It is a process, this becoming. Becoming what. Becoming who. Becoming all I was intended to be. Becoming whole. Shedding layers of falsehood in order to become who Jesus has called me to be.
I need to just be myself as I was always intended to be. No worldly bells and whistles. Just me and Jesus.
You see, I don’t need bells and whistles. Oh, I try them on from time to time, sometimes daily, trying to convince myself that they will make me more, make me better. But they are cumbersome. They are loud. And they distract from who I am in Jesus.
The world says that I, on my own, am not enough.
I've been thinking so often lately about who I am. Struggling with what is spoken over me and what I know to be true. It's about my value and where that value comes from.
It is not rooted in my bank account.
It is not found in what my friends think of me.
It is not because I'm single.
It is not based on my blog followers, facebook wall posts, or daily text message count.
It is so simple.
My value comes from and is rooted in LOVE. The love of a Father who, because of His great love for me, chose to come down and live as one of us, chose to die for me, chose to defeat death for me.
You are valuable because God loves you. I am valuable because God loves me. We are valuable because we are loved so deeply by an infinite and eternal God who, for the joy and glory set before him, endured the cross, so that we might be reconciled to Him, so that we might fully live in the love of the Lord.
I am deeply resting in this knowledge today.
Praying you always know how loved you are,
Alyssa
Monday, October 31, 2011
Friday, October 28, 2011
He Meets Me.
"... so I'll stand with arms high and heart abandoned..."
I’ve had a constant picture lately of arms raised.
Raised in worship.
Raised in praise to Him.
But more than that, raised in surrender.
I’ve been reading a lot about waiting lately and have felt the Lord reminding me to wait for a few months now. Wait for sisters, wait for family, wait for love... and I have NO idea what God has planned. But I know the desires of my heart and when I get anxious about these desires, it is this image of arms raised that immediately comes into my mind.
I am *not proudly* a control freak and God is redeeming that in me. He isn’t telling me not to desire, but rather to relinquish control. To relinquish my demands that He move in my way and in my time.
To wait is not to sublimate or repress desire. God tells us to voice our desires. But expressing what we long for is different from demanding that God or someone else give it to us.
~ A. A. Calhoun
When I come before Him with my desires and my arms open, I am giving myself to His will and His plan.
I am giving myself over to His "when".
But the place, the "when", is a hard place. I want to sit here with my hands clenched. With my pen ready to make lists of how to make life work. But all that does is hunch my body over and erase the time I should be spending at His feet. When I come out of my huddle and lay humbly at His feet; when I open myself, there is freedom. There is peace. And there is growth.
A flower bulb eventually has to open itself up. It can’t stay huddled in it’s “if”. It has to open itself up when the time is right and then, there is true beauty. But only when the “when” is right.
How thankful I am for the ways that God meets me where I am and with what I need to stay focused on Him.
Where is God meeting you today?
I’ve had a constant picture lately of arms raised.
Raised in worship.
Raised in praise to Him.
But more than that, raised in surrender.
I’ve been reading a lot about waiting lately and have felt the Lord reminding me to wait for a few months now. Wait for sisters, wait for family, wait for love... and I have NO idea what God has planned. But I know the desires of my heart and when I get anxious about these desires, it is this image of arms raised that immediately comes into my mind.
I am *not proudly* a control freak and God is redeeming that in me. He isn’t telling me not to desire, but rather to relinquish control. To relinquish my demands that He move in my way and in my time.
To wait is not to sublimate or repress desire. God tells us to voice our desires. But expressing what we long for is different from demanding that God or someone else give it to us.
~ A. A. Calhoun
When I come before Him with my desires and my arms open, I am giving myself to His will and His plan.
I am giving myself over to His "when".
But the place, the "when", is a hard place. I want to sit here with my hands clenched. With my pen ready to make lists of how to make life work. But all that does is hunch my body over and erase the time I should be spending at His feet. When I come out of my huddle and lay humbly at His feet; when I open myself, there is freedom. There is peace. And there is growth.
A flower bulb eventually has to open itself up. It can’t stay huddled in it’s “if”. It has to open itself up when the time is right and then, there is true beauty. But only when the “when” is right.
How thankful I am for the ways that God meets me where I am and with what I need to stay focused on Him.
Where is God meeting you today?
Sunday, October 23, 2011
Thoughts from Seattle: To Caitlin.
I've been in Seattle for a few days, in case you didn't know :) I have been on all kinds of adventures, including: a trip to Lululemon, trips to swanky little coffee shops, clam chowder experiments, singing loud and obnoxiously, the GUM wall, Dick's, Pike's Place, Pho for dinner, story telling, and crazy driving. It's been a whirlwind of a few days, but such a blessing.
As I sat in today's coffee house of choice, stumbling through mounds and mounds of homework... I realized that this spontaneous trip to Seattle with a best friend is, in many ways, a last. LIFE is about to change. and it's about to change fast. In 245 days, sweet Caitlin will exchange vows with the love of her life, and begin a marriage journey. In 76 days, sweet Caitlin will begin the nursing program, two and half years away from a diploma and a bachelor's of science in nursing. And in approximately 11 hours, sweet Caitlin and I will begin the journey home from our last road trip for a while. It's a sobering, frightening, exciting, exhilarating, wild, unsettling, beautiful time. As a new season is about to begin, I find myself overwhelmed by the past year and a half. I know one thing for sure: I would not be where I am today if it weren't for the love of Jesus pouring out from Caitlin. Her life of obedience and confidence has brought me closer to Jesus.
