouble.  But take heart; I have overcome the world.

We are treated as impostors and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.

     Sin will have no dominion over you, since you are not under law but under grace.

You were washed, you were sanctified, you were justified in the name of the Lord, Jesus Christ and by the Spirit of our God.

     Just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.

     His divine power has granted to us *all things that pertain to life and godliness*, through the knowledge of Him who called is to His own glory and excellence, by which He has granted to us His precious and very great promises, so that through them you may become partakers of the divine nature.

The Lord will fulfill his purpose for me; your steadfast love, O Lord, endures forever.

     And I will betroth you to Me forever.  I will betroth you to Me in righteousness and in justice, in steadfast love and in mercy.  I will betroth you to Me in faithfulness.  And you shall know the Lord.

Hallelujah.

Jason Michael Mills

I planned on sitting down and devoting hours on deep expression into this post because the subject matter is oh so worthy of it!  But I am currently running on negative time and by the time I have enough time to do this justice, it will be way past his birthday, so here goes!

22 years ago, my little buddy was born.  He rescued me from a life of selfish only-ness! (Well, he tried, I still managed to turn out rather self centered, but I would've been so much worse!)  I made him sing the Nala parts of the Lion King because I wanted to be the star of the show and sing all the Simba parts.  People thought we were twins (until he grew 2 feet taller than me!).  Even when we moved and had our own rooms, we would take turns sneaking into each other's rooms at night, especially when one of us had a nightmare.  One time, we were reading a scary book together on his top bunk, when the lights suddenly went out!  We flew off the bed and into the safety of the lighted hall way.  He burst out laughing so I did too, it was pretty funny how scared we were, at least, that's what I thought we were laughing at, until he said, "no, the funny part is, I peed my pants!!!"  Nope. I'll never let him live it down.  We did everything together as kids.  People were shocked at how well we got along (little did they know that was largely because he was content to let me boss him around all day.)  Once we were in the car with Grandma and she suggested we stop for an ice cream cone, but when she noticed Jason fast asleep, she suggested we wait.  "Look!  He's awake, Grandma!  He's awake!" I declared frantically while holding Jason's eyelids open with my fingers.

In our tweens, he was the steady, happy, secure anchor for my wildly melancholy soul.  Many times, my only true friend.  Even in high school, Jason was the friend I could find simple truth and comfort from.  Wholesome and steady- what I desperately needed.

Now he's halfway through college.... WHAT?  Time makes no sense to me.  He will always be my little buddy, but that doesn't mean he isn't growing up.  He astounds me with his integrity, his passion in worship for God, his loyalty.

I admit, I kinda have this thing against the male gender, but Jason breaks down my prejudices.

I love you, little buddy!  And I'm praying God leads you deeper into His heart and purpose for you this year.  You are not a failure.  You are faithful.

Reaching for stars? Or bending toward flowers?

Cyrano: "I aim to bring a star down from the sky-
And stoop, in shame, to pluck a common flower.

Roxane: "A common flower has charm."

Cyrano: "But not tonight.
Tonight I want the star!"

So maybe I'm taking this quote a little out of context, but it's been running through my head all day and is the only way I know how to describe my life right now.
I am so confused.
Especially after watching Machine Gun Preacher last night.  Don't watch it unless you are willing to take on the responsibility of knowledge of one of the most grotesque realities of human suffering and exploitation.
I can't live here like this while others live there like that. or, at least, I don't want to.  I know I can't change the world, may never see much redemption in my lifetime.  But I MUST do something.  I don't even have words for [this].
Do I continue seeking opportunities to go?  Sell everything?  Abandon everyone?  No if/ands/or/buts, only following Him at any cost?  Am I even willing to?
Or.
Do I choose contentment here in the little things?  Is God trying to teach me pure and simple obedience without the "grandeur" of my dreams?
Do I fight?
Or do I let go?
I don't think I know anything anymore.  The more I think, the more tangled I get.
I know I can grasp each with both hands, but I'm so weary of the struggle.
Can I please get out of the valley of uncertainty, Lord?

Covers

Found this lovely and applicable prose poem today and thought I'd share since my own words are tangled up in wires.