... and because my thoughts are a jumbled mess when I attempt to talk out loud, I have some written words for you :)
Caitlin,
Age and time depart gently, and somehow I grasp at words and hugs and bright smiles and laughter and well wishes, as I ponder the reality that day becomes night and fall sinks into winter and your twelve year old self who hid away for hours watching The Little Princess, lost in the world of Narnia and battling illnesses with Ma and Pa and Laura and Mary... she has become this almost-twenty-one-year-old self, rooted in the lofty thoughts of Jesus and making her heart a home for the stories we all carry in us. How did that happen? What will this new season hold? What kind of beautiful, flourishing life might you grow?
You made it! You're HERE, in the nursing program... with a sparkling diamond on your finger, a family who bursts with pride to call you daughter/sister/fiancee, and friends who would do anything for you. As I sit here overcome with thankfulness for you, I am praying that you remain caught up in the wonder and majesty of Jesus, and in the adventure and work of obeying Him. Pray often, sweet girl. Beauty lies hidden in the small things. Seek it high and low in the hearts around you, in the moments of laughter outside with Ruby and Vincent, and the familiar accomplishment as you get another perfect score on that exam and veer towards the next one. Fly on the wings of anticipation even when you thud to the ground, because you were born to be a bird, Cait. So expect great, magnificent things. Rest deeply in the hope that when you wake up tomorrow, you will be able to love more fully and be more equipped to serve Him. Rest deeply in the hope that by leaning into the wind and the wonder, you will find His hands and His will and His love. Rest deeply in the promise that He dwells in your heart and you will be filled. You will be full to overflowing. Have patience with unresolved questions and anxiousness in your heart, and love the questions themselves as if they were locked treasure chests or books written in a romantic foreign language. Live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Trust that He has the most perfect timing.
I'm sitting on the purple sleeping bag that you mysteriously thought I ripped, surrounded by books and papers, clothes and blankets, and a long list of things I still need to get done before it's back to reality. My computer is crooning some Jesus Culture to me and I'm hiding from the massive amounts of homework. I don't know if you know this... but I used to write letters. Ask anyone I went to high school with, I was a writer. I wrote letter's to whisper in people's ears when I couldn't accurately speak over them in person. I wrote to surprise them. I wrote because words have always presented themselves to me, promised that they'll send my heart out into the world if only I spend time with them. I wrote in the hope that I would speak over them the miraculous words "You are extraordinary", because how many of us get told that every day? As I thought about you and your beautiful heart tonight, I realized how much I miss saying that to people. I think somewhere between the disappointment of love, the hurt, and the chaos of turning 16, then 17... I lost the pattern of watching what is extraordinary about people. And then I met YOU, and your life undoubtedly crossed over into mine, and wove itself into some of the deepest places in my heart. So I want you to know, beautiful Caitlin, that You.Are.Extraordinary. I don't know how to compile the words in a more elegant way, but that word, extraordinary, seems to fit. I am thinking about how you have journeyed with me to so many different places- a place of insecurity and unworthiness, a place of desired selflessness that was driven by fear, a place of uncertainty and discouragement, a place of joy and total abandonment, a place of excitement and great anticipation, a place of healing and hope, a place of redemption and love.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not communicating the words correctly, and you can't hear me say them. So picture this: We're sitting in Starbucks. Or it could be the Teacup, I suppose. Or Bustle. But wherever we are, I have my hands cupped around a green tea or caramel apple cider. I'm wearing jeans, the shoes that I copied from you, and a sweatshirt because I somehow think it makes me look sportier. hahaha. I keep putting my drink down because I talk with my hands to make my point. I might almost knock your drink over once or twice. I lean into to hear you over the murmurs around us, and then I lean back with a mischevious grin on my face and ask, "So. What's on your heart today?" I can't help it. I just think that's a better question than what scrubs you wore the other day, or what your favorite gum is right now. I want to know the answers, and hold them up to the light streaming in the windows and share them with you, so you can see just how extraordinary you are. So we're sitting in Starbucks, drinking our tea (but you obviously have some kind of coffee) and exclaiming over the questions and answers we have found, over the realization that you have a Barbie smile, over your excitement to be a Read. And then I lean in, and I tell you this, because whether you're wandering through Italy with your dad, wrangling two boys into doing homework after jiu-jitsu, or typing a Facebook message to your life group... you are extraordinary.
You are an extraordinary writer, because only you have the voice you have, and only you carry the words the way you carry them. You are an extraordinary listener, because in our imaginary Starbucks afternoon, you've been listening to me and making space for me to ramble on and on, meandering through ideas and books and questions. You are an extraordinary searcher, and asker of questions and laughter filled, smile-so-wide-it-scrunches-up-your-eyes person, because you let things weigh what they weigh, not too heavily or too lightly. Because you have helped me see what's extraordinary about the world, even when I don't know how to love it or how to see the beauty, or how to make sense of Endocrine system.
So thank you. For being extraordinary.
For being in my life, and in my heart- and for letting me touch a small part of yours.
To the girl with the Barbie smile and the most beautiful heart, I love you. I can't wait to watch you SOAR as you continue to walk in the gifts and plans that Jesus has laid out for you.
I will be praying, cheering for you the whole way. You've got this. Thanks for a beautiful season. I am blessed to know you.
~Alyssa
As I sat in today's coffee house of choice, stumbling through mounds and mounds of homework... I realized that this spontaneous trip to Seattle with a best friend is, in many ways, a last. LIFE is about to change. and it's about to change fast. In 245 days, sweet Caitlin will exchange vows with the love of her life, and begin a marriage journey. In 76 days, sweet Caitlin will begin the nursing program, two and half years away from a diploma and a bachelor's of science in nursing. And in approximately 11 hours, sweet Caitlin and I will begin the journey home from our last road trip for a while. It's a sobering, frightening, exciting, exhilarating, wild, unsettling, beautiful time. As a new season is about to begin, I find myself overwhelmed by the past year and a half. I know one thing for sure: I would not be where I am today if it weren't for the love of Jesus pouring out from Caitlin. Her life of obedience and confidence has brought me closer to Jesus.
... and because my thoughts are a jumbled mess when I attempt to talk out loud, I have some written words for you :)
Caitlin,
Age and time depart gently, and somehow I grasp at words and hugs and bright smiles and laughter and well wishes, as I ponder the reality that day becomes night and fall sinks into winter and your twelve year old self who hid away for hours watching The Little Princess, lost in the world of Narnia and battling illnesses with Ma and Pa and Laura and Mary... she has become this almost-twenty-one-year-old self, rooted in the lofty thoughts of Jesus and making her heart a home for the stories we all carry in us. How did that happen? What will this new season hold? What kind of beautiful, flourishing life might you grow?
You made it! You're HERE, in the nursing program... with a sparkling diamond on your finger, a family who bursts with pride to call you daughter/sister/fiancee, and friends who would do anything for you. As I sit here overcome with thankfulness for you, I am praying that you remain caught up in the wonder and majesty of Jesus, and in the adventure and work of obeying Him. Pray often, sweet girl. Beauty lies hidden in the small things. Seek it high and low in the hearts around you, in the moments of laughter outside with Ruby and Vincent, and the familiar accomplishment as you get another perfect score on that exam and veer towards the next one. Fly on the wings of anticipation even when you thud to the ground, because you were born to be a bird, Cait. So expect great, magnificent things. Rest deeply in the hope that when you wake up tomorrow, you will be able to love more fully and be more equipped to serve Him. Rest deeply in the hope that by leaning into the wind and the wonder, you will find His hands and His will and His love. Rest deeply in the promise that He dwells in your heart and you will be filled. You will be full to overflowing. Have patience with unresolved questions and anxiousness in your heart, and love the questions themselves as if they were locked treasure chests or books written in a romantic foreign language. Live everything. Live the questions now. Perhaps then, someday in the future, you will gradually, without even noticing it, live your way into the answer. Trust that He has the most perfect timing.
I'm sitting on the purple sleeping bag that you mysteriously thought I ripped, surrounded by books and papers, clothes and blankets, and a long list of things I still need to get done before it's back to reality. My computer is crooning some Jesus Culture to me and I'm hiding from the massive amounts of homework. I don't know if you know this... but I used to write letters. Ask anyone I went to high school with, I was a writer. I wrote letter's to whisper in people's ears when I couldn't accurately speak over them in person. I wrote to surprise them. I wrote because words have always presented themselves to me, promised that they'll send my heart out into the world if only I spend time with them. I wrote in the hope that I would speak over them the miraculous words "You are extraordinary", because how many of us get told that every day? As I thought about you and your beautiful heart tonight, I realized how much I miss saying that to people. I think somewhere between the disappointment of love, the hurt, and the chaos of turning 16, then 17... I lost the pattern of watching what is extraordinary about people. And then I met YOU, and your life undoubtedly crossed over into mine, and wove itself into some of the deepest places in my heart. So I want you to know, beautiful Caitlin, that You.Are.Extraordinary. I don't know how to compile the words in a more elegant way, but that word, extraordinary, seems to fit. I am thinking about how you have journeyed with me to so many different places- a place of insecurity and unworthiness, a place of desired selflessness that was driven by fear, a place of uncertainty and discouragement, a place of joy and total abandonment, a place of excitement and great anticipation, a place of healing and hope, a place of redemption and love.
Sometimes I worry that I'm not communicating the words correctly, and you can't hear me say them. So picture this: We're sitting in Starbucks. Or it could be the Teacup, I suppose. Or Bustle. But wherever we are, I have my hands cupped around a green tea or caramel apple cider. I'm wearing jeans, the shoes that I copied from you, and a sweatshirt because I somehow think it makes me look sportier. hahaha. I keep putting my drink down because I talk with my hands to make my point. I might almost knock your drink over once or twice. I lean into to hear you over the murmurs around us, and then I lean back with a mischevious grin on my face and ask, "So. What's on your heart today?" I can't help it. I just think that's a better question than what scrubs you wore the other day, or what your favorite gum is right now. I want to know the answers, and hold them up to the light streaming in the windows and share them with you, so you can see just how extraordinary you are. So we're sitting in Starbucks, drinking our tea (but you obviously have some kind of coffee) and exclaiming over the questions and answers we have found, over the realization that you have a Barbie smile, over your excitement to be a Read. And then I lean in, and I tell you this, because whether you're wandering through Italy with your dad, wrangling two boys into doing homework after jiu-jitsu, or typing a Facebook message to your life group... you are extraordinary.
You are an extraordinary writer, because only you have the voice you have, and only you carry the words the way you carry them. You are an extraordinary listener, because in our imaginary Starbucks afternoon, you've been listening to me and making space for me to ramble on and on, meandering through ideas and books and questions. You are an extraordinary searcher, and asker of questions and laughter filled, smile-so-wide-it-scrunches-up-your-eyes person, because you let things weigh what they weigh, not too heavily or too lightly. Because you have helped me see what's extraordinary about the world, even when I don't know how to love it or how to see the beauty, or how to make sense of Endocrine system.
So thank you. For being extraordinary.
For being in my life, and in my heart- and for letting me touch a small part of yours.
To the girl with the Barbie smile and the most beautiful heart, I love you. I can't wait to watch you SOAR as you continue to walk in the gifts and plans that Jesus has laid out for you.
I will be praying, cheering for you the whole way. You've got this. Thanks for a beautiful season. I am blessed to know you.
~Alyssa
Thoughts from Seattle: Part Three.