Covers

by Kathryn Cowles

I learn to knit so I can knit covers for things, easy things at first covers for my hands covers for my feet for my head and neck soon I am making covers for friends as well I am adept at covering I cover handles on doors I cover the tops of pots, themselves covers, covered with knit yarn, I cover things for my daughter, small things, I make a cover for her eye and a cover for the eye of her doll I make a cover for her doll covering the whole thing except for the eye, for which I have already made a cover, I cover her dollhouse in great patches I connect the patches I am on a roll, I learn to knit in my sleep with the aid of a sleep knitting machine I cover my bed over and over again at night I become more and more adept until I can knit covers for myself as I walk, slow business to be sure but faster and faster for I find I need always to be covered everywhere I go so I knit the cover and trail it behind me to cover where I've been. 

"Tell me everything that happened; tell me everything you saw."

"They had lights inside their eyes...They had lights inside their eyes..."

"Did you see the closing window? Did you hear the slamming door?"

"They moved forward and my heart died...They moved forward and my heart died..."

"Please, please tell me what they looked like; did they seem afraid of you?"

"They were kids that I once knew...They were kids that I once knew..."

I can say it, but you won't you believe me.

You say you do, but you don't deceive me.

It's hard to know they're [out there,]

It's hard to know that you still care.

I can say it, but you won't you believe me.

You say you do, but you don't deceive me.

Dead hearts are everywhere!

Dead hearts are everywhere!

"Did you touch them, did you hold them? Did they follow you to town?"

"They make me feel I'm falling down...They make me feel I'm falling down..."

"Was there one you saw too clearly? Did they seem too real to you?"

"They were kids that I once knew.  

THEY WERE KIDS THAT I ONCE KNEW."

*"Dead Hearts" by Stars

I don't know what to do with the ache.  Pray.  But why pray for them when I could be there for them? Showing them God is good?  Did I give up too soon?  If we are God's plan for fighting injustice- not just brokenness and pain, but injustice, what am I doing here?  Is this conviction or merely ambition?  Yes, we are called to make disciples wherever we find ourselves.  Yes, injustice exists [here], but much more so there!  And so few know it; so few have SEEN it.  How can I know and still be here?  No, I cannot spiritually save every orphan, or even just ^these^ whom I know and love; no, ministry in Ukraine does not need *me*

But I can't live like [this] knowing they live like  < that > and I could do something about it.

sleepless nights

“Behold, now is the favorable time; behold, now is the day of salvation. We put no obstacle in anyone's way, so that no fault may be found with our ministry,  but as servants of God we commend ourselves in every way: by

great endurance,

in afflictions,

hardships,

calamities, 

beatings,

imprisonments,

riots,

labors,

sleepless nights,

hunger; 

by purity,

knowledge,

patience,

kindness,

the Holy Spirit,

genuine love;

by truthful speech,

and the power of God; {with the weapons of righteousness for the right hand and for the left;}

through honor and dishonor,

through slander and praise.

We are treated as impostors, and yet are true; as unknown, and yet well known; as dying, and behold, we live; as punished, and yet not killed; as sorrowful, yet always rejoicing; as poor, yet making many rich; as having nothing, yet possessing everything.

We have spoken freely to you, Corinthians; our heart is wide open. You are NOT restricted by us, but you are restricted in YOUR OWN affections. In return (I speak as to children) (((((((( widen )))))))) your hearts also.”

-2Cor. 6:2-13

I love how the Message says verses 11-13: “Dear, dear Corinthians, I can’t tell you how much I long for you to enter this (((((( wide-open )))))), spacious life. [We didn’t fence you in]. The smallness you feel comes from within you. Your lives aren’t small, but you’re living them in a small way. I’m speaking as plainly as I can and with great affection. Open up your lives. Live openly and expansively!”

When the weather falls...

     That hint of spiced crispness in the air? The slightly faded shade of sky?  That soft sound like a continuous inhale?

     Yes, Autumn.

     Okay, so maybe it's only 76 degrees outside, but hey, in FL that means it's time to pull on your boots and button up your flannel!
     And, for me, Autumn means horse ache.  Robin loved the Fall; she'd perk up the moment the temp. fell...
     For a while, I forgot how much I missed horse life.  When Robin died I filled the void with dance and school and writing and work.  Then I heard about Freedom Ride and decided to pick up a few more community service hours...

     Six-thirty in the morning.  “Bugler’s Dream” woke me from what was more like a nap than a night’s sleep.  It was freezing dark.  Getting out of bed was the last thing I wanted to do, but I did.  “Why exactly am I doing this again?”  I asked myself once my brain relearned how to construct coherent thought, my head hanging over the bathroom sink, listening to the water drip off my freshly scrubbed face and gurgle down the drain.

     A steamy mug of bold coffee laced my morale, made the morning a little brighter, and my heaterless car a little warmer.  Little encouragements started trickling through my mind: You love horses.  This will be fun.  It’s only for a few hours.  It’s sure to warm up soon.  I curved my car into the Freedom Ride property and parked in the bare grass lot.

     I shivered, and not just from the cold.  Life in the equestrian world ended for me only two years ago, but it was a whole different lifetime, things had changed.  What if I had forgotten how to halter a horse?  Would I remember barn jargon?  How would I react to being around horses again?  Sometimes, I still cried myself to sleep.  Memory would strike like lightning, the thunder echo “never again,” then the rain would pour.

     Ducking under the white fence, I saw a short, lean woman with brown curls bursting out from under a baseball cap, wearing a green Freedom Ride Staff hoodie, approaching me from the barn. 

     “Hi there!  I’m Lisa, the barn manager.”

     “Abi,” I responded, shaking her hand.

     “One of our horses is named Abby!  I’m awful with names but I won’t forget yours for sure.”  

     I followed her chucking into the white-washed barn.  Excitement crept up my spine as old but familiar things flooded my senses: the scraping of boots on cement floors, the jostling of feed buckets, the sweet smell of dusty hay, clicking halter buckles, the snorts of anxious horses impatient to leave their stalls and roll in the pasture.  It was like the voices of old friends calling, “remember me?”

            Yes, yes I did.

            After signing in my name and the time, 8:02am, on the clipboard in the tack room, I followed Lisa past the stalls of the horses we would turn out.  Dusty, Lucky, Ginger, Bella, Abby, Image… each horse had his or her name painted brightly above its stall.

     “You know how to halter a horse?”  Lisa asked me.

     I nodded. 

     “Can you grab Dusty for me then?  He’s gonna go in the gelding pasture, the one in the far back corner.  Oh, and you’re cool with taking a blanket off right?” 

     I was.  Dusty’s halter hung beside his stall so I snatched it as I walked in.  As a therapeutic riding horse to tons of disabled kids, Dusty wasn’t the least bit shy.  His ears pricked up and his thick, muscular neck craned away from his feed bucket to look me over before plodding closer, pushing his nose into my hands.  I felt the mist of his warm breath as he introduced himself with short snorts- horse courtesy.  

     It was the smell that got me, the musky, sweet, earthy, spiced, idiosyncratic smell that is undeniably horse.  My throat contracted and I swallowed hard, then let my face fall into his neck and simply breathed.  It was so good to breathe that smell again, to simply breathe it, not to remember, not to regret, not to anguish, simply to smell, and to heal.

     ... Oh, what sap!  But hey, a girl's allowed some sentimental expression now and then.

Listen, you know those days when you get the Mean Reds?

... for me, going to Tiffany's wouldn't help at all, but whales do.

And these were too epic not to share...







Someday, I'M going to be the person behind the camera.  Or even without a camera.

Why I am so thankful I don't live in Regency England

     This woman has deceived a plethora of young ladies (including, at times, myself) into pinning after the Regency Era.  Such manners!  Such conversation!  Such lovely architecture, countryside, and top hats!  

     Ha.  No thank you, Jane Austen.  House/pet-sitting has taught me one thing: being stuck inside all day with no greater occupation than spoon-feeding cats and crocheting baby blankets is driving me MAD.  How, how did women spend their entire LIVES like this?!  No wonder so many were sent to insane asylums.  At least there's no yellow wallpaper in the house...

     But there are always things to be thankful for:

1. a "job"

2. no deadline stress

3. Gator Pop Tarts!!

Just LOOK at them!  What's not to love?!?

     And being trapped in a foreign house all day has allowed me MUCH time to think.  And, of course, I've been thinking about Ukraine.

     When I came back this summer, I thought I'd only stay long enough to prepare for something long term in Ukraine.  Well, God simply said, "no."  Not yet, at least.  

     As anyone who knows me could guess, I was NOT okay with this.  Why would God give me a passion for this country, this people, these orphans, and not allow me to go back?  I wasn't looking for a fun year long fling; I was ready to invest my LIFE there...

     And maybe that's still in my future.  I continue to hope, but God has opened my eyes to needs HERE.  I'm in the States at this particular moment for a reason and I don't want to miss it by looking to the future.  Chambers -yet again- convicted me:

    "We have to maintain our soul open to the fact of God's creative purpose, and not muddle it with our own intentions.  If we do, God will have to crush our intentions on one side however much it may hurt.  The purpose for which the missionary is created is that he may be God's servant, one in whom God is glorified."