It's our last day in the beautiful Seattle... I'm sitting in a Starbucks sipping on tea and working on homework. Norah Jones is streaming through the speakers, and college students are in abundance. It's bustling and moving, filled with laughter and expectancy.
I thought it was time for another list of things I love.
SO, here's some little things that I am loving today. I LOVE how Jesus just loves to bless His kids.
1. The coziness of a new sweatshirt.
2. Stretching after a long car ride.
3. Finally finding a parking spot.
4. Dramatically singing along to a favorite song.
5. When there's no line to go to the bathroom.
6. The very first scoop of ice cream out of a brand new carton.
7. Finding the person you're looking for in a crowd.
8. When someone comes running to hug you.
9. When the parking meter already has time on it.
10. Being the first to applaud in an audience.
11. Changing into sweats after a long day.
12. The warmth of freshly printed-on paper.
13. Freckles.
14. Questions on a test that give away answers to other questions.
15. Not wearing makeup and being able to rub your eyes.
16. The moment when you realize the hiccups are gone!
17. Re-reading old conversations.
18. Hitting the high note.
19. Flipping to the right page of the book when you open it.
20. Doodling.
21. When a man smiles in the middle of kissing his bride.
22. Licking the yogurt lid.
23. When the butter melts instantly on toast.
24. Correct grammar.
25. Magazine perfume samples.
26. Popping bubble wrap.
27. Getting gifts for no reason at all.
28. Giving gifts for no reason at all.
29. Nutella.
30. The way hair looks underwater.
31. Hearing someone smile over the phone.
32. Seeing dough rise in the oven.
33. Sprinkles on cupcakes.
34. When the vending machine finally accepts the dollar.
35. The scent of whoever you hugged last lingering on your clothes.
36. Removing masking tape after painting.
37. Hearing crumbs get sucked up by the vacuum cleaner.
38. Untouched snow.
39. Funny habits.
40. The first time a person says your name.
41. Midnight snacks.
42. Learning a new word and using it in a sentence.
43. Piggy-back rides.
44. Bendy straws.
45. Peeling off dried glue.
46. When you and your best friend say the exact same thing at the exact same time.
47. Continuous green lights when you're driving.
48. Building forts.
49. Silence that isn't awkward.
50. When parents talk about their children with pride.
What are you loving today??
It's been lovely, Seattle. Thank you for the memories :)
I thought it was time for another list of things I love.
SO, here's some little things that I am loving today. I LOVE how Jesus just loves to bless His kids.
1. The coziness of a new sweatshirt.
2. Stretching after a long car ride.
3. Finally finding a parking spot.
4. Dramatically singing along to a favorite song.
5. When there's no line to go to the bathroom.
6. The very first scoop of ice cream out of a brand new carton.
7. Finding the person you're looking for in a crowd.
8. When someone comes running to hug you.
9. When the parking meter already has time on it.
10. Being the first to applaud in an audience.
11. Changing into sweats after a long day.
12. The warmth of freshly printed-on paper.
13. Freckles.
14. Questions on a test that give away answers to other questions.
15. Not wearing makeup and being able to rub your eyes.
16. The moment when you realize the hiccups are gone!
17. Re-reading old conversations.
18. Hitting the high note.
19. Flipping to the right page of the book when you open it.
20. Doodling.
21. When a man smiles in the middle of kissing his bride.
22. Licking the yogurt lid.
23. When the butter melts instantly on toast.
24. Correct grammar.
25. Magazine perfume samples.
26. Popping bubble wrap.
27. Getting gifts for no reason at all.
28. Giving gifts for no reason at all.
29. Nutella.
30. The way hair looks underwater.
31. Hearing someone smile over the phone.
32. Seeing dough rise in the oven.
33. Sprinkles on cupcakes.
34. When the vending machine finally accepts the dollar.
35. The scent of whoever you hugged last lingering on your clothes.
36. Removing masking tape after painting.
37. Hearing crumbs get sucked up by the vacuum cleaner.
38. Untouched snow.
39. Funny habits.
40. The first time a person says your name.
41. Midnight snacks.
42. Learning a new word and using it in a sentence.
43. Piggy-back rides.
44. Bendy straws.
45. Peeling off dried glue.
46. When you and your best friend say the exact same thing at the exact same time.
47. Continuous green lights when you're driving.
48. Building forts.
49. Silence that isn't awkward.
50. When parents talk about their children with pride.
What are you loving today??
It's been lovely, Seattle. Thank you for the memories :)
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Thoughts from Seattle: Part Two.
She sits at the table next to me with her family. Her sweater, all creamy with colors of Neapolitan ice cream and a soft splash of blue, envelope her in its warmth. She has come to simply be. She begins to listen to her father read from Colossians.
Her long fingers, slim and elegant, reach for the arm and hand of her father. They grasp. Ever reaching for the familiar. They are met with comfort. The sure, strong hands meet hers. Comforting. Reassuring. Ever there.
She is fragile, this one. I heave a sigh of relief, for it was not all that long ago that simply seeing this father and daughter together praising Jesus would bring me to a place of such emotion that I could hardly focus through it. The tears would nearly undo me. Yet Jesus has made illness, disease, and suffering a triumphant, victorious thing, for which I can praise His name. So it's in the familiar, and perhaps even the potentially uncomfortable, that I began to pray for them.
He whispers in her ear. The mom tucks a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. Praise. Thanks. Worship. They rise, like the colors from an early morning sunset, spreading out in magnificent splendor.
What goes through her mind? What does she hear? What does she imagine? Does she dance among the lilies, arms strong and lithe, voice carrying in the wind as she offers up her praise? How does she hear the voice of God? Does He whisper, or is His voice sure and deep? Does she feel the strength of His arms, holding her as she falls asleep at night? Can she sense His presence surrounding her as her dad speaks truth over her; as the worship of His people surrounds her?