     He crushed my intentions alright.  but there's sweetness in the crushing.  I'm beginning to see broken lives all around me, not just in Ukraine.  The Lord is my first love, not ministry.  I can give Him my desires and passion for Ukraine because He gave them to me in the first place.  I can "dwell in the land and befriend faithfulness," trusting He will give me the desires of my heart as I delight in Him.

     It's amazing.  Before Ukraine I lacked empathy and passion for the broken people in my community.  God sent me all the way to Ukraine, over and over again, to mold my heart into His, to teach me love and compassion and zeal.  He really is after my heart.... the God of the universe intimately and furiously pursues me and forms me into His likeness.  I am totally still a mess, but I'm humbled as I realize what God has done and is doing.

     Was the whole purpose of Ukraine in my life to break my heart for what breaks His so that I could come home and minister to broken people here?  

     I hope not.  But even if it was, it's enough.

Game Day

         Confession: I don't really love football.  I barely know anything about the game.  But, I LOVE the Gators-  

I was born in Gainesville.  

My Dad's a Gator.  

My uncle's a Gator.  

My brother's a Gator.

My grandfather has season game tickets.  

The Swap is the only place I've ever seen live football.  

      But this year, every time the Gators take the field, I think of Uncle Dougie.  Uncle Dougie didn't go to UF, but I don't think a more dedicated fan ever shouted "CHOMP 'EM!"  Every year or so, Uncle Dougie wore a different Gator hat, retiring last year's hat to a nail on the Lil' Swamp's wall.  Uncle Dougie’s Lil' Swamp (also called the Gator Shed) held more Gator paraphernalia than any place in Gainesville excepting Ben Hill Griffin Stadium itself!  The hand-built shed was filled with newspaper clippings, stadium seats, autographed pictures and footballs, jerseys, T-shirts, handmade signs, stuffed animals, orange and blue painted everything, soda cans, game cups, and rafters full of baseball caps.

      And he was Mr. Positive.  In the middle of the Gator’s worst game ever of their worst season ever, Uncle Dougie still found something positive to say about the players, the coach, or -if all else failed- next season.

      Uncle Doug's life and "positive" weren't always compatible.  Life was rough.  But you never would have guessed if you met him.  To me, he was my Easter egg hunting buddy, wrestling buddy, the person super enthusiastic about any new "talent" I developed, and the person who called me beautiful even when I knew I wasn't.

      He smiled a lot.  Smoked even more (though he tried to hide it from us "kids" for years by saying he was just going out on the porch).  He loved history and old bottles, and his little town, Lacrosse.  He even thought of running for mayor.  He was a good neighbor.  He wasn't perfect, but for a man with that much pain in his life, it's amazing how much he loved people.

      I’ll never forget standing in his front yard with him and my family when his neighbor drove by and paused for a chat.  

      “These your people?”  The neighbor asked Doug, nodding his head toward us from his red pick-up.

      “They sure are!” Uncle Doug beamed.

      “Well, if you’re Doug’s people, you’re good people.”

      I thought of Proverbs, “a good name is to be more desired than great wealth.”

    

      Uncle Doug died of liver cancer 5 months ago.  During his short battle, he gave his life to Jesus.  My dad told me (right after I got a speeding ticket) as I drove up to Shands Hospital in Gainesville.  I wanted to believe it, but doubt overwhelmed me.  Many people say things they don’t mean when they’re on their death bed.  Maybe he was just scared, or maybe he just pretended to give his heart to Jesus because he knew that’s what we wanted.  Lord, please, help me to really know.

        The first words I heard Uncle Doug say when I reached his room and gave his weak body a hug were, “Hey Beautiful.  Thank you, Jesus, for bringing my beautiful niece to see me.”

       I knew.

      

       Now Jesus is reaping part of the reward He paid for on the cross.  Uncle Doug is fully restored to Him. 

       And some of Uncle Doug’s ashes remain on Ben Hill Griffin Field.

    

Go Gators.

I swear I'm not a feminist....

but really, Irene Adler in Steven Moffat's Sherlock episode, "A Scandal in Belgravia," encompasses everything grotesque in patriarchal societies.
I'm serious.

At the beginning of the episode, Moriarty threatens Adler, "If you have what you say you have, I'll make you rich.  If not, I'll make you into shoes."
When Moriarty threatens Holmes at the end of the previous episode, he says, "If you don't stop prying, I'll burn you.  I will burn the heart out of you."
What do we have here?  Objectification.  Man = burned.  Woman = turned into an object- shoes.  What an appropriate way to introduce Irene Adler.