My list continues on, but for this day, this moment, I am overwhelmed by the gift of LIFE. And for that I give my thanks. I am thankful for her life, I am thankful for my life. I see her, and I see me; a picture of my desperate state made new and beautiful through the blood of Christ.
I am fragile before Him. I am broken before Him. I am ever reaching, seeking, looking for the strength and comfort that only He can provide. I need His steady presence. His whispers in my ear. The knowledge of exactly who He has made me to be.
Life is messy. No doubt about it. It most often doesn’t fit in neat little compartments, able to be organized according to our wishes, desires, compulsions... But in that messiness there is somehow the potential for the God of the Universe to be exalted... glorified... put on the throne where He belongs. Life.
You choose. I choose. Death. Or life. Stuck in old ways, refusing to change, refusing to praise His name in whatever circumstances we may find ourselves this day. Or moving ahead... into a LIFE of gratitude and praise. Of recognizing that it takes place on the easy days and on the difficult days. Of understanding that pain and suffering nourish grace, and affliction and joy are arteries of the same heart. Of realizing that mourning and dancing are but movements in our amazing God's unfinished symphony of beauty. Of believing that God is patiently transforming all the notes of my life into the song of His Son.
ALL the notes of my life. Some will ring a bit more harmonious than others. But all need the transfiguring touch that only He can provide. The transfiguring LIFE that only He can breathe upon them. Upon me.
The fragile are among us. The fragile are us. He waits for us to praise Him.
So today, I am thankful for wheelchairs, the intimate love between parents and their beautiful daughter, fragility, and lessons learned in a quaint little coffee shop in Seattle.
Life is beautiful and so are you.
Love,
Lyss
Her long fingers, slim and elegant, reach for the arm and hand of her father. They grasp. Ever reaching for the familiar. They are met with comfort. The sure, strong hands meet hers. Comforting. Reassuring. Ever there.
She is fragile, this one. I heave a sigh of relief, for it was not all that long ago that simply seeing this father and daughter together praising Jesus would bring me to a place of such emotion that I could hardly focus through it. The tears would nearly undo me. Yet Jesus has made illness, disease, and suffering a triumphant, victorious thing, for which I can praise His name. So it's in the familiar, and perhaps even the potentially uncomfortable, that I began to pray for them.
He whispers in her ear. The mom tucks a stray tendril of hair behind her ear. Praise. Thanks. Worship. They rise, like the colors from an early morning sunset, spreading out in magnificent splendor.
What goes through her mind? What does she hear? What does she imagine? Does she dance among the lilies, arms strong and lithe, voice carrying in the wind as she offers up her praise? How does she hear the voice of God? Does He whisper, or is His voice sure and deep? Does she feel the strength of His arms, holding her as she falls asleep at night? Can she sense His presence surrounding her as her dad speaks truth over her; as the worship of His people surrounds her?
My list continues on, but for this day, this moment, I am overwhelmed by the gift of LIFE. And for that I give my thanks. I am thankful for her life, I am thankful for my life. I see her, and I see me; a picture of my desperate state made new and beautiful through the blood of Christ.
I am fragile before Him. I am broken before Him. I am ever reaching, seeking, looking for the strength and comfort that only He can provide. I need His steady presence. His whispers in my ear. The knowledge of exactly who He has made me to be.
Life is messy. No doubt about it. It most often doesn’t fit in neat little compartments, able to be organized according to our wishes, desires, compulsions... But in that messiness there is somehow the potential for the God of the Universe to be exalted... glorified... put on the throne where He belongs. Life.
You choose. I choose. Death. Or life. Stuck in old ways, refusing to change, refusing to praise His name in whatever circumstances we may find ourselves this day. Or moving ahead... into a LIFE of gratitude and praise. Of recognizing that it takes place on the easy days and on the difficult days. Of understanding that pain and suffering nourish grace, and affliction and joy are arteries of the same heart. Of realizing that mourning and dancing are but movements in our amazing God's unfinished symphony of beauty. Of believing that God is patiently transforming all the notes of my life into the song of His Son.
ALL the notes of my life. Some will ring a bit more harmonious than others. But all need the transfiguring touch that only He can provide. The transfiguring LIFE that only He can breathe upon them. Upon me.
The fragile are among us. The fragile are us. He waits for us to praise Him.
So today, I am thankful for wheelchairs, the intimate love between parents and their beautiful daughter, fragility, and lessons learned in a quaint little coffee shop in Seattle.
Life is beautiful and so are you.
Love,
Lyss
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Thoughts from Seattle.
I write. Because words are on my heart, running wild and free through my mind, dancing through my dreams, swirling through my thoughts.
It's a huge part of how I talk to God. In poetic sentences. Reaching. Searching. Always trying to express what runs deep and fast, a current stopping for no obstacles in its path.
... and because of my own imperfections, my own flaws, my own bumps and bruises... it flows imperfectly. But it doesn't matter. For He is the best interpreter, and knows me fully. He is grace.
But because you, the perceiver, have your own set of imperfections, your own flaws, your own bumps and bruises from the blows of life... you read imperfectly. and so do I.
There is such beauty in this. Because God works in the imperfect. In our imperfection, there is an opportunity for God-breathed beauty and life that infuses hope and energy that our words alone never would have been able to sustain. God uses our feeble efforts for His glory.
The detriment is found when the imperfect prose is felt through an imperfect heart that translates an imperfect meaning... and words hurt. pierce. wound.
We owe grace. We owe the possibility of our own misreading. We owe understanding and forgiveness.
Sometimes it's simply semantics. Sometimes it's cloudy vision. Sometimes it's life experiences.