If one more person says she's a complex, independent, realistic character, heads will roll.  And Sherlock won't be there with a scimitar to save them.

Beyond the stereotypical bad-ass-tamed-into-damsel-in-distress, there's something deeper, and far more dangerous, communicated through Adler's character.  I can forgive stereotypes, they're created from an element of truth.  But Adler's character expresses an absolute fallacy about women, a fallacy that has blinded so many men and women in our culture with devastating results.  

Women gain agency through their sexuality.

The liberated woman, right?  Women are free to use sex as a power play, and Adler certainly does. She uses her sexuality to gain the upper hand over men, and the world believes this empowers her.

No woman can/does actually use sex as a power tool.  Real women get burned.  No woman can use her body as a tool like that and not be extremely hurt, jaded, and violated to the core of her being- physically and emotionally.  It makes no real difference if she's being violated by someone else or if she's violating herself.  It's all a facade.  Women objectify themselves as sex symbols because it gives them a false sense of control.  Either violate yourself or be violated.  It really isn't much of a choice.   

Moffat portrays Adler as the ultimate woman, "The Woman," literally.  She's man's ideal: a sex symbol with a brain, "brainy is the new sexy," who knows "what men like," and appears to like giving it to them.  It's not enough for her to be sexually powerful (that can be too intimidating), she also has to want Sherlock emotionally.  He's her weakness.  And in the end, she becomes the tame damsel in distress who is literally saved by her mighty, sword-wielding knight.

Sure we live in a gender equal society where men no longer objectify women.  They don't need to, we've taught women to objectify themselves.

Here's another fabulous article from The Guardian on this subject:
http://www.guardian.co.uk/commentisfree/2012/jan/03/sherlock-sexist-steven-moffat

Hard to love

So it's a bit theologically unsound, but I'm pretty sure Lee Brice's song "Hard to Love" is actually about Jesus and me.
Just replace Lee with me
and the girl with Jesus.

It's pathetic, but I have the hardest time accepting the fact that God's love for me is utterly unmerited.  Either He loves me and has good reason to because I am awesome, or He realizes I'm a wreck and only loves me out of obligation to His goodness- so says my silly head.

Fact 1: I CANNOT earn God's love
Fact 2: but it's still authentic and transcends unfathomable depths.

Somehow, fact 1 and fact 2 are both true.
I just don't get it.


But I love that You love me good.

Beloved

He loves me.
It's incredible.

He loves me.
He loves me.
He loves me.

I've been beating on His chest for weeks now, bitter, angry, accusing Him of cruelty, blaming Him for my broken heart.  Didn't I ask Him to break my heart for what breaks His?
It didn't matter.
All I could see and know and feel and taste was suffering.  In the brokenness of my own heart I refused to see how greatly suffering pained Him.  His heart broke first.
As I struggle with trusting Him, He gently pulls me closer and closer into Him, letting me struggle, letting me hurt Him.
Oh, what kind of love is like this?
He looks at me, the one who should be named Condemned, and He calls me Redeemed.
I deserve wrath.
He gives me love.
.....

If the Titanic was made to sink
then so was my heart
for I made sure it was [{(impenetrable)}]...
So what then?
What good is a broken / heart to You?
Can you even hear my heart from {there}?

And like a father assuring his son to come home,
“Oh my son, it’s enough. 
It’s enough.”

So who am I to accept this grace that just falls like rain?
‘Cause we all know I chose to lay my head in this desert.
But like a fish out of water,
we only know then what it means to be --parched--.
So if Christ is alive,
the love,
and the groom
then take heed my friends
for chivalry is not dead! 
For I know no other lover who would have met me
[here in this place].

So I awake and I rise from my bed of complacency,
"Oh, my God, I’ve been sleeping with a corpse!
Oh, and these bed sores they still rest in my bones.
Oh, how I’ve made a beautiful dance with this cadaver,
but my audience is appalled.

Oh, how strong these tendons!
How they desperately need to ~rip~ from this ancient Adam.
So light up the sky
and set me a flame!
Burn this bone and tissue
for I no longer want to be [[entangled]] in this sinew
that ///hinders/// my reach
towards You
                                                   -"Tendons" by Bellarive


"Behold, it was for my welfare
    that I had great bitterness;
but in love you have delivered my life
    from the pit of destruction,
for you have cast all my sins
    behind your back."      Isaiah 38:17

“Come, let us return to the Lord;
    for He has torn us, that He may heal us;
    He has struck us down, and He will bind us up.
² After two days He will revive us;
    on the third day He will raise us up,
    that we may live before Him.
³ Let us know; let us press on to know the Lord;
    His going out is sure as the dawn;
He will come to us as the showers,
    as the spring rains that water the earth.”    Hosea 6:1-3

Restless and Worn

I know what you're probably thinking, "Abi finally blogged about Ukraine!"
nope.
Even I thought I was going to blog about Ukraine. I sat on the couch with my lap top, opened a new blog post..... and nope.
sorry.
It's not happening.
 I went to the east coast with Comrade for sunrise and soul-soothing in the ocean. But it wasn't enough. I was restless.
 I wanted to swim and swim and swim and swim until my heart gave out and my body succumbed to the waves. I needed so much space that my eyes couldn't rest on anything but an eternally blue horizon. I needed a boat.
Need is a relative term.
 All I really need is Christ. But a boat would've been nice.
 I will blog about Ukraine eventually, I'm just having trouble getting the words right. In the meantime, 10th Ave's words will have to explain what mine can't.

I'm tired 
 I'm worn 
 My heart is heavy 
 From the work it takes to keep on breathing 
 I've made mistakes 
 I've let my hope fail 
 My soul feels crushed 
 By the weight of this world 
 And I know that you can give me rest 
 So I cry out with all that I have left 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Cause I'm worn 
 I know I need To lift my eyes up 
 But I'm too week 
 Life just won't let up 
 And I know that You can give me rest 
 So I cry out with all that I have left 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Cause I'm worn And my prayers are wearing thin 
 I'm worn even before the day begins 
 I'm worn I've lost my will to fight 
 I'm worn so heaven come and flood my eyes 
 Let me see redemption win 
 Let me know the struggle ends 
 That you can mend a heart that's frail and torn 
 I want to know a song can rise 
 From the ashes of a broken life 
 And all that's dead inside can be reborn 
 Yes all that's dead inside will be reborn 
 Though I'm worn 
 Yeah I'm worn

Follow me?

I'm going back to Ukraine!  Which means I won't post anything here for the next few weeks, but you can follow my Ukraine journeys at http://restoreukraine.blogspot.com/ if you want to know what I'm up to!

Count the stars...if you are able

After these events, the word of the Lord came to Abram in a vision:

Do not be afraid, Abram.

I am your shield;

your reward will be very great.

But Abram said, “Lord God, what can You give me, since I am childless and the heir of my house is Eliezer of Damascus?”  Abram continued, “Look, You have given me no offspring, so a slave born in my house will be my heir.”

Now the word of the Lord came to him: “This one will not be your heir; instead, one who comes from your own body will be your heir.”  He took him outside and said, “Look at the sky and count the stars, if you are able to count them.” Then He said to him, “Your offspring will be that numerous.”

Abram believed the Lord, and He credited it to him as righteousness.  ~Gen. 15:1-6

My neighborhood doesn't have street lights (thank God) so climbing up on the roof to look at the stars is not entirely fruitless.

I needed space. 

Whatever glint of stars and half-hearted moon I could get would have to be enough. 

When I first laid down on the flat part of my roof that hangs over the back porch, only the half moon was visible amid the deep purple sky, but as my eyes adjusted, tiny flickers of light softly emerged from the darkness, like dust specks that get in your eyes but you can never focus on because they move along with your iris.  I let myself shrink as my sight drifted off into eternity.  I focus on one star and try to realize it isn't a piece of glitter, but a gigantic ball of fire light years away.  I try to imagine how far a light year is. 

Impossible. 

Trees surround my house, so from my view on the roof, the sky is framed by tree tops, so I decided to count the stars in the basin.  I had to start over many times, finally concluding with a rough total of 102.  A moment after, the sky suddenly seemed to deepen and brighten with a trillion more stars as if my vision was suddenly extended by light years.  The vision flashed and was gone.  With all my efforts, I could only count 102 stars, but how many more are really out there! 

I understand why God told Abraham to count the stars.  Imagine how visible they must have been without artificial lighting or pollution anywhere on the planet!

God could have said, "What, you don't trust me, Abraham?  Fine, count to a zillion.  What?  You don't even know what a zillion is?  Well it's a massive number that would take you years to count to.  Your offspring will be more than that number!"