What if we approached words... in all their forms... as a perspective to be gained, a view to be seen. A heart to be heard.
My imperfect prose is waiting to be redeemed. It's waiting to be that perfect offering of praise. It's waiting to be offered to the One who defines perfect, and can't wait to be praised by His sons and daughters. In person. and for eternity.
Can you imagine that day? I long for that day. When words no longer need to be measured. When they no longer need to be held back. No more biting of the tongue, for what the tongue offers will always be pleasing to Christ. Caution thrown to wind, for there will be nothing to be cautious about. Safety. Reverence. Complete abandonment. Freedom.
For all will be to the honor and glory of Him who created us.
Today, in beautiful Seattle, surrounded by beautiful women and the colors of fall... I am thankful for grace, words, and the beauty that comes when both of those combine.
Love,
Lyss
It's a huge part of how I talk to God. In poetic sentences. Reaching. Searching. Always trying to express what runs deep and fast, a current stopping for no obstacles in its path.
... and because of my own imperfections, my own flaws, my own bumps and bruises... it flows imperfectly. But it doesn't matter. For He is the best interpreter, and knows me fully. He is grace.
But because you, the perceiver, have your own set of imperfections, your own flaws, your own bumps and bruises from the blows of life... you read imperfectly. and so do I.
There is such beauty in this. Because God works in the imperfect. In our imperfection, there is an opportunity for God-breathed beauty and life that infuses hope and energy that our words alone never would have been able to sustain. God uses our feeble efforts for His glory.
The detriment is found when the imperfect prose is felt through an imperfect heart that translates an imperfect meaning... and words hurt. pierce. wound.
We owe grace. We owe the possibility of our own misreading. We owe understanding and forgiveness.
Sometimes it's simply semantics. Sometimes it's cloudy vision. Sometimes it's life experiences.
What if we approached words... in all their forms... as a perspective to be gained, a view to be seen. A heart to be heard.
My imperfect prose is waiting to be redeemed. It's waiting to be that perfect offering of praise. It's waiting to be offered to the One who defines perfect, and can't wait to be praised by His sons and daughters. In person. and for eternity.
Can you imagine that day? I long for that day. When words no longer need to be measured. When they no longer need to be held back. No more biting of the tongue, for what the tongue offers will always be pleasing to Christ. Caution thrown to wind, for there will be nothing to be cautious about. Safety. Reverence. Complete abandonment. Freedom.
For all will be to the honor and glory of Him who created us.
Today, in beautiful Seattle, surrounded by beautiful women and the colors of fall... I am thankful for grace, words, and the beauty that comes when both of those combine.
Love,
Lyss
Friday, October 14, 2011
Jeremiah, Hope, and a Cup of Tea.
“I just love God.” Though these were the only four words in a message from a sweet friend early this morning, I can hear it as if she said it right in my ear.
And her reason on this particular day?
Hope.
Pure. Simple. Genuine.
I got up and sat at the kitchen counter to drink my morning tea, and the words of Jeremiah 23:24 took up residence in my heart.
"'Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?' declares the Lord. 'Do not I fill heaven and earth?' declares the Lord."
Even as the sun was just beginning to rise this morning, and life still waited in slumber... hope surrounded.
For it is not an impersonal God that waits for me each morning, One who holds Himself aloof. distant. remote. locked away in some mystery-held box.
No, my God~ He calls. He woos. He captures my heart. He holds ME, even as He holds the entire world.
And there I find space to rest.
My God who made the one-way street a very personal, intimate two-way street, so we could meet each other.
I can almost see His arms stretch out wide, toward me... and there is the hope.
For I am never out of His reach.
and I found that this morning...this dark, before-the-kids-get-up, quiet morning... I was whispering,
"I just love you too, God."
And her reason on this particular day?
Hope.
Pure. Simple. Genuine.
I got up and sat at the kitchen counter to drink my morning tea, and the words of Jeremiah 23:24 took up residence in my heart.
"'Who can hide in secret places so that I cannot see them?' declares the Lord. 'Do not I fill heaven and earth?' declares the Lord."
Even as the sun was just beginning to rise this morning, and life still waited in slumber... hope surrounded.
For it is not an impersonal God that waits for me each morning, One who holds Himself aloof. distant. remote. locked away in some mystery-held box.
No, my God~ He calls. He woos. He captures my heart. He holds ME, even as He holds the entire world.
And there I find space to rest.
My God who made the one-way street a very personal, intimate two-way street, so we could meet each other.
I can almost see His arms stretch out wide, toward me... and there is the hope.
For I am never out of His reach.
and I found that this morning...this dark, before-the-kids-get-up, quiet morning... I was whispering,
"I just love you too, God."
Monday, October 10, 2011
Who He is To Me.
I was talking with one of my best friends last Monday. Not a rare occurrence, as it is usually the best part of my week... yet this particular Monday, the conversation went a little differently. We did the normal catching up about school, family, friends, and love, followed by prayer and talk of what we see God doing in our lives. We were just about to say goodbye, my heart full and so thankful for the beautiful women God has placed in my life... when my sweet friend says to me, "Who is Jesus to you, Lyss?" I was speechless. For multiple reasons. The first of which is who am I that God would bless me with friends that challenge, convict, and love me all in the name of Christ? I will be forever grateful. The second reason being that no one has ever posed this question to me before. I love Jesus, with everything I am. But THIS question is loaded. It carries so much weight. After a couple minutes of silence, both of us just thinking, we decided to re-convene on the question a week later.
It's a week later.
... and while I have no mind-blowing, life-changing, wondrous answer, I do serve a mind-blowing, life-changing, wondrous God. So I'll share what I've come up with for no other reason that to glorify His name, praying that my passion will bring Him fame.