But He didn't.  He brought Abraham out to look at the stars.  Not only were they impossible to count, they were beautiful, incomprehensible.  Abraham didn't know what they were made of, how far away they were, how or when they appeared... but God knew them all by name.  

Creation declares His glory.

Who needs a mental dump?  That's right, this mess-of-a-person right here.  So brace yourselves- this could get crazy.

Thank the good Lord for friends who randomly pick you up from work and take you to the sea!!  Reason # 4,132 I love the ocean?  My eyes have (          space          ).  When I look toward the horizon over the water, I can rest knowing my eyes are looking to the furthest reaches of their grasp, unblocked by a computer screen, wall, building, car, tree, star, anything!  Puts me in my place every time.  The sea goes on far, far, far beyond my sight.  What looks like a drop off into oblivion is really my eyes' inability to follow the curvature of the earth to Africa, Australia...  Physical proof that I am limited.  But God is not.  and I can trust Him.

And uh, speaking about trusting God, He's brought me through quite the ride these past few days.  Remember I was wrestling with the cost of following Christ?  Well...
So many things.  I don't really know how to accurately express them.  One out of every 3 women around the world are sexually abused.  1 out of three.  There are 3 women in my immediate family alone.  What gives us the right to be the one?  No, NO ONE deserves abuse.  But sin is destroying our world, and I have been beyond blessed in my life when I compare it to the statistics.  The very least I can do is spend my life rescuing and healing the other two.  Sinner that I am, I deserve NOTHING, no good thing, no assurance of freedom from present suffering, nor of eternal salvation, yet God generously and freely gives me salvation, so what care I of present safety?  I have Him.  My sins are not counted against me.  I will be with Him in Paradise.  What else matters?  What cost could possibly cause me to waiver?  What could possibly be worth more than Jesus?  Look at those who have gone before me.  When they had to choose between Jesus or anything else, Jesus was the only possible option.  
Stephen- while people stone him to death, he cries out to God for their forgiveness.  Why?  His soul was committed to Jesus.  He was eternally secure.  Stephen knew the people stoning him were in a far more tragic state than he was, and he was overcome with pity.  
Paul- knowing he is about to be executed, declares to Timothy, "The Lord will rescue me from every evil deed and bring me safely into His heavenly kingdom."   
John Huss- burned to death but singing God's praises until the roar of the flames consumed his voice.
Dietrich Bonhoeffer, Jim Elliot, millions of others....
And Jesus.  "who did not count equality with God as a thing to be grasped, but emptied himself, taking the form of a servant... he humbled Himself to the point of death, even death on a cross!"  Jesus, who "was pierced for our transgressions; he was crushed for our iniquities; upon him was the chastisement that brought us peace, and with his wounds we are healed!"  Jesus suffered beyond recognition for me.  Died for me.  Took the responsibility for my sin.  How utterly ashamed this makes me feel to think I could ever doubt His worthiness.  
I don't want safety and comfort to rule my life.  I want Jesus.  I want to be eternally focused, focused on the place my Groom has prepared for me to be forever with Him.  A real, tangible place, that will come on a real, tangible day.  
My brother Jason said it so well,
"We are Alliens in a foreign land, misfits, outsiders. But we focus our attention on the great City. We speak of its beauty, its majesty. How the King is just and pure, that there is only love and joy for all Eternity in this City, this City of our King. We live in darkness but are filled with light. We walk in the shadows but our path is lit by the Truth. We are Alliens, the Salt of the earth. His glory shines from our lips leaving a sweet taste in the hungry mouth."- Jason "The Taste of Eternity is here on our lips. With Every Breath we sing, with every breath we sing of your Majesty here in our mists!"
"For here we do not have an enduring city, but we are looking for the City that is to come."

Warning: this post deals with adult content and is not suitable for all audiences. Lizzy, I wouldn't read this one.

Dreams are fascinating things.

Multiple dreams just won't let me go; they invade my sleep over and over again.  Some are just strange- the smoking dreams in which I'm chain-smoking cartons of cigarettes and LOVING every. single. inhale. feeling smoke burn and fill my lungs then thickly slide out the side of my mouth.  I've never smoked a single cigarette in my life, and because of these dreams, I'm terrified just one puff would make me addicted forever.  But I digress.

There are more, the tiny spaces dreams, the waking-up-in-an-ugly-wedding-dress-and-marrying-a-man-I-didn't-love dreams, the rabbit hole/Jabba the Hut dreams, the pulling-people-out-of-a-crocodile's-jaws dreams....

While unpleasant, those dreams are rather petty.

There are the nightmares, however. 

I've had them rather consistently for as long as I can remember.  For many years, I didn't tell anyone and tried to push the nightmares into the furthest corners of my memory.  I'd wake up, shudder, and force myself to forget.  But they persisted, and last year I finally started talking about them with people I love and trust.

One of the reasons I'm passionate about fighting sex trafficking is that I've been dream raped and exploited several times in my sleep.  NO, I cannot relate to people who have been raped and abused.  I am NOT saying I can fully emphasize with people whose vulnerability is exploited.  But I've glimpsed their fear and pain, and that simple exposure alone overwhelms me.  I know the nightmares are not real, but in the heat of them, I don't know what's real or not.

Sometimes I'm in a brothel with many women I don't know.

Sometimes I'm hanging out with friends and we're jumped in a parking lot.

Sometimes I'm home alone.

Sometimes I discover a room full of little girls locked up by a teacher.

Once, I had a 4yr old girl taken from me during a Sunday School class.

One of these nightmares came upon me in Ukraine last summer.  I dreamed I was in a room with a bunch of young girls and some men I knew.  Suddenly, I realized all the men but one had a dark intent in bringing us girls together.  I tried not to panic or let the men know I realized their plan while also trying to get the one honest man's attention.  But he fell asleep.  Then the other men attacked.  One had a knife and lunged to slit the sleeping man's throat, but I jumped in the way, grabbing for the knife while trying to wake the sleeping man.  He wouldn't wake up, but I was able to wiggle out of the knife man's grasp and bolt out the door and through a field.  I felt safe but sick with the knowledge of what was happening to the other girls.

I woke up.

I got out of bed and went to the sink to wash my face and hopefully my mind.  With water dripping down my face, I asked God something I'd never asked Him before,

"Why?  Why the nightmares, Lord?"

I don't usually heard God respond in a clear voice, but a thought shot through my mind,

"I don't want you to leave them behind anymore."

I realized a central theme in many of my nightmares.  I often got away, but the others didn't.

Was there a purpose in all this?  Maybe.  I'll never forget a friend telling me, 

"you've seen the need.  Now do something about it."

So I started doing what I could.  It isn't much, and there's so much more I'd like to do, but God hasn't released me to do it yet.  So I'll do what I can in the waiting/preparing period.

 

Why do I write all this?  Well, there's another theme in most of my nightmares.  Two nights ago, I dreamed a pimp and his boss were following me through an abandoned farm they had turned into a breaking ground for trafficked girls.  This time, I realized I was dreaming, so I cried out to God to wake me up.  Please Lord, just wake me up and all this will end.  Save me!

He didn't.  I felt hopeless and utterly abandoned.  Now I assume God wanted me to experience the whole dream for a reason.  I know He didn't simply ignore my pleas.

But it's been worse.

In one nightmare, I was chased and cornered in a two story building by an old, feeble man and a middle-aged, Hulk-sized man.  In my dream, I screamed,

"Jesus!  Save me!  Oh God, please rescue me!"

As the huge man approached me, unbuckling his belt, he laughed,

"Oh, God will save you, but only after we're done with you."

Could that be Satan lying to me and trying to scare me?  Sure.  Maybe.  But you know what?  In a way, he's right.  If I get heavily involved in fighting sexual exploitation, I'm not guaranteed safety.  Hell, I'm not guaranteed safety while typing this on my couch here at home!  Nefarious things happen to Christians every day and God does not always rescue them.

Tonight, Dad and I were the only ones at home, and that means war movie night!  This time we watched Act of Valor.  A good movie, but I don't want to go off topic.  At the beginning of the film, a female CIA agent is captured by Jihad members and she's gruesomely tortured for not talking. 

Would I do that?  Would I suffer like that if asked to deny Christ or in attempt to save exploited people? 

Ah, honestly?  I don't think so.

I know God will never leave me or forsake me.  I know He holds my right hand, hems me in, hides me in the shadow of His wing, but that doesn't mean He won't let me suffer.

Am I truly willing to take that risk?  To go out into the darkness even in the face of suffering and death?

I don't know.  I'm really wrestling.  It bothers me so much.

I don't know exactly what these dreams mean, whether they're attacks from Satan or messages from God, or simply terrors in my psyche.  But they've caused me to wrestle with some hard things.  I know God will bring good from it, and I know He's worth everything, and I know I can't live in fear of what may never come to pass, but this is all weighing heavy on my soul and I just needed to get it out somehow.