Who is Jesus to me?
I am absolutely overcome when I think about who Jesus is. In a world enamored with physical beauty, electronics, and GPA... it is so easy for my God to be placed in the backseat, overlooked and taken for granted. But Jesus is so much more than a man who died on a cross.
I can't believe what He did for me. Utterly blameless and without sin, He bore all my shame, all my sin, every evil thought, every ugly thing I have ever done or ever will do. He was the pure and spotless Lamb of God, yet He was beaten and tortured as though He were responsible for all the sin of the world across the entire span of time, from beginning to end. Just thinking of what He suffered due to my sin alone brings me to tears and brokenness.
His precious blood was poured out for me on a cruel cross, and by His wounds I am healed. Justified. Redeemed. When He looks at me He sees me as spot-free and without blemish. I can't even fathom how this is possible because I know me. I know all the ugliness in my heart. I know my ungodly thoughts and actions. Yet through His sacrifice He has purified me, restored innocence, and made me clean. I am so unworthy.
He fills up every possible void in my heart. When I hear a beautiful love song that makes me want to cry, He fills that empty place in my dreams that I pray will one day be filled by a man who I might've sung it to. When I get one of those ridiculous personal survey emails and read the "Who is the love of your life?" question in the subject box, Jesus is my answer. He's the One whose unfailing love brings healing to my broken heart. Gentle and lowly, He is the true picture of genuine humility. Jesus lovingly encourages me to take His yoke and hand Him my burdens. He yearns for me to cry out to Him, and He faithfully keeps my dreams and thoughts and desires safe.
Jesus is the One by whom I have all authority over the enemy. He defeated all the powers of hell through His death and resurrection, and His every victory also belongs to me through the shedding of His blood on the cross. The mere mention of His name brings healing, peace, comfort, wisdom, direction, and rest. He performs miracles right in front of my face, and makes known His presence all throughout my day. He is right there with me in the furnace and through every fire, and He goes to battle for me without fail. Jesus is the One whose arms are around me when storm clouds rear their ugly heads. I am in Him, and when enemies hurt and attack, He shields and protects and brings joy.
Jesus is the One I want others to see when they see me. He is the One I want others to hear when I speak. I want to know Him more, and I want to love others with His love. I'm humbly grateful that God sent His precious Son to this cruel world so that I might have abundant life. I am a nanny (for children I have known for six months), and I know how much it hurts me when they suffer even a tiny little scratch. How painful it must have been for my Father in heaven to watch all His Son endured. And all for the likes of me. I don't deserve it.
I haven't the vocabulary to articulate all that Jesus is to me, so let me just say that Jesus astounds me every single day with His amazing love. He is worthy of all my praise. I fail Him every day, but He never, ever fails me. His grace and mercy flows abundantly into every part of my life every time I fall short, covering me, cleansing me, and making me new. He overwhelms me.
Who is Jesus to me?
He is my Everything.
It's a week later.
... and while I have no mind-blowing, life-changing, wondrous answer, I do serve a mind-blowing, life-changing, wondrous God. So I'll share what I've come up with for no other reason that to glorify His name, praying that my passion will bring Him fame.
Who is Jesus to me?
I am absolutely overcome when I think about who Jesus is. In a world enamored with physical beauty, electronics, and GPA... it is so easy for my God to be placed in the backseat, overlooked and taken for granted. But Jesus is so much more than a man who died on a cross.
I can't believe what He did for me. Utterly blameless and without sin, He bore all my shame, all my sin, every evil thought, every ugly thing I have ever done or ever will do. He was the pure and spotless Lamb of God, yet He was beaten and tortured as though He were responsible for all the sin of the world across the entire span of time, from beginning to end. Just thinking of what He suffered due to my sin alone brings me to tears and brokenness.
His precious blood was poured out for me on a cruel cross, and by His wounds I am healed. Justified. Redeemed. When He looks at me He sees me as spot-free and without blemish. I can't even fathom how this is possible because I know me. I know all the ugliness in my heart. I know my ungodly thoughts and actions. Yet through His sacrifice He has purified me, restored innocence, and made me clean. I am so unworthy.
He fills up every possible void in my heart. When I hear a beautiful love song that makes me want to cry, He fills that empty place in my dreams that I pray will one day be filled by a man who I might've sung it to. When I get one of those ridiculous personal survey emails and read the "Who is the love of your life?" question in the subject box, Jesus is my answer. He's the One whose unfailing love brings healing to my broken heart. Gentle and lowly, He is the true picture of genuine humility. Jesus lovingly encourages me to take His yoke and hand Him my burdens. He yearns for me to cry out to Him, and He faithfully keeps my dreams and thoughts and desires safe.
Jesus is the One by whom I have all authority over the enemy. He defeated all the powers of hell through His death and resurrection, and His every victory also belongs to me through the shedding of His blood on the cross. The mere mention of His name brings healing, peace, comfort, wisdom, direction, and rest. He performs miracles right in front of my face, and makes known His presence all throughout my day. He is right there with me in the furnace and through every fire, and He goes to battle for me without fail. Jesus is the One whose arms are around me when storm clouds rear their ugly heads. I am in Him, and when enemies hurt and attack, He shields and protects and brings joy.
Jesus is the One I want others to see when they see me. He is the One I want others to hear when I speak. I want to know Him more, and I want to love others with His love. I'm humbly grateful that God sent His precious Son to this cruel world so that I might have abundant life. I am a nanny (for children I have known for six months), and I know how much it hurts me when they suffer even a tiny little scratch. How painful it must have been for my Father in heaven to watch all His Son endured. And all for the likes of me. I don't deserve it.
I haven't the vocabulary to articulate all that Jesus is to me, so let me just say that Jesus astounds me every single day with His amazing love. He is worthy of all my praise. I fail Him every day, but He never, ever fails me. His grace and mercy flows abundantly into every part of my life every time I fall short, covering me, cleansing me, and making me new. He overwhelms me.
Who is Jesus to me?
He is my Everything.
Wednesday, October 5, 2011
Manna in the Morning.
I came to Jesus and His Word this morning with questions. I partook, but I didn’t understand it all. It was my manna, which in Hebrew means, “What is it?” Sometimes I come to Him, like a little girl climbing into His lap with only questions. How do I feel joyful when I’m not? How can I be joyful when life is painful? Is joy a feeling? Or is it an action to be obeyed? It is merely given by the spirit, or grown in me? Does it come after the morning, or does the morning come when I choose joy? Sure, I can act joyful, but to be joyful, He’d know when I’m faking. I’m reading, thinking, learning…
And sometimes it’s the questions that bring me close. If I had the answers I would be tempted to run off and play. But the questions keep bringing me back. How Lord? Why Lord? They are not demanding questions, or ungrateful questions, just questions. Some have answers. And the hard ones: children starving to death, being abused, being held as sex slaves, babies with cancer… those don’t. I know there will be a day when I will receive all the answers, face to face with my Father.
"Lissy Lou, what do moth’s eat?” “Can I ride my bike in the house?” “What’s for breakfast?”…and that’s just the beginning of my day. But questions are good. It’s the questions that bring us true knowledge. It’s the seeking, the curiosity that invites learning. I want a life of seeking, of asking. If I seek, He is always there to be found.
I love to search out the answers, when they can be found... I am constantly seeking to be bathed in truth. And when unanswered questions face me, I find myself thankful. I am grateful to worship a God who is much, much smarter than I am. Simple, but true.
My neighbor down the street just started his next semester in engineering. After Calculus 3, he is now taking Discrete Math. I think they have to call it this because the authors knew that to people like me, people that have no idea what it’s talking about, it is discrete. He’s learning things that my brain could never understand. I do not exaggerate the word never. The thing is, I’m okay with that. I respect his work more because I know it’s something I could never do.
God never chides me for not knowing, for asking. I’m pretty sure David asked God about almost everything, and God never seemed put out about it. There are a lot of "why’s?" in his book of the Bible. Today, I am seeing God’s love in manna~ His provision, His sustenance, His heaven-sent food. And even if I’m asking, “what is it?”, it’s sweet to my tongue, filling to my soul, and growing food for my mind.
Lord, help me to not seek empty calorie answers, but seek Your whole truth. Help me to invite the boys, my friends, my family in to an atmosphere of learning and curiosity. Help me to continually be more than happy to relinquish control and hand everything over to Your strong hands. Help me to see this life through a child’s eyes, with curiosity and fresh hope. Don’t let dust settle on my mind, on my theology. Help me look always to the Author of the book where the questions come from... let me look to You.
Deuteronomy 4:29
But from there you will seek the LORD your God,
and you will find Him if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul.
Jeremiah 29:13
And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.
Psalm 17:8
Keep me as the apple of Your eye; Hide me under the shadow of Your wings...
Colossians 4:6 Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.
Thankful,
Lyss :)
And sometimes it’s the questions that bring me close. If I had the answers I would be tempted to run off and play. But the questions keep bringing me back. How Lord? Why Lord? They are not demanding questions, or ungrateful questions, just questions. Some have answers. And the hard ones: children starving to death, being abused, being held as sex slaves, babies with cancer… those don’t. I know there will be a day when I will receive all the answers, face to face with my Father.
"Lissy Lou, what do moth’s eat?” “Can I ride my bike in the house?” “What’s for breakfast?”…and that’s just the beginning of my day. But questions are good. It’s the questions that bring us true knowledge. It’s the seeking, the curiosity that invites learning. I want a life of seeking, of asking. If I seek, He is always there to be found.
I love to search out the answers, when they can be found... I am constantly seeking to be bathed in truth. And when unanswered questions face me, I find myself thankful. I am grateful to worship a God who is much, much smarter than I am. Simple, but true.
My neighbor down the street just started his next semester in engineering. After Calculus 3, he is now taking Discrete Math. I think they have to call it this because the authors knew that to people like me, people that have no idea what it’s talking about, it is discrete. He’s learning things that my brain could never understand. I do not exaggerate the word never. The thing is, I’m okay with that. I respect his work more because I know it’s something I could never do.
God never chides me for not knowing, for asking. I’m pretty sure David asked God about almost everything, and God never seemed put out about it. There are a lot of "why’s?" in his book of the Bible. Today, I am seeing God’s love in manna~ His provision, His sustenance, His heaven-sent food. And even if I’m asking, “what is it?”, it’s sweet to my tongue, filling to my soul, and growing food for my mind.
Lord, help me to not seek empty calorie answers, but seek Your whole truth. Help me to invite the boys, my friends, my family in to an atmosphere of learning and curiosity. Help me to continually be more than happy to relinquish control and hand everything over to Your strong hands. Help me to see this life through a child’s eyes, with curiosity and fresh hope. Don’t let dust settle on my mind, on my theology. Help me look always to the Author of the book where the questions come from... let me look to You.
Deuteronomy 4:29
But from there you will seek the LORD your God,
and you will find Him if you seek Him with all your heart and with all your soul.
Jeremiah 29:13
And you will seek Me and find Me, when you search for Me with all your heart.
Psalm 17:8
Keep me as the apple of Your eye; Hide me under the shadow of Your wings...
Colossians 4:6 Let your speech always be with grace, seasoned with salt, that you may know how you ought to answer each one.
Thankful,
Lyss :)
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